Last day of June was spent exploring the coastal area of Carnarvon,
most of it spent at the Heritage Precinct on Babbage Island (part of the
Gascoyne floodplain with boardwalk overlooking the delta) taking in stories of
the Gascoyne region and learning the history of Carnarvon at One Mile Jetty
Museum.
Our interest in the battle between the HMAS Sydney and HSK
Kormoran deepened immeasurably! Six days after sinking the Sydney,
103 survivors of the Kormoran (in lifeboats) were spotted 130km north of
Carnarvon) and picked up, brought to Carnarvon before being taken to Fremantle.
An hour long film on the Hunt for the Sydney (and the Kormoran)
was truly moving seeing the excitement and tears that flowed as David Mearns,
the shipwreck hunter, using side-scan sonar first discovered both wrecks lying
at a depth 2 500m on the floor of the Indian Ocean, in March 2008. It was fascinating research that revealed
the captain of the Kormoran, while a POW, had gone to great lengths to
record the battle. Concealing where the battle had taken place with a series of
miniscule dots under letters in a German-English dictionary.
Another focus of interest was the ‘’Path of Pain’’ and
the Lock Hospital tragedy. We had no idea that One Mile jetty, the longest in
WA, held significant value to many Aboriginal people, as this was the last view
of mainland Australia many of them would have. It transpired that in 1908 the
WA government had opened a conveniently called “lock hospital’’ on the Bernier
and Dorre Islands that lay 58 miles off shore, and for the next 11 years almost
700 Aboriginal men, women and children (some chained together and marched
hundreds of kilometres) suspected of having syphilis were transported there
from One Mile Jetty and whilst incarcerated there, lived in makeshift canvas
and tin shelters. Over 200 of them died.
This appalling injustice is embodied in a sculpture of a
young girl blocking her eyes as she points to the ‘’islands of tears’’, with
her little brother clinging to her skirt. In Jan 2019, a traditional Aboriginal
ceremony was held on One Mile jetty to release the souls of all those that
died.
The One Mile jetty was a mine of information
about all sorts of other things – including the amount of wool and livestock
once exported from the jetty ; the devastating drought of 1935 that killed most
of the 1.5 million sheep in the region; the meat-works that were established in
1920s, but never used until turned into a shark processing factory; the camels
used for the transportation of wool; the whaling station established on Babbage
Island in the 1950s; and the significance of the Gascoyne river in providing
water for the horticultural industry that developed around Carnarvon.
Our visit to the Lighthouse keeper’s cottage opposite
One-mile museum provided us with a lovely conversation with the lady volunteer,
on duty. She’d lived in Carnarvon all her life and had much to tell us about
the problems that banana and vegetable growers in the area experience, not just
with the floods, cyclones and dust
storms that bedevil the area, but also the competition arising from crops being
imported from over east and overseas. Since we were here in 2006 the local
economy has suffered enormously and, the population of Carnarvon more than
halved. The fruit Loop drive apparently has only a handful of
growers selling from their gates. We
planned to do the Fruit Loop on our return from the Kennedy Range, before going
through to Quobba. We lost out as plans changed down the line.
We were exhausted,
hungry and thirsty by the time we
finished at the Heritage Precinct yet we just had to visit the ‘’fascine’’ to walk
the beginning of the ‘Path of Pain’ and see the memorials to both the Sydney
and the Kormoran on the esplanade.
Ahead of us, the 8
million ha catchment of the Upside- Down River – the Gascoyne. It rises 700 km
inland near Meekatharra. Why ‘’upside down’’ … because most of the year it
flows underground. Beneath, the river sands act as important aquifers, ranging
in thickness of up to 30m and consist of coarse alluvium between layers of clay
that run along and adjacent to the riverbed. The ground water is generally
within 5-10m of the surface. The river
flows only once or twice a year after winter rains or, in summer, after
cyclonic downpours of rain. In full flood the upside-down river can reverse
itself and swell to become more than a kilometre wide, as in 1961 when it caused
millions of dollars of damage. The levee
banks were built around Carnarvon to protect it from the periodic floodwaters
of the Gascoyne.
The further we drove inland towards Gascoyne Junction, the
more desert like the country became; encountering row after row of red coloured
linear dunes; masses of dead trees
amongst the scrub (fire?); clay pans, some still holding a little water after
the recent rains; wedge tailed eagles, kites and ravens feeding on road kill at
several places; and scrawny Brahman cattle, either nibbling at the meagre
scraps of green grass growing beside the road, or browsing (like goats) on the
leaves of scrubby bushes.
At Gascoyne Junction we refuelled and booked into the local
caravan park for the night – a surprisingly neat, well run place albeit
surrounded by arid plains. In days to come we heard Gascoyne Junction had been
wiped out by a cyclone and the outcry over closing the settlement was enough to
rebuild – thus we had a delightful campground. Towards evening we walked down
to the bridges over the Gascoyne River, before coming back through the
settlement itself (originally called Killili – Aboriginal for rush-like plants
found growing there).
