Week 13 (17th - 25th June)

Carnarvon turned out to be a most pleasant little town and our caravan park set behind a supermarket which made for easy shop-up! Great for George as he didn’t have to be subjected to that trauma… easy internet access too. Thus we spent four nights in one place and went off on jaunts around the Carnarvon environs. We scurried off early Saturday morning to the “Growers Market” outside the civic centre and found ourselves a good selection of produce especially paw-paw not to mention bananas at a better price than the $12.99 a kg being asked in the shops.
That afternoon we rode the “Fruit Loop” taking the northern & southern roads on either side of the mighty Gascoyne River that supplies all the water to Carnarvon and its agricultural industry. You’d never think so to see the vast sandy riverbed as it is predominantly an underground river – only running above ground for 120 days in a year. Massive crop nets creating a different kind of horticultural city and Lea enjoyed taking a ‘sticky beak’ at prices and produce for sale at roadside stalls each with a honesty box.

Sunday took us out to Rocky Pool some 50 kms up the Gascoyne. Here, the river runs over a rocky floor creating a most attractive permanent pool that has become a popular spot for both locals and travellers alike.

Rocky Pool - Gascoyne River

We walked upstream and at a point needed to wade through one of the riffles in order to get to the opposite bank. Lea, reluctant to remove her shoes & socks begged a piggyback and her husband obliged only to falter midstream when a patch of quicksand had him sink to his knees. With that we both collapsed into the stream. It must have been most amusing for any onlookers! Once on the other side Lea removed her pants to ring them out and left them on a rock to dry while a number of kookaburras began chuckling away in the trees.
On our return home we went in search of the Bibbawarra bore – originally drilled for coal in 1903. It was drilled to a depth of 914m and ever since has been producing a constant flow of hot water measuring 65°C (!), far too hot to touch.

We collected Paula Baxter late Monday night after her long day on a coach from Perth. She now lives in Queensland and has joined us to explore the Outback Coast (stretching from Carnarvon to Exmouth). Probably our most widely travelled adventuring friend - we first met Paula when she was Justine and then Saxon’s Year 4 teacher back in South Africa – Maidstone.

The Blowholes campsite, 50km north of Carnarvon, was full of caravans and people living in a few small corrugated iron shacks, we were actually lucky to find ourselves a site at the far end of the camp ground. Mid afternoon, with the tide high, we walked back towards the blowholes and spent a memorable hour watching the waves crashing against the limestone platforms, the fountains of spray being generated, listening to the roar of the air being compressed in the blowhole and walking in the spray zone.

Lea and Paula Baxter at the Blowholes

Lea collected a pocket full of crystal salt taken from the depressions in the rocks where the water had evaporated, so now we have the real stuff, direct from the sea, on our food!

Having heard so much about the rough road to Red Bluff (60km further north) we took it mighty slowly and did not find it all that bad. It was heart-warming to roll into this particular place at long last and bring to life all the tales we had heard from Justine & Daniel, Jamie and Emma over the years.
Red Bluff

Later, we walked out to the point of Red Bluff following a path that picked its way through the limestone rocks at the foot of the spinifex covered slopes to make our first pilgrimage to the memory of Jamie. He was very much on our minds as we looked out over the bay, his final resting place – an area ‘our four’ loved so much, even if somewhat more developed now than when they were last here. The sea so calm that the waves creating Red Bluff’s famous “Bluff Barrel” scarcely evident. A stack of surfboards left amongst the rocks, the owners nowhere in sight, an indication of how trusting people are. At low tide we walked in ankle deep water along the limestone platforms that had become exposed, finding them to be full of clams and sea urchins. We even saw Otto and Roo’s Nemo hiding there.

We were, however quite taken aback at the cost of camping at Red Bluff; $10 per head per night – with no facilities other than a pit latrine. Nevertheless it certainly was a “loo with a view” and, if engaged, one had to yell out at any approaching party.

