Walkabout-Talkabout

For Lyndia

2007-04-02T21:15:00.000-07:00

Hopefuly, you can get them from here easier.

Driftwood beach creek.

Dinosaur cove rock.

Day 18 WA Esperance to Albany

2006-08-29T06:37:00.000-07:00

Day 18.01 Friday - 4th August, 2006

2006-08-29T06:33:00.000-07:00

Esperance has a hilly disposition with views overlooking calm bays out to the sea, towards the islands rising from it. Smooth rocks slope down into the sea, and coastal flowers frame the picture perfect view.

'calm bays'

'smooth rocks'

'coastal flowers'

'islands rising from the sea'

Day 18.02

2006-08-29T06:26:00.000-07:00

The sun rose over the cliffs and hills of Esperance just above us. Long curved beaches invite a walk on the sand and the waves as they lick the shore gleam silver and gold in the early morning sun. Their rhythmic hum lulls the soul into blissful reverie.

'sunrise at Esperance'

'long curved beaches'

'rhythmic waves …

… gleam silver and gold in the morning sunlight'

'beaches invite a walk on the sand'

Day 18.03

2006-08-29T06:17:00.002-07:00

Atop the hills, or rather bush and scrub-covered sand dunes that surround the ‘Great Ocean Drive’, the windmills turn slowly but surely. (That is, the wind-powered electricity generating turbines, to be accurate.) Some call them an eyesore, usually those that expect all the comforts and conveniences of our modern life. Not we. They are quiet, clean and graceful. They are the first commercial wind-farms, along with those in Albany, built on the Australian coastline.

‘Great Ocean Drive’

'Windmills atop the hills of Esperance'

views from the ‘Great Ocean Drive’

views 'from the beach'

Day 18.04

2006-08-29T06:15:00.001-07:00

There are 2 specific things that all ‘beach resort’ towns (at least the one’s I have been to, so far) seem to have in common: cypress trees and a road called the Esplanade. For all intends and purposes we could be somewhere down in Tassie (Tasmania), or on St Kilda beach in Melbourne, or in Adelaide, or here.

'Cypress trees'

'The main street of Esperance'

Day 18.05

2006-08-29T06:08:00.000-07:00

We fueled up at the Esplanade service station, and lo-and-behold, a service attendant comes out. "Fill her up?" she inquired, a broad grin overtaking her chubby round face. It has been almost 30 years since the last time I experienced driveway service. We had a quick chat while we waited for the tank to fill. "Kalgoorlie born and bread. But, I won’t be going back. All my family is down here. We had a bit of rain in the last few days, but it is very dry in Kalgoorlie. And I love the ocean." "I guess ‘home is where the heart is’." I replied.
So, for those who also ‘love the ocean’, and as requested by Nordlark and Jana (my big sister), here’s a few water textures.

'breaking waves’

'windswept waves'

'water texture'

Day 18.06

2006-08-29T06:05:00.000-07:00

We treat ourselves to a breakfast at one of the street cafes and observe the life in Esperance. No sooner do we sit down that an anticipating seagull perches itself on the fence behind us. He seems to have it all worked out. As seagulls do. People arrive. People eat. People leave. Seagull swoops down onto the recently left table and feasts on the remains. Even seagulls like a cappuccino every now and then.

'anticipating seagull at outdoor café'

‘even seagulls like a cappuccino every now and then’

Day 18.07

2006-08-29T05:58:00.000-07:00

We had a few adventures with the internet and a few hiccups as you, our dear readers, would have surmised by now, having had quite a break between our posts. The internet lounge in this town keeps to strict business hours. It is not open on Saturday afternoons or on Sundays. Though the attendant was well versed in all technical aspects, her approach was a tad brash and brazen, mostly talking at us, rather than with us. Esperance is obviously a town set up for tourists. Tourists come and tourists go. And having met a few along the way, I guess that is how locals deal with them. Eyes seldom meet. Smiles seldom exchange except ‘in the line of duty’. No wonder that the poor woman taking a break from her real estate job looked so sad. I guess that Kalgoorlie had spoiled us.

18.07 – Real Estate agent on a ‘smoko’

"In the geographical area that is surrounded with red dust that stretches out to the horizon. Where it may meet a bushy range, but where there’s ‘not really much rain’ and rarely the river runs. Where the next ‘town’ is a hundred kilometers away, the population is ‘nice’." Ted says with some reflection. I remember that by ‘Town’ he means the ‘roadhouse come pub come caravan park’, maybe a general store. "The places where locals said ‘G’day’." he continues. "Those smiles on those faces, that ‘lay back yet ready to spring into action any minute’ approach, that ‘This is Australia, mate. I can do anything I want’ attitude. That’s what seems to be missing here." He can get quite verbose at times.

But I know what he means. For me, Kalgoorlie is a real ‘gem’. It seems to have become my favourite place on earth, for the moment. After all, it is where, for the first time in over 25 years, a policeman gave me the time of day, literally. "Hang, on my watch stopped." He nudged his partner for the time and the younger of the two men in blue said: "Twenty five minutes to twelve according to me." "Can’t see it from here, but the clock should be striking soon." the older policeman said, looking up at the ceiling of the verandah roofing over the footpath by the shops. "But, I can smell the sausages." The unmistakable aroma of a sausage sizzle wafted past my nostrils. "Come and join us round the corner, if you’re hungry." he invited. I was dumbfounded. Stunned. Speechless. No witty remarks. Just a memory of how things used to be. A memory of the when, and where, people were ‘nice’ to each other. When, and where, a friendly smile was met with a nod, rather than suspicion or animosity. When, and where, people talked with you, not at you. When it was ’25 minutes to 12’ in Kalgoorlie.

Oops. Rant.

Day 18.08

2006-08-29T05:55:00.000-07:00

We take a walk around the pretty town of Esperance to find the usual touristy things. It looks like a little ‘Lego’ town. It has a couple of main streets, one the ‘Esplanade’. The ‘Great Ocean Drive’ leading up into the hills and over the bays. Little shops and little houses. The local radio station sending out enthusiastic sounds. People going about their day.
The RSL (Returned and Services League) building is representative of the pretty architecture of Esperance. The War Memorial is gently draped by a sculpted flag, for which young men died. Nevertheless, ‘seek and ye shall find’. There is a pretty little lily pond hidden in the park. A pretty picture to remember Esperance by.

'RSL building'

'The Esperance War Memorial'

'hidden lily pond'

Day 18.09 Saturday 5th August, 2006

2006-08-29T05:41:00.001-07:00

After many weeks in the red outback we come across a flowing stream. I dip my fingers in just to make sure it is real. The air is fresh and fragrant and swallows frolic under and around the bridge that spans over the narrow, but flowing, Lort River.

'Lort River'

We continue to head towards Albany. Along the way, we take a turn toward Stokes National Park. We pay our fees and read the stuff posted in the little information bay. "Danger – Tiger Snakes and Ferral Bees". The snakes we are not so worried about. We know what they look like. We know where they like to hang out. We know where not to step and what to do, should we come across one. But ‘Ferral Bees’? I’m not so sure. Did they escape from the city and turned wild? What do they look like? How big are they? Do they like soft drinks or meat? What time of the year do they buzz around the most? How aggressive are they? How soon can we get out of here?

Nevertheless, we continue further into the park to see what we can see. At the bottom of one of the parking bays, we saw mangroves and trees, literally growing out of the seawater at the edge of the bay. Other than that, there was not much else besides more danger signs. And ‘ferral bees’ were no incentive for us to stay for any length of time.

'Stokes National Park' mangroves

'trees growing out of the seawater'

Day 18.10

2006-08-29T05:31:00.000-07:00

Along the way to Albany we had seen a sign letting us know that we are now in ‘The Fitzgerald Biosphere’. "…a unique concept which includes one or more protected areas and surrounding lands that are managed to combine both conservation and sustainable use of natural resources."

‘Welcome to the Fitzgerald Biosphere’

Rain has been here recently and flowers spring up all over the place. Of course, the fact that it is spring does help.

'chittic'

'red bottlebrush'

'flowering bush'

'and another flowering bush'

Forgive us. Despite looking up several sources, books, tourist brochures, the Internet and even asking the locals, it would seem there are dozens of varieties. And there are at least as many sub-varieties of flowers, flowering bushes and trees, that fall within the definition of ‘Western Australian Wildflowers’. What one person calls a bottlebrush another calls a banksia. So, to the botanists out there: "Help!"

Day 18.11

2006-08-29T05:27:00.000-07:00

The scenery changes again. As it has a tendency to do. We drive between grain fields of green and yellow, bordered by paddocks of sheep and cows, with hilltops in the distance.

'the scenery changes’

‘we drive between grain fields of green and yellow'

‘bordered by paddocks of sheep…

…and cows’

Day 18.12

2006-08-29T05:16:00.000-07:00

Evidently they were serious about the biosphere combining the commercial and natural resources. On a small rise just to the left of us, a sprawling construction is in progress. "Nickel mine site" we are told by a sign some way down the road. We are a little surprised to see a mine this size out here in the pristine landscape.

sprawling nickel mine

First came the ‘ferral bees’, now ‘mallee fowl? Some bright spark has gone and transformed this meek creature, adding fins or plates, into a marvel of paleontology.

‘mallee fowl’ or a marvel of paleontology?

'something fowl'

Day 18.13

2006-08-29T05:04:00.000-07:00

We arrive at Hopetoun, at the edge of the Fitzgerald River National Park, just after sunset. Hopetoun is a small and attractive seaside village located on the shores of Mary Ann Harbour about 550km south-east of Perth. A get-away-from-it-all tourist destination.