Our destination travelling through new ground, was to visit
the Kennedy Ranges National Park before backtracking to the coast. School holidays played on George’s mind and he
began toying with continuing the route northwards, along more of the Wool Wagon
Pathway towards Exmouth. Since we’d be travelling
50km of the route out to the Kennedy Ranges, we agreed we’d be in a better
position to gauge the road conditions before deciding.
The following morning, we set off for Mundatharrda,
the Aboriginal name for the Kennedy Range. The Ullawarra gravel road in perfectly
good condition. After crossing the Lyons river (a major tributary of the
Gascoyne) we could see the plateau-like form of the Ranges ahead. We stopped at
regular intervals to take photos especially with the escarpment being so well
lit by morning sun. We approached from the eastern side of the Ranges, which
extend for 75 kms. Over millennia, they have eroded to form spectacular cliffs
that rise 100m above the surrounding plains. The cliffs are dissected by a maze
of steep sided canyons which carry short lived streams after rain, and it is on
the floor of these, a number of walking trails are located.
Upon arriving at the one and only campground in the park at Temple
Gorge, we were lucky to find an empty campsite that we could back into with
ease, and it was away from the busy centre.
Lea deemed it too hot to walk. George, however, could not wait to have a
look around and took a short walk up the Escarpment Trail – fascinated by the
geology especially the hollowed out black (lava like) rocks that lay around on
the foot-slopes of the escarpment.
Later, George’s sister-in-law Judy Maguire, a
palaeontologist, identified his photos as a concretion in which ferruginous
minerals have migrated outwards, leaving hollow, de-mineralised centre.
In the afternoon we walked into Temple Gorge, most of it in
the welcome shadow of the steep bluffs on either side. A picturesque, boulder-
hopping walk that took us into all sorts of nooks and crannies with the walls
of the Temple, looming above us.
With a picnic table on our site and a magnificent balmy
winter’s night. We ate dinner under the stars. A rare occurrence as we do not
enjoy flies or the noise of people. With
an almost full moon overhead, perfect weather conditions and a site looking
towards the mountain ridges silhouetted by last light of a setting sun we were
to enjoy dinner out twice! The Kennedy
Ranges had been waiting many years to be ticked off on our map.
Next morning, we drove to Sunrise View, not at sunrise I may
add – just at a more suitable hour when the morning light across the plains was
enough for us.
A walk-up Honeycomb Gorge to enjoy a spectacular array of
pock marks, pits, and cavities in the cliff face of a large sheer faced
amphitheatre. At the back of which, a
waterfall obviously trickles or floods dramatically at time. Although the
cavities are described as having been water-eroded George wondered how they
assumed such strange form on a vertical rock face unless the cavities once
contained harder rocks that have since fallen out. Understanding geology, when
visiting a place such as the Kennedy Ranges so important.
These markings, created by ‘snuffbox’ or
honeycomb weathering, appeared like
massive stone tablets of ancient hieroglyphics to Lea.
Before the day grew too warm, we undertook another boulder
hopping exercise (Lea managed with the aid of her stick), up a good part of
Drapers Gorge. In a pothole scoured gully on the floor of the gorge we came
across a small pool that clearly served as the water supply for a good number
of wallabies (euros) – a glimpse of which, one rarely sees… Where they hole up
for the day in such rocky, inhospitable terrain is anyone’s guess. The shaded
overhangs below large rocks, and the foot-slopes of escarpment were empty.
A Decision! We would travel a new route north, through the
outback. First thought to be 500 km until George realised that was the full
length of the Wool Wagon Pathway. We’d do 250 km northwards on dirt until we
re-joined the NW coastal highway. Uncharted
territory has an underlying sense of excitement mixed with anxiety for us,
especially travelling the lonely road. As it turned out, the route kept us
driving solidly for the next five hours through some remarkably remote
country. Remarkable because of the sheer
nothingness – not a sign of life; not another vehicle to be seen.
Empty stony plains through which we could see narrow cattle
paths disappearing into the distance…
The occasional granite outcrop and bone-dry creeks. Not a blade of grass anywhere. Not even a
termite heap as there was nothing even for them to survive on. This was “cattle
country’’ and we could not understand why.
What was the carrying capacity in this type of country - 100 ha per
head, or even less?
When we finally came across cattle congregated around a
windmill, they looked in surprisingly good condition
At Booroothunty Creek we came across a story, extracted from
the book Winning the Gascoyne by Ronda McDonald, about the ‘mystery of
the missing man’. Nearby was a memorial to Patrick Bohan (aka Patsy), who
disappeared on Mangaroon Station in 1982. Patsy was never to be found, even after
extensive aerial and ground searches. His Holden packed with water and stores
found abandoned in a creek bed with no sign of his motorbike, used in the prospecting
terrain, he knew like the back of his hand. He simply disappeared. George thought it was reasons best known to Patsy
and he simply intended to disappear. Lea, of course differs as Patsy promised
his family to be back for Christmas!
