Days 52-53 (24-25 Aug) Literally in & out of Carnarvon

We hit the lovely town of Carnarvon for two nights, did a day trip northwards, veered inland to visit Kennedy Range for a couple of days, and then returned to Carnarvon to catch up on washing – the clothes, the bedding, the car, the van. We are now shiny as new pennies.  

Our day trip northwards took us to Quobba Blowholes, Red Bluff and Three Mile Camp, out on a very picturesque peninsular. The Blowholes were spectacular. We drove through green hills covered in wild flowers with frolicking goats; all very Sound of Music until an emu lopes into view.  At Red Bluff, humpback whales with their calves cavorted up and down the coastline, escorted by pods of dolphins. We sat on the white sand, looked at the turquoise waters and ate lashings of prawns with waldorf salad, finished off with choc chip / lemon poppy seed muffins and tumblers of pine coconut juice. It was truly the Enid Blyton-est of days.

Back in Carnarvon we discovered lots of literals. It is literally the food bowl of WA, with plantations galore, producing millions of tonnes of fruit and vegetables every year. It is literally out of this world (sort of) – the home of one of Australia’s now defunct tracking stations involved in the NASA space programs; the big dish still dominating the skyline. It has the one-mile jetty which is close to literally a mile long (we believed it after we walked it).

We visited the Space & Technology Museum, dressed as astronauts (though we could be mistaken for prison inmates) and took a ride in the Apollo 11 Command Module simulator for take-off from earth. After the 7 minute take-off, the museum staff opened the Command Module door, causing us to be sucked out; exploding in the vacuum of space. We never got to experience re-entry. Some trivia for you. Trivia 1: On their return from the moon, the Apollo 11 astronauts – Neil, Buzz and some third guy who nobody remembers - had to go into quarantine in case they brought back bacteria from the moon’s surface capable of wiping out life on earth. Granted that’s a worst case scenario; the damage may have been limited to merely mankind (just for the record, It didn’t happen). Trivia 2: In the ’70s, my dad worked in a switching centre which supported the NASA space program, including the Apollo Missions. Trivia 3: We learnt (off the record) from some of the museum staff about the Mars One Mission scheduled for the 2020s. Hmmm….

I have since discovered that: “Mars One is a not for profit foundation with the goal of establishing a permanent human settlement on Mars. To prepare for this settlement the first unmanned mission is scheduled to depart in 2020. Crews will depart for their one-way journey to Mars starting in 2026…” We are all researched up, having just watched “Martian” again, but I am a sceptic. I’m certain this is the equivalent of a go-fund-me project on steroids …  or maybe asteroids. If you want to be one of the first humans to colonise Mars in something akin to Martian meets Avatar, you’re likely to be disappointed. You can, however, in real life sign up for a Mars colony simulation – if you’re willing to give up a year of your life for it right here on good old planet earth. But really, who would spend a year living in Hawaii – in a pod?? If you think I’m kidding, Google away, my friends.

Coming back down to earth, we enjoyed our time in Carnarvon. Our caravan park is possibly designed with a slightly older demographic in mind. Garden bowls anyone? Bingo? Wednesday afternoon the ice-cream van visits, so we got in the queue for “Real Fruit Ice-cream” (would you like the black sapote?) or flavours from the “Two Fat Cows” company (apparently the Lime & Olive Oil flavour is quite amazing). The ice-cream guy nearly fell over in shock when we came to the front of the queue – “Young people!?!?” It may have been a bit insulting to the rest of his customers.

I’m still thinking about that Lime & Olive Oil ice-cream. Might try it down in Margaret River. 

Command Module Simulator (kind stranger)

One Mile Jetty Carnarvon (Dave)

Quobba Blowholes (Dave)

Whale of a time, Red Bluff (Dave)

Cape Cuvier (Dave)

Cape Cuvier - Mining Jetty  (Dave)

The Dish. No, not that one, the one at Carnarvon (Dave)

Carnarvon weather (Dave)

Carnarvon Fascine (Dave)

Days Undefined (August 2016): Locations-In-Confidence & Handy Travelling Hints

Here’s the spot to share with you events and people where it might be imprudent to reveal locations for various legal/security reasons. Nothing major, but let’s be cautious. Read on also for Liz’s Travelling Australia 101 handy hints.