‘Annie Peak’ at sunset

Mary Ann harbour at sunset

Day 18.14 Sunday 6th August 2006

2006-08-29T04:56:00.000-07:00

The sunrise beckons the photographer onto the beach.

sunrise at Hopetoun beach

‘bench side’ view

Hopetoun is a very small coastal town, but it too has an ‘Esplanade’. Along with the corner pub and the emergency services all lined up in a neat little row.

the corner pub – Port Hotel (1901)

emergency services all lined up

from left to right:

Sea Search and Rescue Centre, Ambulance, Houpetoun Central Fire Brigade.

Day 18.15

2006-08-29T04:49:00.000-07:00

We take a shortcut to Albany through the Fitzgerald River National Park.

18.15a – The Fitzgerald River National Park

Fifty kilometers of a well-maintained dirt road that offers a picturesque view from every angle. And then winds its way through a landscape of the most delightful meadows of flowers. Tall jagged peaks rise from the horizon in the distance. I am speechless. In awe. How can anyone try to describe this scene? I cannot find the adjectives to do it justice. Only the birds are qualified enough to sing its praises. And according to the information booklet, there are more than 200 different species here to make up the choir. I swear they are all singing at once.

Lost for words, I hand over the ‘narration’ to Chewie.

‘a well-maintained unsealed road’

‘a picturesque view…

…from every angle’

Day 18.16

2006-08-29T04:44:00.000-07:00

‘landscape of delightful meadows’

‘tall peaks of Mount Drummond rise from the horizon’

‘meadows of flowers’

quintessential Aussie road shot

Day 18.17

2006-08-29T04:37:00.000-07:00

Australian wildflowers

‘egg and bacon’ - depending on who you believe

‘banksia’

‘bluestar flower’

‘scarlet banksia’

Day 18.18

2006-08-29T04:31:00.000-07:00

more Australian wildflowers

‘not sure of the name of this flowering bush’

‘not sure of the name of this flowering bush’ close-up

possibly ‘the wreath of leschenaultia’

one of 20 endemic to Western Australia

‘leschenaultia’ close-up

Day 18.19

2006-08-29T04:23:00.001-07:00

and then some more flowers

‘royal hakea’ in flower

‘royal hakea’ in flower - a closer view

‘royal hakea’ in flower - 'really close' view

possibly a ‘dryandra’ – certainly the foliage would suggest so

Day 18.20

2006-08-29T04:18:00.001-07:00

but wait…

‘hibbertia’

‘quaalup bell’

possibly ‘the showy banksia’

flowering ‘eucalypt’

Day 18.21

2006-08-29T04:12:00.001-07:00

there is more…

unknown ‘orange flowering bush’ – could be the other ‘egg and bacon’

unknown ‘orange flowering bush’ close-up

unknown ‘purple flowering bush’

unknown ‘purple flowering bush’ close-up

Day 18.22

2006-08-29T04:10:00.000-07:00

A reminder of the fragility of this environment. Dieback, a plant disease that thrives in wet conditions, and can easily be spread on the tyres of vehicles or even on the soles of bush walkers’ shoes. The fungus organism known as ‘Phytophthora cinnamomi’ kills plants by destroying their root system.
Bush walkers are advised therefore, to clean mud and soil from their shoes before entering or leaving the park. Vehicle drivers should wash the tyres and the underbody of their car before and after going to a park or reserve along south-western Australia during wet conditions.

18.22a – ‘Dieback’ warning

Day 18.23

2006-08-29T03:41:00.000-07:00

A wedge-tailed eagle soars gracefully above us (click - memory picture), as we decide not to return to the main road just yet. Though only a narrow sandy track lies ahead, our adventurous spirit spurs us on to follow where only the eagles dare. Although narrow, the road was easy to negotiate and we happily spent an extra hour in the park.

sandy track

Along the track, we find a couple of small streams and rivers gleaming in the sunshine and bubbling over and through smoothed sandstone boulders into the Fitzgerald River National Park.

‘West river’

‘Hambersley river’

‘Fitzgerald river’ looking as if it too could do with some rain.

It seemed much too soon to be reaching the end of the national park road. Western Australia is known for its wildflowers, open spaces and incredible scenery. It is also known as the state where life is as it 'used to be'. A little less rushed and a whole lot friendlier. We pull over and contemplate the sights, sounds and smells we have just experienced. Then, take a deep breath and move on.

‘Thank You’ for visiting the Biosphere

As the sign says: "Thank you for visiting" with us. And we head off to…

You guessed it. Albany.

Day 17.01 Wednesday 2nd August 2006

2006-08-12T17:46:00.000-07:00

Wednesday
2-8-2006

We said our goodbyes to Kalgoorlie-Boulder and head south. We took the alternate route on the way back to Norseman, via Kambalda, to check out what there is still to see. And just a few minutes out of Boulder: "Look!" says Ted, "There’s a bear, no two bears, on that tree." Duly, Chewie pulls over to take an obligatory photo. Ted is happy. And we drive off.

'Look. There's a bear! No, two bears on that tree..."

There are a lot of miles to cover and Chewie has aspirations of making it to Esperance, 384 km away, still today. We hardly settle into the drive when "Look! There’s a clown hanging of that tree. Pull over, pull over. You must take another picture for me." Ted insists, in a way that only he can. Chewie obliges.

'Look! There’s a clown.'

And soon after, obliges again, for there is another bear hanging on another tree.

... another bear

Indeed, every few kilometres Ted persuades Chewie to stop and snap. "There’s a dragon. He could be fun to play with." Ted reminds us that he’s still a playful soul, even for his 47 years and many a stitch.

'There's a dragon.'

"And that poor old guy, with the ‘bananas in pyjamas’, only has one leg. That’s alright fella," Ted sympathizes, "I’ve only got one eye. Children can be so cruel." he adds.

'Ouch'

Day 17.02

2006-08-12T17:25:00.000-07:00

We drive a bit further and stop again. "Look, a pretty raggedy Anne."

A pretty Raggedy Anne

"And over there, on that big tree, a hoppity bunny strung up by his ears. Ouch, I know what it feels like." Ted remarks, and I feel the pangs of guilt over the way I had treated him as a little girl. Not only dragging him, but when he got wet mum would hang him out to dry, suspended with clothes pegs, by his ears. It takes days for a furry bear stuffed with wood shavings to dry.

a hoppity bunny

A few more kilometers and: "There’s Miss Piggy" I get into the act. "That’s not Miss Piggy, that’s a horse." Ted corrects me. I guess he would know better.

not Miss Piggy

"And a green thing with stripes." I say, cautiously. "That would be a brontosaurus. I saw those in one of Luke’s (Kal's) paleontology books." Ted says with an air of authority.

a 'green thing with stripes'

Thankfully, that was the last one. And not a minute too soon, for Chewie had grown impatient. "One more of these and you can join them." Chewie threatens in exasperation. "Let’s go to Esperance!" Ted suggests quickly.

Day 17.03

2006-08-12T17:19:00.000-07:00

We passed through Kambalda and joined the main road towards Norseman. Norseman, I may have mentioned before is a small gold mining town, much smaller than Kalgoorlie. But the thing of interest here for me are the best postcards I have seen so far of Western Australia, the ‘Biggest State’.

Largely unexplored

it's the biggest

Day 17.04

2006-08-12T16:52:00.000-07:00

About 25 km out of Norseman a signpost points to the left "Dundas Rocks 2 km". As is customary for us, we turn left. A curving unsealed road leads to where the old township of Dundas would have been a hundred years ago. Then, in the old days, the Cobb and Co. coaches would take folk from the port of Esperance up to the gold fields. Just ahead of where I stand would have been the old Dundas pub. A few rusted street signs point out that it may have been a thriving little town in the early 1890s, till gold was discovered further north, in Norseman, a few years later.

The old Dundas pub site...

The rocks were not readily seen at first. It looked no more than a bit of a rocky outcrop atop a small hill, all but hidden by the thick brush.

'hidden by the thick brush'

On closer inspection, however, the whole hill is a rock, with boulders strategically placed by Mother Nature to make the most romantic of rockeries.

'strategically placed by Mother Nature'

The air is thick with the songs of birds and the buzzing of bees. The rock-covered ground is intermittently covered with sand and moss.

'intermittently covered with sand and moss'

Day 17.05

2006-08-12T16:36:00.000-07:00

The large boulders are surrounded by flowering bushes. Indeed, many flowering bushes. And many flowers. Yellow, purple, white, and many buds of yellow and orange, ready to burst into full bloom any minute.

Many flowering bushes of yellow...

...purple ... and ready to burst

... red ...

... and more purple.

And the air smells of vanilla.

Day 17.06

2006-08-04T20:03:00.000-07:00

Flowering Bushes

Day 17.07

2006-08-04T19:45:00.000-07:00

Several picnic grounds and ready-made fireplaces lie amid the rocks. It’s just too good an opportunity to pass up. Chewie forgets about Esperance and we decide to stay the night, for some more exploring in the light of day. But not before he completely exhausts himself with a little night photography.

Day 17.08

2006-08-04T19:37:00.000-07:00

Tripod set-up and long exposure are not the only requirements. One needs a torch too. With the beam selectively pointed and moved over a subject one can ‘paint with light’, without the shadows a flash creates. The rocks, right next to where we camp, offer ideal conditions.

Day 17.09 Thursday 3 Aug 2006

2006-08-04T19:24:00.000-07:00

The morning sun and the loudness of the birds spur us up onto the top of the hill. We climb over rocks, bend under thick prickly bushes and forge our way to the best pics. Enclaves of small flowering meadows welcome us to sit and soak up the atmosphere. And from the top, past our shadows, we look over Dundas Lake to the other side, where the folk of years gone by would have enjoyed many an outing and picnic.

This be many rocks

This be more rocks

This be a another big rock.

This be the two of us on top of a big rock.

