Days 89-91 (30 Sep -2 Oct) Middle of Nowhere on the Nullarbor

We have to be home in a week! Eeek! My boss has been getting a little nervous looking at our tracker and noting we still have to cross the entire country west to east to get home (to be fair, we’ve been procrastinating); four states and four time zones to be exact, at least 3,000km. To confuse things, daylight saving starts this weekend in some states. We're losing time every day across the Nullarbor just from moving east. Even my laptop has no idea of the current time zone – but since it is running Windows 10, I guess that comes as no surprise. We might just drive until we hit home and ask the time there.

We have now hit the Nullarbor – that infamous stretch of bitumen that is the only sealed road for at least 1,200km right across the bottom of Australia. Scrub desert to the left of us, ocean to the right, we're singing "stuck here in the middle with you". The only other suitable song for this stretch might be “Shut up and drive”. No matter how remote or empty, we have discovered that every single place we visit has its own claim to fame – the oldest, largest, tiniest or highest (in the world) something-or-other. The Nullarbor is no different, boasting the longest, straightest stretch of road in Australia – the “90 Mile Straight”. The sign is the only photo op for … well… probably at least 90 miles. Yes, of course we got a picture.

Longest straight road in Australia! (Dave)

Yep, that's it. (Dave)

Our first Nullarbor fuel stop was the Caiguna Roadhouse, where the large greeting sign at the door says “Don’t ask for water as refusal often results in offence”. It is every man for himself out here, self-sufficiency being the key to survival. Fuel is only $1.63 per litre, but water is priceless. Often the only place to sleep is a patch of dirt on the side of the road. Stopping before dusk is also crucial, unless you want to have a head-on with a kangaroo, emu or even a camel. This is not such an issue for the road-trains which roar on through the night collecting stray animals as bumper stickers. Apart from the occasional fuel stop, the only meaningful human contact we are likely to have out here will be at the border quarantine checkpoints where they search us to confiscate fruit and vegies. Friendly, aye.

The listed point of interest on the first day of the Nullarbor crossing was the Caiguna Blowhole, described as a “worthwhile diversion to a unique blowhole”.  We’d agree that it is unique, but the ‘worthwhile diversion’ bit is up for debate. It is a hole in the ground, through which the wind blows from an underground cave. More interesting is the fact that there is a veritable maze of cave passages under the Nullarbor, weaving for miles between larger underground caverns, a whole secret world most of us will never see.

Caiguna Blowhole (Dave)

The next day we stopped at Eucla to view the old telegraph stations ruins, slowing sinking in the sands of time, literally. If you continue down to the beach, you will come across the remains of a very picturesque old wooden jetty, about which photographer Dave was most excited.

Eucla Telegraph Station ruins (Dave)

Eucla old jetty

By Saturday evening we reached Nullarbor itself – a roadhouse – which presented endless photographic opportunities in the form of the quirky and quaint. Even light planes stop here to refuel at the pumps. I reckon the people who live and work here see some interesting things. I'd like to live here for one year to collect stories from people passing through. Dave is most amenable to the idea.

Nullarbor proper sits in the middle of the Treeless Plain, a self-explanatory stretch of road. Make sure you've been to the toilet before hitting this stretch.

Treeless Plain (Dave)

Treeless Plain (Dave)

Nullarbor Roadhouse (Dave)

Old cart at Nullarbor Roadhouse (Dave)

Nullarbor Roadhouse, sunset (Dave)

Roadsign, Nullarbor Roadhouse (Dave)

Read the sign on the wall above right. Were there unhelmeted cyclists who did the ride? (Dave)

"Free Spring water" (Dave)

False advertising special (Dave)

Original Nullarbor roadhouse still standing (Dave)

Sunday we reached the Head of the Great Australian Bight – that highest southern point of Australia. Southern Right whales nest in these waters each winter, and we spotted several mummies and their calves just off the coast.The Bight itself is truly spectacular - over 200km of 80m high sheer cliffs stretch along here. The sand is pushed upwards from east and west, culminating in huge sand dunes at the head of the Bight. The sky was white above the dunes this day due to the gale force winds, much sand becoming airborne.

Great Australian Bight cliffs (Dave)

Southern Right whale, Great Australian Bight (Dave)

Head of Great Australian Bight (Dave)

Sand dunes will culminate at the head of the Bight (Dave)

Southern right whale (there she blows) & calf (tail at right)

Stumpy tail lizards litter this stretch of highway, and we were constantly trying to drive around them or straddle them. Most seem to survive passing vehicles, but some do not. Why did the lizard cross the road? Probably to sun himself on the warm bitumen. 

Then we reached Penong, an actual little town (rather than just a roadhouse) at the eastern side of the Nullarbor. Renowned for its many windmills, it has just reached the dizzying heights of fame and notoriety for having the largest windmill in Australia. Hey, you have to be known for something. In fact, dear friends, the Penong Windmill Museum officially opened on 10 September 2016. That’s right, just 3 weeks ago. It will soon be appearing in all the Nullarbor tourism maps under the heading of “must do”. It is definitely worth a look and a few piccies. The servo around the corner has good fuel prices and stocks a variety of lollies for the ongoing journey (though alas, no weekend papers). All Penong needs now is a good supply of windmill souvenirs. 

Penong Windmill Museum (Dave)

At the east end of the Nullarbor we hit Ceduna, a small township nestled at the top west of the Eyre Peninsula. From here there is now more than one main road out of town, so we’ll call this the end of the Nullarbor. The winds were again howling when we arrived to claim the last caravan spot available, right on the waterfront. While parking our van we had a good laugh at the lady in the neighbouring van trying in vain to pull shut her caravan door against the gale. We stopped laughing when it was our turn and we realised we were indeed in danger of having the door ripped off its hinges. We decided yet again to keep the top battened down overnight. The trick, if possible, is to face into the wind, to prevent that rock-a-bye baby motion all night. Otherwise something might break and we might come to a similar sticky end as that baby in the treetop.

Big 'roo at the Border Village (Dave)

Truckies at the Border Village (Dave)

Our van is smaller than yours (Dave)