Oompa Loompa Houses, The Mystery of Highway Grids and Dry Riverbeds

Alas the end of Morfar and Mormor’s two weeks had come to an end and we bade farewell to our grey nomads at the Exmouth Airport in awe over all the ground we had covered and the experiences we’d had. We aimed to have a short drive as we only managed to start the journey just after one o’clock in the afternoon. On the way out I was reminded of something I had neglected to ‘blog’ when we did the drive into Coral Bay or Exmouth – the Oompa Loompa houses which had become a recurrent characteristic of the landscape. I am referring of course to the hundreds of termite nests that speckled the countryside. Jen’s first impression was of Oompa Loompa houses and it stuck. The building materials used for construction of houses in Exmouth all made sense now. The frames were all metal with sheets of metal for the walls – we did see one house with tar-soaked pillars and veranda but virtually no other wood in sight. It’s a long way out of Exmouth and the first roadhouse was just beyond our range fuel-wise so we were forced to stop about 20 kms out to fill up with our trusty fuel can (it finally found a purpose!). As we stepped out of the vehicle the heat surged upon us and if I’d had an egg in my pocket would’ve cracked it open to see if I could cook it up on the tarmac. Our temperature gauge measured the temp at 37 degrees Celsius – mighty warm even with a breeze. We’ve been noticing these grids on the highway and never gave them much thought until Mormor pointed them out and was confused as to their purpose. I had assumed they were simply to help keep the animals in check but there were no fences to contain any from making the break on either side of the grids. I think they may be there for flood-waters as I’m sure there must be times when it does actually rain here but this is only a theory as well. Ahh – the mystery remains! With regards to rain and water in general this area seems bereft of any and it is an uncommon sight to see any water on most of the creeks and rivers we cross – it’s actually suprising that there are bridges and nomenclature suggesting these land masses we cross are actually rivers or creeks at all!

We made it to the first roadhouse and discussed at length the pros and cons of taking a right and heading to Karijini National Park to enjoy its scenery and gorges but felt we’d only be able to give it a cursory look given our time restraints to get to Broome. Our guidebooks seem to be a bit out of date for this region as we were counting on a Caravan park in a place called Fortescue – 100 odd kms from Karratha. When we arrived the proprietor informed us they were only a camp for the miners now and didn’t take caravans anymore and had been that way for a couple of years! It further confused us as on the way in the highway signs also suggested respite was in sight. It was already past 6 pm in the evening and it was getting dark – not a fun time to drive in this part of the world as not only do roos predominate but numerous cows seem to hang out adjacent the highway with plenty of evidence left behind that not all are learned on how to avoid traffic. Regardless, we needed a place to stay for the night so plugged on. Our average HR increased a good 50% for the drive as a number of cow hazards were seen in the dim, near black conditions. We found Karratha and our caravan park eventually and with a sigh of relief settled down for the evening.

On bunking down we pulled out our trusty Lonely Planet and some other guidebooks to determine what things we might do in Karratha and surrounds and found very little to appeal. One place sounded promising, Hearson Cove. It was written up as an ‘interesting place’ to snorkel and that the beach itself was composed entirely of seashells. Unfortunately, the guide failed to mention that at times the water was almost entirely clouded and quite rough with a definitive rip. It appeared to be a bit of a local hangout with plenty of evidence of alcohol-fueled fishing, picnics or other shenanigans. It was actually a bit disconcerting the amount of refuse idly scattered in what did appear to be a fairly nice setting. The rock formations were fairly interesting though, appearing as if the mining companies had simply dumped piles of boulders randomly around the countryside. I think they were naturally occurring rock piles but still looked rather odd compared to the other rocky outcroppings we’ve come across thus far on our journeys. We were disappointed not being able to swim or snorkel and headed out towards Port Hedland. Our books suggested there were amazing aboriginal rock carvings to be seen, anthropologically-speaking, comparative in value to places such as Stone Henge or the Lasaux caves in France and possibly a chance at a tour of the BHP iron ore plant in town. Unfortunately when we arrived and quizzed the information desk on these options, were told that the Aborigines had discontinued allowing visitors to the site for the past 2 years (since BHP offered to build something special for the site so masses could come to visit – seems this went contrary to the environmental ethic of the aborigines of the area) and that BHP had not trained up any staff to do the tours so these weren’t on either. Disappointed but not unbowed we found our caravan site, set up and jumped in the pool for a cool off and means of expending some accrued energy. We’ll likely continue on up the coast towards Broome tomorrow and even arrive a bit earlier than expected – seems that not much else exists between here and there for us BGNKs (balding and greying nomads with kids).