Day 17.10

2006-08-04T19:11:00.000-07:00

Textures from Dundas rocks for my Walrus friends.
(should open to full 1600x1200)

Day 17.11

2006-08-04T19:00:00.000-07:00

We decide to get a closer look. We drive a little further on in the hope of finding that rocky outcrop we saw in the distance. The unsealed road turns into a track that even 4 wheel drives would think twice about going down, so we continue on foot for some distance. We get pretty close, but the morning exercise we undertook has left our feet tired and our sore legs convince us to turn back. But not before we explore some more. Besides the beauty of the rocky terrain, the budding flowers and the flowering bushes we find some of the local inhabitants. These are the biggest ants that I have ever seen. Best not disturb them. They look positively nasty.

The original 'Dundas Rocks', south of the Dundas township and definitely not accessable by road.

The road turned into a narrow track.

Bull ants ! Not to be messed with.

At up to an inch in length they can leave a nasty bite as I remember not so fondly.

Day 17.12

2006-08-04T18:52:00.000-07:00

We continue onwards to Esperance. We will get there eventually. We have already seen the sign to welcome us to the Mallee country, as fields of green and yellow begin to surround us on both sides. But first, a pyramid like mountain in the distance towards the west seeks attention. Another unsealed road, between grain fields and sheep paddocks leads us closer. And just before we reach its end Peak Charles and its surrounding hills become visible enough for a stunning shot.

Peak Charles in the distance. The road came to a dead end.

First green field in a few thousand kilometres.

Canolla, I think.

Day 17.13

2006-08-04T18:47:00.000-07:00

He made me promise, but I can’t help it. As we drive between the sheep paddocks a mischievous smirk comes from the driver’s seat. His hand presses on the horn and sheep do as sheep do. One starts to run and the rest follow. The whole herd leaves naught but dust behind in their scurry and Chewie has a satisfied smile on his face.

"Hehe". Sorry, no pics.

Day 17.14

2006-08-04T18:39:00.000-07:00

We finally begin to get some distance behind us when it’s my turn to stop the driver. The school playground at Salmon Gums is full of straw figures just hanging around on the swings or sitting in the shade taking it easy.

Playtime at Salmon Gums

Hanging around Salmon Gums

Day 17.15

2006-08-04T18:25:00.000-07:00

And just because he loves me, he picks out the prettiest of ‘daisies’ for me by the roadside.

Daisies for 'Watson'

Day 17.16

2006-08-04T01:51:00.000-07:00

The vegetation has definitely changed. Huge bottle-brush bushes begin to line the road. Their huge flowers of yellow already beginning to turn brown and grey.

'bottle brush'

Day 17.17

2006-08-04T01:44:00.000-07:00

Scaddan's pioneer park is bordered with colourful totem poles and pretty wall murals depicting the old days.

'totem poles'

'wall mural'

'the old days'

Day 17.18

2006-08-04T01:36:00.000-07:00

The road begins to turn and wind and familiar pine trees appear at the edge of it. "I love this road. It’s been a while since I have had to turn the wheel." remarks Chewie. Pinecones lie scattered on the ground that is now covered with green lush grass. Esperance is only 25km ahead and the landscape begins to change from the far and wide flatness to undulating hills. Along the side of the road there are oodles of puddles, some more like small lakes, within the wetlands, where seemingly dead trees reflect in the still water they stand in. The first signs of white sand appear here and there. "Wowie, wow!" and he pulls over. Hills in the distance, water ahead, sand dune shapes on the horizon. The sun starts its descent far behind us as long shadows contrast the bright colours.

'undulating hills'

'reflections'

'in the still water'

Hills in the distance

Day 17.19

2006-08-04T01:33:00.000-07:00

"We made it to Esperance." says Ted, with a sigh of relief.

Day 16 26 Jul 2006 / 2 Aug 2006

2006-08-01T21:01:00.000-07:00

26-07-2006 Wednesday

The sun has just disappeared over the horizon of the ‘Goldfields’ of Western Australia. There are no clouds except for the few paint brush strokes of deep violet gray just above the treetops to the north-west. It has been a fine day, all around. Sunshine, blue skies and many a smiling face.

Today Chewie left me at the public car park of the Super Pit while he was taken on a ‘guided tour’ of the mine and allowed to do his stuff (within security and safety limits, of course).
As I booted up my laptop, affectionately known as ‘Computer’, a friendly "G’day, see you’re working. Nice day for it." came through my open window. "Just waiting while my ‘hubby’ gets a tour of the mine." I replied. I don’t think I’m working. I’m not imputing figures, or typing customer letters, or compiling monthly accounts, or allocating baskets, or following up inquiries, or updating the phone journal. Well I am doing a kind of journal. But really, I’m just typing what my observations and feelings dictate. "Who’s a lucky little boy, then? Well, leave you to it. Cheers!" and he got into his ute and reversed out. Many a ute pulled up into and soon after reversed out of the spot next to me. Each driver saying "G’day, how ya goin?" on their way to or fro. And, except for the first greeting, all of them women. (It was also a chin-dropper for Chewie, when Chris told him that it’s fifty-fifty in the mine. So we stand corrected. It’s not just the wonderful working men in the mines, as may have once been the case, it’s the great girls as well.)

In fact, this town is filled with young girls and women with spunk and get up and go. The town seems to belong to them. They are everywhere. Little girls, teenage girls, single girls, newly weds, mums to be, young mums, working mums, and of course, grandmas. And for each of them, and often their sister, there is a dad, perhaps a brother, an uncle, and of course, grand dad. The town is a very family orientated community. Quite contrary to what one would expect in a mining town.

Wednesday 2-8-2006

We came to Kalgoorlie for a couple of days and stayed for four weeks. It is not an uncommon story in this town. The Kalgoorlie dust does stick. And a ‘true blue’ understanding shines through people’s eyes when we ‘fess up’. "I only came for two years, and that was 10 years ago. Three kids later, my husband has his own business here in town, and I’d only go to Melbourne for the shopping. Not to live!" was one response. Another’s wrinkled face, that showed a life of ‘three score and ten’ and then some, lifted with the wink and a smile: "I’ve been here 40 years. Not much rain here. But I wouldn’t live anywhere else. I can’t stand the city. Too many toffee noses there."

So, thank you, from Kalgoorlie-Boulder.

Firstly, and most importantly, thank you, Kal! For without your abilities and willingness, and back up, we would not have been able to even consider a short holiday, let alone our ‘Walkabout-Talkabout’. You are ‘Number One’, son! I know, better than anyone, that there is a lot to stay on top of and lots to organize every day in the Osca Services office. And you are keeping it all running smoothly.

Second, thanks to the Osca team. Especially Sue. Thanks for being such a great help to Kal and for taking care of the daily workshop routine. Thanks to Nadia for whizzing around the streets of Melbourne and delivering the best service in town to our customers. We often think of you on the endlessly straight and empty roads out here. Thanks to Li and Yee-Ling, for your commitment and the excellent quality you both continue to come up with. Li, you’re the best ‘Shirt man’ in town. And we ought to know. And Yee-Ling, thanks for the chocolates, as well.

Thanks to the Osca Services’ customers, for appreciating the long haul Chewie and I had put in, and for your best wishes for our journey.

Thanks to Mike at Merc in Melbourne. You did an excellent job putting this vehicle together for us. Your excellent service and friendliness can only be equaled by the Osca team. (Yes, I’m biased. But I don’t think I’m far off the mark. I’m sure that our customers would agree.) Chewie has a few pic’s for you especially. And here’s a plug for Mike. If you are looking for a light commercial vehicle Mike can be your best friend on the inside of the Mercedes Benz team. You will find him at the West Melbourne dealership.

Here are the pictures I promised you Mike

Penong Sand Dunes, South Australia

Kalgoorlie, Western Australia

Thanks Cesare for checking in on Kal. We miss our Thursday nights. But don’t be lulled into a false sense of security that we might get rusty. We’ve been practicing. Oh, and by the way, thanks for your friendship. It’s been over 32 years that we have known each other, and 28 years since I introduced you to Chewie. That’s an awfully long time. We are both very grateful.

Bert, thanks for the birthday gift. It’s keeping all our electronics happy.

Thanks Denny for your regular emails and your encouragement. We trust you are well on the mend. Now that we are on the road again you can look forward to more road shots.
Thanks to the Walrus group for voting him the Big Walrus, while in Kalgoorlie. It was an interesting exercise doing it from the outback.

And, thanks to my mum and dad, (who, as parents do, have put up with so much from me in the past) for your faithful following. I’m glad you liked your birthday CD, dad. We had a great time making it, choosing just the right images and I believe, just the right song. Lots of love.

I do have an apology to make. Matt, I’m sorry mate! I got your name wrong. Shame on me, I’ sure I heard ‘Nat’. It must have been all the excitement in coming across someone like you, practically in the middle of nowhere. But, as pointed out by your folks, who were glad to see your smiling face on our blog, I was wrong. Please forgive me. I wonder where you are now? I wonder if you are up to your next pair of shoes? Thanks for your incredible achievement-in-the-making, and for the inspiration you have lent us. Once we get the CD’s into production, we will be looking to donate $1 from each purchase over the internet to ‘Canteen’. Such was your effect on us. Thanks.

And, thanks to the friendly town folk of Kalgoorlie, who always have the time to smile and say ‘g’day’.

Thanks to Steve for having the insight to run ‘Kalnet’, the internet lounge in town. It has been a saving grace for Chewie’s, up till now, ‘technical difficulties’. Thanks to your staff, Kristie and Alicia, for their friendly assistance and welcoming smiles.

Thanks to the girls and boys at the Kalgoorlie Harvey Norman store. Your input and problem solving abilities, as regards our computer power, were most appreciated.

Thanks to the lady in the Kaos Café, who remembers our coffee order, with a smile.

Thanks to Mike, at the shoe repair shop here in Kalgoorlie, who was kind enough to fix my old, most beloved, boots. They just might make it all the way on our Walkabout. They are more than 10 years old and have walked many a mile around Victoria, and oh, so comfortable. (And, thanks to Oliver, at Melbourne’s R. M. Williams store, for looking after my order for a new pair. And when I finally do get to Perth to finalize it, I’m sure that I will be well looked after.)

