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.
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