You may have noticed that Dave needs a haircut. Despite being on holidays, all these pesky things still need doing (including, believe it or not, the dishes and laundry. Huh). Then we discovered that there is an interesting black market among grey nomads in Australia. Pop-up stalls for various things appear in caravan parks (though some have signs specifically forbidding it) or national parks (probably not legal, but let’s not get technical). Perhaps because we were in the market for a haircut, we started particularly noticing pop-up hairdressers. Eg: “Haircuts: Site 18, ask for Lisa”. We didn’t get around to visiting any of these sites at various van parks, but then we arrived at (undisclosed location), to discover a fellow camper hairdresser advertising haircuts for $10. It’s a pretty good gig really. Go a-nomading, pull up at a site, put out your shingle, earn some extra pocket money. Dave is very happy with his haircut (and beard trim). Thanks, Cherie!

At a certain national park we met Mick, ex-cop from the Victorian Police Force, and current Camp Host (see Travelling Australia 101 below for more on this). Mick, in his heyday, belonged to the Dog  Squad, and was the handler of the famous Alsatian ‘Kendo’, whose tracking length record in Australia remains unbeaten. It was great talking to Mick, but we won’t reveal where just in case there’s anyone out there with a grudge against him. Mick recommends the book “Dog Squad” to anyone wanting to know more about this fascinating subject. Mick was also a great camp host. Probably a hangover from his former training; he couldn’t help doing the rounds at night to ensure all his campers were returned from walks and safely tucked in for the night. Good job, Mick.

Travelling Australia 101 handy hints.

You are now Team Caravan Australia. You must wave at all passing vehicles who are obviously fellow travellers - caravans, campers, 4WDs with laden roofracks, etc. (motorhomes excluded, they don't wave back - don't take it personally). This is the good Aussie salute which says “Hey there mate, we’re all in this together, ain’t life grand?” A full hand off the steering wheel is preferred, but this can be reduced to two or even one finger/s being lifted in passing (if you’ve seen 10 vehicles in under 15 minutes and your hand is getting tired). We’ve been waving for 8 weeks now and have the index finger greeting down pat. Grader drivers are deserving of an extra enthusiastic wave, since they grade away those awful corrugations and make travelling so much more pleasant.

Toilet Paper. Stock up, and always carry some on your person when visiting any form of facility. I say again – ALWAYS carry toilet paper. If you are fortunate enough to find a facility where toilet paper is provided, secure yours away for next time. Also beware that if you stop at a Roadhouse and do not purchase anything, you may be charged a toilet paper levy for using the restroom. Not joking. What did I say? ALWAYS carry toilet paper. If, on your travels, you encounter a flush toilet complete with toilet paper and a wash basin and soap, your joy will know no bounds. If there is paper towelling in addition to all this luxury, you will organise a ticker tape parade in that facility's honour.

Money in Small Denominations. Go to the bank, and get many gold coins, especially $1 coins. Almost every washing machine available costs multiple $1 coins - you are going to need plenty. You will also need lots of small notes. Most national parks require self-registration, with exact cash payment to be placed in an envelope. Many bakeries and cafes will only take cash in outback places (no cash, no coffee). You have been warned.

Cheap Fuel. That got your attention. We’ve found that in various places, fuel co-ops exist! Open 24/7, unmanned (credit card needed), also open to the public. Hunt one down, and benefit from cheap(er) fuel (mostly diesel; some do petrol). Look online or check with the Visitor Centre in town.