As we neared the last 50km of the legendary Wool Wagon
Pathway we came across road works suggesting a long section of the road (now
called the Lyndon-Minnie Creek road) was being upgraded. The country also began to change – the soils
became sandy; clumps of spinifex and casuarina trees began to appear. Nothing
appealed for a night stop. Eventually the Wool Wagon Pathway was ‘’done and
dusted’’, with dust being the operative word although not as bad as we have
known.
Back on the highway, we soon pulled into the Barradale Rest
Area. George said we’d stayed there at least a couple of times. Lea was
steadfast in believing it was once, in 2006 with Paula. We’d eaten fresh
Exmouth prawns for dinner; noticed a man sleeping in his vehicle 100 metres
away, too exhausted to unpack his camper trailer. Later that night, Lea and Paula had paid a
visit to the toilet in the light of Paula’s headlamp. On returning to Getaway,
Lea saw George had gone to bed leaving the generator cord lying out. She wound
it up when suddenly the silent night was broken by angry cussing and
swearing. In stunned amazement we
realised it was directed at us and we hot footed it into the caravan before
breaking into nervous giggles. George too, disturbed by the hullaballoo. We
decided the bright headlamp had ‘upset’ the man. Short time later he drove off in first gear
across the bridge. We calmed down and slept peacefully. Next morning a pile of
beer cans marked where the man had parked!
Given the fine details in Lea’s head – the only thing she couldn’t
reconcile with - was the rearrangement of toilets in the newly formed 24 hour
Stop-over. Once again, our blog proved
the defining reference. We had stayed
here in July 2006, July 2014 and now July 2020!
The only time we’d had a ‘disturbing’ encounter actually happened at the
West Peawah River. Just goes to show how
easily our brains confuse the essence of
detail especially when there are many similarities. (Just recalled Bang! Bang! She shot me
dead blasting forth at 2 a.m. as hoons zig-zagged through Frank Potts
Reserve, S.A, creating merry havoc!)
Plenty of campers and caravans were scattered about,
particularly on the sealed area. We found ourselves a nice spot, further down
the Yannari River away from everyone else.
Upon opening the caravan, we found the shake-up received today had
caused a cupboard door to come apart. George was quick to repair it with a good
dose of the adhesive ‘’No More Nails’’!
A welcome bucket bath before the sun went down, a pat on the bonnet for
Skiv after another fine performance, and even better a wee bit of signal to
advise we were virtually back in civilisation!
The temperature of 26.6°C registered in our ‘van that night,
further confirmed we were sufficiently north to have finally escaped the
southern winter! Thank goodness we
removed winter sheets in Carnarvon!
The pleasure of birds - two crested pigeons came for
breakfast. To hear their soft hoots and the melodious call of a butcherbird in
the background served to illustrate we were in a good spot. The gleaming white
trunks of the coolibah trees gracing the Yannarie floodplain had us decide to
stay another night and just relax. Lea
intent on doing more work on piecing together her Dad’s life story.
Another day later, we elected to go no further than the next
roadhouse, Nanutarra - 70km north of the Barradale rest area. Not the most
pleasant of places as remarkably busy with road works that held us up for a
good 30 minutes occurring our side of the Ashburton River (south) with plenty
of activity around the Roadhouse. We had no choice of site in the odd layout as
almost all were pre-booked. We needed a shower, so we stayed. By evening,
caravans were packed all around us … our worst nightmare, and consequently, the
worst on our journey thus far.
The only highlight, was a walk along the old road bridge
across the Ashburton River, built in 1966.
It now serves as a pedestrian bridge with seating to enjoy the beautiful
lighting at sunset.
From Nanutarra, we swung eastwards, along Marlu Way, on
the Nanutarra – Munjina road towards Karijini National Park travelling through
more limitlessly barren landscape. Hilly country covered in spinifex and sharp
ridges strewn with red (iron rich) rocks. By midday, we pulled into the Beasley
River 24hour rest area. Not far off was Cheela Plains Station, which we’d
intended to try. However, finding a choice site at the Beasley River that
suited us perfectly we decided Cheela Plains (at a price) would not offer us
much more, so we gave it a miss. The
difference in our surrounds from a botanical point of view was very noticeable.
Purple and green mulla-mulla (or pussy tail flowers) and a wide variety of
other plants kept George’s camera in overdrive.
A different biome in which George felt like a newcomer. Most remarkable
was the display of a bush with fluffy flower heads spilling beside the road
leading down to the campsites. Days
later, once in signal, George was to identify it as ‘’kapok bush’’, now
regarded as a serious environmental weed. Introduced by Afghan cameleers these
plants were historically used in the Middle East for cushion and saddle
padding.
