Tramping tales for December 2010

Having traversed the Top End from east to west (Townsville to Broome) we were ready to begin the downward track towards Perth, 2,200kms lay ahead of us. Passing through Roebuck Plains it’s easy to think we’re in The Great Sandy Desert when we were are simply on the fringes. 750,000 acres of this belongs to the Roebuck Cattle Station and it was a thrill to actually see cattle across the plains blending into distant shimmering mirages. A photographic opportunity presented itself and we couldn’t resist drawing to a halt to capture cattle congregated around the only shady waterhole.

Unfortunately the cattle were spooked by George –perhaps they thought he was an abattoir man!

Our first proposed stop was hopefully to be Cape Villaret, on the coast. We were concerned the station would be closed for the season- fortunately no gates were locked as we travelled the 9km dirt track. Close to our destination a large rocky outcrop in the shape of a barn, with a little imagination, gave reason to the station’s name Barn Hill Station Stay. One caravan was parked amongst the shady powered sites. The caretaker gave us a choice of sites – power for the heat or view where we could use our generator. We took a night and a view with our man leading the way on his quad bike with Blue Heeler balanced upon the carrier, in typical Aussie work dog style. His parting words were people came for a night and never wanted to leave... How right he was.

From our promontory, we had a splendid view north up a white beach washed by turquoise waters and backed by eroded pindan cliffs- their true beauty only coming into full focus from the beach.

Shortly after lunch George went down to the beach to have a look around and without intention or water, he ended up walking to Cape Villaret, fascinated by the incredible rock formations and sheer beauty of the place. Even went feral and shed his clothing in this vast loneliness. Fortunately a steady sea breeze helped keep him cool. So too, back in the caravan, relatively comfortable temperatures were maintained. Never-the-less George was pleased to have chilled water to drink on his return.

Later in the afternoon Lea popped out to the truck to fetch an item when she felt a dog at her feet, very friendly and seemingly keen to jump in. Busily giving him a rub – feet appeared below the door followed by a CALF! A brief greeting left Lea in dumb amazement as she watched a foreign couple with a young calf and the dog in tow, descend the cliff path on an afternoon walk. When we took our evening stroll along the beach we smiled at finding the calf’s gambolling footprints in the sand.

A magnificent beach to walk- dipping into the warm sea at intervals and drying off naturally yet topping that were magnificent rock formations sculpted by wind and water.

In time we learnt the German couple had come for a week and were now staying 6 months. A farm dog had adopted them and they had taken on the care of an orphan for the lady owner of the station. We slept with all blinds up and windows open to take advantage of the wilderness and the refreshing winds blowing. Light of day promptly woke us and for our troubles, we found ourselves witnessing wave upon wave of Kimberley grasshoppers flying past or smashing into our caravan. An enthralling sight to behold while considering what forces could be driving these swarms. This was a treasure of a place and we had to stay another day... The caretaker smiled knowinglyand happily had a yarn with us. He was from Coffs Harbour, a prawn fisherman before retirement. Not only did he tell us about the German couple he filled us in on his job running the Station Stay campground, coming across to work the season from April to September. Lucky for us, he’d been asked to keep it open through this summer for the first time, giving him 18 months all up. His faithful shadow, the Blue Heeler wasn’t his either – another fickle farm character with a chosen few regular campers, she has adopted. Barn Hill Station Stay has a big following in season- folk with 18 years under their belts. Apparently the station owner serves up an in-season Pizza Evening and Sunday Roast with live country music provided by a well-known Aboriginal band from a nearby Community, for the numbers that pour in. Sounds great yet we found a paradise for ourselves in the off-season.

