Driving through the red dirt of the Pilbara, the temperature began to creep up during the day but remained cool at night, perfect for sleeping.
Pilbara red dirt.
Stark beauty.
The dry season in the Pilbara was evident in the many wide, sandy, dry river beds we crossed as we pushed our way toward Broome - town of legends and rich with history.
One of the many dry river beds we crossed.
We spent two nights at a spot between Port Hedland and Broome called Eighty Mile Beach. A great caravan part nestled behind the dunes and bustling with school holiday makers. Kids riding their bikes around the park and over-heard conversations between grey nomads on tips for fishing or how to fix this thing or another - these greeted us as we opted for an unpowered site and settled in. The park was located on a point somewhere along an eighty mile stretch of wide, white sand, and a beach graced with beautiful and unusual shells, and sunsets that drew the campers onto the beach for happy hour.
Sunset at Eighty Mile Beach.
Eighty Mile Beach.
We came into Broome hoping for a site in a park at Cable Beach. Everyone we had spoken to said all the parks were booked full for the school holidays, and that the most we could hope for was an overflow park at the PCYC or the pistol club. But we decided to front up and try our luck. Sometimes having a motor camper is in our favour, as we can fit into smaller sites. The Cable Beach gods shone on us and we managed six nights. It was a short walk to the beach, pub on one corner and a coffee shop on the other. We couldn't believe our luck.
By now the days were reaching 30 degrees and higher, and that Beach made famous in song and story became our preferred destination each day. I'd often leave Mike still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes in the mornings while I ventured onto the rock pools at low tide; the beach already littered with joggers and dog walkers, and families getting some sun on their white bodies before it got too hot. I caught the early morning camel safari as it made its way along the beach. During the day we took our towels, drink bottles and boogie board (Mike calls it his shark biscuit) and spent some lovely time in the water and on the beach. And then just before sunset we made our way to Zanders cafe on the cliff overlooking Cable Beach; we spread our picnic rug on the grass, poured a shandy for me, a beer for Mike and some chicken salad to nibble, while all around us French, German, Irish and Pommy accents mingled with other nomads of various persuasions to watch the sun go down over the Indian Ocean for another day.
Cable Beach sunset.
View of Cable Beach from the Cliff.
Rock pools at sunset.
Camel safari.
Crusty old lead camel.
July on Cable Beach.
Cable Beach shells.
Broome town was chockas with tourists, this being the busiest time of year. But instead of bemoaning this state of affairs, Mike and I entered fully into the holiday vibe of the town and mixed it up with all and sundry as we wore our thongs thin on the retail strip pavements of Chinatown and eyed the South Sea Island pearls gracing many a shop window and side-walk stall. We visited the Sun Picture theatre, the world's oldest operating open-air picture gardens.
Sun Picture theatre.
Taking some therapeutic moments out of our retail therapy in town.
We found an Egyptian kebab joint that made the best kebab wraps, and I quietly forgot my gluten free diet so I could salivate alongside Mike and enter into the spirit of the kebab.
Saturday morning found us rubbling shoulders with the holiday mob again as we wandered around the market in the courthouse grounds (remember the series 'The Circuit' with Gary Sweet - it was set here in and around Broome).
I have fallen in love with the boab trees. They are so quirky and have such character.
Boab in the courthouse grounds.
After leaving the park at Cable Beach, we re-located to the PCYC (police and citizens youth club) to spend our few remaining days relaxing, reading and preparing for our exit, when we leave the Indian Ocean (forever? Who knows) and head east toward Fitzroy Crossing, Kununurra and toward the NT.
One last adventure we took before leaving Broome was a four wheel drive trip up the Dampier Peninsula to Cape Le Veque.
AFTER MY SCABIES EPISODE I'M GLAD TO SAY THAT I DIDN'T CATCH ANY CRABS!
The photo above was taken pretty much at the end of our day trip to Cape Le Veque, which started at 6.45am when Adam from Chomley's Tours picked Alana and myself up in a Toyota Troopie that was probably on its last trip before being pensioned off to the old Troopie home (or the scrap yard).
After picking up some more people we made our way out of town up towards the Cape. Leaving the bitumen behind we drove on red pindan sand, it was a dusty rutted road which we drove on for 2 hours or so. Alana and I were sitting right over the rear wheel and as such we were feeling every bump and constantly bumping and pushing our arm and elbow against each other just like a full forward and full back waiting for that high ball to come on down from the sky.