Our next camp was at Three Mile Beach on remote Gnarloo Station – a busy place with mod-cons we never expected to find: Hot salt water showers, flushing toilets and telephones. To the south the famous waves that beckon surfers from all over the world breaking; to the north a shallow lagoon filled with coral and a nice sandy beach.

Nearshore corals in lagoon at Gnarloo

Water warm enough for George to take his first swim in the sea and a low tide inviting enough for Paula to don her goggles and mask and do some snorkelling over the clumps of coral that lay close inshore. Shoals of electric blue fish, striking white and black species, blue-tipped corals – the water crystal clear.

As there are no roads north of Gnarloo we had to return the way we had come and en route spent a night camping in the bush at Bibbawarra bore. A quiet spot tucked away outside Carnarvon but the ground infested with sharp three-pronged thorns (“bindies”) that threatened to cripple us the moment we stepped outside without shoes. With the piping hot water from the bore now running to waste we could not help wondering why some enterprising fellow does not develop a mineral spa resort (like Tshipise) and make a fortune?

So we’ve popped back to Carnarvon for the night. In the morning we’ll send off the blog, refuel and re-supply with fresh bread & milk before setting off for Coral Bay, Exmouth and Ningaloo Marine Park.

Week 12 (12th-16th June)

It was good news to be told there was internet access at Nanga Bay. The prospect of sending and receiving emails as well as being able to send off our next blog persuaded us to set up camp there. Nanga Bay resort reminded us both strongly of Mozambique.

Beach at Nanga bay

A long white beach on the doorstep, palm trees, masses of bougainvilleas, tables outside, the steady beat of a diesel generator running, shady tamarisk trees, even a spa with hot water drawn from an artesian bore. The water at Nanga, being drawn from deep underground, tasted dreadful so we have resorted to drinking the freshwater we are carrying in our containers. With an expanse of beautifully clear seawater stretching out beyond the horizon it has come as a surprise to rarely see any life within it - seemingly sterile! Thus, we look with envy upon most of our neighbours with boats. If it is not a “tinny” on car roofs, it is serious sea going craft on trailers bristling with rods.

Next day, to our dismay we discovered that in this part of the world an Optus connection simply does not work! The only service available was through Telstra – they have a virtual monopoly in the rural areas. In the likelihood that internet access is to become increasingly difficult due to the big towns becoming few and far between we have taken the precaution of preparing a CD to post to Saxon. SMS messages are impossible as we are out of signal range for days on end.

Two days later we moved on to Hamelin Pool (50km) and booked into the caravan park there. A quaint spot set in a time warp amongst somewhat desolate surrounds. The attractions of great historic interest – an old telegraph station, the coquina (shell) quarries and the stromatolites. That night, so cold (dropping to 5°C) that George had to wrap himself up in a “sarong” made from a ‘Skehel’ blanket!

The stromatolites were intriguing! A boardwalk took us out over the colony, the water crystal clear, and we gazed down onto a truly remarkable set of living fossils.

Stromatolite colony at Hamelin Pool

Thinking how extraordinary it was, that our very existence today depended on the microscopic cyanobacteria that built the stromatolites 3.5 billion years ago. Quite amazing to realise that bacteria built this stromatolite empire which dominated the earth for more than 2 billion years and that without the oxygen they produced air breathing life forms would never have evolved.

Since then we have been slowly mooching along towards Carnarvon enjoying the eastern shores of Shark Bay. Each time we cut back onto the main highway we are again struck by the number of dead kangaroos in various stages of decomposition. Each corpse with a number of Australian “vultures”, the black ravens, in attendance with the occasional wedge tailed eagle.

We enjoy making use of informal camping grounds, arriving mid-morning to select our pitch before other like-minded nomads roll in during the afternoon. It never ceases to amaze us just how many there are out on the road! Gladstone Beach run by the Shire of Carnarvon with a charge of 1$ per adult painted on a rusty pole and an “honesty box”. The price hasn’t changed in almost ten years!