Free Camping in Prime Spots. That really got your attention. In all national parks in WA, there exists a “camp host” volunteer, someone who settles squabbles over campsites, checks-in pre-bookings and generally keeps an eye on things. You can volunteer for this gig in return for free camping! You can do it for a few weeks, months, or a whole season. Once you have been a camp host for two weeks you receive free camping rights at any Dept of Environment & Conservation campsite for the next year. But get in early – grey nomads are wising up to this and I think there’s a waiting list.

Free Books & Magazines. Pretty much everywhere offers a book/magazine exchange service for the reading pleasure of travellers. It might be a shelf in the caravan park office, or a plastic crate in the national park. Look out for them, and make sure you take some second-hand books from home to start you off.

Train The Non-Aussies. Sorry, but someone has to say it. Some young overseas backpackers are risky beings doing some crazy things over here. They are most likely to:

·       -   Be in a vehicle rollover;

·        -  Be injured while doing crazy stunts down waterfalls and need rescuing;

·        -  Be completely unprepared (no hat, shoes, water, extra clothes, food in remote places).

We love you guys, and love that you love our country and want to visit, but you need to brush up on some Australian safety rules. Our backyard is big, our climate is unforgiving and our snakes cannot be patted. We’d also love you to get home in one piece after your holiday.

Water. This is a big, dry country and water is mostly BYO in national parks. A number of remote places offer bore water - boil before drinking if palatable. Potable water is available for free in most towns up north, but not in central Australia. Towns offering water are also likely to be hundreds of kilometres apart. Always carry a good supply of your own potable water. Carry some cordial in case the water isn't so palatable (though note that cordial does not override the taste of saline bore water!).

The Mate System. This doesn't really need saying; just be ready to expect it - Aussies are great at looking out for each other in the outback. If you're stopped on a remote roadside they will always slow down to ask if everything is alright and if you need help. In camping communities along the road, you can leave anything outside your tent/caravan and it'll still be there when you get back. It seems a code of honour out here - fellow campers don't steal from each other (though admittedly, we haven't tried this with alcohol). In the big wide outback that is our country, everyone's your mate.  

Outback Hairdresser (Liz)

What's he askin'? (Dave)

Sea urchin hoarder? (Liz)

Tom Price sculpture (Dave)

Days 50-51 (22-23 Aug ) Exmouth – Spoilt for Choice

Exmouth is located on an interesting little tip of land spiking off the edge of mid-WA. Home of the Big Prawn (which is pretty cool), it is apparently famous for its brown and tiger prawns. Do you think we could find any to actually purchase in either of the supermarkets? Negative. The wharf, then? While the wharf chalkboard cheerily proclaimed that Café Nemo was open, it clearly was not. We found a sign in town pointing optimistically to “The Fish Shack”, but the fish were quite safe as this could not even be located.

In the Exmouth shopping precinct, the slogan is “Exmouth – Spoilt for Choice”. On one side of the mall is an IGA (Ningaloo IGA). On the opposite side, barely 50 metres away, also facing inwards, is another IGA (Exmouth IGA). Spoilt for choice alright. You can shop anywhere you like, as long as it is IGA. I was insanely curious about this state of affairs, but something kept me from asking the staff (at either store). I just didn’t have the mental energy to be subject to a tirade of too much information about small town internal politics – who needs that? I saved my energy to complain about my coffee order at the local bakery (soy chai latte received instead of soy coffee latte; did I really need to specify that?) And they couldn’t spell “latte” (I didn’t want my coffee ‘late’, but refrained from grammar rage on this occasion). Chai could be nice if I wasn’t so sorely in need of caffeine.

Yes, Exmouth is a place of unusual ironies and contradictions. One of the self-proclaimed hottest, driest places on earth (50°C in summer and can be without rain for 18 months), out on a tip away from the main thoroughfare, it is nevertheless home to one of the world’s top rated beaches (Turquoise Bay). The Harold E Holt Naval Base sits on the cape tip north of Exmouth, where the water disappears into the sea on nearly all sides. Some official obviously thought it appropriate that Harold E Holt’s government memorial also be forever in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by sea.