Onwards to Exmouth, Turquoise Bay and Whale Sharks on the Ningaloo Reef

With only 150 odd kms to Exmouth we had a relaxed start to the day. Exmouth sits out on a peninsula away from the mainland – a bit off the beaten path. It used to be home to an American naval base which was decommissioned after a cyclone hit the area a few years back. Now all that remains are empty hangars, barracks, barbed-wire fences and a sonar station which sits on the point. We hit a ‘wild’ fish company on the edge of town and picked up some massive tiger prawns and Golden ….(something or other that I unfortunately can’t recall) – it was beautiful whatever it was – even Aidan – the self-proclaimed fish-hater asked for seconds! On entering the town it looks like it has hit a boom of money as huge developments along the foreshore are being built with a man-made canal system to give all the properties a waterfront/access point. Only a handful of homes have been built as yet, but those that have look fairly impressive. They’ve even built a pedestrian bridge to cross the widest part and as it looks now there aren’t too many pedestrians to make the jaunt. Our caravan park sits in the middle of town and the woman we had to check in with was a couple sparks short of dimwit and couldn’t seem to get the idea that Jen’s parents and ourselves wished to have sites beside each other and where she had placed us was actually about a block apart. Given her lack of grey matter we put ours together and simply parked our truck in the site given to Jen’s parents and snuck their van onto our site adjacent our caravan. Worked great and there were no questions asked – even when the owner did his morning rounds to check his sites - like a warden ensuring all his prisoners were behaving themselves. Not sure why he did this as the only way in or out was blocked by a card-controlled cable gate – you could only get in with the card you had to pay a deposit of $20 on when you arrived. We’d arrived around noon and were keen to see some sights so headed out towards Turquoise Bay (another place mentioned in ‘Are We There Yet? that was essential to our itinerary). As per usual we were acutely aware of our fuel status and 15 kms along the road in discovered we had only 61 kms in the tank for what would be at least a 72km trip. Back into town we went to fill up. At the servo I failed to pay attention to the pump number and told the cashier the wrong number for which she quickly processed and had me sign away my life only to realize it was about a third of what we owed. Fortunately the representative of the van for which we’d paid the fuel was just on her way in and coughed up some cold, hard cash for me while we sorted the actual amount I owed on the visa. Our experience of Exmouth hadn’t started off with a bang but things happen in threes right and we’d had all three happen at once so only good luck could prevail now!

Turquoise Bay sits a few kilometres inside Cape Range National Park and offers either a drift or bay side for snorkeling. We chose the drift side – had a nice sound to it and the image of floating along gazing at coral and fishes was somewhat appealing – they didn’t mention on the road signs that the reason you drift is that the water is being pulled towards a channel and if you get past a certain point are likely to be sucked out to sea. Never mind – lots of others were in the same predicament so if we did get sucked out hopefully someone would notice and send a boat to come looking. It was beautiful though and the boys were stoked with all the fish and less blighted coral than what we’d saw back in Coral Bay. We’d booked ourselves onto a Whale Shark Charter in the morning so headed back to camp to finish our set up, get through some school work and organize ourselves for the big day. The Charter Company collected us outside the caravan park with a few other couples – one fellow with an ocean décor sort of gentleman’s hat with a small brim. It seemed a propos for the day but he didn’t seem to respond when I asked him if it was his lucky hat for seeing whale sharks. I needed some luck as up to now I’d struck out on great whites at Port Lincoln and dugongs and sea turtles back at Monkey Mia – today was going to be the day the jinx ended! I’d dosed up on my favourite anti-emetic and was ready for a stellar boat ride. The main ‘dive master’ was a young’un from Bradford, Ontario – nare a hop, skip and jump from Barrie where Jen and her parents are from – things were looking up. Once on the boat we did a short trip to the local coral and hopped in for a quick snorkel – we needed to buy some time before the spotter planes were up and ready to find us some big beasties with which to swim. After a couple of hours of powering up the coastline we eventually found our first whale shark – I nearly wet myself with glee – the curse was broken! I had Piper for the first dive which made things a tad difficult but once I was able to get her snorkel correctly in her mouth, she did quite well and did get a pretty good look at this massive beast gracefully cruising through the water just under the surface. As other companies were in the area we had to pop out and let everyone have their turn. In fairly quick succession we found 2 others and got to see them from all angles and do some fairly decent swims along side them accidentally getting within a couple meters (when we were only to be within about 3 – 4 meters for safety). For both the second and third dive the shark was actually coming directly at us with its mouth wide open collecting plankton – it was nerve-racking and spectacular all at the same time. Before our fourth and final dive we did some more drift snorkeling along the outer aspect of the reef and managed to spot a black tipped reef shark, a loggerhead turtle (Jen and Aidan), a massive Groper and schools upon schools of brightly coloured fish – simply amazing! On the way back to port we sat up at the front of the boat with the kids and caught sea-spray on our feet with any large swell. The heat up here is sweltering and we’d feel gusts of hot air blast us as if we were in a rotisserie oven as we ambled up the coastline. At one point we ran into a flotilla (not sure of the correct terminology here) of yellow, black and white butterflies and then glimpsed a school of flying fish do their little aerial dance before plopping back into the sea. It seemed like a never-ending roller-coaster of events/sightings and once back on terra firma were somewhat spent from the day’s festivities. Alas it was the last night we were to spend with Jen’s parents so we hit the Novotel in town for some fine wine and dinner. Aside from the despicable service and a waitress who a) couldn’t speak enough English to make the specials understandable, b) was unsure of the colour of Sauv Blanc and c) seemed to think we weren’t parched or starving for a good feed and wanted something NOW, the evening was actually quite nice and food delectable. It would be a sad farewell the next day as the past two weeks of ramblings were literally unforgettable and we were all amazed at how quickly they had sped by.