The explorer, Ludwig Leichhardt, referred to the ‘sands appearing to be on fire’ in his diary and as you travel the road to Sandfire, the sight of some of the dune cordons he was referring to become all the more meaningful. In travelling the distances we do, one learns to distinguish between the ever changing soils and vegetation types thereby adding an interest which most others would simply overlook, describing the journey as monotonous! Some thirty kilometres south of Sandfire we turned off to revisit one of the attractions of this area, Eighty Mile Beach with its isolated caravan park set behind a primary dune, with rows of tall shady trees and palm trees to add to its picturesque scene – Well, that is what we remembered! The dirt track took us through sand ridges to reach our destination and we found ourselves puzzling over the apparent land clearing going on – tangled mounds of dead bushes, uprooted woody vegetation strewn around and then abandoned. As we topped the last sand ridge and looked down into the swale occupied by the caravan park we realised this place had been transformed. The place looked almost barren – what trees remained were half their former size and coppicing. While we were overseas, Eighty Mile Beach had been scalped by category 5 Cyclone Laurence, not quite a year ago – 21 December 2009! Winds gusting up to 285 km. per hour were to also wipe out 1500 cattle on the surrounding Wallal Station and send the camp water tank to kingdom come. No sign ever found, even by a spotter plane sent to look for it, inland!

Mooted as “the longest, loneliest and most beautiful beachcombing sands in Australia” with molten sunsets casting incredible glows across the atypical sea colour. The flat, shallow beach profile means there is a continual re-suspension of near shore sediments imparting an unusual cloudy hue to the water. We had forgotten this and having just come from another beach with such gloriously blue waters we found this a little disconcerting but the colour grows on you. On evening we gave up our computer work and walked over the primary dune to enjoy the beach- only to be immediately confronted by rows of clearly defined turtle tracks – that appeared to be very fresh. Not far off was a Coast Watch shelter and as George took photos of the deep turtle treads, Lea walked over to speak to the attendants about the turtle movements. Turned out they were Irish girls waiting in the shade for high tide and the prospect of seeing a turtle come out to nest! Lots of surmising on turtle behaviour and their protection took place between the two of us as we walked along the shell strewn beach.

We were staggered by the number of nesting sites with tracks running from the water’s edge to the dunes averaging every 15-20 metres.

Immersed, as we were in ‘turtle talk’ we didn’t realize how far we’d walked by the time the sun had set. Turning around we strode home in the twilight when suddenly lumbering out of the wash, George spotted a turtle. Our excitement was palpable- so much so, we probably frightened her as she promptly returned to the sea. Thrilled to have had a sighting like that we continued on our way, only to see, well ahead another two making a determined effort to haul them-selves up the beach. We moved closer in mute delight. Once both were safely in the fore-dune, George moved up even closer to take a photo, before beckoning me to join him. There, we observed her flinging sand backwards as she dug. It became too dark to really see anything and wary of disturbing her, we left- only to be waylaid by other turtles heading for the dunes. Close to the Coast Watch shelter we almost stumbled over a sixth. Not a soul around and in the dark it was difficult to see just where the pathway back to the caravan park might be that we decided the beach road was the safer route to take with Lea’s dicky knee. Even in the car park we found ourselves blundering around until we eventually reached a locked gate. Had we broken a curfew? Like naughty kids we wondered what we should do. George managed to climb over the gate, followed smartly by Lea. Thank goodness for long legs! With quite a bit of fumbling around we eventually arrived back at the Park entrance and down to the campsite. In 1992, we had unexpectedly come across the thrill of hatching turtles on Daytona Beach in America of all places. We have also been to Mon Repos, just north of Bagara Beach, Queensland (2008) in the hopes of encountering nesting turtles. All we saw was a highly structured protection facility. In the backs of our minds, we seem to remember a fee being charged to see Turtle nesting whether it be Mon Repos or St. Lucia in South Africa.

Following a late dinner, George returned to the beach with his camera set on low impact and a red hankie over his torch to subdue the light. He didn’t stay long as his presence felt too intrusive amongst all the activity of these remarkable Flatback Turtles.

