Question: What’s fat, has a beard, wears reflective clothing
and drives a road train?
Answer: Everybody in the Pilbara!
Well it seems that way! We left Barn Hill and after
refuelling at the Sandfire Roadhouse made our way on to Port Hedland. It’s been
a few years since I was visiting the town regularly – it was a hive of industrial
activity then with all of its iron ore and salt exports but it’s really stepped
up a gear now. The road trains run around like Thai tuk-tuks on a Saturday
night. It was a pleasure to see the “Thank you for visiting - please call
again” sign on the way out. We continued on to the Karratha area but called in
to Point Samson in the hope of a safe haven for the night and their famous Fish
& Chips. The Cove caravan park was packed (like every other piece of
accommodation up here) but we managed a spot with a great ocean view. It was
late and the owners said that they did a great Fish & Chips so we said that
we’d have two – and we did – and they were very passable fish and chips with a
salad thrown in for good measure. Mind you, after driving 700 odd kilometres
between us that day, I could have gulped down a mullet-gut sandwich and enjoyed
it really. We stayed another day in Point Samson because it was warm and
pleasant. I made my traditional pilgrimage to the nearby historic town of
Cossack – a town that holds a certain fascination for me and I always seem to
gravitate to it whenever I am in the area. It’s a lonely little place but
nicely restored.
Carnarvon next – another 700 kilometres of pretty
well...nothing. Arid country through those parts. The only excitement occurred when
Maurs went to overtake a slower caravan and while moving out, an idiot in
souped-up Commodore Ute who had been tailgating us for about 10 km decided he would try a simultaneous manoeuvre. Two
vehicles don’t really fit in a single lane but Maurs just managed to slip back
behind the van while this guy zoomed past, hopefully towards oblivion.
We spent a day at the blowholes at Quobba, about 60
kilometres north of Carnarvon, checking out the campsites for another time. The
blowholes were blowing so all was right in the world, even if Maurs camera lost
power and she had to resort to using my poor old relic instead. It’s terribly
civilised there now with a coffee truck parked nearby serving cappuccinos and
making a fortune. We also had a magnificent swim in “The Aquarium”, a sheltered
bay full of tropical fish, coral, clams etc – just a natural joy. There are
some marvellous places in this country.
I don’t know who originally thought “Carnarvon looks like
desert country; the river is almost always dry; I think I’ll grow tropical
fruit and vegetables here!” – but it works magnificently. After being largely
fresh produce deprived for the last couple of weeks we hit the local farms with
gusto and bought a ton of fresh, tasty stuff. We had plates of vegetables every
night, except one. Maurs celebrated her birthday there and I decided that we’d
go to a really good seafood restaurant – well that’s what the brochure said. It
most decidedly wasn’t. It was an ordinary restaurant – very disappointing but on
the returd highway sometimes you turn up gems sometimes you don’t.
After decimating the Carnarvon vegetable crop we looked
around for our next destination. Unfortunately it was school holiday time and
our possible venues of Shark Bay and Kalbarri were both heavily booked by
mainstream society. What to do? We decided to head inland and try a station
stay at Wooleen Station. Maurs had been there before – it was used for a couple
of her survival walks (where she set off with a compass, a teabag and an
aspirin and walked 50 or 100 or 200 kilometres with other so inclined
individuals – no food – it’s a wonder there wasn’t an outbreak of cannibalism).
This time we had food and spent four days there in very pleasant if not sparse surroundings,
enjoying the serenity in a bush setting.
We went out sight-seeing and bird-watching – but not so many
birds. Finally she spotted a rather beautiful blue wren in the binoculars and
handed it to me for a look. Just as I brought the bird to bear I felt a weird
sensation in my legs. I looked down and discovered I was standing over a nest
of rather large ants who took exception to my presence. I was covered below the
knees in ants and some had started chewing on me. The irish jig that I
performed was mildly amusing for Maurs, especially as I dropped my pants
halfway through the performance to get the blighters out, but after I had
extricated the invaders all she said was “You scared the birds away.” Well
pardon me!
Our run of luck with dodging rain finished here. We got a
downpour on a sheep station that has resigned itself to never getting rain with
the result that all our canvas was wet when we packed for the home stretch. We
drove along slippery, muddy country roads, heading for a little town in the
northern wheatbelt called Mingenew. The rain system had passed by then and we
happily dried out the annex in the afternoon sun and packed it away. Unfortunately
after the rain came the fog – heavy fog – which saturated the camper as
effectively as rain ever could! So we packed it up wet again and sailed for
home. Seems every time we finish an adventure we are destined to end it wet.
Such is life on the Returd Highway.
Blog Epilogue
Maurs and I set out in February 2012 to search for
Australia. Here it is July 2013 and we only found a bit of it. We clocked up
34,000 kilometres in that time and visited all States and Territories except
Tassie (we had to keep something in reserve). We also managed sojourns to the
USA and Canada, Vietnam and Singapore as side visits just to mix it up a
little. The vehicle and camper performed well beyond our expectations and could
do it again tomorrow if we asked nicely. What was satisfying for me personally
was the fact that we used just about every piece of equipment that we originally
packed in the hope that it might be useful, with the exception of one jaffle
iron (somehow jaffles didn’t seem appropriate at any stage of the journey). We
must have encountered every configuration of camping equipment around from the
sublime to the ridiculous but we remain happy with what we have (no big-rig
envy around here). We also came into contact with the entire spectrum of people
– some wonderful, some dodgy, some German and some abjectly stupid – but all
interesting (especially the stupid...and some of the Germans).
Our favourite place that we visited? A lot of people have
asked us that and it usually shuts us up completely because there are so many
wonderful moments to consider that we can’t judge them one against the other.
In summary, our favourite place is Australia – for all of its faults and for
all of its natural beauty; for all of its harshness and its gentler moments;
for its rip-off merchants and for the sights that no one can charge for; it’s
not such a bad place. And some of the gob-smacking stuff we saw that didn’t
even make the blog – like the night we witnessed a Gordian worm emerge from a dying
Praying Mantis (google Gordian worms if you have a spare moment, it’s
fascinating).
Maybe we will have to go again sometime and see all the
stuff we missed on this trip (there’s quite a lot of that) but it won’t be for
a while. Shorter trips closer in will be the order in the immediate future for
us.
Thanks for following us around too. I hope you enjoyed the
e-tour. We loved your feedback and it certainly kept me going when my mind kept
telling me “that’s not interesting Gus, that’s just being a travelogue!” Oh,
you mean it was just a travelogue after all? So it was.
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