We arrived at Cactus Beach (or, to be more accurate, the Point Sinclair campground) on the public holiday Monday in the middle of the school holidays, but despite this we found a lovely spot for the caravan close to the beach and the "facilities". It was quite special coming to this place where Andrew had spent so much time before he had a family and "commitments". Andrew was in the water with his surfboard within an hour, while the girls worked out a complicated game in the sand-dunes and I did my usual "chooking" around. As we had run out of water on the Nullarbor, I had to bring buckets of bore water over to the van and heat them in the gas kettle so I could wash the dishes.
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
The last installment: Cactus Beach to Adelaide
We arrived at Cactus Beach (or, to be more accurate, the Point Sinclair campground) on the public holiday Monday in the middle of the school holidays, but despite this we found a lovely spot for the caravan close to the beach and the "facilities". It was quite special coming to this place where Andrew had spent so much time before he had a family and "commitments". Andrew was in the water with his surfboard within an hour, while the girls worked out a complicated game in the sand-dunes and I did my usual "chooking" around. As we had run out of water on the Nullarbor, I had to bring buckets of bore water over to the van and heat them in the gas kettle so I could wash the dishes.
Saturday, October 16, 2010
The long and not winding road - crossing the Nullarbor Plain
On the day we started out on the long road back to SA, it rained. And rained. And rained. So we drove, and
drove and drove – travelling further than we had intended, and stopping for the night at the Balladonia “caravan park”, a dirt clearing that had become a sea of wet gravel, mud and puddles. There we encountered two very bedraggled cyclists: a couple in their 60s who have been cycling around
Setting up in the rain was an interesting challenge; funnily (and luckily, I suppose) the first time in the whole trip we’d actually had to do it. We discovered that the umbrellas were buried so deeply in the bottom of the car boot that there was no way we could get to them, but I did find the rain jackets at the back of a remote cupboard. We ventured out briefly to see the “museum” in the roadhouse, where they have a piece of Skylab on display, from when the space station crashed in the area in 1979. It was all extremely shabby and poorly presented, however, belying the brochure’s promise of “high-tech interactive technology”.
By morning the rain had stopped and we packed up and launched ourselves onto day two of crossing the Nullarbor Plain, the largest area of “semi-arid limestone karst” (cave) in the world. It sounds fascinating, but is actually extremely dull – flat and featureless for hundreds of kilometres, including the 146.6km world-record longest straight stretch of road, which runs from Balladonia to Cocklebiddy. Despite the name (From Nullus arbor – meaning no trees) it actually has quite a few trees, except for a short stretch near the SA border. We didn’t get that far on day two, stopping early at the
On the third day we stopped in Eucla, where there was phone reception for the first time since
The next morning we stopped at the whale watching centre at Head of Bight, where long boardwalks and viewing platforms have been built – probably to stop people falling off the cliffs and to protect the cliffs from erosion by tourists. Despite the attendant’s warning that there were hardly any whales around, we were thrilled to see at least four mothers with calves, some of whom were frolicking really close to us – the babies playing together with the mothers keeping watch nearby (Andrew called it the “whale child-care centre”). My only disappointment was that I just couldn’t get that fancy shot of a tail sticking straight up in the air. The whales were really just swimming around, not jumping up or diving.
From the Head of Bight it was a couple of hours’ drive to Penong and then 12km of dirt road to
Captions for pictures
- Corny but fun
- Ruins of the Eucla telegraph station. Actually I think it's amazing that they built it in the first place
- Obligatory arty shot
- View of the Plain from above Madura Pass (one of the most scenic places)
- Tree-climbing games as usual in the bush camp on the Nullarbor
- The eastern edge of the beautiful Bunda Cliffs that stretch nearly 300km from Head of Bight into WA
- One of many, many whale shots
- Tahlia took the only "tail shot"!
Sunday, October 10, 2010
From super rock to super pit: venturing inland
Hyden is in the middle of nowhere – or very close. The rabbit-proof fence is only about 50km to the east of it, which shows you how remote the country is around there. (The rabbit-proof fence – now officially called the State Barrier Fence – is a continuous fence that runs almost due north-south from Esperance to Port Hedland. Its main role is now to keep emus, rather than rabbits, out of the agricultural areas.) Why would we miss Esperance to go to this god-forsaken place? Wave Rock, of course! And we are not the only ones; apparently it is the most visited tourist attraction in WA, with over 100,000 visitors a year! Surely (I thought) it must be over-rated; and after Uluru and King’s Canyon, a disappointment? But no – I confess to a shock of breath-snatching awe when I first looked at it, particularly because you just come around a corner of the path, two minutes’ walk from the caravan park, and suddenly there it is right in front of – and towering over – you. It is just beautiful; a graceful sweeping curve accentuated by the vertical stripes through it. Sadly, it also has an ugly concrete wall running along the top, which we thought initially was to stop the tourists falling off (bureaucracy definitely gone mad) but in fact was built by early settlers in the area, in order to collect run-off from the rock as a reliable water supply. Funny how attitudes and priorities change. We would consider this a scandalous desecration of an amazing natural phenomenon now!