Thanks to the lady at the Boulder Accommodation Village, for letting us use their wonderfully clean laundry, (one of the cleanest I’ve had the opportunity to use in the last 8 weeks) even though we weren’t staying that night. As would be expected I am most pedantic about my laundry.

Thanks to young Chloe, who let me play with her (even though I’m so old) and who made some pretend pancakes for me, while waiting for her mum and dad at the internet lounge.

And most of all in Kalgoorlie-Boulder, thanks to Stephanie and Jess at the Super Pit Shop for making it possible for Chewie to get a guided tour (by Chris) of the mine. We really appreciate you obliging us, on so short a notice.

And, with the rains having come and gone, so are we. Somehow we don’t think it’s the last we’ll see of Kalgoorlie. We may be back yet. But for now we make ready for Esperance, the Western Australian Wildflower Country and the Kimberleys.

Day 15.01 - Monday 3 July 2006

2006-07-19T02:34:00.000-07:00

We read up on some interesting facts:

‘“Welcome to Kalgoorlie-Boulder” reads the sign at the edge of this remarkable town, located 597 km east of Perth. Here is a town built on gold over 100 years ago and is still basically driven by the same metal to this day. It is a prosperous town, with two city centers, Kalgoorlie and Boulder. Hanna Street in Kalgoorlie and Burt Street in Boulder are a feast of superb 19th and early 20th century buildings, which are still largely intact and well maintained.’

‘Hannan Street, Kalgoorlie’

‘Exchange Hotel, Kalgoorlie’

‘Recreation Hotel, Boulder’

Day 15.02

2006-07-19T02:30:00.000-07:00

‘Attention was drawn to this area when Arthur Bailey discovered gold near Coolgardie in 1892. The following year Paddy Hannan, Tom Flanagan and Daniel Shea discovered alluvial gold nuggets near Mount Charlotte, when they were forced to camp out unexpectedly after their horse lost a shoe.

On June 17, 1893 Paddy Hannan registered his claim, and within 3 days an estimated 700 men were prospecting in the area. This was the gold rush to beat all gold rushes.’

‘Paddy Hannan gave this town its gold. Now quenches passerby's thirst’

Day 15.03

2006-07-19T02:20:00.000-07:00

And now for some plagerism...

‘In the early days the town was simply named Hannan’s or Hannan’s Find. Hannan’s find drew attention to an area containing an ore body that later became known simply as “The Golden Mile”.

Today there are about 50 mines operating within the Goldfields district. About half of these are gold mines, including the massive Super Pit, which exploits the most productive square mile of gold-bearing ore ever discovered anywhere in the world. Nickel, chrysoprase, copper, granite, lime, salt, sand and silver are also of industrial interest here.’

About the Super Pit:

‘The massive Super Pit, Australia’s largest open cut gold mine was established in 1989 and was the brainchild of Allan Bond. Western Australia supplies 75% of Australia’s total gold productions and about 8% of the world’s gold production.

It takes seven 220-tonne truckloads of rock to produce a 2-ounce nugget.

More than 50,000,000 ounces of gold have already been mined on the golden mile.

About 85 million tonnes of ore and waste are removed per year – that’s 232,000-tonnes per day.

Ore carrying trucks used at the Super Pit are the biggest of their type in use in an Australian gold mine. The new Cattepillar 793C costs $4,000,000 each. They weigh a massive 376-tonnes and are 6.4m high and 7.4m wide. They travel at a top speed of 54.3 km and carry 220-tonnes of ore in one load. Each tyre costs $26,000 to replace.

The Super Pit’s mine life is further estimated at a further 16 years. At that time the size of the pit will be 3.8 km long, 2km wide and half a kilometer deep and more than 17 million ounces of gold will have been extracted.”

At the Super Pit lookout I see, again, that a little boy’s fascination with big toys starts early. As soon as he could get away from mum he made a beeline straight towards it.

‘Little boys, big toys’

‘The Super Pit – a very big hole’

Day 15.04

2006-07-19T02:13:00.001-07:00

Not long after, the little boy inside the man with whom I travel through life made a similar beeline.
He saw the big Caterpillar trucks as they were being transported into Kalgoorlie, and followed. They made the long road train that carried them look rather small.

‘he saw the big truck and followed’

‘little wheels, big wheels’

‘the ‘CAT’ hardly fits’

Day 15.05

2006-07-19T02:13:00.000-07:00

About the water:

‘The average rainfall in Kalgoorlie is 250mm per year, hardly enough to sustain a bustling gold mining town. It was called the “Scheme of Madness” when Charles Yelverton O’Connor, born in Ireland in 1843 and Western Australian engineer-in-chief, proposed, in 1895, to build a pipeline to carry water from Perth to Kalgoorlie, a distance of 563 km. Sadly, subjected to a vicious press campaign, O’Connor committed suicide in March 1902. His suicide note included detailed instructions on the construction of the pipeline, which was completed the following year. The water travels from the Perth hills and takes about 10 days to get here. It was originally powered by steam powered stations to pump the water uphill. The pipeline assured the survival of Kalgoorlie and Boulder. Today it is more likely to be described as a “Life line”.’

Day 15.06 - Monday 10 July 2006

2006-07-19T02:07:00.000-07:00

We bush camp a little north of Kalgoorlie in a quiet spot, with red earth, green shrubs and trees, and plenty of sky. The best thing about bush camping is that one doesn’t need to go chasing the sunrise or the sunset. Just find a ‘nice spot’ and wait. It’ll happen all by it self. The sun will come up in the morning and tickle your cheeks awake, if the birds, enthusiastically greeting the new day, haven’t gotten to you yet. No need to race to find the perfect shot. Just enjoy the day. Before you know it, the sun will begin to set, and there’s your light show. Each day displays a different colour scheme. Different patterns entice the photographer, as well as just an observer.

‘find a nice spot’

‘a good morning peck’

‘light show’

Day 15.07

2006-07-19T01:56:00.000-07:00

The ground consists of what can best be described as a fine sandy mixture of dried flaking earth that in places takes on the appearance of an elephant’s hide. Some parts of it are entirely covered by black pebbles, some the size of a pinhead.

‘flaking earth’

‘elephant’s hide’

‘entirely covered by black pebbles’

Day 15.08

2006-07-19T01:53:00.000-07:00

In this part of the ‘red outback’ our companions are quite small, of the 6 or 8-legged variety. They build intricate structures for their homes. Some take the shape of a crater, or a volcano like mound that is about one inch high. Others seem to be mud structures that tower up to 3 inches.

‘a volcano like mound’

‘towering mud structure’

Day 15.09

2006-07-19T01:48:00.000-07:00

Be intrigued at the webs that coat the surrounds of mounds. Consider the trap door spider that conceals the entrance to his house with a door on the ground. It looks almost like an oyster shell.

‘fine webs coat the surrounds...’

‘...of another mound’

‘I guess the occupant is home, we better not disturb’

Day 15.10

2006-07-19T01:44:00.001-07:00

Even the trees seem to change colour throughout the day, as the sun changes its aspect. Where one minute you would swear the trunk of the tree you are looking at is a silvery white and the leaves that perch on the ends of its limbs glisten with green hues, a little later the trunk appears bronze and the leaves a tinkering copper.

‘bronzed trunks’

Day 15.11

2006-07-19T01:44:00.000-07:00

A short way off to the west of us runs the railway. The train engines that clatter along it pull their many carriages, loaded with all sorts of things. From rocks and earth and moving equipment to fuel and water. A long way off to the east is the main highway. Its position is given away by the hum of the traffic that subsides after dusk and reinvigorates at dawn.

All in all, providing you have plenty of water, a most perfect place. But you’ll hear me saying that just about every where. I’m just a diehard optimist. I tend to see things in their most positive light. Lucky me!

Radio West informs us that the weather forecast for the week is fine, fine, fine, and cold.

Day 15.12 - Sunday 16 July 2006

2006-07-19T01:31:00.000-07:00

It is not always practical, and perhaps it could even be perceived as rude, to casually take photos of people. So, in order to satisfy at least one of our followers on the blog, I will try to describe what I see, as objectively as I can. Denny (if you are reading this) this is for you:

“It’s big enough to be able to get whatever you need here, but still small enough to remain a friendly little country town. Just the way I like it.” a young female shop attendant so rightfully pointed out on our first day here. Kalgoorlie certainly is a prosperous mining town. Many young mums with toddlers in pushers, often expecting another little addition, walk together with their girlfriend, who is also pushing a pram, or will be soon. As Greta, another friendly soul who was named after her grandmother, said: “They say that there must be something in the water in Kalgoorlie. It makes all the women pregnant.” She wasn’t kidding.

There are many, many children here. And hence, many a kindergarten and primary school, practically one on every corner. And from what I can see, a great deal of little girls. There is a little body wearing pink (and purple) just about everywhere I look. ‘Thank heaven for little girls, for little girls get bigger every day.’

Young teenage girls walk together, their hair coloured black with a few streaks of pink or deep violet, goth-style, through long straightened tresses. They would appear to be all grown up, as they furiously sms with their friends on their mobiles and window shop for the latest fashions, but for the lolly-pops in their mouths, or the skate boards some skillfully negotiate along the wide footpaths. They wear hipster jeans and skimpy singlet tops that accentuate their perfect youthful bodies. The mid-afternoon sun can be quite warm. And, if it’s a bit too cold in the morning, then ugg-boots seem to appear indiscriminately on everyone.

Teenage boys hang around together in small groups rolling back and forth on their BMX bikes, close to the takeaway shops. (Growing young men need the security of food close at hand.) And then there are the working men. Miners, truck drivers, the guys in utes, and all the others that enable this town and its main activity to continue and prosper. They are strong and tough. But you’ve got to have your wits about you, for they always have a joking remark at the ready.