We didn’t know much about Flatback Turtles and checked our reference books- only the Kakadu handbook referred to them, writing that Flatback or Alabika Turtle is the only endemic species of sea turtle in Australian waters. It also mentioned that they appear to be the only species which enjoy the cloudy waters of the Kakadu estuaries and coastline – no wonder there appeared to be big numbers around the milky blue waters of Eighty Mile Beach. This is the only turtle to regularly come ashore on the limited beaches of the Kakadu coastline. Doing so, at night on a rising tide and with an average clutch of approximately forty soft shelled eggs. Two nesting seasons have been noted around there and in different months to what we were seeing here in late November early December. Could we be so lucky for a second night? Keen to see what evidence there was of the previous night’s activities we were down on the beach early next day and found it resembled a turtle’s ploughing competition. This is a unique beach – fishing is excellent and the fisher fraternity obvious by their deeply tanned colour. Although we saw some children playing in the shallows no one swims out as apparently the sea is full of sharks and sea snakes. For our second evening, we walked northwards setting off shortly before sunset as high tide was only around 7pm.

An abundance of shells rattling as the waves move across them soon had us combing

the watermarks to find a variety of pairs for our grand-daughters in Perth.

It was still quite light when the first turtle arrived in the wash only to turn back, as did a second. We decided to sit back in the dunes and watch for turtles arriving. Right on dusk, we had two turtles make their cumbersome walk up the beach – taking around ten minutes, which isn’t a bad time so perhaps their movement just looks awkward as they’re out of their element. A third arrived as we prepared to depart. How exhilarating to be a spectator at such a remarkable occasion.

We moved on to Cape Keraudren, another incredibly popular camping area run by the Shire of East Pilbara, we had visited with Paula Baxter back in July 2006. This time, not only did we know exactly where the best places were to camp WE WERE the only people around in this boundless beautiful wild place, aside from the ranger. It is quite remarkable just how different each of these coastal places have been. Arriving at high tide – we parked overlooking a superb inlet of sparkling vivid blue water contrasting against the mangrove lined upper reaches while oyster covered rocks predominate in the main body of the estuary. Further characterization added by rocks of sienna, black and grey.

Egocentrically surveying our ‘front yard’ out towards Cape Keraudren, on arrival

George went roaming once the tide had dropped around three metres and from her windswept platform jutting out, Lea was able to observe his lone figure fossicking around on exposed marine platforms. The residual pools filled with different forms of sea life – an octopus squirted water nervously as George took a photo of it. A big Red kangaroo had come to lie on the damp sand in the shade of the mushroom shaped rocks – one of the species we very seldom see other than wildlife parks. (Turned out to be a large Euro male - often mistaken for the Big Red due to his reddish colour). We haven’t had to use our noisy little fan nor have we missed air-con since leaving Broome thanks to the steady sea breezes we’ve experienced. However, parking to maximise the view and the breeze here caught us out as by late afternoon it was blowing so strongly we could barely open the door and we had to close the facing windows. George was forced to make a fire in the lee of Getaway to cook our supper. No sooner had he completed cooking than a kangaroo arrived and hopped around - a very young joey just popping a nose out of her pouch. Mum, obviously used to lots of campers, wasn’t happy with a mere carrot, we offered by hand.

Without any communications, especially television for most of the way along the Top End and outback of Western Australia, we have reverted to listening to our music, scrabble playing and if we discover a discarded magazine with unused crosswords, we are delighted. We found a bundle of mags in the Broome Laundry (plus a large, virtually new non-stick frying pan- which we happily commandeered as well) and we have been working through them at the rate of knots. Evenings pass fast chewing over crosswords- pleased as punch when we fully complete a crossword or highlighting the few clues that bug us. These, torture us during our driving or lunch hours.

Hate to complain about cool winds especially when they make a big difference to surviving out here in the heat but last night’s intermittent rocking of Getaway led to a somewhat disturbed night as the wind whistled across the inlet and the sparsely vegetated dune fields that surrounded us. Thankfully it quietened down by morning enabling us to walk comfortably out to the cape point before the heat of the sun became too much by 10 a.m.