Gladstone Beach entrance

Twelve other rigs were already there, all well strung out giving plenty of space for privacy. After settling in we walked to an old causeway and jetty that we could see sticking out into the sea, learning that almost 100 years before (c. 1910) they had hoped to establish a port there to facilitate the export of wool and sandalwood being brought from the interior on camel trains. George walked out onto the tumbled down remains of the old jetty to see whether it was worth fishing from, but there was not a sign of life. The water cold, so cold that it makes one’s feet ache whilst standing in it!
We returned to read our books, basking in the warm sun outside Getaway. George delighted to finally fire up our new generator for the first time so that we could make a lunch of toasted sandwiches with our stale bread! There is nothing like a few home comforts while out in the bush! At evening time we took a walk along the barren flats that extend for miles along the coast, the surface crusty, the tide silently creeping in, not a wave in sight.

125km further north we ducked westwards to investigate another authorised free camping spot at Bush Bay. First impression lead us to believe there must be a caravan rally as such was the number of grey nomads sitting outside their vans, giving us a friendly wave, Aussie flags fluttering from the bull-bars of their 4x4s. The only remaining sites were damp and we were advised that by lunch time we would be inundated by the high tide!
We left, following a sandy track that led us away from the “madding crowd” to the edge of a tidal creek, the shore mangrove-lined, where we found ourselves a patch of high ground covered in salt marsh type vegetation. We have it all to ourselves so it was a good time to have a shower behind the caravan and relax for the rest of the day again…

Drat paparazzi !

Another week comes to a close. Tomorrow we will go in search of an internet café in Canarvon for our blogs. Hold thumbs! Carnarvon is the base of a thriving agricultural industry beside the Gascoyne River. We are told fruit is available direct from the local plantations so we hope to indulge! Our plans are to spend the weekend upstream before returning to Carnarvon to collect our friend Paula Baxter off the Greyhound on Monday night.

Week 11(3rd - 11th June)

The North wind huffs and puffs outside Getaway & Skiv despite being parked on a tiny flattened beach overlooking Whalebone Bay and backed by a limestone cliff.

Skiv and Getaway on the edge of Whalebone Bay

Shallow aquamarine waters stretch out before us with patches of sea grass changing the hue. Welcome Swallows swoop around our doorway, the odd one even flits in and out. We collected a special permit (free) from the Shire enabling us to spend one night here. We left Denham early Saturday morning so that we could make the most of this little haven. Taking refuge from the wind this Sunday morning we review the past week…

So hard parting from family! Wondering when we will next see them is the story of our life. While Saxon & Paul returned South we took the road North through the Kalbarri National Park. We spent the day stopping at the scenic spots overlooking the gorges of the Murchison River. Spectacular views of the river meanders, the haunting call of a butcherbird drifting up from the valley below and evidence of the floods that had scoured the system in March this year each added to the experience in different ways.

Looking up Murchison river from Nature's Window

We noticed a 10 million year old ripple mark in the sandstone at our feet matched an identical set, 60m below, being formed by the same river in deposits of fresh sand. A humbling thought that provided testimony to the park’s fascinating geological history, the antiquity of the landscape around us and the timeless, inexorable process of erosion. We’d had plenty of walking and beauty to distract us from the sadness of the day. As evening began closing in we left the Park and drove until we reached the old bridge crossing the Murchison inland, just off the new Highway. There, found ourselves a pretty spot in an old road construction camp with an amazingly smart toilet plus fancy ramp! The last of the sunset cast a peaceful light upon our river frontage and we felt content in our 24 hour parking site. Too good to move on, and we stayed far longer…

Sunday beside the Murchison River -
“Where is that helicopter?” Our peace is actually broken by a quad chugging past our caravan with two hefty folk aboard. This 24hr parking site is a particularly fine place for observing the passing population “rolling in” and “pulling out” as we supposedly relax, reading our books.