I love to sit and observe the passers by. Today I am parked just outside of a bakery and a baby store. Since Chewie left me here not more than a half an hour ago, 3 new prams have walked out and a proud grandad has just fitted a new baby seat into the back of his 4-wheel drive. In goes another pregnant young woman and her mum to get that all important stuff for the expected new arrival.

The aboriginal people here are in a minority. A couple on a Sunday morning walk with their toddler in a pusher, dad at the helm. They are obviously not ‘well off’’, but they are certainly clean and neatly dressed. Talking and laughing together as a young family should. They wave a happy ‘hello’.

Somewhere else, on the outskirts of town, in the midst of old truck tyres, scrap metal, old chairs and mattresses a group of aboriginal people surround a large fire. Most of them with a paper bag (bottle or can inside) in their hands. They get a visit by the local police, as we pass by. And no doubt, from the body language of the young officers keen to assert their authority, get asked to ‘move on’. Their greeting to us confirms that: ‘mind your own business, you bloody whities’.

In the heart of town an elderly couple is drawn to the intriguing depth of sound and rhythm and search for coins to drop into a wicker bowl on the pavement, when they round the corner and see a young boy standing outside the supermarket playing his didgeridoo. It is almost as tall as he is.

Kyle and Keenan both think it’s quite funny, judging by the smirks on their faces, that we are so interested in them. Kyle also paints “Nanna taught me. That’s my hand, to say ‘hello’.” And he points to his works of art.

‘Kyle plays his didgeridoo to earn some extra money while on school holidays’

‘they think it’s funny that we are so interested’

‘Kyle’s work of art’

Day 15.13

2006-07-19T01:26:00.000-07:00

A young girl, I’m guessing at no more than in her early twenties, struggles with her shopping trolley and two small children. Her hair is unkept. She wears thongs on her dusty feet. Both children, a toddler and a preschool-age girl, sit inside the trolley, amidst copious cans and boxes. The youngsters wear thongs and only shorts and t-shirts, even though it is only 2.5degrees.

A woman arrives at the ATM for some cash. She wears high-heeled court shoes with a smart black pant-suit. Her shoulder length hair is cut in the latest style. Her make-up and jewellery are subtle and elegant. In the latest model 4-wheel drive she pulled up in sit her husband, her teenage son with earphones nodding his head rhythmically to his ipod, and young daughter fidgeting with her hair. Several new carry bags from up-market clothes shops are draped over the back seat.

A youth walks alone, crumpled denim shirt, red knitted hat pulled right down over his head, kicking stones, sometimes picking them up and then throwing them away, aimlessly.

A man with dust on his shoes and his ute, sunnies on the top of his head and a newspaper under his arm, stops at the café for a bacon and eggs breakfast.

A middle aged woman hurries along the footpath in a most efficient manner carrying office files. While a young woman at the information center greets the tourists and helps out with cheerful advice.

An old man stumbles between a tree and a pub. His whole appearance is disheveled, torn and dirty.

A man, who is in town for a short while to pick up supplies, weasels five bucks out of Chewie to have his picture taken. “You’re not going to see a face like this in Melbourne, mate.” he says. He claims to be a painter who spends his time teaching the young ones about his art and the dream time.

There is a wide array of social status. And attitude. And I guess, ultimately, no matter what tribe you come from - black, white, red, yellow, brown or pink with purple spots, it’s all up to your attitude.

"...you won’t see a face like this in Melbourne"

no, not for $5.00...

Day 15.14

2006-07-19T01:20:00.000-07:00

We headed out of Kalgoorlie last weekend for a ‘Captain Cook’ (to take a look) a little further north towards Menzies, some 130 kms away. About 20 minutes out of Kalgoorlie a few bikers overtook us. As many people do. Including many a road train. That’s truck with a trailer, and a trailer, and in some cases, another trailer. They rode ‘easy rider’ style along the highway, which runs along the rail road. The sign pointed left to Broad Arrow. The bikers turned left. We turned left. It has been our experience, in Victoria, that bikers know of the best country pubs. It would appear that that theory applies in the West as well.

‘Broadie’, as they call it, was established in 1896. And it serves a mean burger. “Another midi, mate?” asks the barmaid. Sandy and Neil have had the pub since 1986. Whoever stops by is welcome to leave their name on the wall. Providing a space on the wall can be found. They will even provide you with a pen. “You should see some of them. They come in with ladders to reach up to the ceiling. Literally hanging of the rafters.” We add our names to the walls thick with graffiti: ‘Walkabout Rubblesby 2006’ and ‘Watson 2006’.

‘Broadie - est 1896’

‘we add our names to the walls’

Day 15.15

2006-07-19T01:14:00.000-07:00

The bikers stopped by for lunch and to relax outside in the sun. Locals stop by for a midi and a chat, or to catch a ride back to town with an obliging soul. Some watch the telly, others, like Chewie and I, shoot a few games of pool. Everyone is moving slow, except for those tending bar. An old, faithful dog lies near the warmth of a wood fire stove, unperturbed. The jukebox plays country songs and bids the tapping of toes, at least mine.

‘bikers relax in the sun’

‘The fastest barman in the west’

Tough 'House Rules'

Day 15.16

2006-07-19T01:09:00.000-07:00

We continue to head north, on the now unsealed road, to Ora Banda. The sign reads: “Siberia 19 km”. Who could resist an invitation like that. We’ve been to ‘Biddleonia’, why not Siberia?

‘The road to Siberia’

‘Siberia 19km’

Day 15.17

2006-07-19T00:57:00.000-07:00

“To Hell or Siberia” reads the information plaque. “The rush was a failure of Frost, and so great a one that ‘Siberia’ was the only word adequately to express the chagrin of the men who hoped so much from its discovery. Being one of these myself I can cordially endorse the appropriateness of the name…

Siberia was said to be 70 miles of dry stage, and yet off we all started, as happy as kings at the chance of mending our fortunes. Poor Crossman (since died), McCullogh, and I were mates, and we were well off, for we had not only our ‘Little Carnegie’, who, like his master had been earning his living at Bayley’s, but a camel, ‘Bungo’ by name, kindly let by Gordon Lyon. Thus we were able to carry water, as well as provisions, and helped to relieve the sufferings of many a poor wretch who had only his feet to serve him.

Men in sore straits, with swollen tongues and bleeding feet, we saw and happily, were able to relieve.” (David Carnegie, ‘Spinifex and Sand’, 1898)

“The origin of the name is uncertain, but in a book on the Goldfields, by Duke Stewart, the author wrote that J.S. Christie told him how ‘Siberia’ was named: ‘A swagman struck the track near the Carnage and cut on a tree the words ‘To Hell or Siberia’.”

Of the miners only disused shafts and rusted old tin cans remain.

A row of graves each bordered by white quartz rocks, a sign with the names of those buried there, is all that remains of the original settlement. The grave on the very end, half hidden under the scrub is the smallest. On it lies a baby angel. Tears would well in many an eye with the thought of life, and death here.

‘rusty can’

‘baby angel’

‘Afghan cameleers saved many lives during the ill-fated rush to Siberia’

Day 15.18

2006-07-19T00:48:00.001-07:00

We finally made it to Menzies and to Ted’s great surprise we came across another driving bear. Of course, Ted thinks he’s doing all the driving, sitting right up front, nose to the windscreen. But it looks like this bear has been stuck in ‘park’ for quite some time.

‘another driving bear’

‘stuck in ‘park’’

‘and a road shot for Denny – as requested’

Day 15.19

2006-07-19T00:48:00.000-07:00

Menzies is on the edge of the Western Australian wild flower country. And although not due to start flowering until August, many of the trees and bushes, as well as the flowers, are already sporting new blooms. I will let Chewie show you, rather than trying to describe them in all their complexities. In this case, ‘a picture tells a thousand words’. (For the connoisseurs, these are in a 1600 by 1200 resolution)

Day 15.20 Some 1600x1200's

2006-07-19T00:38:00.000-07:00

Day 15.21 Some 1600x1200's

2006-07-19T00:17:00.000-07:00

Day 14.01 2nd July 2006

2006-07-14T01:43:00.000-07:00

Balladonia – also referred to as Biddleonia in these parts, and by the sounds of it not just by Chewie and myself – is the place most famous for the Sky Lab crash back in the 1970’s. As well as ‘Balladonian Marbles’. What started as single grains of sand some 2,000,000 years ago, had each collected various materials along the way to form almost perfectly round stones. “Someone lost their marbles here2 million years ago, and they’ve been calcifying ever since.” was Chewie’s comment. He continued: “ Too bad that Sky Lab missed the roadhouse.” Having arrived on a Saturday evening, the roadhouse and adjoining hotel was full of ‘yobos’. A perfect example of beer drinking, fight picking and generally obnoxious Australian males. Needless to say, we were out of there like a flash at first light.

‘Balladonian Marble’

Day 14.02

2006-07-14T01:41:00.000-07:00

Blackened trunks of dead trees in the morning light lend an eerie feeling as we drive through patches of bush, where fires have left their mark.

‘blackened trees’

Day 14.03

2006-07-14T01:40:00.000-07:00

They contrast the lush greenery of the Foster Ranges, where he stood at the edge of the road. He eyed the van cautiously as we pulled up and switched off the motor. A few seconds passed as we watched each other in silence. His coat was thick and his snout sniffed high at the wind. When he was satisfied that there was no danger, the dingo calmly crossed the road, just a few yards in front of us. When he reached the other side he paused, as if to pose to ‘have his picture took’, before his sharp ears picked up the sound of an approaching truck and he disappeared into the under-scrub of the bush.