Coral Bay and a Coconut Faux Pas

The beach was but a hop, skip and jump away from the Caravan park so we toddled off early to enjoy a relaxing day without any prior commitments or organized festivities. The reef was literally 50 metres into the turquoise blue water which was relatively warm compared to Monkey Mia (but still cold enough to make Coley shiver within 5 minutes of entering). The coral looked quite bleached out and most was likely dead or dying but the fish were incredible. It was like swimming in your own tropical fish tank. There were plenty of wrasse of all shapes and colours as well as other species of iridescent blue, bright yellow and black striped, purple, black, silver ….the list could go on and on. Most of the coral was flower or cabbage-like with layer upon circling layer of sheaths. We played and snorkeled until late in the afternoon and then packed up to get stuck into a little bit of school work and some dinner preparations. Cole had found a coconut in the shallows and we brought it back to camp to see if it was any good. I had never encountered a bad coconut so started hacking away without a worry. After gouging into the outer casing a vivid odour began to emerge which only permeated the air further as I made a puncture into the inner cavity. It was off and well off. I subtly carried it and all pieces to the adjacent garbage bins and quickly plopped it inside. The odour just seemed to get worse and gather momentum, leaving an fetid-smelling stain on the environment for hours afterwards – I will take more care next time I find a lone coconut washed up on the beach! Having suffered inhaling putrid coconut I wandered off to find some cold beer and found Jen and Piper en route in search of a fizzy drink. We found a resort with the only bottle shop in town and in it - some coveted Guinness – icy cold! On our way back I looked ahead and saw a man who looked rather familiar – someone we knew from Narrandera – John Prior. He was up visiting his daughter who now lives in WA and just happened to be heading further north like us. Once back at base camp we sorted out some Pad Thai for the masses and tucked in early to bed – exhausted from all the humidity and eventful day.

Shell Beach, Amazing Stromalites and the Roadkill Massacre

Another travel day beckoned so we packed up camp and headed out the long and empty road to the main highway. We normally have a mental checklist of things we need to do and check before we hit the bitumen – we’ve talked about making a formal list and just have never seemed to get around to it – our omission caught up to us today. A simple clip to the fridge was all that was needed, a small plastic rotated clamp which keeps the door from swinging open while we drive. We were making good time and had planned a stop at Shell Beach – a beach made entirely of cockle shells – it was worth a look albeit a quick one. I was surprised by a sign that requested we not remove any of the shells (there were literally billions)– seems a company up the beach uses them to make chicken scratch as the cockles are high in calcium carbonate. With rains the calcium carbonate is released and acts as a cement to glue to shells together so the area is also used to make cockle shell bricks. Up the road lies a small area of stromalites and it was here that we found out what a small omission on our mental list can do. As Jen opened the caravan to retrieve a snack for the kids, the smell of yoghurt mixed with teriyaki sauce and chilli mussels wafted out at her. Seems we’d unknowingly made a new, rather smelly, concoction that would have the chance to ferment over the day after a cursory clean. The stromalites are essentially small round rocky conglomerations of cyanobacteria – a cross between algae and bacteria that undergo cellular respiration via chlorophyll. They dominated the globe for 2 billion years at the outset of living things and it is to them that we owe much overdue thanks for increasing the oxygen content of the earth by 20 % and thereby allowing us to eventually evolve. Like a lot of the environment in Australia, the stromalites struck us as being a window to the basic constructs of the earth and our primeval, geological / biological time – so old to be virtually inconceivable and make us seem so insignificant by comparison. Once back on the road with our chilli mussel et al infused caravan, we pointed Bessie north – destination – Coral Bay. It wasn’t long before the immensity of the road carnage became apparent. In one stretch of about 100-200 metres I counted no less than 14 carcasses of kangaroos and possible other animals. En route we narrowly missed a meandering cow, goat and an eagle, whose talons nearly caught the wrath of my sturdy Trek mountain bike as we sailed past. We made our way to Carnarvon – keen to see the big banana so proclaimed on our map of Big Things in Australia and were sadly disappointed by its meagre size – in fact when we first passed it we weren’t convinced it was the big banana we’d come to see. When probed about at the information kiosk, the attendant gave a chortle and said indeed that is the only “big” banana they have so must be the one on the map. We had to stop for supplies anyway so all was not lost. As we forged ahead again the temperature kept rising to a peak of 38 degrees at one point – and we were only a few hundred kilometres north of where we were averaging 26 degrees or so – crazy! Chasing the descending sun we eventually found our way to Coral Bay, driving the last few kilometres in near pitch darkness, struggling to see the upcoming curves despite high beams – the darkness just seemed to blanket the surrounds. Once again we found a seriously packed caravan park with over 200 spots for visiting patrons. The van by this time had fermented to near toxic levels and while Jen and the kids organized pizza from the local pizzeria, I got stuck into cleaning the floor with whatever chemical (and far better smelling) agents were available. She was due for a good clean anyway so it was probably meant to be. The pizza was a little like lightly speckled, heated and soggy cardboard but went down well after a long day of travel. Tomorrow we’ll check out the reef and enjoy a day of hanging on the beach – some downtime for a change.