TIDE IN! From the northern head of Cape Keraudren looking westwards over the sea

TIDE OUT! George’s eastward photograph of the northern head, while Lea walks its base.

An amazing contrast in tidal amplitude!

During our morning walk we happened upon two distinct tracks of a snake – we thought could belong to a large Tiger snake. At the end of another campground, facing north, we found a sign demarcating the terminal end of the historic Rabbit Proof Fence, the longest in the world with a newly installed GPS point. Although no sign of the fence, it is part of Australian annals – its boast conflicts with similar claims for the Dingo Fence.

We promptly checked our previous photos regarding both fences. The Dog Fence is 5,300kms!

In truth, it probably comes down to the dates when each was built!

George took this info map photo at Starvation Harbour where Rabbit Proof Fence began.

That afternoon, as soon as the inlet emptied itself, Lea ventured out into the sun for a low tide ecology walk with her husband. Although wary of crocs and stone fish in this massive expanse, she was delighted to experience all the sights George had seen the previous afternoon – even down to an octopus giving away its well camouflaged presence, shooting water at her.

For some unknown reason George had a ‘thought’ during the night - leaving Cape Keraudren was to be the day his wife drove Skiv and Getaway for the FIRST time ever! A 10km stint on dirt was accomplished without mishap before George took over the leg on the Northern Highway to De Grey River. Another very popular 24 hour Rest Area we had loved back in 2006 with its flood plain of paperbark trees and bird life. One caravan at the entrance, we moved down river, to park in exactly the same place as we did last time! Fan was promptly switched on and as the day wore on we had to get used to damp clothing again! Remember the barking dogs’ song? Well, we fell asleep to a memorable rendition from a quartet of barking owls’.

Hitting the road early next morning we soon found ourselves caught up in mining traffic –obvious by the red/amber roof lights, plastic antennae like stick poking high into the air with red flag on all utes and air-conditioned Toyotas which were all marked with large numbers and luminous stripes to ensure high visibility. Even Thrifty Car Hire must run a special fleet especially for the mining fraternity that abounds in the Pilbara. Road trains carrying iron ore or abnormal loads of massive spare parts, piping or new machinery roared up and down the highway. Scary stuff after the peace and quiet we were used to. Approaching Port Hedland, the iron –ore export terminal, from the north our eyes suddenly fixed on the Western Australian termitaria tenants who form their mounds with blobs – quite different to those in the Territory or Queensland.

These termitaria, close to Port Hedland were all wearing white hardhats! The WA ‘Blobbies’ bring to mind rugby scrums, Samurai warriors and those friendship rings of people around a candle – actually one’s imagination can run wild!

It was a stinker of a day even at that early hour. First, we needed to ensure a caravan park had a decent place for us! Reports of severe housing shortages in mining towns has resulted in caravan parks being taken over with cabins and demountables – Black Rock in South Hedland accommodated us with no problem although three quarters of the Park was given over to full time residents with mining vehicles coming and going since we last stayed here. Supermarket and fuel were next on the list- having taken longer than expected to do this last leg we had run out of all fresh fruit and vegetables, days ago. The morning was easily swallowed up with these replenishments and fortunately the afternoon heat had laundry dried well within an hour. When we first visited Port Hedland we had visited the BHP loading facility. This time, we were content to merely restock and get back into communications...

TV and emails brought in the shocking weather patterns happening in familiar places... Photos of our grandchildren completely snowed in over in UK, give lie to our belief of a DEEP FREEZE in the UK last winter. This winter season is far worse. As for Australia – five States are being subjected to flooding and we couldn’t help breathe a sigh of relief for our change of direction as we gawked at scenes unfolding on the small screen. A thirty year drought keeps its grip on Western Australia and many in this region hope for water from this seasons tropical cyclones! Just hope we are out of the cyclone belt before they hit. According to NT Newspapers warnings later backed by the Bureau of Meteorology months ago, there is an expectation of an early and severe cyclone season, which made Lea very twitchy travelling across the cyclone prone areas. Checking Current Cyclone Status Boards along our routes, helped allay her sense of vulnerability!

