Lake Eyre is in central South Australia and for the most part, it is simply an enormous dry expanse of cracked clay at the lowest point of 15 metres below sea level, in the country. Yet it is Australia’s largest inland lake when it fills, with the potential of covering a staggering surface area of 9500 k m ². Mostly it is subjected to long periods of desiccation. Everybody began talking about Lake Eyre after the 2009 floods covered a huge 800 km². Des and Liz Lord suggested we visit it together during August 2010 only we had other engagements in the Top End. Hearing the Lord’s and Judy Lennie speak of their visits to Lake Eyre, we too were most keen to see Lake Eyre at its peak. Two consecutive seasons of exceptionally high run off from Australia’s largest catchment influenced by the El Nina effects of this past summer’s rainfall along the Eastern States could well be the most historically opportune time for us to visit... Hence we were heading eastwards.
Adding another soupçon of interest to our visiting Lake Eyre was speed ace Donald Campbell! His horrific Bluebird K7 crash on Coniston Water in the Lake District of England reverberated around the world back in January 1967 leaving an ingrained memory of a man’s passion to break water and land speed records on both of us – before we even knew each other. As we understood, Donald Campbell had set the World land speed record on the dry bed of Lake Eyre in 1964.
For his birthday, Lea had given George the latest copy of Camps Australia Wide 6 – as it boasted the addition of over 450 new campsites and she felt it was time we had an updated copy despite our well used Camps Australia Wide 3 having served us well as ‘the ultimate guide for the budget and freedom conscious traveller’. Prior to departure, George engrossed himself in plotting our road journey across Western Australia going as directly east as possible. On the penultimate day to our departure, Lea chanced to page through a dated travel magazine at the library. Her eyes lit upon an article on the township of Dumbleyung. Where it was, she had no idea BUT jumping out of the text was Donald Campbell. Keen to set both land and water speed records in the same calendar year, he actually accomplished this feat on Lake Dumbleyung by the skin of his pants in the closing hours of the year 1964. This altered our route a few degrees and pertinently became part of our Lake District Tour!
Leaving beloved family for, at the very least, a long year before seeing them again is our narrative in life. Fortunately this is eased slightly by a photograph and the distractions of the road ahead...
Farewells over we had barely gone round the block than we stopped to adjust the wide angle mirrors. Lea decided to check the rear lights- left indicator not working. Easy globe change required! Almost an hour later after blowing a fuse on the truck and all lights out, a call went off to Paul. HELP! He was only too happy to oblige and hurtled down in his beloved shiny steed- delighted to reverse his track record for break downs and headline capturing...Ford Capri rescue vehicle for Toyotas floating through his head! Quickly solved, we set off for real. The wild easterly winds kicking up in the Perth region did not fuss us unduly as we made our way through the parched Wheat Belt after the hottest March on record and the longest period without water. Being a winter crop we were surprised to find miles and miles of undulating wheat fields still covered in the stubble of previous harvests - just as we had seen in the northern reaches of the Wheat Belt driving towards Perth in mid December. Being well into autumn we had expected to see land being prepared for the new season. Recalling a wheat farmer’s recent words “The worst season ever, thanks to the dry winter experienced last year” we wondered whether farmers wisely held off ploughing up their land and planting until the last minute especially as the visual sightings of minor dust clouds gave some credence to the American Wheat Belt being called the ‘Dust Bowl’. It was most obvious a wetter winter was desperately required. Farm dams were bone dry and we saw less signs of salinization as we made our way to Lake Dumbleyung.
Understandably, little places create big attractions to entice you to stop.
We obliged, taking a break in Wagin to walk around the Big Ram.
Turning onto the Lake road from the highway we quizzically read a sign “Beware Double gee” wondering what it referred to when the first sighting of Lake Dumbleyung’s glistening floor diverted our attention.
WHEN it’s full, this is the largest body of inland water in Western Australia. That has only happened four times in the past one hundred years. One time was December 1964, when it overflowed after a particularly wet winter.