Oh the hordes…, Handfed addicted dolphins and the Shotover Catamaran

I finally managed to get myself organized the night before and then kick myself out of bed at sunrise to give the Azzurri road bike another taste of the tarmac. It’s been months since it’s left its perch above Bessie so it was well past its due for a ride. The sun was just rising as I made it to the open road and made my way up and down a series of rolling hills battling a gentle breeze and my lack of fitness. On the way out I encountered maybe one or two cars, while on the way back, felt like I was being engulfed by a Monkey Mia Morning Dolphin feed deluge of traffic. By the time I’d reached the caravan, Jen and the kids were already heading up the beach to catch the morning feed – a guaranteed visit with a host of dolphins who have been coming for a feed every morning for the past 20 yrs! As I trundled off to catch up I eventually found myself  in the midst of a horde of eager dolphin watchers. For at least 100 meters along the beach, people were lined up to see the visiting dolphins and in some places it was 2 to 3 people thick. The older dolphins, the regulars, would swim less than a meter from our feet up and down the line, stopping at times to pop their head out of the water to have a good look at the new faces who had come to visit. The area was initially a secluded, off the beaten track refuge for fishermen. The local dolphins learned to visit the backs of the fishing boats as they would always get a feed. Finally, a woman took the initiative and gradually led them to shore for people to come  visit and enjoy. More recently the operation has become guided with regulations not to touch the animals and only the guides feed a select few. Some of the regular redneck fisherman who still frequent the waters think it’s a bloody shame what these ‘greenies’ have come and done – back in the day 20 or more dolphins would come to the beach – you could swim with them, touch them and feed them buckets of fish – "it was so much better then" – now only 8 to 10 generally show up and you have to give them some distance. Truth is that the dolphins were actually becoming dependant on the feeds and were neglecting their calves. At one point there was a 99% mortality rate of the calves (if I heard correctly) as the mothers weren’t teaching them how to hunt for fish and feed themselves as a result of their own dependency on the feedings. Now only 5 of the female dolphins are fed by the local guides and predominantly because these 5 have been unable to kick their addiction to the hand-feedings and the guides/resort need people to keep coming - sort of a harm reduction scenario like methadone for heroin junkies with the added benefit of tourists and cash to continue to fuel the operation.

The guide was very informative and we learned a lot before having to head back to Gertie for breakfast. We’d organized a trip on the Shotover Catamaran sail boat and had to get aboard. The weather looked a tad overcast and windy but sun was still peaking through. Once out on the water we all had a go at hoisting the sails and the boys even got a chance to steer the vessel. The wind picked up during the trip and under wind-power alone we were able to get to 14 knots which equates to about 25km/h - not a bad clip, yet much less than the boat’s potential in its prime when it clocked up to 34 knots (63km/h). Unfortunately, we didn’t see too much marine life – a couple of sea turtles that skirted away quite quickly and the occasional dolphin closer to the beaches of Monkey Mia. After a feast at the local dining establishment – one plate was enough to feed a small tribe of pygmies and their cousins, - the kids and I hired a pedal boat and got in a little fitness while touring around the bay. The dolphins showed up just as I was giving Jen a go so I quickly threw on my flippers and snorkeling gear and chased them up the shallows. I eventually caught up and was within about two arms breaths and could quite easily see one just in front of me under the water – ‘twas very thrilling! Given it was a day for old, new and infrequent experiences, I managed to find time to pull out my guitar and have a strum – seems like it has been forever – and it was still in tune! Before dinner the kids and I had a chance to throw the baseball and practice our catching – which is slowly coming along. Cole seems to have an affinity for throwing himself on the ground everytime the ball comes near him and Aidan seems to be a magnet for having the ball miss his glove and pong him in the gut. After two consecutive episodes when we had just started he’d almost given it up but managed to buckle down and continue while I did my best to throw the ball to either side of him rather than the middle. For dinner, Aidan and Morfar made some stuffed cannelloni and bruschetta, so we again feasted well. Thus far, our trip has been far from hard on the palate - the candy-apple red hot dogs from the West Coast Eagles game being an obvious exception – and will hopefully continue as we head north with more ample fresh seafood.

Scavenging Emus, Ocean Park, Shark Feeding and Magical Dolphins

Having just arrived the evening before, we spent the morning sussing out Monkey Mia and deciding how to spend our time here. In our browsing we noticed a few Emus idly exploring the caravan park looking for easy to grab food donations. Seemed a bit strange but they didn’t seem to be bothering anyone. Back in Narrandera, when they had their zoo, the Emus were kept behind a large fence and had these menacingly large claws with which to potentially eviscerate you. Thoughts like these seem to overwhelm when I see them only metres from our caravan….We’d noticed a beautiful and sleek catamaran making its way into harbour the night we arrived and found out kids were free if with a fee paying adult for any of their offered cruises. The boat was apparently the fastest across one of the major oceans on its very first crossing. It was also previously owned by Sir Myers – one of the wealthiest men in NZ and currently had much of the equipment used by Australia of America’s Cup fame– so naturally we felt we had to give it a go and bought tickets for the next morning. We’d also heard about a place called Ocean Park back on the highway, 28 odd kms back which apparently had hourly shark feedings and some other cool aquarium species like sea snakes, puffers and squid/cuttlefish. With the day quickly slipping away, Jen the kids and I trundled into Bessie and made our way back past Denham to the park. Our guide was this young long-haired and well tanned fellow who was a virtual compendium of aquatic knowledge. He seemed to be speaking in an almost stream of consciousness fashion, seeing one fish or aquatic species and then expounding almost every detail relevant about that species before moving onto the next and so forth. We were agog with information. The piece de resistance was the shark tank though – there were 4-5 lemon sharks and a tiger shark which he’d only recently caught himself and managed to transport into the aquarium. With half a dead fish he was able to stir the sharks up to a frenzy and had them jumping out of the water and locking their teeth into it – very exciting. Despite their reputation they are incredibly beautiful animals that move with immense grace and precision – I envy and admire their tact and efficiency of lifestyle. Back at the homestead we joined Mormor and Morfar down on the beach. Jen and I, in dire need of fitness, decided to take a swim around some buoys and a distant catamaran – after our shark venture we both kept a close eye on one another in the deeper water – waiting for that sudden thrashing and chomp into our wiggling flesh. Never happened but our imaginations were primed. Once back on shore (and safe from any sharp-toothed dorsal finned predator) a pod of 3 dolphins skirted by – maybe a metre or so off the beach. We followed them to the jetty and then they disappeared into the deep blue. Tomorrow we’ll do the 7:30 AM feeding session and hopefully learn a bit more about these incredible mammals.