Kapok bush – a serious environmental weed looking at its best
After crossing the Beasley Bridge next day, we saw the WELCOME
sign at the entrance to the Cheela Plains campground, even with a café
available for traveller breakfast or coffees – quite a different story to the
norm for station stays - Wooleen being an example. This left such a favourable impression, we
began to regret not going in for a look-see, at the very least. The further
east we drove the more mountainous it became. The land thickly wooded and the
grass cover noticeably better than what we’d been driving past over the last
week or so.
Neither of us could recall Paraburdoo, even though the route
taken on our map, 14 years ago showed otherwise. This goes to show how
important it is to retain a record and reinforces our opinions of memory and its
failings. Paraburdoo proved to be an easily forgettable and typical mining
town. We were back in the land of huge yellow machines, men in high-vis yellow
jackets wearing helmets; utes covered in red dust with flags waving from above the
bull bar. The change in land use from pastoral to mining was not too apparent
apart from power lines and railway lines out in the landscape. We topped up
with fuel, before taking the long, slow haul up through the mountains to Tom
Price, 60km away, the highest town in WA (altitude 747m asl) and nearest town
to the Karijini National Park. We spotted Coles supermarket in the town centre and
stopped to get fresh provisions. George went off to find a toilet. Well! Tom Price toilets beside the main car
park proved to be a most extraordinary facility,
constructed out of stainless steel, with
red and green flashing lights depending on whether the male of female toilet
was in use, with push-button to open the door; a loud voice told you the door was
closing and advised you had ten minutes to complete business in there, followed by piped music; a push-button discharged
rationed toilet paper. ‘The voice’ returned to advise the toilet would flush
once you washed your hands at the basin! George was overly impressed by this highly
sophisticated amenity in a little town tucked away in the back of the Hamersley
Ranges. Once our shop was done, he insisted Lea go and see the fancy Loo. We stopped at the Visitors Centre for maps
and information about caravan parks, Karijini NP and the condition of the rail
access road, privately run by Rio Tinto / Hamersley Iron to maintain their rail-line
to Karratha. We wished to take this as
it’s a convenient short-cut. It does require watching a 20 minute video advising
all the possible hazards to be encountered along their road. before a permit is
granted.
Alarm bells began ringing when the ladies on the desk advised
the caravan park and all the campsites in the National Park were fully booked
until the end of July. Furthermore, several of the gorges and pools were closed
due to damage and could only be seen from the lookouts. We’d probably find
sites in Auski Roadhouse. We asked about
Wittenoom (where we’d camped once before) only to be told it was permanently closed
to public. We asked about the former residents. Three now remained out of the
seven diehards, the government had been unable to budge fifteen years ago when
the lethal town was deemed unsafe and bulldozed away, as a severe asbestos risk.
Outside Tom Price, we gobbled a late lunch beside an enormous
dump truck which, over the period of its working life 1980- 1992, had moved an
estimated 23 million tons of ore.
We had come a long way, 354 km in all… for nothing! Although we’d enjoyed the drive, refreshing
our fast-fading memory of the route, our immediate problem was to find a camp.
George recalled the Albert Tognolini Rest Area above Munjina Gorge, 120km away!
There was no option other than to ‘’put
foot’’ and make a run for it, hoping that every other nomad / camper in the
same predicament did not have the same idea.
It was one of those drives we don’t enjoy … rushing through the Karijini
NP with the Hamersley Ranges lying immediately to the north of us. No time to
enjoy the scenery, while driver made a beeline for the Great Northern Highway.
As we climbed up towards the Albert Tognolini Lookout and
beyond to the bush camp area, one of our long- time favourites, came the disheartening
sight of caravans and campers in 4x4s with roof tents all over the place. Having
thought closure of the WA border would relieve normal mid-winter pressure on
campsites in WA, little did we realise what an impact school holidays was going
to have. After covid19 lockdown, it seemed as if the entire citizenry of WA, unable
to leave the state or country, had decided to get out and see what was on their
doorstep!
We still managed to find ourselves a nice spot looking out
over a spinifex covered valley, studded with ‘’ snappy gums’’, the white
stemmed eucalypts that are so very characteristic of the Hamersley Ranges. Not
far off to the south of us, on Juna Downs Station, lies Mt Meharry – the
highest peak in WA, rising to 1 249m asl.
Virtually every site was vacated next morning, and we decided
to stay on after yesterday’s long haul (300km).
Took a walk before morning tea to investigate the full extent of this
rest area before settling down to our computers for the rest of the day. Generator
running for a while to keep computers charged. We decided there was no justification to head
all the way back to Karratha and the Dampier peninsula with the unavoidable
school holiday problem. Best to continue
along the Great Northern Highway to Port Hedland.
A plan of action arose to check out the Auski Roadhouse for a
night, hopefully allowing us to do our laundry and refill water tanks. We moved
on through the scenic Munjina Gorge, beautifully illuminated at that time of
the morning,
Western flank of the East Munjina Gorge
We arrived to a hub-bub of activity around Auski – clouds of
dust billowing about – kicked up by high road-train traffic coming and going.