Leaving our rig in the lower car park we strode up Pussy Cat Hill to the Campbell Memorial and outlook where folk had gathered to watch history in the making on the waters below back in 1964. Bad weather conditions on Lake Bonney in South Australia had alternative choice, Lake Dumbleyung, come to the fore that December. Donald Campbell made a test-run on the 22nd December before further bad weather arrived in Dumbleyung to thwart him. By the morning of 31st December, Campbell gave up hope on achieving a double world speed record within a calendar year. Amazingly, while flying back to Perth word that the Lake “was as calm as a mill pond” had the Speed Merchant return to race at the remarkable speed of 444.7km/h across a 13km long stretch of water and break the record just 8 hours before midnight to become the only man in history ever to do so. Hard to believe, as we stared across an expanse of different coloured substrates and saline flats almost devoid of moisture. Another interesting insight into the significance of this lake we happened to note was that Sir Peter Scott (co-founder of the World Wildlife Fund; his Wildfowl Trust in the UK (we visited three in 1984) as well as being one of the world’s most famous bird artists) actually came to Lake Dumbleyung to see pink eared ducks back in 1956. Numerous ducks on the course disrupted Donald Campbell’s trial run too! No sign of any ducks in this dry state.
“When and where the spirit can mine for nourishment in the little moments”...
Dumbleyung proved well worth the detour.
Returning to the highway the threat of double gee became clearer with a sign requesting we check our tyres for Double gee spread. Deviltjies in South Africa – a nasty little pronged thorn! Once in the council run caravan park in the centre of Dumbleyung, we checked our tyres and then the soles of our shoes. The only specimen found, was impaled in George’s knee. Oh yes! We were welcomed into Dumbleyung by a sign picturing a duck (could have been a pink eared duck for all we knew) and the words “You have landed in Dumbleyung’- Same duck on departing the town requested “Buckle up before take-off” .... Ducks are of significance around here. A peaceful night followed in this seemingly deserted town- no warm glow of lights could be seen in any of the houses around us.
Hitting the road at a leisurely pace for Lake Grace, yet another lake with its floor encrusted with glittering salt and its flatness utilised to advantage not only by the road and railway line but also an airstrip. “Wave Zone” marked the 15km approach to Lake Grace. Fortunately this was clarified further along the road to mean giving a friendly wave- safely! We were not to come across another vehicle anyway. Lake Grace is part of a chain of salt lakes – a mere segment of an ancient river system that ran through here 20 million years ago. When the climate became more arid and seasonal the rivers slowly dried up and became the chain of lakes that exist today bringing our ‘Lake District’ tour into play.
Before too long we had also crossed the dry bed of Lake King.
How easily one could pre-book into Lake King Caravan Park expecting a fine scene beside a stretch of water and be bitterly disappointed to find oneself in a tiny park, no-where near any water let alone the Lake. George popped into the little tavern nearby to ask the condition of the gravel road we intended taking to Norseman. The barman was quick to say under no circumstances would he take that road with a caravan as it hadn’t be touched in twenty years beyond the Frank Hann National Park turn-off. He suggested we go north as far as Varley, giving us mud map directions to joining a well maintained gravel road thanks to Mining companies that use between Hyden and Norseman - the very road George had intended using before Dumbleyung came into the equation! Even better, this kindly fellow produced a brochure on the Granite and Woodlands Discovery Trail from Hyden to Norseman.
We missed a good photo opportunity on the road to Varley- an old truck perched precariously on a rocky mound with its front wheels over the cliff edge. With no safe place to halt and sun directly against us, the truck certainly gave us food for thought. Definitely a contrived situation but quite how it was managed was beyond us although George suggested it could possibly have been an abandoned road embankment from long ago and now, a curious landmark within wheat lands. Passing through Varley we spotted, just too late to be able to check it out, another quirky signpost to a rabbit cemetery! We crossed the State Barrier Fence before joining the “Discovery Trail’ at the Forrestania crossroad.
Opening up the brochure enabled us to follow the different sections and designated stops along the route which added another dimension to this leg of our journey. Stopping at Grevillea Hill we could see no obvious breakaway anywhere in sight - recommended as a great picnic spot or overnight camp. Further on we took the track to The Breakaways and still felt the name was a misnomer until distracted by a wonderful grove of ribbon gums dancing in the breeze. Camera clicking madly as we gently wended downwards onto the floor of an amphitheatre- only then did we realize the true beauty of the Breakaways- their tumbling forms spread before us with rich colours of rusty red, pink, purple, orange and yellow enhanced by the sun. Oh my goodness... so unexpected that we knew instinctively we had found a treasure of a place and we couldn’t help but hug each other in utter glee after choosing our camp site- not just for lunch but TWO nights at the very least. Such was the ‘sense of place’ here, we not only found ourselves watching the last light fade from the cliffs; the cast of a half-moon across the scene during the night, we also awoke early to specially witness the magic of first light falling upon the breakaway. All endorsed the calming, almost spiritual ambiance that prevails.