Back in the paddle and there are no monkeys in Monkey Mia

We’ve got the pack up of the caravan down to a science and were able to ship out of our caravan park with time to grab some fuel and a cuppa before our ‘canoe safari’. The organizers took us and a half dozen other couples up a 4WD track to a junction of the Murchison River, handed us a canoe and said have at’er. Being proudly Canadian we demonstrated our superior paddling skills while the Poms and some keen Aussies decided to make the short paddle a marathon by zig zagging up the river. There were fortunately no flipped canoes or heart attacks – although a breaky of eggs, bacon and white toasted bread may have increased the chances on the latter part of the journey. It was great to get back on the water with a paddle and we hadn’t lost too much of our skills navigating the shallows and avoiding the dead-heads. We were back by noon and started our trek to Monkey Mia some 400 kms up the road. Despite a fuel stop and some arguments about the potential natural intrigue of cyanobacteria and stromalites (a possible point of interest along the route) we forged ahead and made the ‘Mia’ just before sunset. The entry appears quite sophisticated – large sandstone gates with Monkey Mia carved in the stone so we felt like we were entering some posh resort. Appearances can be deceiving though and once through the gates a world of fishing boats, wall to wall caravans and tents filled our vista. It was so packed in stretches we weren’t sure how we would navigate around the industrial hardware. Again, fortune was on our side and our site was almost on the beach with unfettered views of the ocean. We’d booked two sites for ourselves and the in-laws but once on the site found one site large enough to accommodate us both so with the refund had some extra meal/beer money for future festivities. There is a different sense of place here – on the one hand you have the sort of industrial/keen fishing side which predominantly inhabits the caravan park and on the other, your cosmopolitan backpacker crowd from Europe and surrounds that seem keen to catch up on sun cancer on the beach. Everyone is pleasant and the scenery adds a calming, tropical dimension to the general feel. It’s funny how a turquoise tinge to the water makes you feel at ease – must be all those advertisements for vacation escapes that have become imprinted on our subconsciousness. Thing about Monkey Mia is that it essentially sits at the end of a barren empty peninsula seemingly where the desert seems to meet the sea. The name is an English-Aboriginal conjunction. The Monkey moniker refers to a possible 3 historically relevant associations – one of the first boats to moor here and stay for sometime was named the ‘Monkey’, the early Malay pearl divers had monkeys for pets and finally, a colloquialism for goats and sheep which were previously farmed here is ‘Monkey’. Mia is the local aboriginal word for ‘home’. It reminds me of Uluru in that it is a bloody long way from anywhere and one of its sole purposes is simply tourism. Despite its distance from relative civilization it is a beautiful place and in contrast to the perception of some previous Wicked Campervan visitors who had allocated it as ‘Crap’ on the Wicked Depot map of WA, is far from it and well worth the visit.

The Pinnacles or some large pointy rocks, and onward to Kalbarri

We had to make a tough decision as to whether to get on the road or stick around Perth for a few hours to catch some of the acrobatic Red Bull planes do their thing on the Swan River. Fortunately we were able to catch a bit of the action on tele the day before when one unlucky pilot managed to crash his plane into the river – wasn’t live or anything but gave us enough to go by. Giving this a miss we forged onward to Cervantes and the famous and poorly named - Pinnacles. The free web dictionary defines Pinnacle as:

1. Architecture A small turret or spire on a roof or buttress.

2. A tall pointed formation, such as a mountain peak.
3. The highest point; the culmination. – so one might expect to see some large pointy rocks towering out of the ground when in fact, most are sort of 4-8 foot tall and far from towering - they are pointy though. Although somewhat mis-named they are indeed intriguing as they apparently don’t exist anywhere else! A small hike from the parking lot opens up into 2-3 different fields of nothing but oddly spaced pointy rock formations jutting out of the ground (and a few cars and overly well-proportioned individuals making short jaunts from their Hummer or Landcruiser to stand amongst the rocks and take a photo.) It's postulated that they have been formed from ancient tree trunks which have been turned into limestone over time - why here and no where else is anyone's guess. All in all – interesting and odd but enough to take in over 5 to 10 minutes and move on – so we did. Another couple hundred kilometres up the highway we pulled in just past Geraldton – a seemingly nice small town with massive, well-windowed houses towering over the highway gazing out into the Indian Ocean. We had a site at Drummond Cove – 16 kms outside of town and we managed to get there just as the sun was setting – a great way to end a travel day!

With only 150-odd kms to go the next day, we had a leisurely breakfast and headed up the highway en route to Kalbarri – a town that appears to have developed around the naturalistic attributes of the Murchison River, its surrounding gorges and the lively coast which has created intricate sculptures in the sandstone and boasts a few impressive headlands and cliffs. We spent the afternoon playing on the beach, snorkelling in the Blue Hole – a natural lagoon just outside of town, and touring some of the more recommended sights like Eagle Gorge. The sandstone is incredibly textured and multi-coloured – sort of like a reddish version of vanilla and chocolate swirly ice-cream but rough like sand-paper and occasionally offering a waffle-like appearance from different erosive effects. Famished and ready for some fresh fish, we ventured back to town and managed to find one of the few fresh seafood retailers in town – a bit strange for a coastal town seemingly well-positioned for oodles of good fishing. We managed to pick up some Barramundi (probably not local) and Spanish Mackerel – which when done up Morfar-style was the beezkneez and gobbled up without much ado.