We contemplated this hideous scene for at least twenty minutes. During this
time, George made two ‘recces’ of the area, trying to make up his mind before a
grassed site about to be vacated decided the issue! We moved in. The Auski ‘’tourist village’’ seemed a
misnomer. It appears to offer accommodation, not so much for tourists, rather mine
workers (fly-in: fly-out perhaps) and road workers in barrack style rows or small cabins, all constructed of sheet
metal (stiflingly hot in summer) and everyone, miners, road workers and tourists
alike share the same ablutions and laundry. Other than day and night noise, Auski
was not a bad stop-over for us as we had a spacious green lawn on which to park
our rig; potable ground water and power laid on, even soap powder included in
the $4 cost of washing machines. Free tea & coffee in the camp kitchen!
Next morning it was time to face the Great Northern Highway
with all its road trains and trucks carrying abnormally wide loads. We had
decided for our own stress levels to take short hops and check out three
possible nights stops. Almost immediately came the reason for construction
noise and frequent high pitch warning peeps that bothered Lea during the night.
A massive road-over-rail project was under construction not 5 kms away. The increase of heavy vehicles at night takes
a heavy toll on livestock. Lea counted
13 cattle carcasses within the first fifty kilometres. Unfenced roads are a
terrible traffic hazard and the pain of an animal dying doesn’t bare thinking ; nor do we hear folk speak of it.
After travelling for an hour or more, with a strong tail wind blowing us
along, we stopped for coffee/tea dismayed by the first two rest areas and only
one remaining at the Marble Bar turn off. A bleak option! Soon after we pulled back onto the busy road came
a most unexpected 24 hour rest area sign. We promptly pulled in, travelled the
lengthy sealed access road to Two Camel Creek roadside camp (all fully sealed
and serviced). So new it was unmarked in our Camps Australia 9 book – A name
far too attractive not to take advantage of.
The joy of travelling the way we do … with no fixed plans, able to make quick
decisions and no reason to go anywhere in a hurry… We had the place to
ourselves – carefully chose our site and happily settled down for the rest of
the day blogging! The odd traveller
stopped for the loo and only late afternoon did we have two caravans draw in
and stay. The night was rent by three trains passing to the back of us and the
ubiquitous road-trains to the front – their comings could be heard from afar,
such was the discordantly shrill sound of wheels contacting with road or
rail.
We’d planned to make our last night stop on this road at Indi
Station. We’d stayed there two years ago and so enjoyed the history and
hospitality of this station. However, we were closer to the station than
expected and we knew it didn’t provide power or water. We decided the money for
camping there would best go towards paying for a caravan site in Port Hedland,
enabling us to prepared for the next big leg towards Broome. And, after almost
two weeks give us TV for the night!
As vital as the Great Northern Highway obviously is to the
mining industry, there is little doubt the heavily laden road trains travelling
day and night, take a severe toll. It is
not an easy road to drive, as the blast of wind from each oncoming road train jars
against our rig or contending with the furrowed nature of the road itself. Rutted
by the many tyres of road trains causing a subsidence of the road surface or,
the hot bitumen softening to create groves. Reminds us of our skiing days when
the wake of other boats caused an instability to our lane - the sway of our
road was more nerve racking. Give the roads
department or local shire their due .. they do try to keep up with the worst
patches.
Abnormal loads approaching on Great Northern Highway –
Escorts give plenty of warning and you creep along the road verge in
anticipation.
The tribulations of the road behind
us we took refuge in South Hedland’s Black Rock Tourist Park. Never the nicest
place to stay; purely convenient – nevertheless it was a shock to pay fifty
dollars for the privilege of parking one’s van on thick dusty red sand alongside
a wobbly metal pole holding power points. Everything looking very run-down. The
water full of lime, the shower nozzles were clogged. Warning us to use our
hose-filter on filling our tanks. There, back pressure blew the hose off the
tap causing a sea of red mud and, we found ourselves tripping on the substantial
tie down points concealed in the dirt - provided for cyclone events. Two years
ago we paid $35 for same site – this time, a camper had dishonestly thought he
could nip into this far edged site without anyone knowing; forcing us to move
up two sites.
TV at last gave us some new of the
world … You have got to be joking - Donald Trump wearing a face mask! A
shocking resurgence of Covid19 in Melbourne, Victoria. No doubt thanks to none
believers flouting every social constraint – insisting this ‘flu’ should be
allowed ‘to run and be done’ or thoughtlessly bored with confinement! As with Science and politics – two very
divergent views… Lea raised our moods,
cooking up blueberry flapjacks for afternoon tea! A
third night of consistent road and rail noise penetrated Lea’s head – the hard
of hearing slept deeply. Eager to leave
Port Hedland trucks and trains behind, we did a quick shop and hit the road…
Stopped for morning tea soon after departing the northern
edge of town where the emptiness of flat, spinifex covered plains comes up so
fast.