Swinging inland from the coast, we began covering new country on the Great Northern Highway’s inland section which according to travel books had “scenically, precious little to commend to it”. We needed to mark the road off on our wall-map as well as SEE for ourselves! Surveyor F.T. Gregory was the first white person to explore this vast Pilbara zone back in 1861, reporting the iron hills wreaked havoc on his compass! We were entering the arid shrub and heartland of the Pilbara from whence comes the wealth of Western Australia. It is in this region that the world’s richest surface deposits of iron ore come from. Across the expansive flats run the private rail lines of BHP Billiton and Rio Tinto.

Our eyes were kept hooked on the passing landscape – it is compelling land! Massive tracts changing geologically resulted in corresponding changes in vegetation types, throughout the journey. At first, Spinifex formed the dominant ground cover – like a colossal jigsaw puzzle, formed in many parts yet not all pushed together! As we approached the Hamersley Ranges, the mulga shrub lands began to appear but it was the red topped mesas and stony hardpan plains that had us gasp at such harsh, unforgiving terrain. The turn-off to Wittenoom (the no-go Asbestos town) had us wishing for an update on the status of a handful of people who had refused to leave their ‘non-existent’ settlement- it was the mid-day that heat scared us off. Instead we pulled into the roadhouse, where we were promptly put off by dust and noise of road-trains pulling in and out. East Munjina Gorge Lookout with its tick of approval in our Camps 3 book, 17kms further, seemed preferable. It was perfect! Having undergone a facelift and renamed Albert Tognolini Rest Area in honour of a remarkable Road Engineer for Main Roads Department. A stirring and lovely spot!

From this Lookout above the pass through the East Munjima Gorge we enjoyed the

Spinifex studded mountain slopes that epitomise the very essence of Pilbara.

In 1957, a veteran prospector discovered a massive iron ore deposit on a hill that resembled the shape of a humpback whale. It was duly named Mount Whaleback when mining commenced in 1967 after a Commonwealth Embargo was lifted. It is now the world’s largest single open cut iron ore mine and we were keen to do a tour. Being summer and low season, there’s only a tour a day IF there are 4 fee-paying adults. Despite our early arrival in Newman we had missed the morning tour. Newman Visitor Centre took our names for Friday, instructing us to phone next morning as we were the only two to date. We retired to a caravan park also dominated by mine workers and dotted with signs requesting QUIET on behalf of nightshift workers. We dug around caravan hidey-holes for compulsory long trousers, long sleeved shirts, boots and socks – in readiness for the BHP Mt Whaleback Mine Tour and waited out the 19 hours with the pleasure of air-con, before phoning to hear if our tour was on. Disappointingly it was a NO - unless we were prepared to pay the four adult costs! After breakfast we packed our ‘mine’ clothes away and began stowing caravan equipment to hit the road. The strong wind that had arisen overnight seemed to justify an unpleasant mine site visit anyway...

Almost ready to move, the phone rang. “Another two adults had just walked in ...would we still like to do the tour?” YES! We rapidly re-dressed in our mine garb and pulled our rig up to the Visitors Centre. There, safety vest and glasses along with a hardhat were added to our ludicrous uniform for a hot day! Fortunately our bus was air-conditioned and from the moment it took off, our heads were filled with amazing statistics... Crossing the railroad we heard over 1 billion tonnes of ore has been railed out of Newman and the world’s longest train record was broken there in 2001 – it was 7.3kms long and consisted of 8 locomotives, 682 ore cars and one driver. Bernd and Dale Jessop were with us in spirit as we passed Caterpillar ore trucks – automatic, mechanically driven left hand drives with six gears forward and one reverse. Each cab having two way radios, air conditioning, power steering, dust suppression kits and an all important CD player. Comparatively very little dust was rising for a windy day and we learnt this was due to Water Carts holding 104,000 litres of water taking 3 hours to empty, constantly moving up and down the mine roads to suppress the dust.