I’ve managed to find work up at Broome in the A+E for a couple of weeks in early May and as a result have been given a series of hospital forms to fill out for all the red-tape allowing me through the hallowed halls and walls of the hospital. It really makes you come to dislike considerably the misfits of the world who let their perversions get the better of them as not only does it create a lot more paper work for those of us without criminally maladjusted behaviours but also makes it more expensive. I think I’ve had to pay for a police check three times now! WA is the first place I’ve had to do a formalized working with children form and that costs a whopping $50 bucks! It took me a half a day to fill in the necessary forms and see the local Justice of Peace for my 100 point ID check, plus the cost of express post…Alas it’s all done – now I can enjoy the next couple of weeks without a burden on my shoulders. With what time we had left in the day today we headed into the dirt roads of the Kalbarri and visited the famous (at least in the tourist brochures) Natural Window – a collection of sandstone slabs which have formed a window like frame looking out onto a canyon of the Murchison River – a classic photo op sort of place with impressive scenery all round. From there we passed some faltering Wicked Campervans en route to the Z-bend – another deep canyon with a distinctive alphabetic-like caricature and dead straight fractures in the rock like someone has taken their chisel and precisely marked out a section of the canyon/river. With ample canyoning vistas in our memory banks, we embarked for home, the pool and another feast with which to wind up the day. Tomorrow – a canoe down the Murchison and then onward to Monkey Mia – dolphins – here we come!

Timing Is Everything – Rottnest and the West Coast Eagles

Now and again life just seems to roll along sequentially as if it were programmed to do so – every deadline or moment of time is accounted for with very little fringe or leeway. Today was one such day. We were organized and ready to hit the road by 9:30 AM en route to Rottnest via the Rottnest Express leaving at 11:30 AM. I had some errands to attend to and there was the need for a good strong coffee to set us in good stead for the trip ahead. The water was calm making the 25 minute jaunt across to the island very pleasant and without any sickies. We had until 4:15 PM to explore the entire island so had to get the bikes up and running. First stop – Little Armstrong Bay (coined – Little Lance Armstrong Bay by our team). The beach was beautiful with turquoise waters and small rat-like kangaroos called quokkas (from which the namesake of the island was derived) hopping around searching for scraps. Some very bold and seemingly hungry king skinks were also co-habitating and gave Mormor a bit of a fright as they crept towards our luncheon spread. We did some snorkelling in the bay and found some cool shells before packing up to explore the remainder of the island. Aidan was in race mode so zoomed ahead with Cole not far behind, pushing his single speed set up like a trooper. We made it round to Parker Point (an obvious place to stop given the nomenclature) and had a snorkel and play in Salmon Bay – again – pristine turquoise waters with schools of fish, large and small. Without 5 minutes to spare we made it back to the ferry and ventured back to the mainland. Our trip had been a bit of a whirlwind but we were glad we’d made the journey as it truly is a beautiful little sanctuary.



I’d managed to get tickets for the West Coast Eagles versus Essendon Bombers match and was a little wary as the ticket lady had told me they were visually restricted seats due to some sort of mesh. The tickets seemed dirt cheap so I wasn’t so sure we’d see anything. When we finally cruised into Subiaco Arena (without a moment to spare before kick off) we found ourselves about 10 rows back from the field at one end with a totally unobstructed view – it was amazing! You could see the sweat coming off their faces and hear them as they battled for the ball near the goal posts or let loose with a kick in an attempt to score. The boys were rapt for about 10 minutes and then gradually fell apart as the night got later and the game continued – Piper was near sleep by the end but all tolled we enjoyed the match and were stoked with the result as the Eagles prevailed. Jen’s become a supporter and bought herself a scarf with which to barrack for them if she ever gets back to see another game. As we were making our way out in the incredible post-game traffic jam we were again in the right place at the right time as the blockade to the street that Fiona wanted us on was taken down just as we arrived in front of it and we were able to continue our journey home with much less traffic congestion. Nothing like a day that goes to plan – here’s hoping the luck continues!

Piggy the Penguin and the Limestone Lodge

With the promise of another day of erratic weather and short bursts of showers, we elected to take in Penguin Island off Rockingham (South of Perth) and then visit the old Fremantle Prison. Penguin Island is part of a nature reserve of islands and is home to fairy penguins, king skink lizards and a host of different bird species. It is essentially made from sandstone and as a result displays some pretty amazing natural sculpture around the coast line with caves and pock-marked jagged erosive features predominating. Back in the 1920’s it was leased to a fellow who actually made his home in one of the caves – a sort of Australian version of Henry David Thoreau of On Walden Pond fame. In the 30’s during the Great Depression, whole families actually made their residence in the caves! We’ve seemed to have developed an uncanny ability to avoid the intermittent sheets of rain over the past couple of days and managed to jump on board the small ferry that takes you across from the mainland just before a torrential bucketing hit. We weren’t quite as lucky on the other side and copped a bit of a lashing as we made our way down the jetty to shelter. A small penguin sanctuary is located near the jetty and the fairy penguins living there (about 10 in all) are fed three times a day and we were fortunate enough to be there for a feeding. (Such funny little creatures with their distinctive waddle and attitude) The oldest of the bunch was named Piggy and he appeared a bit haggard with an arthralgic gait, bent nose and encrusted eyes. He apparently ruled the roost and often was waited on hand and foot by the biologists running the show – having his meals in his small enclave rather than out and about. Wooden walkways allowed us to venture around the island and visit the different beaches and habitats. We managed to count 10 king skink lizards, a dead puffer fish and a wedge-tailed eagle or some sort of falcon in our travels before heading back to the mainland for the short drive to Fremantle.