‘he paused, as if to pose to “have his picture took”’

Day 14.04

2006-07-14T01:38:00.000-07:00

A little further down a sign beckons us off the main road again: ‘The Foster Sheep Station – An Oasis in the Desert’. What would appear to be an old sheep station converted, in a most romantic way, to provide accommodation with a difference. Corrugated iron shacks are intertwined with curved paths, neatly lined with stones, and intermingled with bright welcoming blossoms. Old rusty wheel barrows and wagon wheels are placed strategically for that added authenticity. Bird feeders in the center garden provided a richness of sound and moving colour. The lady who came up to say ‘hello’ would have been at least in her late fifties, but her youthful exuberance hid her years. “We’re just cleaning up. We had a Camp-oven party last night. Ended up with 26 of us. I’m sorry you missed it. The more the merrier, you know.” She was trim and fit. Her pink jumper matched her fluffy pink and purple scarf and pearly pink lipstick. Her blue eyes twinkled through her suntanned smiling face, framed by her blonde hair. We agree, it is a very pretty place indeed. Had we known, we would not have bothered stopping in ‘Biddleonia’. “We came for two weeks. That was 18 months ago. We really love it here. It really is an ‘Oasis in the Desert’!”

‘Foster sheep station – An Oasis in the Desert’

Day 14.05

2006-07-14T01:36:00.000-07:00

A few miles before Norseman a large red hill, which looked purple from a distance, displays its geological composition. Shimmering in every shade of red, bronze and gold. “Maybe there’s gold in them there hills.” I try for a witty comment.

‘a large red hill, which looked purple from the distance – shimmering in every shade of red, bronze and gold’

Day 14.06

2006-07-14T01:35:00.000-07:00

Soon the signs on the side of the road begin to welcome us to Norseman. “Fresh fruit and veggies in town”. “Great.” We think to ourselves, having eaten all our veggies and fruit before the quarantine checkpoint at the South Australian - Western Australian border. It has been over 700 km since these types of luxuries had been available. “ATM & Bank in town center”, “Supermarket & Newsagent”, “Internet access”. “And hopefully a decent computer.” Chewie hopes.

‘signs leading to Norseman’

Day 14.07

2006-07-14T01:33:00.000-07:00

The view from the lookout above Norseman shows the wide expanse of this land. Like paint on an artist’s palette sandstone-beige mixes with the orange-red earth. The leaves of the eucalypts glisten more like copper than green at the tops of bronzed branches. The ranges in the distance spread out in a deep royal blue, from the west to the north, and then flow into a mysterious purple towards the east.

There is also a tower, under which a car is parked, and whose driver is loudly chatting on the phone. We try our mobiles for coverage. “Yeah! We have signal!” I exclaim and start dialing Kal’s number.

Norseman has been a gold mining town since 1894. I guess there is ‘gold in them there hills’. Unfortunately, the only things open in town were a petrol station and the Visitors’ Center. No fresh fruit or veggies for us yet. I guess we are not staying in Norseman but driving on to Kalgoorlie, 195 km away, instead.

(We take on the first fuel since Eucla. We traveled 710km on 57.85 l. Amazing what a good fuel economy one can achieve when travelling at an average of 70 km/h. And the price? Only 148.5c/l. Which, after some price as high as 187.5c/l, is very cheap.)

We turn north towards Kalgoorlie, and drive along the causeway of Lake Cowan. But there’s no lake. Only red flat dirt as far as we can see. I imagine that it would be rather shallow when it does have water in it, when the rain comes. The causeway is not very high.

‘Dry Lake’

Day 14.08

2006-07-14T01:30:00.000-07:00

A few miners’ shacks stand disheveled behind the ‘Widgiemooltha’ roadhouse. (‘Widgie’ – to the locals, for short.) Back in 1931 a lucky lad of only 16, Jim Larcombe started a gold rush into this area. No small wonder when, in the middle of the depression, he found the ‘Golden Eagle Nugget’, which measured 26 inches by 11 ½ inches by 2 ½ inches, weighed 13,035 ounces and was worth $11,000.

There is little to report on the journey to Kalgoorlie. The road is lined with high bushes which cannot be seen over or through, as they are spread quite thick. Every so often a small break in the shrubbery provides the view of a long pipeline running along with the road.

It is not because there is not much to be seen of the magnificent scenery that disappointment comes to bear. But that the road is lined, nay ruined, by scattered debris. There is broken glass and empty bottles and cans everywhere. And not just here, where the eyes cannot be swayed to focus into the distance. It is sad to see, especially when there are many signs inviting the road users to “Keep the scene clean” and parking bays along the road with litter-bins, usually empty, at regular intervals. It is not something we are used to seeing in Victoria. Most of us take our rubbish away with us. It is rare to see rubbish just discarded out of the vehicle windows, especially in National Parks. The Western Australians may have the biggest state, but, along the main roads and some way off into the bush, it’s a big rubbish dump. The “Keep Australia Beautiful” campaign does not appear to have sunk in yet, though it’s been running for a whole generation now.

Nevertheless, beauty is in the eyes of the beholder. Behold, the countryside is still breathtakingly beautiful.

‘beauty is in the eyes of the beholder – but please “Keep the scene clean”’

Day 13.00 - 1st of July 2006

2006-07-11T20:37:00.000-07:00

Please note there is a new format to posting as of today.

Decided to beat the Blogger software at its own game. Heh.

Previously I would have run into problems when I had too many pictures to add, so we've decided to split the day into segments. Also this keeps the day in the correct sequence. Enjoy.
O.

Day 13.01

2006-07-11T20:36:00.000-07:00

In the morning I wonder how any traveler is supposed to see The Eucla Cross when it is hidden between trees and visible only if you drive on one particular path through the caravan park. Get a post card I guess. Oh, well. Such is life. A little further down that road we check out the historic telegraph station, which time has all but hidden from view by sand.

‘all but hidden from view by sand’

Day 13.02

2006-07-11T20:34:00.000-07:00

We continue on our path west as the road outside of Eucla dips down through a gorge in the escarpment.

‘under the escarpment’

Day 13.03

2006-07-11T20:33:00.000-07:00

At the base of it we find Matt. On the side of road, pushing a trolley, he’s walking around Australia to raise money for ‘Canteen’. An organization that helps teens fighting cancer. He was a nurse at emergency and saw them at their worst. He also saw ‘Canteen’ at their best and what an awesome job they were doing and decided to help. He started in Melbourne. He put on his third new pair of shoes along the journey just yesterday. “Today is my 52nd day on the road.” he said. Chewie, honoured, shakes his hand: “There are real people still left around. You’re awesome. What a man!” The trolley, or rather a cart, was filled with backpacks and supplies, on the top of which I noticed some mobile/cell phone looking thing. (Please, pardon me, just a smidgen ‘technologically challenged’.) “I have a GPS and I had a support person who walked with me from Ceduna to the Border, but he had to return to go back to work.”

As Matt pulls out his coin jar, or rather collection can, with a handle, actually, Chewie, reaches into his back pocket as he does at times like these: “No, not coins. They’re too heavy to cart around.” Chewie scolds me, having noticed my reach into our coin jar. Forever practical. “The man’s got a long way to go.” Then he turns to Matt: “We’re a bit tight mate. I hope it’s enough.”

If you see Matt on the road, stop and say ‘hi’ and give generously. If you’re not in his geographical vicinity, mail a cheque or do an eft. And if it happens that you have the opportunity to come across a ‘good cause’, revel in the enjoyment of giving.

When we set off again Chewie is beside him self. “What a man! I’m all inspired. I want to do something as well. I think I will donate $1 from each CD purchased to Canteen.” So, now with extra incentive, please order your CD’s from our Walkabout – Talkabout when we get the details up!

‘make sure to visit the Canteen website to check on his progress’

Day 13.04

2006-07-11T20:31:00.000-07:00

At the base of the escarpment a fair few trees grace the landscape. What looks like an eagle circles high up above. Crows, or black carrion birds of some kind, (…also not an ornithologist.) hang around the sides of the road. A pair of gray birds, with pink heads and black on the tips of their wings, sit perched on the tips of a bush.

We pass several ‘towns’ on our way across the Nullabor. Well, not really towns, a roadhouse-come-petrol station with a caravan park and phone booths attached. The fuel is really expensive out here, as is everything else. And the guy at the Mundrabilla roadhouse targets his sign directly: “Cheapest fuel. Best service around.” We have enough fuel not to worry, but it’s still a photo op.

Mundrabilla Roadhouse

Day 13.05

2006-07-11T20:30:00.000-07:00

“Drinking water ahead” the sign reads. On the left, a short drive off the highway, stands an inward slanted corrugated iron roof on supports. Underneath are two large water tanks. A bit disheveled, with a warning sign to ‘boil water before drinking’. “Good advise.” Chewie and I agree. Meanwhile, long, gray clouds gather. The wind picks up. There will be rain today.

‘drinking water’

Day 13.06

2006-07-11T20:28:00.000-07:00

From the distance it looked like a flock of white cockatoos on the dead tree. On closer inspection, however, the best way to describe it is ‘Aussie Outback Sculpture’. A tribute perhaps, to thirsty travelers in this ‘neck of the woods’. Chewie adds our contribution. An artistic way to ‘dispose of empty bottles thoughtfully’. “Hundreds of miles away from anything (well practically), there’s a dead tree. On it hang empty…” Chewie didn’t finish his sentence. “Oh look! There’s another one! Awesome. It’s got shoes and thongs hanging of it. And look! Another one with socks! How cool! You never know what you’ll find out in the outback. Funny stuff! And it’s a piece of living art.” It is a true tribute to the things one needs most to survive in this harsh land, especially a larikan sense of humour.

‘Living Art’

Day 13.07

2006-07-11T20:27:00.000-07:00

The trees dwindle in number and except for the escarpment running along the road to the north, like a wide, even mountain range, the land is flat in all directions. Still the small, not more than waist high shrubbery, with rocky, sandy soil underfoot.