AMAZING! From the purpose made visitor lookout on top of Mt Whaleback, originally 805 metres above sea level, they are currently mining down 135metres. Despite three pairs of glasses on Lea’s eyes watered madly leaving her to wonder if she had caught ‘sandy blight’!

Each step or bench, as they are rightfully named, is 15metres high and gives stability to The Pit which is already pinching out. Plans to widen it by 1km and deepen it by 210metres are in progress. A surprising orderly operation takes place through the relatively new Hub or Mine Control Room which co-ordinates the Modular Mining System through a GPS system that tracks all machinery to within a 10cm of accuracy.

Windows wide open, we left Newman at a time we are generally seeking respite from the heat that hits the 40’s now. Not long after we pulled to the side of the road to take photo of ourselves crossing the Tropic of Capricorn. Shortly after, the turning to Ophthalmia Dam came up – Lea had been taken by the origin of the name! The tale being of Ernest Giles and Alex Ross exploring the area around Newman during 1876 and Ross naming the Ophthalmia Ranges in reference to the eye infection ‘Sandy Blight’ Giles was suffering. Thus, Lea called her watery eyes ‘sandy blight’ although we put it down to the wind, dust and tremendous glare of the day. We decided not to turn off route, continuing on our way through the red brown dirt plains and stunted mulga trees. Some call this Station country because 85% is pastoral lease. Pastoralists preceded the Gold Rush and these European settlers changed the face of this countryside dramatically with their well sinking technology! Land that previously only supported a population of native animals and nomadic Aboriginals began carrying countless thousands of sheep and cattle. Kangaroos and Emus doubled their numbers as they too, were no longer limited by water. Over a hundred years later one fully understands the impact of this onslaught. Pastoral Lease Renewals come up in 2015 and it is likely land management strategies will be imposed in an attempt to correct the mistakes made, given the lessons learnt! We couldn’t help remarking that it reminded us of American Wild West with the number of bleached bones scattered here and there. Dead cattle in varying states of decomposition too! Lea was keen to look for the work of a pebble mound mouse. She’d been alerted to their presence, in Newman. Her husband said it would be like looking for a needle in the haystack in these stony conditions.

Our next destination, the Gascoyne River – Seeing the sign for North Branch, we were somewhat confused when we never crossed anything until we reached its opposite sign, some many kilometres ahead; George quickly realised that because of the sheet flow in this portion of the catchment there is probably insufficient velocity to scour out a channel. Therefore river beds assume the form of very wide, barely perceptible shallow depressions. On reaching Middle Branch of the Gascoyne River we were glad to see the obvious form of a river bed- DRY, as all rivers have been thus coming ‘down’ Western Australia. Seeking out the best shade in the riverside Rest Area, we were immediately entranced by a Western Bower bird’s friendly overtures in our doorway. Daubed on the back of its neck, like nail varnish was the distinguishing pink, of these thrush sized birds. Later, when we moved away from the noisy road-trains crossing the bridge as George had discovered a variety of campsites well down river, the curious little bird followed and even hopped on the bucket for a drink of bath water while George was abluting. A lovely night was spent here. Gascoyne River (South Branch) 44kms away, turned out to be another ‘sheet flow’ river.

Never mind what day of the week, road trains continued to thunder down the highway hauling 100 tons at 100kph – Truckies working 24/7 supplying the Mining Industry with goods that obviously have an incredible knock-on benefit for business throughout the State.