The tourist brochures try to convince you that it takes two days to fully appreciate all the aspects and elements of the rock, but even they have to throw in a game of golf to get through the second afternoon. We found that we had plenty of time before lunch to do a lovely long walk along the base of the rock and through some of the surrounding countryside, and still fit in a visit to the unlikely combination of a wildlife park, “lace museum” and “toy soldier collection” all within 200m of the rock and the caravan park. Then we set off on the road to Kalgoorlie, via “Mulka’s cave” – another feature of the same rock formation about 16km up the road, where Aboriginal legend has it that Mulka, the unfortunate progeny of star-crossed lovers, who was cursed with crossed eyes so he couldn’t hunt effectively, lived on small children until he was hunted and killed by his tribe. Our children’s lives were vaguely threatened by the presence of a large brown snake (the first one I’ve seen outside of a wildlife park since I’ve been in
After a night in another roadside camp with too much traffic noise and awful toilets but a nice campfire and a bit more space than the average caravan park, we headed into
In the morning we thought we’d have plenty of time to “do” the Mining Hall of Fame before our tour at 1pm, but it turned out to be like Whale World, with a huge range of displays, information and activities, and we ended up having to rush off without doing it justice. Still, we did have an underground tour and insight into how mining used to be before it was turned into “open cut” mining (a lot like opal mining, actually); we also saw some gold being melted and poured into an ingot (about $100,000 worth in one bar the size of a couple of Toblerones), and we climbed up into one of the enormous dump trucks that are used in the mine, which are 10m tall, carry over 200 tonnes of rubble in one load, and have four massive tyres on them, each worth around $30,000 new. And by the way – the amount of gold in one truck-load is likely to be about the size of a golf-ball, and only about one in six truckloads has any gold in it at all. Yet they still turn out about $5 million a day of gold!
On the Superpit tour we sat in a bus again – like at Port Hedland – except that we were allowed to get out at a viewing spot and look down into the great hole, which is about half a kilometre deep and apparently visible from space. And it is going to be about twice the current size before they’ve finished with it. (What will they do with it then, I wonder……..?) It was very impressive, especially when you could see those massive dump trucks toiling up and down the roadways, looking like tiny toy trucks below us.
Despite fervent pleas, we did not return to the lolly shop, but ended our stay in
And that was it for our inland detour. On Friday it was time to start the dreaded crossing of the
Captions for pictures
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Saving the best until (nearly) last
On the recommendation of someone in a caravan park somewhere, we had booked the Ocean Beach Caravan Park in Denmark. This turned out to be about 8km outside of Denmark, on the coast (although you couldn't actually see the sea from the park). It also turned out to be the most fantastic caravan park we'd stayed in all trip. The amenities block would not have been out of place in a five-star hotel, the whole park was covered in grass and trees, there was a massive playground and jumpy pillow and the surf beach was just up the road. Best of all, there were families of ducks with lots of ducklings wandering around all day, and at night kangaroos feeding on the lawns. I walked up to the amenities block late at night, literally within a few metres of about 10 kangaroos, who eyed me cautiously but did not move away. It was a beautiful and quite surreal experience!
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Treechange!
When we turned east, we also turned inland – away from the coast for the first time since we had arrived in
The next day we found the Gloucester Tree – and after Andrew and I had agonised over whether we should allow any of the girls to climb and if so, how high etc – it turned out to be much easier than the Bicentennial Tree, having a sort of net joining the nails together on the outside, as well as more branches on the way up. Not that these would have saved you at all, but they made you feel much more secure, and the nails were a bit closer together, which made it easier. The view from the top viewing platform (about 60m up) was a bonus, but the real thrill was definitely the climb itself. Kendall, Kirralee and I reached the top, while Tahlia and Andrew very sensibly stopped at the point where they felt comfortable (Tahlia about half-way up and Andrew on the bench at the bottom!). The forest itself was just beautiful, and it was a shame we scarcely had time to explore and enjoy it (we’d cut the itinerary to the bone in this last section, having chosen to spend most of our time further north where it was warmer and we were less likely to go back). Instead, we jumped back in the car and headed for
It turned out to be even better than expected – a 600m long steel boardwalk 20 – 35m up in the air through the canopy of a Red Tingle forest, another beautiful big tree confined to high rainfall areas near the south coast of
Captions for pictures
- The Bicentennial Tree......... and we're barely 10m up!
- Andrew taking bird pictures while waiting at the bottom (this is a Western Rosella)
- View of the forest from about half-way up the Gloucester Tree
- The lovely coral vine, which grows prolifically in the Karri forests
- The Tree-top walk - and this is at least 20m up, so you can see how tall the trees are
- The white clematis growing in the Red Tingle forest
- One of the giant Red Tingle trees - this one looks familiar, somehow...............!
- Feeding the friendly "28" parrots at the Pemberton Caravan Park (yes that's their name - it apparently reflects the call they make)
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
The highs and lows of South West WA
If you drop a plumb-line down from Perth, the little corner of the state that would be west of the line is the south-west region - or Margaret River region. It has two little capes (pointy bits that stick out) - one at the top and one at the bottom, with a lighthouse on each. It also has about 150 wineries, which is ridiculous when it has only around 5,500 hectares under vine (compared with over 7,000ha in McLaren Vale or Barossa). Each of them seems to have a cellar door as well, and a restaurant or cafe, or maybe a maze or other "attraction". Luckily for them, tourism is faring better than the wine industry, and they probably sell most of what they make through the cellar door, but the amount of capital expenditure seems out of proportion.