Marfells Beach... The Little Camping Ground...

 Marfells Beach is at the end of the road and the road ends

at the end of the camp. So the parking area is a small

strip along the beach. Not many people when I was

there but I've been told since that it's full most weekends

with people with quad bikes who drive round the beach

at low tide and dive both sides of Mussel Point for

crayfish and paua.

 Waiting for the next influx of children...

 Amazing hills where  lime is quarried...

 Also sculpted by the wind.

 A quad track to the beach...

 It's still high tide. The tide has been in for most of

every day with the low tides not going out very far so
walking space was minimal...

 But on my wanderings I found some wild silverbeet that

I had been told was here...

 A thick patch of silverbeet and mint...

 Yum... It was lamb chops with fresh mint sauce and steamed

silverbeet for dinner. Surprisingly it was deliciously tender.

 The wind whipping the tops of the waves...

 And the tide coming up to my doorstep.

I found this poem on the wall of the ablutions block... It sums

up Marfells Beach... I will definitely be going back there.

Ode to Marfells Beach DoC Camp Ground by

summer 2014 co-hosts Angie & Brooke

Welcome... to locals and visitors alike,

arriving by motorhome, caravan or bike.

To Marfells, seaside camping at its best

walk, bike, fish, swim, or relax, have a rest.

Many fish to be caught out there in the kelp,

for expert advice, ask a local for help.

Take a walk through the camp, up the hill to the lime,

where Yealands trucks load to compost the vines.

Or walk ninety minutes, if you are so bold,

to Cape Campbell Lighthouse, a sight to behold.

At low tide, quad bikes go around Mussel Point,

for crayfish and paua, their plates to annoint.

And talking of food, there's wild silverbeet,

up the hills, along the beach... It's yummy to eat.

Just south of Seddon, the quake scarred the land,

"Sorry - Camp Closed" DoC's interim stand.

Slips cleared from the road, and cracks to mend,

The camp then re-opened for Labour Weekend.

No dogs, no fires and pay your camp fee,

for flush toilets, cold showers and time by the sea.

We've done our camp duties through sun, wind and rain,

cleaning toilets, collecting fees and the camp to maintain.

Thanks Pam and Tim, who came without fail,

to deliver  DoC stores, and deliver our mail.

And to Shona and Ivan, our co-hosts from Ward,

your awesome generosity, we wish to applaud.

We're now back to our travels, retirement is nigh,

time for farewells and a tearful good bye.

Six months at Marfells, has got under our skin,

whenever we're passing, we'll surely pop in.

Give way at the train track, check left and check right,

pass salt lakes, wandering stock and the camp is in sight.

 But it was time for me to leave.... The next place was waiting

to be explored. So as the poem says, it was past the salt lakes...

 Past the  very dry paddocks...

And the mountains of salt.. Some 60,000 to 70,000 tonnes of salt are 

harvested from Lake Grassmere each year.