Fremantle is essentially a tourist mecca which camouflages its other purpose as a port. A series of interconnected seemingly mazed streets congregate around a market and large café/shop district bustling with people. Sitting just above this hub bub of activity is the old prison, previously known as the Limestone Lodge by locals. The initial buildings were actually erected by prisoners when the area was first settled and the prison was in operation up until 1991, a few years after a large riot destroyed most of the timber roofing beams and left the government no choice but to have it decommissioned. It’s an eerie place with dark cold looking cells, a run down tiny ‘exercise’ area, a former whipping rack and gallows and plenty of stories of woe and maleficence to match its sordid appearance. Aidan somehow became included in the tour guide’s role plays and presentations – not sure how he manages this – almost like a magnet for public displays. The visit was a good adjunct to the kids’ moral education and the squalid conditions will hopefully remain vivid to their memories when confronted by the urge to steal a car, rob a bank or worse. They don’t appear to be heading down this road but just in case – now they have added reason to ‘toe the line’ (apparently a prison expression – every morning they had to ‘toe the line’ and be accounted for by the prison guards). We enjoyed a wonderful tapas dinner at Monk’s Brewery in the evening and headed back to camp with full bellies and heavy heads ready to take on Rottnest with a vengence the next day.

Wicked Campervans and Perth Squalls

The sky was blue when we woke without a hint of fluffy clouds anywhere after a night of torrential downpours on and off. A bit of breaky and we were off to do some errands. The bikes needed some lovin’ so we dropped them by a local shop for servicing and then made our way to the Wicked Camper outlet for Morfar and Mormor to collect their campervan. For those who don’t know, Wicked Campervans are usually these older Mitsubishi vans which have been converted into campervans with a small kitchen at the back and a double bed. Both the insides and outsides are painted in Graffiti style and all have some sort of lyric or saying on the back ranging from “Friends don’t let friends drink VB” to more lurid ones like the Billy Idol van which has “ in the midnight hour she cried more, more, more.” The reason I mention the latter is that Cole read it and mentioned to his ‘Mormor’ that this would be the perfect van owing to the saying on the back! So beautifully naïve – wish I could keep him this innocent forever! The vans are usually rented by your average penny-pinching backpacker wishing a cheap way to travel around Oz. The in-laws had chosen it as it was the only company that permitted a drop off in Exmouth. The initial choice of vans was showcased and looked like it had been rolled a few times and left out on the beach somewhere. Dents textured all visible areas of its exterior and the windshield wipers appeared quite rusted …possibly to the front of the vehicle, so a replacement was requested. The second actually appeared reasonable with only 40,000 odd kms on it and a non-offensive quotation to the back so as not to embarrass the grey nomads we’ve recruited on our venture up to Exmouth.

A couple errands and pee-breaks later we were in the city and doing our best to avoid the occasional squall coming through, throwing sheets of rain at any poor pedestrian stuck out in the elements. Perth now has a Ferris wheel with gondola enclosures which sits down on the foreshore of the river adjacent the large Bell Clock Tower. Given the inclement weather and the opportunity to get some reasonable views of the surrounds, we hopped on. Whilst riding, another squall came through and whistled around us as we lightly jerked around on the Ferris Wheel loop. It was actually quite exciting with this added touch of wild weather. Once ousted from the protected confines of the gondola compartment we trekked back into town to the information centre and sorted out some rough plans for the next few days. Things are looking up for the weather by Friday, so we should be able to get across to Rottnest for a pedal and look-see. Tomorrow – to Penguin Island and the Fremantle Prison.

Boomerang Throwing Rules and an Inauspicious start to Perth

Rule No. 1: Never throw a boomerang if there are people in front of you that you do not wish to harm or kill. Cole has been pining for a large field in which to throw his boomerang since he bought it in Coober Pedy so many weeks ago. His wish was granted in Kondinin, a short stroll past our caravan park just past the exercise stations for chin ups, sit ups and push ups. Admittedly, I was keen to have a hurl as well and to demonstrate my prowess at throwing this angled piece of wood. As I revelled in the success of my initial throw, Aidan had collected the boomerang and was in the process of winding up for a throw with Piper, Cole and I about 15 metres directly ahead of him. The wind was coming from where we were standing so I had hoped he might throw it 45 degrees into the wind and not directly towards us. Being 9 and still developing the precision of a) knowing what 45 degrees means, and b) physically throwing a boomerang in this direction was perhaps a bit much to ask. As if in slow motion, his initial 45 degree aim turned directly towards us and on releasing the ‘rang, he happened to hold onto it for a moment too long, twirling the hardened curved object just above my head. I’m sure that if I hadn’t ducked, it would’ve scalped a few more hairs from my already faltering hairline. Rule No.2: Always discuss the ‘duck’ position with fellow throwers of the boomerang in the event that the throw is successful and the boomerang actually comes back … right at you. Cole had his best ever throw with the ‘rang zooming up in front of us only to do as it was designed to come right back at us. Arms were thrown over our heads and we assumed the ‘duck’ position as best as possible and fortunately avoided any bloodshed.