Long tendrils blowing gracefully – emitting a clacking, rustling paper sound as wind becomes stronger. Bark stripping occurs in a number of woodland eucalypts and is considered part of the eucalypt growth pattern yet it is this one Eucalyptus sheathiana (ribbon gum) that makes the more spectacular display
One of many lovely locations where the tumbling beauty of The Breakaways seemed at odds with the Macquarie dictionary definition of breakaway: ‘a gully formed by erosion’.
This was an intriguing route and one we will definitely make use of again in the future because it is the most direct back to Perth, lightly trafficked and considered ‘original’ land – True Wilderness. Through various quirks of geology and geography, and no readily accessible water, hardly any attempts at farming were made. We heard road train rumble past, above us at The Breakaways yet didn’t encounter any on our travels across, nor was the presence of mining at all obvious in the ‘greenstone belt’ that hosts nickel and gold deposits and gives reason for the good gravel road. In the area around Lake Johnstone past Traditional owners accessed the area as intermittently as water or food permitted. Tree-cutters seeking aromatic sandalwood timber had ventured in here well before WA took tight control over its world’s biggest Santalum spicatum resources. And when we came across an emaciated looking dingo watching us pass by we wondered how he had escaped the ‘doggers’ employed by the Agricultural Protection Board to work this country for over fifty years trapping dingos and feral dogs. Interestingly, although dog control with the use of the State Barrier Fencing and aerial baiting with 1080 poison takes precedence now, Doggers still play a role in this region and are known to camp in an old shed at Forrestania Plots- exactly where we joined the all-weather gravel Hyden-Norseman road. Throughout travelling the trail we were aware of the changing patterns of vegetation thanks to soil types and climatic factors – all in keeping with George’s passions. As we pulled across Lake Cowan causeway the gold mines east of Norseman and the white clouds of dust created from the milling of gypsum to the south announced our arrival into Norseman.
We refuelled and began looking around for a tap to replenish our water supply before setting off across The Bight. Unexpectedly, Lea noticed water dripping from Getaway’s door! What now? Water filled the kitchen sink to overflowing – the cupboards below the sink were leaking, the floor was wet with sodden mats... The last of our water supply had gone down the proverbial... To ensure dust wouldn’t rise from the road Lea had replaced the plug in the sink before packing and storing gear that morning BUT she had forgotten to turn off the water pump. When she recalled failing to do so- George felt all would be well! Fortunately we were able to completely refill at the Visitors Centre before continuing on to the Fraser Range Rest Area, 83kms east of Norseman for the night.
Our roost beside ‘Red Lake’ - our name for the unmarked, big red floored, dry lake below Fraser Range Rest Area.
Crossing the Nullarbor is one of the great Australian drives and here we were doing it for the fourth time and still enjoying it. Perhaps the strongest impression this time round was the greenness- from the moment we left Norseman the countryside steadily grew verdant. Familiarity drew us to camp sites we had previously enjoyed – we were torn between Moonera Tank and Madura Pass. The former won out as we were tired and it actually suited the direction from whence we came. Happily holed up in this bush camp of coastal thick, panic arose when Lea opened the deep freeze – only to have the door drop off in her hand. Gruffly George came to her aid until the true nature of the problem was revealed. Over time and constant vibration the fridge door had unknowingly been subsiding. Steadily compressing the spacers within and between the two door hinge and reaching the stage where the hinge pin had finally dropped out of the freezer door. We found ourselves in a hellish situation. MacGyver George to the rescue – against the odds he was able to create replacement spacers, realign everything and tighten the concealed bolt restoring the safety of our heavily stocked freezer. In the mean time, Lea cooked up all the remaining vegetables in readiness to cross the State border meeting the strict Quarantine laws.