We discover that the old fellow heavily clothed up for protection against the fierce elements is now the legal caretaker of the fancy toilet block for Main Roads. His old caravan and scattered goods may be parked in a noisy spot below the North West Coastal Highway with road trains steadily plying up and down, but he knows that it is the coolest spot. He even keeps abreast of temperatures in Perth! Told George all about the cyclone generated flood that swept through the site earlier this year. It took the river level over a month to subside.

“Slopes” and “sliders”, the tourist hire vehicles drift in, either to take a peep, stretch legs or enjoy a bite to eat at facilities provided by Main Roads Dept.

A huge rig – slick designer model with shiny silver wrapping protecting the roof rack, drives round checking out the status of possible sites while the wife follows behind in a black Mirage with gleaming mag. wheels.

Hats off to the old fella in his wheelchair – his Mercedes transit van draws up and out pops the electrical ramp and disgorges said wheelchair. His cheerful voice chattering to the dog beside the neighbouring bus, wafts out across the extensive site as he makes his way steadily over to the 3 toilet block, its ramp safely taking him up to the handicapped one. Wonderful to see this expense being put to good use and widening the bush experience for him.

A fifth wheel with a free standing satellite dish; The yacht trailing behind a Land Cruiser being used as a home - underpants and towel drying on the guard rail.

Two ozzie muckers (as JG would say), squashies on their heads discussing whether it was Burl Ives playing on the radio! They catch the last of the evening’s sun on their moon-like bellies alongside their ancient camping bus and a crackling fire in front of them.

The two aussie muckers chewing the fat

Later, George had the opportunity to chat to one of the old Aussie drifters, a former cook on a sheep station and scrutinize his remarkable hat up close! He had stuck a horn, of the last sheep he had slaughtered, onto his hatband (using silicon), and had adorned the brim with wool and some hand-woven “dreadlocks” designed to keep flies away from his face. He mentioned he’d been forced to remove those hanging directly in front of his face because they tended to catch fire whenever he lit a fag!

No wonder our old camp attendant says he’d be lonely in a town. This spot has had comings and goings all day long without being intrusive and although it is half the numbers he’d normally see due to the severe impact the price of fuel has had on travellers – we’d have never guessed it.

Map of Shark Bay Marine Park

Monday, we moved on, upwards to Shark Bay – reputedly one of the most outstanding World Heritage Sites there is to see; important primarily because its high salinity (much of the bay 1.5 - 2 times higher than normal seawater); the resultant salt-adapted marine life and the vast expanse (400 000ha) of sea-grasses – the largest banks in the world. We stopped in on Shell Beach at the bottom of the L’Haridon Bight – this must be the ultimate of shell beaches! Literally billions of tiny white cockle shells up to 5m deep and extending for 120km along the shore lie in a succession of ridges created by storms. They not only form the basis of the shell grit industry but also, once naturally cemented together over time, are quarried and the resultant shell blocks used for construction.

We based up for the week in Denham Caravan Park, overlooking the Denham Sound, a picturesque little seaside town we walked the length of on Tuesday, feeling distanced by our Kiki Stella’s first birthday in the UK.

Monkey Mia, with its famed wild dolphins, is located on the opposite side of the Peron Peninsula. As the dolphins arrive any time between 8.00am and midday we got up far earlier than normal to drive across to the Monkey Mia Nature Reserve to witness the interactions of these marine mammals with people. On arrival, we found a large crowd already assembled on the shore watching a couple of dolphins in the shallows but the numbers of dolphins soon increased to eight, representing three generations of the same family. They have been attracting tourists to Monkey Mia for the past 35 years, imagine the field day a resource economist would have establishing the dollar value of the dolphins. The mind boggles at the amount of money they must have attracted? The feeding and care of the dolphins, carefully managed in an orderly way by CALM Park authorities. The dolphins returned periodically throughout the morning providing the opportunity for latecomers to see them.