Mormor and Morfar’s flight was delayed so we took our time making our way to Perth, deciding to head up to York, which we’d heard so much about, before making the final 100km into town. York is rather quaint – somewhat reminiscent of Beechworth with older buildings and a bit of a café culture. We lunched at a Lebanese Bohemian type café on the main drag and stuffed ourselves with falafels, lamb and chicken kebabs. Across the street was the ‘motor’ museum – a small warehouse full of antique and old racing cars which filled the boys with much glee. On the way out of town we stopped at the Mill – a café and craft/art museum/store with some amazing recovered Jarrah wood tables, chairs and other wooden arts and crafts. Given that the caravan is already stuffed with toys and odds and ends, there wasn’t space for a full dining table with benches and chairs so we headed out in the early afternoon - destination – Karringyup Waters Resort Caravan Park, to the North of Perth.

Although I wouldn’t describe myself as particularly superstitious, the Rule of 3’s seems to be a functional reality in my world and hopefully our inauspicious entry to Perth will fit the same bill. Fiona (our GPS voice) was programmed and had us on course until she came up against her nemesis – the Graham Farmer’s Highway Tunnel. Halfway through the tunnel she insisted we turn left and when we resisted as we were not interested in turning into the wall of the tunnel, she advised, in a rather harsh English tone, to do our best to do a U-turn (we were on a one-way stretch). Thinking she must really want us to go left we took the first exit on leaving the tunnel and ended up deep in the CBD doing the equivalent of a U-turn through the city and heading back to the freeway we’d only left moments earlier. We eventually found the caravan park and just as the clouds opened and rain began to fall, discovered a part of our awning had broken and we couldn’t open it up properly. Finally, with nare a moment to lose we made our way to the airport to collect Jen’s parents. Traffic was heavy, so our timing was cut down to the wire. As we ambled into the ‘Pick up and Drop’ off lane we came to a low-lying bar stipulating nothing higher than 2.8 metres could pass. Sure enough we still had the bikes on top – cresting just over 3 metres. As I inched closer to the bar to try to allow the traffic behind through, Jen was nearly in hysterics, thinking I might gun it just to see if the bikes would squeeze under. As the traffic subsided we slowly made our way in reverse back up from whence we’d come until a large Kiwi bloke from parking security halted our advances. We eventually got turned around and headed out after they had quite politely stopped traffic and opened up the chain to allow us into short term parking – another height restricted area. In the end, our crew had been collected and we made it out of the parking without paying a cent for their troubles – it was almost like we had landed on ‘Free Parking’ in monopoly (without collecting the hordes of cash). Perhaps not such an inauspicious start as I’d thought. We’ll see how the rest of the visit goes.

Blustery Barnacles for a Bday, Salmon Gums and Wave Rock

Woke to the sun streaming through the upper mesh windows and fresh air cascading across my face - it was looking like a day with definite potential. It was Jen's birthday so the kids were hyped to get her meager gifts opened and get into a festive sort of way for the day. After some eggs benny to squelch the rumbling tummies, we ventured out on the bikes for an explore. Ambling down the jetty on our bikes brought out the fear in poor little Piper - she was convinced we were going to fall off the edge and into the water - fortunately we never did and kept heading up the bike path to the Jetty Cafe. The Cafe sits adjacent the main mooring area for yachts and sail boats and has a small botanical-like garden in front. They made the best latte we'd had in a while and we were able to enjoy it on some outdoor lounge chairs gazing out onto the ocean. A visit to the Adventure Land playground next door and run through the maze took up most of the remainder of the morning. With lunch nagging at our gullets we headed out for a ride up to the look out that allows one views of all the surrounding area. Hills are not the most popular with my kids - makes them sweat and work hard - not their favorite thing...yet. They did very well though despite some cursing and whines and in the end were quite impressed with their achievement. In the arvo we visited the local 'leisure centre' complete with a very large bouncy rocket and some excellent kiddie pools for the likes of Piper. For dinner we returned to the Jetty Cafe and feasted on some tapas and chocolate fudge cake which came close but not quite to Tamra Beaumont's mud cake - the measure by which all further chocolate cakes will unfortunately have to contend.

With a day in hand to get to Perth, we took down camp and made our way towards Hyden - home of Wave Rock and the Hippo's Yawn - two (of many) ancient rock formations in and around the area of South inland WA. A rough count of those listed on our map identified at least 20 and more likely 30 'rocks' which could potentially be visited. The Wave Rock probably stands out as the most famous and impressive of these (although we obviously haven't seen or intend to see every one) and stands 15 metres high, 110 metres long and actually looks like a cresting wave. Like so many other tourists before us we did the surfing pose picture and ventured onward, trying to keep the incessant buzzing of flies from entering bodily orifices. Aidan decided to scale the moderately steep slope up to the rabbit fence rather than take the stairs so I followed - unfortunately Piper was in daddy mode and wanted to follow me leading to a loud raucous tantrum which I'm sure was heard throughout the local township. Jen was at hand though and coaxed Piper away from the steep climbing wall which would likely have been near death for her if she had had a tumble. The rabbit fence is a short concrete wall which runs 1827 kilometres and was built to prevent the ravages of rabbits which had been introduced near Geelong so many years ago. It made us think of the Big Pond commercial where the son asks his dad about the Great Wall of China and his father tells him it was to keep the rabbits out - his reminiscence makes sense now - perhaps he was simply geographically challenged and confused the two places? Hyden is also host to a number of Salmon Gum trees - named not because they look like old fish who've lost their teeth but rather because of the smooth pink colour that becomes exposed under the brown textured heavy bark as it gradually peels off the limbs and trunk. It's quite striking in the right light. We stopped in Kondinin for the night leaving us only a short drive in the morning to Perth. The kids are pretty excited as Mormor and Morfar will be arriving for a visit and caravan trek with us for the next couple of weeks. It's been a bit of a long trek of late and we're looking forward to a few days of respite in Perth.