We headed for De Grey River; a favourite hang-out for grey nomads,
and where we have camped several times amongst the paper barks on the floodplain.
As we crossed the bridge we naturally peered across to the campground to see
how full it was. EMPTY! We were in for a surprise the old campsites
had been fenced off and huge immovable rocks lined the fence as an added
deterrent to the determined.
Noogoora Burr, a weed toxic to cattle, imported in by
campers, closed down a well-loved camping area!
Closure of the old campsites was not the end of the world. We have always felt the forests were
over-utilised by people placing huge pressure on that environment. Recognising its popularity, Main Roads had gone
to considerable trouble and converted the area above the floodplain into a very
nice, large campground, using road-making gravel to level out and define the
old eroded tracks we once used to access the riverine forest. By chance, stopped on the northern edge beside
a small parrot tree – Schotia, casting shade for Lea while George set off on a
site inspection. He returned to say we couldn’t do better when it came to
privacy and view. Towards nightfall we took a walk around the perimeter and
counted at least twenty caravan arrivals after us. The peace of night allowed for the gentle
lowing of brahman cattle to reach us as they moved along the De Grey Station
fence line, in close proximity to us. Later the call of a Boo Book owl lulled
Lea to sleep.
Content to remain camped right where we were in the de Grey
rest area, we stayed on. George squeezed through one of a number of locked
pedestrian gates; accesses awaiting better days ahead and walked down to the
floodplain to have a look around. From the amount of regrowth over the tracks
and camp spots we’d known, he ascertained the rest area must have been closed
for well over a year, possibly shorter as we last camped here in May 2018. Despite signs saying a ‘surveillance and
eradication programme was underway’ George was dismayed to find Noogoora Burr alive
and well. Some plants two metres high and in seed. All showed indications of having
been nibbled by cattle. Had the summer rains that flood this river followed by Covid19
restrictions, allowed these plants to get out of hand? Would they grown to this
height in the interim?
5.00am, it had been a
very warm night, and a gut feel told George the battery supplying the
deep freeze in the truck may be taking strain. Sure enough the temperature was
down from minus 10°C to minus 3°C. He ran the truck engine for a while to recharge the
battery and although the deep freeze was back to minus 10°C within half an hour. All the early morning disturbance had
us sleep through until 9.00! Solar was
doing its work and George was keen to see whether ‘Noogoora Burr’ was downstream
of the bridge and spent an hour or more searching for any sign of the plant
along some of the back channels and flood terraces. No sign of the plant and
George was struck by a completely different condition to the area compared to
the disturbed state of the old campground zone. Full of birdlife, groups of
‘’happy family’’ birds (babblers), bee-eaters, black swans and corellas – even
butterflies (monarchs) flitting around. All biological indicators of a healthier
habitat regardless of obvious presence of cattle. George popped off an email to WA government’s
Pest and Disease Information Service with photos to advise of the Noogoora Burr
and heard back saying although very similar, the photos sent of the plants at
de Grey were not Noogoora Burr but Castor Oil! What a laugh. Lea, had said it looked just
like castor oil when taken to see the plants, on our first evening walk.
Three days later we
reluctantly left de Greys for Cape Keraudren -
one of our “top ten’’ coastal locations in Australia. Perfectly timed - without
any rush or eye on the clock, we were enjoying elevenses while feasting our
eyes on our new view over the brilliant blue waters of the inlet, in perfect
weather, as the tide slowly receded. The campground fairly full, the fees
unchanged, good phone signal an added benefit in a time of family anxiety.
With the tide going out George was off to get amongst the
mangroves. Drawn by the sculptured nature of their ancient stems, the size of
which are the largest he’s seen, with their carpet of aerial roots
(pneumatophores) crackling underfoot.
Lea views this embayment like a huge bowl of water that empties and
fills with the tides revealing beautiful rock formations.
Inevitably, more campers arrived as the day wore on, and the
‘’space’’ we had around us became increasingly invaded. Another caravan parked
his ‘van on the rocky water’s edge directly below us, spoiling the view! However,
by evening, after a walk to the campsites overlooking the open ocean, the deep
orange glow of the sunset gave us no further reason to complain. We are downright lucky to be in such a
beautiful spot.
Another warm night and a predawn check on the condition of
the freezer battery in the truck revealed another poor temperature. We could hardly disturb our neighbours
running SKV’s engine! George had to wait
until 7.00 before giving the battery a boost and the solar panels took over with
the rising sun. With all our meat in
this freezer, it was not good having a battery unable to hold its charge. George noticed a camper preparing to leave
his prime position at the end of the campground, we were quick to take his
place. Above the mangrove lined shore of
the inlet, no one close by, and facing south took the intense glare of the sea
in the late afternoon. Most importantly,
we’d be able to run the truck engine at dawn.