Dolphins at Monkey Mia

Long after the crowd had dispersed they still came into the shallows. A group of 5 pelicans on the beach were equally entertaining. Preening, clattering their bills, yawning, tugging at sea grass washed up on the shore, uttering guttural roars and resting with their heads facing backwards on twisted necks all contributed to a favourable impression of our day in Monkey Mia.

While the caravan park took care of “Getaway” for $3 we went “bush” in “Skiv” to explore the 52 000 ha of arid scrub-lands and coastal scenery that make up the Francois Peron National Park.

The scrublands of the Francois Peron National Park

Having once been a sheep station it was interesting to learn that because of the thick scrub sheep could not be mustered in the conventional way. Instead, they were trapped at watering sites and herded along 30-40m wide laneways which led towards the Peron station. One laneway from Monkey Mia ran for 40km. Why anyone ever thought that the terrain and vegetation was suited to sheep farming is beyond belief.

The road (45km) was covered in deep sand in many places, sufficient to make Lea feel quite nervous as “Skiv” roared her way through the drifts in 4WD, bucking like a bronco and swaying from side to side. Cape Peron lay at the far end of the track and proved to be a perfect spot to spend the day fishing and walking. All too special to leave before nightfall to take up our place in an authorised camping spot! Sleeping in “Skiv” was hardly likely to impact unduly. We walked a good part of The Wanamalu (pied cormorant) trail along the crest of the red dunes, with lovely views of the Marine Park. With an estimated 10,000 dugongs living in Shark Bay our primary objective was to find some. Our search of the clear, calm shallows was in vain. Perfect weather lulled us into choosing to do the whole trail to Skipjack Point next day – Sadly, we didn’t ‘seize the day’!

Our walk to Skipjack Point was ruined by the strong wind that arose during the night. We drove there instead and took the boardwalk out to the viewing platforms where the “big five” (turtles, dugongs, dolphin, sharks and manta-rays) are a major draw card. Being totally exposed to the wind it was impossible to stay for long and we peered downwards into water so rough it made for poor visibility. While bumping our way back down the sandy tracks and skirting the edge of the birridas (ancient clay pans) to Denham, we met a Park vehicle busy flattening out a section of road by dragging huge grader tyres behind it. We exchanged pleasantries and learnt the dugongs have moved further a field into warmer waters. Perhaps we’ll catch sight of them further up the coast?
The wind has now dropped and we are off to walk the limestone bluffs before pulling out of Whalebone Bay late this afternoon for Nanga Bay. Hopefully we’ll find an internet connection there.

Week 10 (27th May - 2nd June)

Leaving Perth, we trundled northwards with Paul, Saxon & Harley the sausage dog (Sacky’s “little Baba” and “the best dog in the world”) following behind. At Lancelin a few hours on the beach gave Harley the opportunity to have a run but towards evening we pulled off the Brand Highway and set up camp in an attractive rest area where, three and a half years previously, we had spent the night with Otto when he was 14 months! Even the kookaburras were still there giving us a fine rendition of their evening chorus, their peels of laughter creating a true Aussie atmosphere amongst the wandoo gums as we got the fire going to cook hamburgers over the coals.

Campsite at Wandoo rest area near Jurien - the site of Harley's bee-sting

How easily a relaxed and happy morning preparing to leave can change in an instant. Suddenly, Harley began retching, frothing at the mouth and staggering in a manner indicative of paralysis. The sheer horror that she may have eaten some poison lying around the campsite (1080 dropped by a crow?) crossed our minds. A very distraught Sacky and Paul rushed off in the direction of Eneabba (50km away) with Harley passed out in the car to see if they could find a vet. We followed on behind hoping to meet up with them and worrying ourselves sick. Phones were useless as we were out of range. We continued on to Geraldton (200km away) feeling sure that was where the next vet would be and we would have mobile reception.