I should now commence my spiel for Exmouth tourism. Notwithstanding the above, we really liked Exmouth! We would even be tempted to live there if it wasn’t 50°C in summer. The scenery is STUNNING. Besides the incredible Turquoise Bay just north, the majestic Shothole Canyon and Charles Knife Gorge are just south. Currently transitioning from ex-military town (massive VLF antennas still exist on the north tip) to top tourist destination, get in now before real estate costs soar. We stayed on the tip of the cape (yes, near the radars), north of town, in the shadow of the lighthouse. No wi-fi reception from the caravan park; every kind of reception from the lighthouse if you drive up the hill late at night to sit in your vehicle, laptops on laps. But who’d be doing that? Ok, guilty.

Our van park had a strange smell, no doubt the artesian bore water. Or maybe just the nearby mudflats. On the night of our arrival, we set up and I boiled the kettle to make a lovely cup of English Breakfast tea to settle down with and read the Weekend Australian magazine before starting on dinner preparations. I took a long sip, which was promptly ejected straight back out, much to the amusement of Dave. Salty water!! I had used the tap connected to the artesian bore water. Which is usually ok – bore water has been fine so far for cuppas and cooking if boiled. This artesian water, however, comes from a saline base. Uugghh. So I had to tip this assault on my taste buds down the drain and start again. The caravan park desalinates its own water, provided in a tank. They boast they have the best tasting water on the cape – and we’d have to agree. The water is indeed very nice – provided you select the correct tap.

The sublime Turquoise Bay (Dave)

Mandu Mandu Gorge, Cape National Park (Dave)

Sunset at the tip of the cape (Dave)

SS Mildura Shipwreck (Dave)

Lighthouse Caravan Van  (Dave)

Lighthouse at Vlamingh Point (Dave)

Shothole Canyon viewed from Charles Knife Gorge Drive (Dave)

The Sturt Desert Pea is flowering! (Dave)

The Big Prawn, Exmouth (Dave)

Days 47 - 49 (19-21 Aug) RIP Tom Price

Leaving behind the misfortunes of Karijini, we were brave enough to stop overnight at a place called RIP Rest Stop. It all sounded a bit Wolfe Creek until we noticed that the stones and rocks bordering the site bore memorial messages and plaques. Once our neighbouring campers turned off their music, we rested in peace overnight.

The next morning we met a very handsome fellow called Tom Price, a hot-headed miner with deep burnished skin and blonde hair; a bit prickly around the edges, but we fell in love with him. Tom Price is a very neat and picturesque mining town set deep in the mountains of the Pilbara, and its residents are fiercely loyal to their hometown. In fact, they are pretty sure they live in the best place in the best country on earth. We visited the Tom Price Baptist Church on Sunday morning and were greeted enthusiastically by very friendly members of the congregation who couldn’t wait to tell us how much they loved living there.

The local swimming pool is closed May-Oct each year (daytime temperatures ~20-30°C). The locals informed us in all seriousness that the local gorges are amazing swimming holes in summer (daytime temperatures up to 50°C), but far too cold for swimming the rest of the year. Of course, we’d just come from the neighbouring Karijini, where everyone was swimming the gorges every day. Locals all have their own secret gorge locations, which are never divulged to outsiders (and only to other locals who have lived there at least 7 years, on pain of death at disclosing their location).

The next day we drove up the nearby mountain, which shall remain Nameless, and were rewarded with 360 degree views of breath taking mountains (and the local mine). 

Tom Price is a lovely place, and looks like a lovely place to live – as long as you don’t need to leave your house in daylight hours in summer (at 700m altitude; it does cool down overnight). The caravan park is also lovely, although the signs there are a bit disconcerting: “Snakes frequent this park, do NOT harm them.” Don’t harm THEM?! What about the harm they may do me?!