Perfect.
After lunch, with the sight of people, as well as Jabiru
(black headed stork) wandering about on the floor of the inlet, exposed at low
tide – we went on recce of our own. After a perilous climb down the wave eroded
rocks above the mangroves – Lea no
sooner stepped onto the rocky platform
than she went for a loop – her feet slipping and sliding as she tried to get up
from the fine layer of mud that covered the hard platform stretching across the
bay. Her navy shorts left with a very wet bum and white with silt.
We stuck to the sandy margins thereafter and much enjoyed looking into the rock indentations
occupied by sausage-like sea cucumbers as we wended our way out through the
striking oyster clad rocks – usually well under water in the bay.
Rising from a strip of sand below the near impenetrable,
jagged limestone cliffs that fringe the bay, these rocks resembled sculptured animals
– walruses, turtles ready to rush
headlong into the sea.
At dusk, the wind that generally blows keeping everyone cool
across the wide open empty plains of our campground, dropped. An unseen enemy
hiding in the mangroves, Culicoides ornatus, the dreaded no-see-ums or
blood sucking midges (incorrectly called ‘’sand flies’’) launched their attack while
we were engrossed in a phone conversation with our daughter. Lea was soon to go crazy with their itchy bites,
that soon developed into a mass of small
angry red bumps on her arms and legs. So much for gin and tonic or vitamin
B! It was George who remained untouched…
Before bed, he made his usual night time check to find the problematic
fridge battery had already dropped. He gave it a boost to see it through the night. However, at dawn
it had dropped so low, the deep freeze had cut out. A worrying
situation, which together with the no-see-um problem, had us decided to make a
dash for Broome (460km away) and by-pass Eighty Mile beach and Barn Hill
Station. Priority was a new battery.
When we stopped our morning break a couple of hours later, no-see-ums
stowaways attacked Lea again! Consequently, we gave the caravan a good spraying
of insecticide before continuing on journey.
Late lunch time we pulled into the Stanley 24 hour Rest Area and decided
that was enough for Saturday. Best rest up and do the remaining 200 km to
Broome on the Sunday. Before going to bed that night same story- the battery was too
sick! We brought our portable deepfreeze into the caravan and ran it off Getaway’s
deep cycle battery. A good idea until ….
2.00 am, when George got up to see how the ‘van, was coping with two fridges to
run. Battery levels were down to 12.2v
and falling, the warning light in amber.
With fellow campers to consider George wanted to move on down the road
to the first lay-by allowing us to run the generator without disturbing anyone
… After much discussion we opted to switch off the portable freezer and do nothing
until sunrise. It took the generator 20
minutes to remedy the crisis and by 8.00 we were on our way to Broome.
We decided to return to Broome caravan park, 5km north of the
town, although we had to swallow twice at the thought of again paying $50 per
night. At least this was a far better park than Port Hedland and who knew what
more central Parks were charging. We
were only to glad to have electricity solve our immediate worries and enjoy a very
good shower. Monday’s priority – battery! George made a beeline for ALL VOLTS, POWER
SOLUTIONS. They had come to our aid a couple of years ago. Dodger, the most helpful and knowledgeable
owner of the business not only replaced both starter and fridge batteries he also
sorted out a couple of other things that came to his attention – blown fuses,
slack in the hand throttle cable and testing of the Andersen plug. Lea
sorted out two loads of washing and began baking flat out in small proportions
to refill our tea-break containers, while we had electricity. All the Perth bakes in a large oven at
Saxon’s house had come to an end. Meanwhile, George after his chat with Dodger…
had gone in search of 4x4 mechanical workshop to replace the timing chain and
investigate why SKV was using more fuel / km travelled than ever before. Dodger had suggested a possible reason for
increased consumption could be air flow obstructed by soot accumulation in the
muffler. No one could help until Thursday at the earliest. George
took that booking before finishing off at Mitre 10 Hardware store. On his return , as Lea was still busy in her
kitchen George decided to clean out the ‘boot’ of the caravan. In taking out
our little dome tent he discovered a large nest of black ants camping within
the bag. How often we have mused at how quick ants travel up the stair well
into our caravan and begin foraging around the sink or cupboards. Over the
colder months some didn’t return home – simply huddled together in a corner for
the night. No matter how fast we got rid
of them there were still more at the next stop.
We realised the blighters had been in residence in our tent for at least
ten months!
With another three days in Broome we began making new travel
plans. A lady in the CP, just back from Cape Leveque told us that most of the
campgrounds and places of interest we’d visited six years ago (July 2014) were
closed due to covid19 concerns amongst the Aboriginal communities living up
there and without a booking – no one could travel up the Dampier Peninsular.