There was still no sign of them in Geraldton so we sat in the forecourt of a service station anxiously waiting for a call. Two hours later – relief! Saxon called from the outskirts of Geraldton to say Harley had gone into anaphylactic shock as a result of a bee sting. They had been sent to a vet in Dongara who had administered a shot of steroids and anti-histamine. Sacky & Paul were convinced she had died but, like Kleinman the honey badger who got bitten by a puff-adder and came back from the “dead”, she was none the worse for her experience. Reunited and emotionally drained yet greatly relieved we continued on to Kalbarri (150km).

Setting up camp in the Red Bluff caravan park George experienced his first real problem trying to back the caravan into the site we had been allocated … even with the able “assistance” of Paul, Saxon and Lea along with three neighbouring caravan owners telling him which way to steer (“left-hand down!”, “right-hand down!”, “full lock!”, “forward” ….) Absolute chaos, made worse by discovering that once perched on its pocket handkerchief sized parking place (a concrete plinth), the corner stabilisers would not reach the ground and the van was far from level and … wait for it …. Lea and Sacky’s discovery of a drive-through site in a much better position (out of the wind and further from the road)! So, after all that Getaway had to be hitched up again and moved!

Paul and George planned a major assault on the fish stocks of the Kalbarri region, a recce of our surrounds followed the next day.

Looking down the barrel of a nose - the meeting of a crab and Harley the nosey parker

We checked out the fishing spots below Red Bluff, along the beach and at the mouth of the Murchison estuary; bought bait and prepared our gear but our first attempt, so typical of shore based marine angling, was a dismal failure. The surf too powerful, the gully we selected too rocky and slippery …. we may as well have just emptied our tackle boxes and bait into the sea!

The warm weather we had been hoping for never materialised. The fishing did not get any better. We tried poppers, lures, super jigs, sardines and prawns as bait …… but never had a touch and eventually resorted to taking a drive along the coast to have a look at the strikingly coloured sandstone cliffs of the Kalbarri National Park.

One of the most interesting spots is Rainbow Valley where, quite apart from colour of the multi-layered sandstones (some 400million years old) George was mystified by the array of sandstone tubes that hung vertically along the edge of the many overhangs.

Ancient remains of the vertical burrows of the sand worm Skolithos

Subsequently he learnt that they were burrows of a sand-worm (Skolithos) that lived in Silurian times on the floor of the ocean! The compacted sand that filled the burrows (this having been ingested by the worms) was more resistant to weathering and left standing after the softer sediments surrounding them were eroded away. The densely packed distribution of the burrows was staggering and suggested that the animal must have once been in incredible abundance on the sea floor.

Paul and his craftily snagged barred longtom

At last Paul succeeded in foul hooking a barred longtom by casting his lure on top of the poor things head, and to mark the event, we cooked the long ribbon of a fish for breakfast. Later, three undersized silver bream were caught (and released) by Paul. With the score now standing at four : zero, a family fishing competition (Begg vs Gee) was planned! The event took place at Chinaman’s Point and within minutes the Gee couple were two fish ahead. The Beggs struggled, George finally landing a tiny blowfish (vermin) and a bream so small that to avoid being accused of murdering juveniles it was hastily released. The Gees may be better fishermen but we still had nothing for the frying pan all week!

Just before leaving Perth we had lunch with Diana & Peter Ryan. Days later they met up with their friend Di Godson and told her to look out for a troopie sporting buffalo horns probably roaming around Kalbarri at the same time as she’d be visiting the region. Co-incidentally, Di Godson was at Arundel School with Lea, her brother at Peterhouse with George, so we had the unexpected pleasure of catching up one evening.

With Saxon and Paul returning to Perth tomorrow (Saturday) we will move on exploring the gorges of the Murchison River in the Kalbarri National Park.