Sat March 6 Kalbarri to Fowler's Camp, Shark Bay, via stromatolites, Shell Beach and a flash.

Today was Monkey Mia day! – Or, at least, it was the drive to the peninsula that Monkey Mia is on. 13 or so years go, when I had been travelling with my windsurfing friend, we had gone as far as Geraldton. I was desperate to get to Monkey Mia, to see the clear waters, and also the dolphins that swim there. He wouldn’t take me. So, intrepid as I am, I booked a seat on a Greyhound coach, which goes as far as the turnoff at the ‘Overlander Roadhouse’, then another bus to the turnoff for the stromatolites and historic Telegraph station, then I walked with the flies to the telegraph Station, saw the strolomotites, then got a lift to Monkey Mia, had an afternoon there, then got the bus back to the roadhouse, got onto the greyhound bus again and arrived back at Geraldton about 22 hours after I left. Phew. Anyway, it was the walk to the telegraph Station I most remembered, because it was early morning, hot, and a LOT of flies. I had always wondered how far it was I walked…

5.2 Kms or 3.25 miles. No wonder I thought it a long walk! I drove there this time, and set the odometer to see how far it was. We got lost on the first attempt, as I took a turn too early, and we arrived at a homestead in a matter of moments in the car. Darren laughed cos he thought that my ‘long walk’ which I had described all these years, had really been only about a kilometre. I was pretty cross, but glad when I realised we had gone the wrong way, and weren’t anywhere near the telegraph station.
It was pretty hot when we eventually arrived, and trouped off to look at the stromatolites in the highly saline bay. These are the oldest life form on earth, being “almost identical to organisms that existed 1900 million years ago”. Somehow that makes the year 2000 not seem such a big deal! They look like piles of mushrooming rocks in the water, and we walked on the boardwalk over them. You could see wheel rut marks where carts in the late 19th Century ran over them to get to waiting boats further out to see.

While we were making our lunch at the telegraph station, another traveller (pretty, blonde, accent) approached Darren and asked if we had any petrol to spare. The dozy couple of females had not got petrol at the roadhouse, and wanted to get enough petrol to take them to Denham, the only town on the peninsula, but which is 100 Kms away. We were going to give it to them, as we had some for our generator, but then I told them to go back 30 kms or so to the roadhouse and buy some. We gave them enough to get them there. Foreigners hey?

After that it was on the road for us too. Fiona, Darren’s sister and tour guide of these parts, had drawn a map where we could stay on the famous Shell Beach. We dutifully followed her directions, down a faint track, don’t go up the hill, follow the dunes around and… soon found ourselves driving on Shell Beach, with totally no one around, only a few cars around the bay in the far distance. I wandered down to the water’s edge, only to turn around to see Darren dancing about with nothing on… Seclusion can do this to you. One minute normal, the next butt naked… Fortunately for all I will not inflict a piccie.
We decided it was too windy to stay where we were, and the water was so shallow, it would take quite a walk just to get to a depth where we could swim, so we decided to go for one of the official free camp spots further down the road.

We reached a place called Fowler’s Camp, which was also down a dirt road and was right by another beach, also very shallow, but with some shelter from a hill behind us. It was beautiful and we went for a swim immediately. The bay was about 1 km across, the depth of which did not seem to come much higher than my thighs, but it was clear and deep enough to be swimmable. The dirt road veered off to the right along the bay, so we thought we should follow it, just in case there was a better spot further down the road. We bumped along, sometimes coming tantalisingly close to the beach then suddenly turning and running inland. We were just beginning to think we were going to have to turn around and go back when we hit the main road again! Feeling pretty foolish we turned right and went back to our original entry point. Clearly the only place to camp was where we had swum.

After we had put up the caravan, we turned left towards the opening of the bay, to which we were very close. Darren snorkelled while I floated about in the very warm saline water, feeling like I was in a massive kiddie’s pool. Truly bliss.

That evening Darren went for an explore while I took some pictures as the sun went down. There was not a cloud in the sky, and as the sun disappeared it gave the sky an amazing glow of orange to red to blue to purple

March 5 - Kalbarri National Park – a MASSIVE walk

For once we had opted to stay in a caravan park. This was because our cheap camp spot had been on such a windy bit of headland we didn’t reckon we would have stayed on it overnight. Our neighbours put on their air conditioner at 6 a.m. It wasn’t even warm then. I lay there growling to myself for a while, then when I realised I was not going to get to sleep again, I decided I felt like a walk.

Not a small amble across to the beach, but a full on Hike (yes with a capital Aych). We had planned to explore the river, and walk tomorrow, but since Iwas up early today then the walk today was the better option. Darren was happy to do whatever I felt like – and let’s face it; I rarely want to actually do anything.

We drove to the National Park, where there is an 8km (5 mile) walk called The Loop. It follows part of the Murchison River gorge, at first high above it then down onto the valley floor beside the river. Hiking boots on, socks pulled up (see picture!),lots of water and a few biscuits in the back pack and we left the NP car park at around 8 a.m.