We had to pull to the side often as abnormal loads whisked by with cyclone proofed prefabs homes aboard. These iron horses have another affect on the road- there is a heavy toll on all creatures particularly cattle, kangaroos, emus and wedge tailed eagles feeding on the carcasses. The caravan park in Meekatharra didn’t look too inviting never-the-less we booked in and spent the worst of the day cocooned in Getaway’s powered coolness. That evening we walked the Meeka Rangeland Discovery Trail. This provided us with a fine insight into the history of the area; it’s natural and cultural history along a 4km walk around the Meekatharra Creek and up to the Lookout made from the waste dump overlooking Luke’s Pit Goldmine. So much effort put in to create an attraction for the town to be proud of yet it is spoiled by sun damage, vandalism and litter. ‘Dead Finish’ a strange name for one of the acacia’s that provides bush tucker for miles around, grabbed our attention and made us take a closer look at being able to identify it along the road, by its very name! Said bush is such a tough and hardy plant that when droughts are severe enough to kill it... then everything else around has already been well and truly finished. Another interesting explanation relates to the most devastating and destructive pest ever introduced into Australia – the rabbit. During those early times they reached plague proportions and food was scarce. And so it is said, these rabbits would be seen to climb into the branches of the Dead Finish acacia to reach green leaves, only to slip and be trapped within branches and die. Us folk, brought up in Africa on Brer Rabbit, scoff at this notion. Far too agile and wriggly, that perhaps a myth arose, after it was seen to have happened once!!!

Cue, was an absolute surprise! 114kms south of Meekatharra we drove into a most picturesque bit of ‘gold rush’ history and immediately pulled up alongside the first building, which happened to be the largest and stateliest. Built in 1897 from locally quarried limestone we found it still housed the Police station with olde world porches on either side backed by accommodation for its policemen. The Post Office took up the far end. A most elegant main street with gardens and a gazebo down the centre of the wide two way road. Not a soul around that we could be forgiven for thinking we had entered a film set. Aboriginal artwork on a wall ensuring we realized we were in Australia and not an American cowboy set.

Bottles of chilled and frozen water are packed into a cold bag every morning for the road- like never before! We drink on the hour sometimes sooner but not this day... George wanted his bottle with lid off, immediately to hand – like never before! Tells his wife the evaporation rate is ten times higher than the annual rainfall for the area, hence his need for constant liquid intake! Outside of Mount Magnet we drove into look around The Granites – an area of several square kilometres of large granite boulders and an escarpment that unexpectedly rises out of the flatness. The escarpment – about 15 metres high has been formed by the erosion of soft white granite from beneath a hard red brown iron cemented capping. Early morning or late evening light would show the sculptured surfaces off to advantage – mid morning simply made us hot and bothered. Never-the-less, George took a quick walk up to the ridge for a photograph before a speedy retreat into the caravan park of Mount Magnet, the oldest operating gold settlement in WA and the crossroads to the Midwest! It was only cool enough to walk along the main street after 7pm. Carols by Candlelight was taking place in the gardens of the outdoor cinema garden. A lone flute led the frail voices of the few as we passed by. There was a better turn out in the pubs of Commercial Club and Grand Hotels.

Thousands of wildflower and nature enthusiasts flock this route from Dalwallinu to Meekatharra doing The Wildflower Way each year, which falls between July and October. It is hard to even imagine that on all this parched red earth amongst scrappy bushes, rare and beautiful flowers will literally carpet the countryside. As doubting Thomas’ we will have to come back and behold the world famous sight for ourselves. After Mount Magnet we began to see less of the mining fraternity even the bush began to thicken up in places unless we spotted a goat or three. The verge litter was awful and worse, it spreads ever wider contaminating the bush. Beer bottles hurled out indicate how many vehicles have people inside drinking. Some roadside P spots were horrific despite the large bright yellow bins provided. What can be done about these eyesores come Clean Up Australia Day???? Dry salt lakes edged with squat salt bush began to put in an appearance – these are plentiful from the air as you fly into Perth from the north. The closer we came to Wubin the more the road began to undulate and a variety of taller trees increased. We planned a stopover at Mt Gibson Rest Area only to find road works happening in the immediate vicinity and gold mining occurring on top of the mountain. Another 47kms before we could call a halt to the day at White Wells Rest Area. This turned out to be a pleasant spot and late evening, we walked along the many twisty tracks inland and discovered the remnants of masses of everlasting flowers- their bright yellow papery petals still creating a golden glow under the bushes – very pretty.