Knowing fuel would likely be more expensive the further we went, we stopped for lunch in Caiguna and checked the price of diesel $1.99. MORE, than remote Hells Gate in far north Queensland – we couldn’t face that and moved on as our clocks jumped forward 45 minutes. Crossing the Roe Plains we kept watch for the landmark shoe tree only to find it had spawned many others... was that a swop shop clothing tree perhaps? Then came caps; thongs and, oh look- soft toys particularly rabbits, then mugs, dolls, sneakers/runners, underwear (this included an incredible array of knickers, broekies and floss- like items). Even a white elephant tree of the oddest assortment! A strange way of recording one’s passage but it does amuse or irritate depending on one’s frame of mind. Fuel price was better at Mundrabilla Roadhouse and as George filled up, he noticed a wire trailing behind the truck. On closer scrutiny it proved to be the Andersen Plug that had come adrift, shattering the housing as it dragged along the bitumen. No chance of replacing that until we reached Ceduna. Another clock change as we crossed the border and we didn’t stop until reaching one of the last Bunda Cliffs view-points, Peg 133 - relating to the number of kilometres from the border, where we have always stayed the night. Almost immediately others copied forming an overnight laager. The sheer number of caravans, buses and camper trailers heading west has been phenomenal – we can’t help wondering if they know something we don’t? The wind dropped and the most peaceful night in this normally turbulent spot followed.
Quite the most perfect day dawned and as we hurtled through Yalata Aboriginal Land at our usual gentle pace we bemoaned our poor timing for the winter visit of the Southern Right Whales yet again. As a result, we’ve never been able to see the Head of the Bight as the gate is locked outside May to October. Except... as we passed by, they were surprisingly open and our speed too fast to safely turn in! With considerable humming and hawing, it was some way down the road before we were able to turn about and take the 12km access down to the Head. WOW! It was so worth- while, even out of whale season. We happily paid the $5 p.h. fee to a very lively lady running the visitor centre cum cafe – learning much in the process as a result of her passion.
The Head of the Bight is an important nursery area for the endangered Southern Right Whales and we were impressed by the extensive series of board walks constructed to allow maximum vantage opportunities to viewing these giant mammals that come here to mate, give birth and raise their young over winter.
Looking upwards at the dramatic Bunda Cliffs made a change from
nervously peering over the steep drop into the ocean!
A wonderful hour spent at the Bight put us behind in making for Ceduna in time for lunch, giving us the afternoon for laundry, seeing to the Andersen plug and hopefully reserving a time for Skiv’s oil change. Eventually hunger had us pull into a rest area not too far off. On completion of our meal as Lea stood up her back went out, adding pain and discomfort to the journey. Our usual Shelly Beach Caravan Park was full and all the others looked packed in too. The Big 4 was able to offer us their last site, an expensive ‘Ensuite Drive-thru’ which under the circumstances proved fortuitous – thanks to its immediate proximity to our rig with George able to help his pain-stricken wife take a well overdue shower. The Park’s central position allowed George an easy into walk town where found a cooked chicken for dinner. Next morning, he bought a new Andersen plug and was able to reconnect with some difficulty while allowing Lea to lie flat as long as possible. Mindful of her discomfit we stopped in at many of the little settlements along the route to Augusta hoping to lessen the turnover of the odometer for the day- It was either unkempt, putting us off or full. Eventually Wudinna served well with its last available site. Being the gateway town to the Gawler Range, we found ourselves wistfully looking that-a-way – high temperatures usually put Gawler out of consideration and now it was a poorly Back! Never mind, Lea was feeling considerably nervous that school holidays and Easter was about to impact upon us while her husband was blithely unconcerned.
Shoreline Caravan Park, Port Augusta with its almost uninterupted wide views across to the Flinders Ranges, was down to its last couple of sites as we drew in there. Gratefully Lea retired to a flat bed while George set off to find someone to service Skiv. Nothing until after the extra long Easter/Anzac Weekend! Even at the Information Centre, George was warned that the weekend ahead would be the busiest in Lake Eyre. We had to rethink everything. Thankfully we didn’t have the Tasmania A’s to be concerned about- they had simply incited us for attention- saying they would like to join us on the Lake Eyre leg! We settled on hanging around the Yorke Peninsula for a week before returning to Port Augusta for Skiv’s service followed by the Royal Wedding before we continued on our way inland to Lake Eyre.