So after a refreshing and laid back stay with Tom Price’s warm hospitality, we pushed on, meeting up again with the great North West Coastal Highway, southbound. We picked Barradale Rest Area as our overnight stop, and hoped we wouldn’t be too late to claim a patch of dirt, competing against the now countless stream of travelling rigs heading both ways. Well, Barradale. What can I say? More pop-up city than small rest stop, this was Occupy Roadside WA. There must have been up to 100 rigs parked over the off-road maze of dirt tracks and low-lying bushes. A small sign indicated that this was an official free overnight stay area approved by the WA Government (good on you, guys). This small city even has its own pop-up café – the Burger Bus. But as soon as darkness descends, so do the sounds of silence, and nary a peep is heard until daybreak (except for the creaking hinges of that one small toilet block).

PS – at long last a recall letter from Jayco! It warns us that “there is a risk of the spare wheel and bracket falling off the back of the van”. We would add “and the whole bumper”. 

PPS -  if you've lost our live tracker link, here it is:
 https://share.delorme.com/aroundthewestin90days 

View from Mt Nameless (Dave)

Tom Price / Pilbara region (Dave)

View from Mt Nameless (Dave)

Barradale Rest Stop (Liz)

The Burger Bus will now take your order (Liz)

Tonka & Toyota (Dave)

Does my rear end look big in this photo? (Dave)

Days 45-47 (17-19 Aug) – Karijini - Aboriginal for Misfortune?

Welcome to the Pilbara region, cradle of the Hancock/Rhinehart mining empire. The monotonous empty plains near 80 mile beach gave way to magnificent mountain vistas in incredible colours. Dave, a tad depressed to be leaving the Kimberley behind, was adequately consoled on catching his first glimpses of the Pilbara. South of here is the town of Newman, home to the world’s largest open cut mine. But we were headed to Karijini National Park, home to – you guessed it – countless more gorges. Remember the Dutch lady in an earlier blog post who broke her wrist here? After our visit, we decided that “Karijini” must be Aboriginal for “misfortune”. Read on…

On Thursday we climbed Mt Bruce, at 1,235m it is the second highest peak in WA. The temperature plummeted 10 degrees on this day (down to 22 degrees! Plus wind chill factor). On the approach to Mt Bruce, its imposing summit was deep in cloud, and rain splattered the windscreen. Rain? We’d barely seen a cloud in 6 weeks; rain was a foreign experience. It was heavily overcast with strong, chilly wind gusts as we started our ascent and we almost had second thoughts. But before you think this was all bad, it wasn’t. The scenery was spectacular, and most of the trail very enjoyable. Most of it. I don’t mind a bit of a vertical climb from time to time, but tend to freak out a bit when climbing sheer rock faces with nothing but a drop of hundreds of metres to the valley floor beneath me (don’t look down, don’t look down).

We made it to the summit, enjoyed some morning tea, took some photos, and then turned to start our descent. Did I mention the wind? My new Akubra was caught in a sudden gust and whipped off my head to teeter tantalisingly on the eastern edge of the summit cliff before dropping over the edge and disappearing from view. Did I mention sheer rock faces? The other side of the summit was a sudden straight drop of magnificent rock cliff, to a platform many metres below. Much as I like my Akubra, I wasn’t too keen on risking my life for it. Dave, however, had already taken off his shirt, torn it into strips and tied them together as a rope to abseil down the cliff after the stricken Akubra. Having seen it done on many a jail break movie, we just knew it had to work. 

Actually, I wish he’d done that. Instead, he just disappeared over the cliff edge, sans safety rope (he’s always been a bit of a mountain goat, and now has the goatee to match). I kept calling over the cliff edge to make sure he was still alive down there somewhere, and to my relief he surfaced again some time later with my Akubra, a thermos cup, and a child’s eating implement. Apparently there’s a treasure trove down there of things that have fallen over the cliff. The thermos cup and eating implement were later discarded, but we kept the Akubra. But this reinforces my point that I should be carrying the emergency responder phone, as Dave is voted most likely to disappear off a cliff. Then I can still press the big red button and wait for the cavalry.

