Around the West in 90-Odd Days: Days 21-22 Way up West in Wyndham

Day 21-22 (July 24-25)

Sitting here tonight swilling a class of chilled Sauvignon Blanc, courtesy of two Dutch women. I’m wondering if we can keep up the level of drama in our blog; never fear, there is more here. Except this drama was the misfortune of others. On exiting the Bungle Bungles, we stopped to put air in the tyres, etc. before re-entering the sealed highway. Dave was approached by a lady who had a flat tyre, and could not get the jack out of the car. Dave being the handy man he is, offered them sound advice and then offered to change the tyre. Listen, most of us ladies do in fact know how to change a tyre, but we’re not silly enough to subject ourselves to it if a man is around. Savvy? As they soon informed me, they had “borrowed” my husband and found him to be “a very nice man” (but we already knew that).

One of these poor ladies was also sporting a broken wrist, which was definitely a liability when attempting to change a tyre. I asked what had happened. She had taken a fall in a gorge in the Karijini National Park about two weeks before and broken the wrist quite badly. She was lifted out to Port Hedland, and then flown to Perth (altogether a distance of nearly 2,000km) for surgery. She was in the operating theatre less than 3 hours after landing in Perth. No insurance required! Apparently Australia has a reciprocal medical agreement with the Netherlands. Gotta love our country’s medical system!! She then flew back to Port Hedland and they went on their merry way across the remote north. They insisted on pressing a bottle of wine our way, which was declined to no avail. I am enjoying it very much. Dave is enjoying watching me enjoy it very much.

Talking of alcohol, we (ok, me) are feeling the remoteness of the far north. In most places up here, alcohol can’t be purchased without a tourist permit or identification. Or at all if the shop is closed when you pass through (very restricted opening hours). Driver’s licences have to be surrendered to cashiers on a bond before you can fill your car with fuel. Today I saw lots of signs. An ATM - “sorry no cash left”, a coffee machine - “out of order”, a cold water dispenser – “sorry, doesn’t work”, a petrol station window sign – “No EFTPOS, cash only”. And then I waited for the newsagent to open, only to discover they don’t actually get newspapers up here. NOT KIDDING! Where are we? Wyndham, the furthest northern town of Western Australia. Both devastatingly depressing and breathtakingly beautiful at the same time. Out on a limb in no man’s land, much of the former industry has closed down, as have a number of the tourist businesses. The bay recedes into mudflats and salt lakes, and is an ugly muddy brown, not blue. All of the surrounding water is teeming with man-eating crocodiles anyway. The buildings all have barred windows and many have fences topped with razor wire.

But go to the town lookout – a mountain peak – and see five rivers converging into the ocean. It also has a 2,000 year old boab tree (!!!) and gorgeous wetlands. We spent sunset today at the Marlgu Billabong, watching brolgas, sea eagles, ducks, cormorants and ibises, not to mention 3 salty crocs on the river bank. When the sun set there was a wild shaking of water lilies as dozens of frogs moved out of the water and started ascending the banks of the river.

We came here for the night and decided to stay two. We met Greg and a few members of his family sitting at the town entrance as he carved boab nuts and spent a bit of time chatting with them. They were able to advise me which of the wild fruiting plants I’d seen were edible, and which were poisonous. They also advised it is ok to smile at a crocodile, but not to pat one – a friend of theirs lost her arm doing that (they indicated she was a real animal lover but that feeling was apparently not reciprocated). “At least she didn’t try to kiss him!” said Greg, grinning broadly.