At the start of the walk there is a natural rock arch, described as ‘Nature’s window’, through which you can look down to the valley below. That is of course the first photo stop. Then we went around on the high plateau above the river, which was completely dry in parts, then had deep pockets of water along the river bed.

While we were looking down at the world we came across patterns in the rock left there by waves of sand in the sea from millennia ago. It is always amazing to think that these places, so high up now, were once underwater with enormous ancient fish and mammals swimming over them.

We had travelled pretty much alone along the upper part of the walk, but when we reached the valley floor we met with a lost Swiss family who must have all been partially deaf, as they shouted to one another as they walked together. We pointed them in the right direction (they had missed the whole start of the walk and had clambered down to the valley floor by themselves) and let them pass while we stopped for a ration of water and biscuits.
After we could hear them no more we moved on. Now we were walking on the river bed itself, which was encrusted in salt which sometimes hid a thin layer of black mud under it. The carcass of a loan fish lay in a dusty bowl. Yes, it was enough to make you thirsty looking at it.

We rounded a bend and there was a section of deep deep water against the colourfully eroded gorge wall. It was so tempting to swim, but the salinity of the water made us stop. The family we had met earlier had stopped to talk to another Swiss walker (would you believe), and we hurried past.

As we moved on, I spotted 2 small red kangaroos who bounced away into the bushland. Darren and I were quietly trying to follow and spot them again, when the Swiss Family Loud came up behind us and destroyed all hope of seeing them again.

I was getting really tired by this stage, and walking slower and slower. Poor D had to keep waiting for me. I was at that stage when I really could not think what had possessed me to think an 8km hike a good idea. What part of 8km had I not understood? If we were ambling on the beach – no problem, but this was over rocks, down valleys, across stony river beds…WHAT HAD I BEEN THINKING?
To cheer me up, Darren suddenly said he could see the car. That sounded pretty good and I hurried to a snail’s pace to see where he was pointing. The car looked about 1mm high. It was a LONG way away.

Still, I had got us into this, so unfortunately I couldn’t complain. I dragged myself along, all the time somewhat dreading the climb back up to the car. We eventually stopped at the bottom of the rocky climb to the car park. I was just gearing up for a happy 10 minute rest, when other walkers came into view walking towards us. I had to go now. I could not be over taken.

Before I knew it, it was over. Somehow it was not as painfully high as I had expected, and we were back at Nature’s Window. The Swiss Family Loud was there, and although I took a couple of pictures they rudely did not offer to move from their vantage place just beside the window (I did it to see if they would).

Back at the car park we devoured the leftover pasta from the night before. Mmm carbs.

An hour later I was asleep.
Zzzzz

March Forth (sic) to Windy Geraldton, Kalbarri and a pink lake

Geraldton is over 700Km (437 miles)north of Perth on the coast, it is famed for its strong winds and is a major holiday spot for windsurfer dudes. as a result the trees famously grow at a rather extraordinary angle. We knew when we were approaching it.

It also has all the major shops. Darren managed to find ‘Tackleworld’, and spent a good half an hour happily browsing, hoping I was going to let him buy something. One filleting knife, a trip to Woolies and a trip to a charity shop for a rashy*, later, and we were off to Kalbarri. Yup, I am now the proud owner of a child’s rashy; bright green with purple sleeves and completed by a picture of ‘The Lion King’ on the front. For $3 I can’t complain.
*lycra sun top you swim in

About 60km South of Kalbarri there is a lake that is described as a ‘pink lake’, apparently because of the beta carotene within its waters. I was sceptical, and not too excited – until we saw it. It was SO pink! We were driving past it, and had to turn around to stop, get a closer look and a few pictures. Disappointingly the pictures do not show the colour at its full vibrancy, but believe me it was pinker than a tickled pink thing going to a pink dance with new pink pumps. Ok, just take my word for it.

3 March North Cliff Head camp site, A Burned Wasteland and the Mystery of the Found Camera

After the pinnacles we drove through Jurien Bay, stopping to send off (at last) Darren’s application for compensation for his assault. Our plan was to get as close to Geraldton as possible, and we chose a camp site on the beach about 100km south of it.
30km before the camp site there was evidence of a bush fire to the west of the road. As we went on it was very clear there had been a serious bushfire, which had even crossed the road in places. The area was desolate and blackened, with little vegetation left. Driving through such devastation really silences one, and we left each other to our own contemplations about what we saw. With the fires in Victoria almost exactly the year before, still fresh in all our memories, it was a sombre drive. The ash swirled up in eddies in the wind, but there was also evidence of the occasional area still slightly smouldering, and the last vestiges of smoke still lifting from the charred remains of the undergrowth.
Evidence of the fire had eased off when we reached our camp; clearly this was a small bit of land that did not get hit by it. It was a great spot, with large shady trees and the sea just metres away.