The Akubra, clearly not to be trusted, was strapped into my backpack as we started the descent on the western face. The first section was loose stones and dirt, much easier to ascend than descend. After a few foot slips, I finally went for a proper slide down the mountain and landed in a Spinifex bush. Locals will tell you that you haven’t met Spinifex until you’ve landed in one. I’d say we’re now properly introduced. Days later I still have countless microscopic needle-point shards embedded in every finger and the palms of my hands. You wouldn’t believe how painful it is to unscrew a milk bottle lid. I think we’ve removed most of the needles from my forearms and torso, but locals also tell me that the remaining spikes can take “several weeks” to work their way out.

But wait, next was Friday, Dave’s turn for misfortune. This day we climbed in and out of four different gorges, all spectacular, all with spring-fed crystal clear water in the base. Wearing a swimsuit here is highly recommended, as you’re very likely to end up in water - either voluntarily or involuntarily - at some point (though just for the record, swimsuits don’t provide adequate protection from Spinifex). The gorges were some of the most spectacular we’d seen to date, and all very different. Dave particularly enjoyed the Hancock Gorge which requires negotiating with hands and feet up against parallel gorge walls (the spider walk), along 20 metres, over a waterfall. Somehow he managed to stay dry. I swam through these rather than trying to balance on narrow ledges and walk on walls. Then came the Weano Gorge and the troublesome Handrail Pool. A steep descent down a solid rock wall is aided by a metal handrail attached to the wall. It was quite crowded – two tourist bus loads in there with us.

A moment of inattention is all it takes to lose your footing, slip over and go head first onto a rock. Dave’s moment of inattention led to his tripod – with camera attached – doing just this. It landed face first in a pool of water, the lens taking a heavy blow and top of camera compacting inwards. There’s nothing like having an audience for your misfortune. You know that awkward silence that follows the sound of breaking glass in a crowded restaurant? Well, there was a similar momentary pause as the sound of a crashing camera echoed up and ricocheted off the gorge walls, and about 70 pairs of eyes turned in the same direction to see Dave’s camera in the water, the tripod legs sticking up awkwardly like a dead cow. Oh dear.

Miraculously, all was not lost. The camera body is damaged but mostly still working. The lens was not so lucky. Dave is now in the market for a replacement camera. He’s still getting over this event, but one bonus is that he’s now far less worried about swimming with this camera across rivers (which, incidentally, also makes my camera far safer).    

Isn't he beautiful?! (Dave - Karijini National Park)

Fern Pool, Dale Gorge, Karijini (Dave)

Behind Fern Pool Falls (Dave who swam across another river with his camera)

Western approach to Mt Bruce Summit - far beyond that craggy peak (Dave)

No, I do not like this bit, and do not want to climb that rock wall (Dave)

At the Summit, before Dave leapt over the edge (kind stranger on Dave's camera)

View of Mt Bruce walking track (Dave)

Hammersley Gorge - Karijini (Dave)

Knox Gorge (Dave)

Hancock Gorge (Dave)

Handrail Pool (See descent/ascent with rail at right) (Dave, before tripod incident)

Days 41 – 44 (13 Aug – 16 Aug ) Broome to Port Hedland - The Beauty & The Beast

Broome! A bona fide Australian city, evidenced by the trifecta of Coles, Woolworths AND McDonald’s. Home to the world famous Cable Beach, complete with camel sunset rides and the occasional surfing crocodile. Kilometres long, much of it permits cars. Drive up to a spot on the beach, pull out the esky and chairs, and settle in to watch the sunset. Hundreds of cars line the shore for kilometres each evening – a sight to behold.