Another fifty to Wogan and changes in weather and habitat were evident – the blue sky we had become used to, was streaked with clouds, as if someone had drizzled different textures of white icing in flicks and swirls, across the sky. George thought it could be due to wind high up in the atmosphere. Coming over a rise we suddenly gazed across varieties of mustard toned expanses ribboned with boundaries of green. We had reached the gateway to West Australia’s Wheat Belt. Where ever trees clumped together, it was likely to be unsuitable for wheat. Dalwallinu, the next settlement proclaimed itself as a Wheat and Wattle Shire. The wattles certainly weren’t that obvious to our eyes as we passed through despite Dalwallinu being the centre for the most species of Wattle in the world within a radius of 100km.

Clearing the land for wheat created a wide suite of unforseen environmental problems for the State –the worst of these being gradual salinization of soils and water courses. The further south we travelled, the more evident white tracts of salt became. Killing tall stands of trees and contaminating drainage lines. The poor condition of this stretch of the Great Northern Road slowed us up with its uneven surface, not made any easier by the road trains wanting to be on their way in either direction. Somehow we missed Walebing Nature Reserve and continued on to New Norcia. CHRISTMAS must almost be here! The vivid orange of the wild Western Australian Christmas Tree (Nyutsia- a parasitic plant) proclaimed this and closer to New Norcia there were even more to enhance our sense of Christmas. New Norcia is a Historic town we visited a number of times during the years we lived in Perth, as it is such a remarkable architectural settlement. Approaching from the north for the first time, the impact of the Monastery and its twenty seven buildings that include church, schools, hostel, flour mill and apiary is far greater. All are classified by National Trust. The Spanish feel with olive trees and church bells makes it difficult to believe we are not in Europe rather than the middle of the Australian bush! Such unusual beauty and indulgence, it quite takes your breath away! Founded in 1846, by a small band of Benedictine monks who arrived to establish a mission for Aborigines of the Victoria Plains, it continues to be home to monks, who continue to own and operate a going concern with a high reputation for its New Norcia bread and olives. The Benedictine Monastery Oval has the tick of approval in Camps 3 for self contained vehicles – but it had little appeal for us. Looking ahead there wasn’t much before Toodyay, where we have pre-arranged to be on the 15th December! We decided to cut across to Calingiri with its caravan park! We were met with a tiny area, squeezed in beside the Victoria Plains Road Board and the Trading Store. Shire run, $11 for the night with spotless facilities, we decided to stay and next morning we used the laundry facilities. The best value for money we’ve spent in a long time, even though we had an olive tree scratching and brushing against our ‘van most of the night. A surprisingly chilly night at that.

The wheat covered rolling hills of Toodyay with clusters of eucalypt on the ridges had a certain appeal quite different to the flatter wheat fields we have seen further inland. We found Guy & Dimity Bogg’s home on a large picturesque property outside Toodyay very easily despite a panicked half hour when our GPS refused to recognise the address! Guy and George worked together at ERIS in Kakadu. We met his parents Eggy & Rob Boggs in Perth soon after we migrated and they have become dear friends over the years.

Guy & Dimity with their two daughters Tanami and 6 month old Astrid hidden under her hat beside their spring fed dam! Ruby the dog was too fleet of foot to stay around for a photograph.

It was great to overnight stop and 'catch up' with these special people. Next morning after a most leisurely breakfast we began the last lap of our journey to Maida Vale in the Darling Range outside Perth.

After a wonderful trek we reached our destination safe and sound and happily parked our rig ‘at home among the gum trees’ of Sunset Ridge with two little girls very excited to have Caravan Gran & Grandad living in the garden.

Happy Holidays everyone and compliments of the season!