In the evening Darren came back from a wander with a camera he had found on the beach. Neatly nearby to it were a ladies’ and a men’s pair of thongs (flip flops). Darren said it was rather weird just finding them lying there facing out to sea. The owner, however, had brilliantly engraved his driving licence number into the side of the camera. We decided to contact our mate Dylan, a police officer in Queensland, who could track the owner down and ask them to call us. We hoped against hope they had not met with a sticky end – there aren’t meant to be man eating sharks in the area…but with the sea and the thongs, and no one about, it was a bit strange…

Weds 3rd March – Day 173 The Pinnacles, at last!

I have been waiting to get to the pinnacles for nearly 15 years. The last time I was travelling up this coast line I was with a friend from Hong Kong who had come over for a spot of windsurfing. He was the driver (I couldn’t drive in those days), and he completely refused to take the teeny, tiny detour of 138Km round trip so that I could see them. Big Meany! Well, needless to say, he blew it and is around no more, and my lovely husband, happy to do anything that will make his little wifey happy, drove me all the way there with a smile.

Cervantes lies 53Km west of the highway and a few kilometres after the turn off, large banksia trees lined the road, with coral coloured flowers. Beautiful and unexpected. The banksia is named after a botanist from the Endeavour who travelled with Captain Cook on his mapping of the east coast of Australia, Joseph Banks. Nice bit of useless information for you and ‘not a lot of people know that’.

We arrived…
The pinnacles are the weirdest things. They are made up of hundreds of limestone pillars, some over 12 feet tall, some less than two, all protruding from a sandy desert. Not much is known about them, and there are 2 main theories of their origins. One is that they are part of a petrified forest, and the other…well the other has something to do with erosion and water – which makes a lot of sense, but was not too understandable to me.

There is a road around which all cars can drive. I didn’t realise this, thinking we would be able to walk around them, but driving around was pretty surreal. There were lots of stop off places along the way, and we were able to park and look at them more closely on the drive. We took turns to drive and look, and then went to the information centre and shop.

I was still completely awed, and by no means disappointed, by this quiet forest of natural obelisks, so went for a walk around them for a little way while Darren made lunch. There was a little wind and no one about as it was beginning to get hot to be out there in the desert, so I wandered around, taking pictures of the formations. A few were grouped in what looked like a circle, and others just rose out of the ground alone. It was recommended being there for sunset, as the sandy floor of the desert is a golden custard colour, however we had been too tired to get all the way here the night before, so we were there for a morning viewing that got hotter and hotter as we neared midday. As I walked back I felt strangely peaceful and somehow, clean; not hot, dusty and bothered as you would expect!
It was $11 to get in, and worth every penny (if that makes sense!). That place is a definite ‘go again’ place. Wonderful.

Camp spot 25 Km before Cervantes turn off, and the broken down car (March 2)

We were too tired to make it all the way to Cervantes on the first day, and spotted a track going off the main highway, that ran along the edge of a mining property amongst the shrubs and bushes. It was pretty sandy, but clearly no one had been down it for a while, there was another track that ran just off it for a few metres, and we decided to park there for the night, and set up camp.
We were by no means the first, as just round the corner of our spot, someone had broken down and left their white 1974 Toyota Corolla sedan by the track. It was in a right old state, but Darren of course had to open it up and find its manufacture date, and see if the oil cap would fit ours etc. He has such faith in Toyota he even reckoned he could get it started if he tried. Fortunately he didn’t try. Also nearby was an old broken tape recorder on the ground, bizarrely almost completely free from dust – haven’t seen one of those for a while!

PS – I discovered today, Thurs 25 March, that Darren is now the proud owner of a rear view mirror (circa 1974, manufacturer: Toyota), which he uses when shaving… Now I WONDER where he got that from?...

Tuesday 2nd March – the travels begin again – lunch with friends from Kalgoorlie

Off again. No more bathrooms, no more ice in drinks, no more hot running water, no more big beds… Still always exciting to be up and doing, so after an early morning at Megan’s collecting and sorting out all our stuff. Saying a fond goodbye to Megan and Ashley, jumping for the last time into their lovely pool, we left Perth.

We had arranged to meet some friends we had met while travelling down in Victoria on the Great Ocean Road. They were a couple from Kalgoorlie, who were travelling in a very luxurious campervan, think truck. They had been staying at Aire River when we had been there, and we had shared a wonderful meal of rock lobster and fine wine and salad, one afternoon out of the blue. At the time they had just started their travels, and Butch was deciding if he liked it. Well, it was now 3 months later, and they were talking about doing more – it gets addictive like that. They were visiting their children in Perth, so we met up in the Swan Valley, at a vineyard for a spot of lunch, before the big drive up to Cervantes and the Pinnacles.

It was hot, hot, so we sat inside and enjoyed a tasting of 6 different wines while we lunched- all very civilised, we always seem to have such good meals with them.
Remembering an incident about me and having the right mug to drink tea out of, they had bought us beautifully wrapped gifts of stainless steel thermal cups, which we have been using ever since. We had nothing to offer them, but when the conversation turned to abalone (as it tends to), we discovered they had never had it, and having some ourselves we happily gave them some. They have been so friendly, it was great to be able to give them something to remember us by – even if it was a one footed slimy gastropod.