Adam our fearless, young, confident driver pointed out some red tailed cockatoos on our left and proceeded to take the Troopie in off the dusty red road to a track (barely a track!) that ran along side. As we came to a stop the cockies flew off laughing and screeching all the way at our expense as we ended up being bogged. The three grey nomad guys sprang into action with advice on how to get the Troopie out and how they wouldn't have come in or what gear he should have used. Adam the driver took all this in his stride and wasn't fazed in the slightest about all that older experience and wisdom coming his way. After a bit of digging and pushing and a little walking we were all back in the Troopie and on our way.
Cockies, waiting to hit and run.
The first official stop was at Beagle Bay Aboriginal Community. We saw this amazing old church famous for its alter made from and decorated with shells.
Now Alana! don't you be getting any ideas about decorating the house when we get back home with all those bloody shells you have been collecting!.
" To the Lord that praises be, it's time for dinner now let's go eat!"
After that we continued on our way down to East Beach, passing another Aboriginal community called Lombardina. This place also had a church that was quite special in its own way. It looked like a big square colonial verandahed building with a high pitched corrugated tin roof. On the inside the roof ceiling was lined with stripped bark and the trusses looked like they were made from axed branches coming off the surrounding trees. There were no windows on the side of the church just open frames for windows allowing for a refreshing breeze to keep the congregation cool and calm. All in all the community at Lombardina looked very tidy.
Hows the roof line!
Soon enough our little expedition found its way down to East Beach past some really special camping spots on the beach bluff. We all stripped off and cooled down in the refreshing waters of East Beach. Adam was preparing lunch under the canopy of the 4 wheel drive's trailer, which to our fellow grey nomie men's minds was parked a little too much in a precarious position. Alana went and, you guessed it, fossicked for more shells while I mused on the splendid serenity of my immediate surroundings. Actually that's a lie! I've been reading this 1000 page novel, and I just couldn't put it down.
Where do you want to sit.
Hey Adam, do you have a contigiousy plan.
After we had lunch, we packed up, getting ready for our next leg of the day. We got bogged again. So with some unhitching, some pushing, some digging, we got going again back up the beach. We came to a bit of a sweeping incline, Adam went to slow down and change gears, the grey nomie men collectively groaned and said, "don't slow down" yep, we got bogged again.
After passing an army camp, an air strip, we came to our turn off for Mudnunn, a perfect name really for a place to catch mud crabs. When we arrived we meet our man sitting there nonchalantly, waiting for us. His name was Vincent Angus and a more expert mud crabber you could not hope to find.
It was about 4.00pm and the tide hadn't completely ebbed out to sea. So armed with our steel wire hooked poles we waded out into the out going tide that at places was still up to your knees. Looking back over my shoulder after 20 minutes you could see almost all the water drained out to the sea leaving nothing but the bare carpet of sand. We started looking for crabs in earnest as we neared the other side of the mud flats close to the mangrove edge. A few crabs were being caught, Alana caught one but had to let it go on account of its size. None of us were catching too many so it's as if Vince called in the Calvary and his grandson and nephews came bounding in across the mud flats laughing and carrying on to help us get some more crabs.
I didn't care so much about not catching any crabs but enjoyed immensely the calmness and stillness of nature doing its thing. I found the experience of trawling through the mud flats and watching the sun sinking into the horizon very meditative.
Back to where the Troopie was parked a fire was being prepared to cook the crabs. We all stood around the fire watching the sun go down feeling pretty good and in awe of our surroundings. One of the guys that came on the tour with us said "Did anyone think about crocodiles while we were out there near the mangroves?" I said "No, and I'm glad I didn't" then he said "Vince, any crocs around here?" to which Vince replied very casually, "Crocs! oh yeah, they're around here."
The crabs were cooked and we all hooked in for a feed, feeling really satisfied with our day.
After good byes to Vince and his boys we headed back, this time Alana sat on the back seat away from being over the rear wheel and I settled in with the help of a head lamp to getting stuck back into that 1000 page novel that I couldn't put down, bumping along like a marionette as we drove back down that pindan sandy rutted road to Broome. Alana and I got dropped off at 9.30pm, an end to a grand day.
Vincent and his boys.
No comments:
Post a Comment