With Tuesday a ‘free’ day we popped along to the Broome Visitors Centre to
double check on the Dampier Peninsular. Sure enough being a bio-security area
there were only two places open and to get there required pre-bookings. Thankfully Cygnet Bay Pearl Farm, was one. On
our first visit up the peninsular Cygnet Bay boat trips had been fully booked
out and we had pledged to return one day
and do a boat experience! With the help
of Broome Visitors Centre we were able to
check out the next extreme tide
and make a confirmed booking for Waterfall Reef, 19th August, in
King Sound and two nights camping utilising the time consuming service of the
Visitor Centre. We may feel life has
returned to normality but we are pulled up when we discovered we were unable to
book a seat on the hovercraft taking people
out on an extreme low tide to see the remains of the Catalina and Dornier
flying boats, shot down by Japanese fighter planes in March 1942. It is not operating due to Covid19 safety.
An hour before sundown we took a drive to Cable Beach and walked
the expanse of the northern end with the tide right out, we happily walked for
an hour or so, admiring the intricate patterns on the surface of the beach
created by sand pebble crabs; checking out the mass of people contentedly
sitting beside their vehicles enjoying their sun-downers; dogs having a run and
watching the trains of camels plodding past burdened with happy tourists. A
twilight ritual so normal and typical of Broome, it was hard to believe the
threat posed by covid19 existed.
On our last free day here, we took a drive out on the red sandy
track that runs along the edge of Roebuck Bay to the Broome Bird Observatory. We stopped to walk the shoreline and enjoy the
extraordinarily blue colour of the sea, the layered nature of the sandstone
rocks, the rust coloured beaches lying below sheer pindan cliffs, and the
shoreline birds encountered. Amongst
them was the dark form of the eastern reef egret, a species we’d not seen
before.
George was up early to have SKV front of the queue at opening
time 7.00 to have the timing belt replaced by Minshull Mechanical – and
establish why the fuel consumption has increased. It turned out that the
tappets were sticking, and the valves would need to be adjusted … a long (4.5hr
job) that had to be done while the engine was cold. The net result a seven hour wait and a hefty bill
to settle.
Nothing goes according to plan and George
had to kill time walking
about! Fortunately he came across the Japanese Cemetery – the highlight of the day
for him thanks to its interesting history. There are 707 graves (919 Japanese
people) in the cemetery with most of them having tall headstones of coloured
beach rocks. During the years when Japanese men were employed in the pearling
industry many lost their lives due to drowning or diver’s paralysis (bends?).
In 1944 for example, diver’s paralysis claimed the lives of 30 men. Many others
were lost in the 1908 cyclone. Cyclones in 1887 and 1936 each caused the death
of 140 men.
When the heat became too much he was able head for the
Woolworths shopping centre and sit patiently on a bench.
With problems sorted after 5 days in Broome, we decided to
return south as far as Barn Hill Cattle Station, 130km away. By lunch time we
had a front ridge un-powered site overlooking the ocean with a light breeze
blowing from behind us to help cool things down. Temperature 30°C. This popular Station was busy but nothing like normal peak
season.
Saturday Night Session
with dinner under a night sky and singer /guitarist Terry Bennetts
Like teenagers, we set off armed with our camp table, chairs, cutlery and juice for the 5.30 start under a hot evening sky. Everyone suitably scattered Covid style. As the sun set and the horizons changed to the softer colours of afterglow Terry, kept our toes tapping and happily entertained. Young hands working on the station, quietly moved around pouring out portions of soup. How well, we fall into safe new ways! Bit later, they quietly asked a table near us to go up and collect their main course and requested the next table to be ready to approach... Obviously someone at the opposite end of the field noticed the movement to the open verandah and next minute a stampede of feet to queue up with no regard to distancing occurred alongside us. Fear of food running out? We take back what we said earlier… Line-up, line-up is a habit so steeply engrained that all thought of safety flies off the radar... Reality – a lot of people are fickle when it comes to their personal well-being. Soon after 7.30 pm a northern winter cool began to infiltrate the grounds and jumpers were pulled on. George returned to the caravan to collect our fleeces. Ice-cream in cones were served up and we noticed those first served, on finishing their cone, immediately packed up and left the grounds. By the time we had eaten our ice-cream we were uncontrollably shivering and giggling at this ridiculous situation… Days without any cloud cover results in rapid heat loss and the temperatures plummet from 30° to 15°C within a couple of hours of the sunset. By 8 p.m. we are usually inside our insulated caravan unaware of this temperature change. We forced ourselves to delight in live entertainment on a Saturday night suffering the longest half-hour of chills before calling it a day.
Rustic it may be… but hell’s teeth it is a divine shower to
take in the middle of the day under sapphire skies. The spiralling black hose solar heats the water!
We say it every time we come here, it’s an extraordinary
beach-scape …
We love our evening walks along the beach with the glow of
the jagged rocks on shoreline becoming ever more colourful as the sun slowly sinks
below the horizon and reinforces why we come back here, time and time
again. As a traveller’s venue, Barn
Hill’s beach-side station stay, is a spot that takes a lot to beat it.
