Spring is sprung!
The famous WA wildflowers are saturating the meadows and cascading down the
hills, seeping into every rock crevice and dirt patch out here. We visited the
Kalbarri National Park and the famous Natural Window (see pics) where Dave
nearly wound up as a permanent full-time photographer for multiple groups of posing
tourists handing him their camera. We chatted with a Melbourne family on the
track; the father said “trust me” a lot but his wife sagely advised us never to
trust a man who wears his Birkenstocks hiking. Actually, he had wicked blisters
on the back of his heels from the unheroic act of wearing new shoes in the
office. Maybe he just needs to say he acquired them in the line of duty and
leave it at that.
Kalbarri also
boasts Rainbow Jungle – a parrot park, where we spent a few happy hours
enjoying the company of and occasional chat with all manner of bright birds such
as parrots, rosellas, lorikeets and even macaws. Hence the images of macaws
randomly popping up in our Outback Oz photos.
Friday morning it
was time for the daily pelican feeding on the shorefront at Kalbarri. A
gentleman started this tradition 40 years ago, and then found he couldn’t stop.
If he didn’t show, the pelicans would simply march up the bay, across the
highway to his front door and demand their fish. He eventually moved away, and
other locals have kept up the daily ritual to prevent traffic bedlam each
morning, and also because it's a bit of a hit with the tourists. The pelicans stand around looking very stately and calm on the
shoreline until they spot a swinging bucket in the distance, at which time they
waddle and flap their way up the grass to the feeding area, grunting
expectantly. The feeding lady passed around their baby photos – truly faces
only a mother could love.
Travelling south
of Kalbarri we were mesmerized by rolling green pastures, fields of golden
canola and the occasional historic homestead; a friendly chicken became attached
and followed us through the museum rooms at one of these picturesque venues.
Then there was
the huge pink lake – Hutt Lagoon, which is... well, PINK. Full of a carotenoid producing algae, it is
just like a strawberry milkshake only salty. Growing the perfect nutritional
food for hungry prawns and fish, it is now basically a massive fish food farm,
the resultant products being sold at your local aquarium supply shop.
We gave the
Principality of Hutt River a miss. We didn’t have our passports on us anyway,
to get a visa from this landlocked micronation some distance to the east. Prince Leonard
Casley formed his own principality back in the 1970s in response to a dispute
with the West Australian Government over wheat quotas. Correspondence from the
Governor-General's office at the time inadvertently addressed Casley as the
"Administrator of the Hutt River Province" which was claimed (via
Royal Prerogative as the Queen's representative) to be a legally binding
recognition. All a brave move on Casley's part, but I would advise anyone considering creation of
their own kingdom to ponder thus – you will need your own postal stamps,
currency, military (he did officially declare war on Australia at one time when
asked to pay taxes), the whole shebang. A movie about this really needs to be
made: The Castle II.
We emerged from
rolling green hills into the industrial city of Geraldton and back to the hard
realities of city* life. Welcome to the van park. Lock your doors and sleep
with one eye open – an intruder has been entering caravans while occupants are
asleep in the middle of the night, stealing their phones, laptops and wallets. The good news is, fellow campers are keeping
an eye out for each other. Two neighbouring campers approached us within
minutes of our arrival to give warning of recent events.
We were all a bit
jittery, discussing early warning systems for our caravans (saucepans stacked against the inside of the door?). I may have inadvertently
shortened the life of a poor lady leaving the secure shower block late at night
by politely waiting outside the door as she exited. Suddenly confronted with a
still, dark figure (me), she screamed and clutched her chest. My profuse
apologies probably won’t restore however many days of her life she lost from
that encounter.
Dave had an encounter of his own when he went for a very late shower in the early hours of the morning. Yes, we keep some strange hours, but hey, it's not like we have to be at work the next day. He was returning from the shower block at 1.30am when he noticed a lone figure walking quietly in the dark laneway near our caravan. Dave peered at them suspiciously, to find them peering suspiciously back at him. On closer inspection, this figure seemed too well dressed to be a burglar - and turned out to be a member of the local constabulary. Despite his unshaven face, this policewoman decided Dave looked very unburglar-like in his pajamas with towel slung over shoulder, but did ask him a few questions. He was allowed to go on his way and we slept much better knowing the police were doing foot patrols through the park all night.