Staying at the nearby Cable Beach Caravan Park, we walked to the beach, an adventure in itself the second night.
“Let’s take a shortcut!” said Dave. “There’s a path showing on the satellite picture!”
A little later, with the sun sinking fast, we were somewhere in almost impenetrable bush, trying to make our way toward the sounds of the ocean. Wearing a sundress, thongs and backpack when what I really needed was overalls and a machete, I resorted to crawling through scrub on my hands and knees to fit under branches and overgrowth. When I finally came to some sort of a clearing and was able to stand, Dave was on a yonder hill.
“Just keep heading west!” he bellowed through cupped hands, indicating the sand dunes looming before me. Scrambling up and down nearly vertical dunes, we finally found ourselves looking down on Cable Beach from very high up.
“Nice shortcut” I said.
“I vote not to go back that way” Dave said. 

Our caravan park (one of several in Broome) with over 500 sites is a small city in itself, larger than most of the communities we have passed through in our outback travels. It was a very busy weekend while we were there - a rodeo on the Friday night and annual race day on the Saturday. By Saturday evening there were ladies in full dress, hat, heels and pearls swanning around Cable Beach (another sight to behold).

I was just excited to be in a civilised town on a weekend, with hope of getting hold of the Weekend Australian - I hadn’t seen or heard any news in nearly a month. But there were none at the newsagent by midday on Saturday. The shop assistant shrugged. “They didn’t come in yet – must have missed the morning flight”. Broome went down in the civilised stakes. In civilised cities such papers are on your doorstep at the crack of dawn, rather than out of date by the time they arrive.

Things were a little more exciting in Coles where we stumbled across a TV crew filming an episode of My Kitchen Rules 2017. When the Broome couple do their Instant Restaurant, watch out for an unglamorous Liz in the baking aisle, clutching a bottle of pancake mix. Sadly, I did not spot Pete or Manu anywhere.

We did love Broome, with a few lovely days swimming in the pool, going to the markets, walking the beaches and spending some time with Dave’s workmate Paul and wife Danielle, currently doing 12 months caravanning around Australia with their young daughters.

On the downside we had to find another Dr – Dave’s staph infection is back in his toe.

Then it was on to 80 Mile Beach and Port Hedland, further west. If Broome is the pretty face of the North West, Port Hedland is the guts. The approach is dominated by huge salt hills and countless settling pools. Bay and beaches are commandeered by BHP Billiton / Rio Tinto, muscling out any chance of this being a tourist town. This is the business end of the Pilbara, a port of endless railways and huge cargo ships for the mining industry. We had lunch there and continued south towards the Pilbara, stopping at a bush rest stop for the night. A lovely stop, but on the main drag between the Pilbara mines and Port Hedland. Huge road trains thundered past. All. Night. Long.

Tourists? Again?? Tonight??? (Dave, Cable Beach)

Just Another Day at Cable Beach (Dave)

I literally carried this wine up hill and down dale, through thick scrub & dangers all (Dave)

Sunset at Cable Beach (Dave)

More Sunset at Cable Beach (Dave's tripod)

With Paul & Danielle & the girls (Dave's tripod)

Sunset at 80 Mile Beach (Dave)

Days 38-40: Die Another Day

Day 38 (10 Aug) - Derby

On Day 38 we rolled into the township of Derby, and hot-tailed it to… a SUPERMARKET! We both drooled over the bakery section for long enough to make people nervous. We got super excited to discover that they hand out FREE PLASTIC BAGS if you buy groceries here (illegal in Canberra). We were only buying “the basics for a few days” – planning a bigger shop in bigger Broome – so came away with ice creams and cheesecake and custard tarts and Edam cheese and Coke. A new restriction on buying alcohol here – no ID required, but you have to present car keys. “No Car Keys, No Service”, so says the sign. A café just around the corner serves coffee from 7am – I’m first in line the following morning.  

Day 39&40 – Arrived in Broome for a couple of days, with a full day tour to the Horizontal Falls on Day 40 (12 Aug). Our tour started at 5.15am with coach pickup from the caravan park, where we were entertained by 3 other couples waiting for their pick-up by the mail truck. Yes, the mail truck, as in Australia Post. You’ve heard of reality TV? This is reality getaways. You get to ride the Australia Post truck on its route to remote locations, with the mail in your lap. Quote of pre-dawn from old guy waiting for the mail truck: “What do you do with your sunglasses at 5am without looking like Stevie Wonder?”