As the escarpment almost meets the road again vivid baubles of bushes sprinkle the gentle slope below it. Worth a ‘looksie’ on ‘google’ if you get a chance. It looks just like it in reality. Well, with a little childlike imagination. Chewie showed me parts of the road we would travel and had already predetermined some of his shots, well before we left Melbourne.

‘baubles of bushes’

Day 13.08

2006-07-11T20:25:00.000-07:00

The road, not surprisingly now, is straight and flat. So straight and flat indeed, that the “Royal Flying Doctor Service” uses it as an emergency air strip, on several areas of this highway.

‘Royal Flying Doctor Service’ emergency airstrip

Day 13.09

2006-07-11T20:24:00.000-07:00

Those rain clouds above have gathered and the escarpment fades in the mist of fine drizzle.

‘the escarpment fades in the mist of fine drizzle’

Day 13.10

2006-07-11T20:21:00.000-07:00

We come to the Moodini Bluff. Here the escarpment juts out to meet the road. We’ve been driving past it, with several picture stops along the way, at an average of 70 to 80 kms, for over 4 hours now. It is a major geological marvel.

Past another “Royal Flying Doctor Service” airstrip the road starts to climb up the escarpment, through the Madura Pass. On the left in a dip, surrounded by trees, is a Shell sign. Off the road in the valley, hidden at the base of the escarpment, stands a lone petrol-station come caravan-park. It’s noon and the air is filled with the songs of birds.

‘Shell sign’

‘no amount of fuel will get this car going’

Day 13.11

2006-07-11T20:19:00.000-07:00

From a lookout a little off the main road the view to the south opens far and wide beneath us. “Oh, wow!” yet again. Just like the coastal cliffs, so is the escarpment. But with the difference that it is met by land rather than water.

At the lookout is an old gentleman with a dusty akubra hat, smoking his pipe. Chewie, who is predominantly a pipe smoker himself and practically lives in his akubra hat (even in the city), strikes up a friendly chat. With his four-wheel drive – which had broken down - towing a caravan adorned with humorous slogans and wisdoms, he and his wife had been on the road for 27 months now. They are on their way around Australia, on their way home. “Someone is coming down from Kalgoorlie. It’ll take them 8 hours to get here, and it’ll cost $3,500. But it’s ok. We’ve got RAC cover.” When Chewie asked if he could take some pictures the reply came “We’ve even been interviewed by some newspapers along the way.”

‘caravan adorned with humorous slogans and wisdoms’

Day 13.12

2006-07-11T20:18:00.000-07:00

We pass under another gray cloud delivering moisture and emerge on the other side to another ‘Simpson’s’ sky.

The vegetation changes again. Ever present ‘salt bushes’. (Not sure, but seems to be right. If there is someone out there who does know, please feel free to correct and educate us. Not a botanist either.) Though here they are not as thickly spread. Instead, they appear in small clusters among the limestone (It’s not sandstone as I thought previously. Not a geologist, but I do my reading when I can.), interposed with tufts of low growing grasses and those perfectly rounded and manicured knee-high shrubs.

There are plenty of dead carcasses of ‘roos lining the road to remind us of the lurking danger of a close encounter. Though we have not seen a live one since our stay at Coffin Bay, there are many fresh droppings to be seen, each time we get out of the van for a stretch and pic.

Another two of those huge ‘eagle-ish’ birds sit perched on the branches of a dead tree. One flies off as we pull up. The other seems content to stay a little longer. It looks all black, except for a white-ish beak, and a gray necktie, till it too takes flight. Its huge wings, when outstretched, reveal contrasting orange strips along their length.

‘perched on the branches of a dead tree’

Day 13.13

2006-07-11T20:16:00.000-07:00

Cocklebiddy is known for its deep caves. Indeed a world record had been set here for the deepest dive, I’m told. And just as we are about to reach it another two men, Mark and Khurt, are walking merrily along the road. Also walking around Australia for charity. They are wearing very bright hats, easily seen from a long way off, of yellow and orange, respectively. These guys are doing it for Cystic Fibrosis. “Thanks for stopping. You can donate on the website.” Unlike Nat, they have a support vehicle that travels with them, so they don’t have to cart everything, just walk. We have a short chat. They too have heard of Nat. They look back expectantly, perhaps in the hope of seeing him, when told we’ve just past him some way back. They too think he’s amazing. “He’s got a long way to go.” we all agree.

‘Mark & Khurt’

Day 13.14

2006-07-11T20:15:00.000-07:00

We ponder the boulders to the south that line up parallel to the road, with the periodical appearance of solar panels adjoining a telephone relay station. Definitely man made.

We are not alone out here. This is a very busy stretch of road. Every few kms a road train passes, in either direction. We’re quite slow. Stopping frequently.

‘two trucks’

Day 13.15

2006-07-11T20:13:00.000-07:00

Ted does his job and waves to all passing traffic. Some do, some don’t wave back. We can almost pick them now. The ‘local’ guys in their utes score the highest. They often accompany their enthusiastic ‘full-hand off the wheel’ wave with a broad smile and a tilt of the head. Close second would be the remarkable men who drive the road trains. A long way behind, I am sad to say, are the ‘visitors’ towing their caravans. Mostly retirees doing what some retirees do. Though in this category the men get a far higher score than the women. However, the lowest score of the lot goes to the women who live locally. At least when driving. “I guess the ladies have got their emancipation. They don’t have to do anything they don’t want to do.” says Chewie, teasingly. I take the bait. I am one of those girls (almost 50 actually) who agrees that women have lost much and gained very little in the last 30 odd years. It’s not feminism that I am against at all. Don’t get me wrong. This sister’s been doing for herself all along. Just ask Chewie. It’s just that I prefer to focus on partnership. Simply put, I share the opinion of ‘Pepe le Pew’: “Viva la difference!”

Ted has his own observations. “ I’m tired of waving my whole arm when they don’t even raise a finger in acknowledgement. It’s disappointing. It’s rude. It’s just not very nice. What’s their problem?” “Maybe their knuckles are too heavy to lift off the steering wheel?” I refer to the general obesity of many a lady traveler out here and recall that on most occasions in the caravan parks, women are seldom seen doing anything else other than sitting around knitting or, when they are not gas-bagging, stuffing their faces. They seldom make the effort, by their own admission, to go for a walk up the jetty with him, their partner. As one of the ladies, while sitting with her knitting outside of her caravan, tea and cream biscuit close at hand, said: “I couldn’t be bothered going with him. This way he’s got his fishing and I have everything I need right here. ‘Don’t care if it takes ten years to get around Australia’ I told him. ‘As long as I don’t have to go anywhere or do anything.’” Please understand that not all women are like that, but a large portion certainly is. (Yes, another pun intended.) “Maybe they are afraid to take their attention off the road, Venus and Mars and all that.” I continue the bitch session. “Come on,” says Ted, “it’s hardly a flicker of the eyes.” We ponder our grumblings for a little and decide that perhaps it is that ‘they do not know’. Maybe we are a little too used to getting our own way, having put in all the effort to rig up Ted’s paw to be able to wave, so we now resent anyone who doesn’t wave back. So there you go, we’re not all that different after all.

We reach the “90 mile straight”, Australia’s longest straight road, just past Caiguna. “What a nice stretch of road. So much smoother than the Eastern Freeway in Melbourne.” reflects Chewie.

‘Not the only bit of straight road around here, mind you, but the longest. Although the others come close.’

Day 13.16

2006-07-11T20:10:00.000-07:00

Though it all seems quite green as one looks out across the plain, it is really just an illusion. The ground beneath one’s feet is mainly sand and rock. It is studded with low tufts of brownish purple grass and small silvery shrubs, with plenty of room between.

The dark green trees in the distance make a nice contrast to the grassy plain in the late afternoon sun. Balladonia (“Not Biddleonia.” we joke with Chewie.) is 100km ahead.

‘a nice contrast’

Day 13.17

2006-07-11T20:07:00.000-07:00

“That’s a really nice Australian road shot. With that night falling sky. Wow!” says Chewie on his return to the van, and hearing himself continues, “There goes the vocabulary again. Just ran out of adjectives to describe it I guess.” We drive only a few more miles before he’s off again: “I shall return.” (Too bad we did not find out that the really nice Australian road shot didn’t come out till we got to Kalgoorlie. I’m sure we’ll find another one, or more, along the way. Or, we’ll just have to do it all over again. Now there’s a thought.)

By the time we reach Balladonia, on the other side of this unmistakably long straight stretch of road, the sun had set. It is dark. It’s been a long day. We splurge out on some ‘Fish and Chips’ and hit the hay.

“Biddleonian” sunset

Day 13 frustration sets in

2006-07-07T23:48:00.000-07:00

Ok, I've just been sitting at this for 2 hours in Kalgoorlie.

Sometimes the images load, sometimes they don't, sometimes there is just a server error.

Sometimes I can add 5 images at other times only one or two. The formating changes when ever it pleases.

And if I try to do a second (cont...) entry it ends up on the top which must be enormously frustrating for anyone trying to read these and make any sense of it.

Let me think about it for a day or so and I'll find a way of simplyfying the process (shorter entries maybe with one two pics) and return after the weekend to try again, before I end up causing this backward computer some serious harm.

Day 12 cont...

2006-07-07T23:33:00.000-07:00

We drive off into the sunset. Pun intended.

Sunset over the Great Australian Bight

We arrive at Border Village and go through the Fruit Fly quarantine checkpoint on the border between South Australia and Western Australia. Three clocks hang on the outer wall. Adelaide time, Central time and Perth time. Time is a funny thing when one travels between east and west. Kind of like time travel. Melbourne time according to the clock on our dashboard reads 8.40pm.

The Border Village is famous for two things.

This sign and the highest fuel prices on the Nullabor.