It is not our modus operandi to book ahead particularly when we have never been and seen- it is just too easy to be trapped in a dreadful setting. However, the last weeks of autumn had folk out in force to enjoy camping. With Easter weekend two days away- we made haste down the busy highway to hunt out a suitable place for ourselves with the aid of our trusty and new Camps 6. Of course, Murphy decreed we had to have a flat tyre en route which added to our traffic stress along the busy Princes Highway. Poor signage had us miss the first turning to the Yorke Peninsula. We ended up having to go as far as Snowtown where we saw the ‘Big Blade’ for the first time. What a macabre touch to a town that had notoriety thrust upon it in 1999 as police discovered the Bodies in the Bank serial murders. Finally, the road to Bute took us in the direction we wanted through wheat lands and quaint places with mining history much like Cornwall.
Gap Campground was our first choice as a possible location and we were delighted to be able to set ourselves up behind the dune on the Spencer Gulf.
The prime position within the Gap in the Dunes had been taken. Not the prettiest place but free camping in a relatively wild bit of coastland with a toilet facility close by – we were not to complain! Computers came out and to the sound of waves we enjoyed returning to a timeless life of writing, reading, walking, sleeping and eating... On the eve of Easter weekend, the campers kept coming well into the night- their disturbance making us groan in despair. They squeezed in along the narrow strip of bush. Short, sharp showers of rain throughout the night led to a soggy box housing our glasses in a cupboard, next morning. This is the third time – we need 'dye' to lead us to the illusive spot causing this leak- which is a worry. We encountered a charming couple out walking the same direction of beach and had a good natter. He’s a wheat farmer a bay away from us and his lady-friend, visiting from Adelaide. George promptly asked him about the lack of farming activity? We were told it was too early- May is the month for beginning the cycle of simultaneous tillage and seeding. Unusual summer rains had favourably raised the soil moisture levels with the resultant growth of ‘weeds’ which had necessitated heavy application of costly herbicides to keep the greening out throughout summer. Prior to planting, ‘brown fields’ are required. No doubt the same moisture regime accounted for the luxurious and diverse plant growth on the dunes as well as the proliferation of moths and butterflies, even snails. We have never seen such an explosion of tiny white moths.
Days were glorious with winter chills setting in as soon as the sun dropped. It was even colder towards morning and we would stay abed until the sun was high enough for us to arise comfortably. Lying there, listening to a wide variety of interesting topics on the radio until freaky ‘frog’ interference inevitably set in forcing us to switch off. Our television raises concern too, especially for the Royal Wedding. Lea is an avid Royalist, insisting for months, we ensure the best channel reception for the 29th April. She’s petrified of dropping ‘out of the world’ in the Outback of Lake Eyre for this important occasion! The night spent in Port Augusta tuned in ONE channel – Imparja at that. Checking with a neighbour we found their TV gave four channels. A salient question followed- Do we have analogue or digital TV? In ignorance we always took for granted the TV, which came with our set-up was modern and up to date as it was a “flat screen”!!! Out here, we hear the ABC channel clearly with an appalling frosty picture coming and going. Lea is fraught with concern...
There was no let up in Easter traffic as we made the four hour journey back to Port Augusta. Our hearts dropped as we joined a queue of caravans outside the gates to Shoreline Caravan Park, over lunch hour. Thankfully, we had a place for the next three nights. As soon as we’d had a bite to eat, George shot off to have the tyre fixed, while there the dear man inquired about a knowledgeable Television man in the town and was sent to a very helpful repair man working out of his home garage. Our modern TV was analogue and we would receive little to nothing, travelling east. Our ability to receive Imparja in the Park was due to the strong analogue signal in an Aboriginal Community close by. We had two choices – buy a ‘set-top box’ or a new TV. George duly went off to price the options before returning home to disclose his findings. Concluding, we really didn’t have the space to house a ‘set-top box’ with the added inverter required; replacing a model past its use by date with a digital that drew far less power, was the only answer. George dashed back to the shop and returned with the new Digital TV. Aside from perfect clarity it provides many channels, not seen before - Lea is well set for the 29th! While SKV was serviced Lea saw to laundry. George found a hairline crack at the foot of the solar panel positioned above the cupboard. Hopefully the leak has now been resolved. Instead of completing our Lake District Tour at Lake Eyre for this month we close off April by watching ‘The Wedding’. Then our wheels may begin rolling inland in a northerly direction – reaching Lake Eyre sometime in May.
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