Next we were whisked to the airport to board a sea plane, flown to a pontoon in the tranquil Talbot Bay for a continental breakfast, watched a handfeeding of the sharks circling the pontoon, and were then put aboard a speedboat for daredevil runs through the Horizontal Waterfalls (previously known by the old pearl divers as Hell’s Gate). 

Beyond Talbot Bay are two enclosed bays, each with one narrow opening as the only inflow/outflow for tidal waters. As the tides rise and fall much faster than these chasms allow, the water builds up outside each gap before cascading down into the bay, causing a “horizontal waterfall”. During a king tide the water level can vary by as much as 5 metres. Boats (with skilled drivers) only go through the chasms with a water height differential of up to 1.5 metres; beyond this only unskilled drivers attempt it and it typically ends in disaster. The first chasm is 20 metres wide, the second is less than 10 metres wide.

After this adrenalin pumping white knuckle ride experience, it was back to the pontoon for a second (cooked) breakfast. Dave and I also elected to take an optional extra – a scenic helicopter flight over the horizontal falls. Dave sat in the front of the chopper – with no doors – and we were James Bond cool zooming low over the islands and bays, when a totally uncool thing happened. Dave’s magnetic clip-on sunglass lenses suddenly detached from his prescription glasses, and plummeted towards the ocean below (James Bond never has to put up with this type of inconvenience).

A brief interlude on the incredible history of Dave’s sunglass lenses is needed at this point. They have been through the wars. They have fallen out of a bus window (narrowly missed being run over); lost on Stockton beach (we drove back about 10km to search for them in the sand and actually found them); and fallen off the back of a yacht in the Whitsundays (someone dove into the water and retrieved them as they sank).

But now, as the lenses plummeted towards the ocean below, it seemed their luck was finally through. 007 Dave swung out of the chopper, gripping the skid to break his fall with one hand, while reaching down to snatch his lenses from thin air with the other hand… just kidding… rewind… Dave watched helplessly as his lenses plummeted towards the shark and crocodile infested waters below. But as the chopper landed on the top deck of the pontoon, Dave bounded out and down two flights of stairs to coolly stoop down and sweep up his lenses – still in one piece – that had somehow landed on the pontoon walkway – scarcely 2m wide and surrounded by water. Bond is back. Dave’s lenses live to Die Another Day.

At this point our seaplane glides back in to pick us up, and the pilot alights. Of course, if this was a Bond movie, the pilot would be a tall gorgeous female with sweeping blonde hair, tanned legs 6 feet long, wearing tiny shorts and bare feet. Wait, this is our seaplane pilot. Not kidding. And this being Dave’s James Bond day, she beckoned him to come and be her co-pilot. Still not kidding. To the amazement and slight concern of the rest of us passengers, Dave strapped himself into the co-pilot’s seat and eyed off the cockpit full of switches buttons and gauges, looking like a kid in a lolly shop.
“Do you have a pilot’s licence?” asked one passenger. Hey, it never seems to be a problem for James Bond, just go with it.
“Don’t worry, I won’t press the big red button” said Dave.

After the next flight to One Arm point, we boarded a 4WD coach for a trip to sea hatchery, a swim and barramundi lunch at Cape Leveque (steak for Liz), and then the long and bumpy drive back to Broome. What a great day!

PS – Dave went home with the brunette, not the blonde pilot. He also lives to die another day.

Derby Sunset (Liz)

Seaplane at Talbot Bay Pontoon (Dave)

Talbot Bay (Dave)

Horizontal Falls (Dave)

Talbot Bay Pontoon (Dave)

Horizontal Falls (Dave, Helicopter Co-pilot)

Handfeeding the Sharks (Dave)

Getting into the Speedboat (Dave)

Seaplane Co-pilot View (Dave)

Seaplane Cockpit (Liz)

Seaplane Pilot (Dave)