We take on extra fuel at Eucla, 13kms into Western Australia. Have a traditional Aussie meat pie for supper and retire for the night at the caravan park. I saw many copies of the Eucla Cross, erected as a tribute to all travelers that pass by here, on the postcards in the souvenir section of the coffee shop. In fact, I was surprised to see that there were only two or three choices of postcards here with the Eucla Cross featuring in abundance.

The cross is portrayed as welcoming to all land and sea travellers. In fact it is only about 2 meters high and hidden.

Day 12

2006-07-07T23:12:00.000-07:00

Day 12

30-06-2006
Friday

N20 – Though the Nullabor Roadhouse is another 20 kms away, we are truly on the Nullabor Plain. A few camels a beautifully perched on the horizon. The trees have all but disappeared here. As far as the eye can see there is ‘grass’ land. The knee-high shrubs that were so clustered together are no more. Neither are the rain clouds, which we left behind us to bring their life giving moisture to the grain fields of Ceduna and its surrounds.

Camels on the horizon

no trees

Ahead lies a long straight road leading us on to only blue skies. And, the Great Australian Bight. The sign reads “Whales between June and October – 12 kms to the left ”. We head left (south). Far on the horizon are those white peaks of what we now know for certain to be sand dunes. The road takes us close to then until, “Oh, wow!” The Southern Ocean. The Great Australian Bight opens wide in front of us. The round of the Earth can be seen on the broad horizon.

We stop at the Great Australian Bight Marine Park. “Enjoy your walk. There are 6 of them out there today.” the attendant at the entrance informs us.

Along the board walk down towards the cliffs and the viewing area we meet a chap from the UK. He’s travelling from Perth to Sydney along the coast. “I just spent 3 weeks in Norseman. My car broke down, so I got a job in the local servo to pay for it. Funny old town. Only 600 or so people in it.” He let’s us look through his telescopic lens for a closer view of the large shapes in the water far off. One, the closest kind of rolling in the water. (A female who, basically, wants to be left alone right now, I later read.) “I’m really looking forward to driving along the Great Ocean Road.” he responded, his eyes wide in anticipation, when we told him we were Victorians.

“The round of the Earth can be seen on the broad horizon”

As we officially enter the Nullabor National Park, the most photographed road sign in Australia gets another shot taken of it. “Camels, Kangaroos & Wombats next 96 km.”

On the advice of the chap from the UK we take the next left, unsealed road, towards the coastal cliffs. “There were two of them there, really close. You’ll get a much better look at them.”

There are yellow daisies by the side of the road and in the plain all around us. The road leads to a dead end at the solar power station – a few solar panels a steel tower and wire fencing round. No whales here. But it was worth the drive for these daisies.

“it was worth the drive for these daisies”

I’ve always had an affinity for small dainty flowers. If I were a botanist, I’d go wild. There are dozens of varieties. And all the little bushes look perfectly manicured. No need for trimming in this pristine rockery. Nature takes care of it herself.

The next sign suggesting a turnoff to the left shows a camera graphic for the tourist photo opportunity. We take another left. Soon we stand on the top of the cliffs and breathe it the wide-open space of the ocean before us. “It’s like we’re at the edge of the world here.” Chewie sighs.

Beneath our feet on the sandstone floor, half buried under the surface, are seashells. “I wonder how old these are?” I ponder. “There’d be heaps of fossils in those cliffs.” I think of Kal and his childhood eagerness, nay, passion for paleontology. “Gondwanah.” We say simultaneously with Chewie. We hold hands tightly as we cautiously approach a little closer to the edge for that perfect shot. Not too close, mind you. Somewhere over the horizon lies Antarctica.

The Great Australian Bight
(inset - our van for size comparison)

At the Nullabor Roadhouse there is a moulded whale, on it painted: “Do not climb on top of whale.” While taking its picture, just in case it is the closest depiction of the gentle giant we might see, three young larikans, drivers for the Aqua Irrigation Company arrived. Two trucks and a ute. “Do you want me to climb up on it for you, mate, for effect?” one of them suggests cheekily. “The sign says no climbing…” Chewie replies respectfully. “This is Australia, mate. You can do whatever you want.” He’s right. If you want to succeed in this country, you can.

In hindsight, I should have let them climb it

Day 11Penong Sand Dunes cont...

2006-07-07T23:06:00.000-07:00

Incredible patterns are everywhere I look

Solitary windmill drawing bore water from beneath the salt water lake

The dunes are slowly swallowing the nearby lake

Another incredible pattern on the wind blown dunes

Day 11 Penong Sand Dunes

2006-07-07T22:54:00.000-07:00

Rising out of the coast, the wind has formed these dunes over hundreds of thousands of years

Strange plants inhabit this landscape.
Life perseveres.
The wind constantly re-shapes the dunes.

Day 11

2006-07-07T22:35:00.000-07:00

DAY 11
29-06-2006
Thursday

Osca : Two changes to our blog presentation.
1. Day 11 is “Walkabout Day 11” and does not necessarily correspond to how many days it has been since we’ve left Melbourne, but it makes it easier for us to compile our writings and pictures. Sometimes we have a day or so off from our walkabout to work on pictures and blog updates or just lay low to let our budget catch up.

2. Up till now the bulk of the pictures were at 600x300 pixel resolution. This was to compensate for the slow laptop I was working on and save time during uploads. It has been pointed out in an email that it would be nicer to have a higher resolution. The pictures on the Walkabout digital postcards (available soon) will be 1600x1200. The CD’s will also contain the raw images as they come off my camera at 2592x1944, but for now a compromise 1280x768 perfect size for notebooks, but not too big to post on the blog.

Eve : We leave Ceduna and head west. At Penong, the town of 100 windmills (they are not just scattered one here, on there – there are 6 in one paddock, 4 in another, over the ridge several more appear – we hang a left toward what from a distance looks like a snow covered mountain range. The sand dunes of Point Sinclair stretch along the horizon. They are huge. Ominous. As the wind blows you can see the sand dancing over their peaks. On the other side is the ocean.

“we hang a left toward what from a distance looks like a snow covered mountain range”

Suddenly Chewie ‘hits the anchors’ (brakes). We smoothly continue to glide along the dirt road. A small green shape disappear out of view and under the van. “We missed it” proclaims Chewie triumphantly, as he dashes off with his camera. The lizard happily remains in the middle of the road, sunning itself. After all, this is his place. We are the visitors.

“The lizard happily remains in the middle of the road, sunnying itself”

Getting a bit more adventurous, we turn off the “main” unsealed road “To the Beach” on to a sandy track. It winds itself between a few low sand dunes. One can just see over the top of them from the van. Speckled with shrubs and bushes. We emerge around a corner and before us the track turns into a Beach all its own. Though the wind is feirce, even here, the small bay’s waters ripple gently. A black sea bird periodically dives under the water for a snack. Then bops up and down on the surface. I can only see his head between the ripples and a tail, but he seems to spend more time under the water than on top.

Meanwhile, Chewie is climbing the sand dunes. Please, excuse me. I must join him and act as a windbreak.

When we turned off from Penong the local school children were out playing in their brightly painted playground. It was lunchtime. When we returned back to the turn off I looked at the clock. It was 5.30pm. We had spent several hours on the dunes. It was “texture heaven” for Chewie, who, though he has quite a wide vocabulary, was reduced to “Oh, wow! Just Awsome!”

Day 10

2006-07-07T22:26:00.000-07:00

Day ten, we're calling it day ten, but it is actually a few days in Ceduna. The pattern seems to be drive for a few days, arrive at a new location we like, find all the relevant services in town, have a few days to our selves and compile all the notes and pictures to post.

But before we go on to the Nullarbor, just a quick refresher on the 'local speak'.

Here are some of the more colourful terms that may creep in to our blog and an explanation of what they mean –

amber fluid – beer
arvo – afternoon
back of Bourke – back of beyond
barbie – barbecue
beaut, beautie, bewdie – great, fantastic
billabong – waterhole in dried up riverbed, more correctly an ox bow bend which has been cut off
billy – tin container used to boil up tea in the bush
bitumen – sealed road
black stump – where the ‘back of Bourke’ begins
blowies – blow flies
blue (as in ‘to have a blue’) – to have an argument
bottle shop – liquor shop
bull dust – fine dust on outback roads, also ‘bull-s..t’
bunyip – mythical bush animal – Australia’s yeti or Loch Ness monster
bush – country, anywhere away from the city
bush (as in ‘go bush’) – go back to the land
BYO – bring your own (liquor) to a restaurant
cobber - mate
cooee – bush call, signal
come good – turn out all right, recover from illness
crook – criminal
crook (as in to be ‘crook’) – to be ill
damper – bush bread made from flower and water
deli – general store, corner store
didgeridoo – long, tube like aboriginal musical instrument which emits a low, vibrating note
dill – idiot (friendly term)
dingo – native Australian wild dog
dinkum, fair dinkum – honest, genuine, really
dinky-di – the real thing
drongo – idiot (unfriendly term)
dunny – outside lavatory
fair go! – give us a break
fossicking – hunting for gems (opals) or semi-precious stones
give it away – give it up
G’day – good day, traditional Australian greeting
good on yer – well done
grog – any liquor
grog – (as in ‘giving up the grog’) giving up drinking
joey – baby kangaroo
lamington – square cake covered in chocolate icing & coconut
larrikin – rogue, rascal, rebel
mate – a good friend, anyone you meet in the outback
milkbar – deli, corner shop
mozzies – mosquitoes
no worries – she’ll be right
ocker – basic, down to earth Aussie
off-sider – assistant
postie – person delivering mail
ratbag – (as in ‘you ratbag’) – friendly term of abuse
ripper – good (also ‘little ripper’)
road train – semi trailer – trailer – trailer
schooner – large beer
sealed (road) – surfaced road
‘semi trailer’ – articulated truck
she’ll be right – no worries
sheila – woman
shoot through – leave in a hurry
shout – by round of drinks (as in ‘It’s your shout’)
station – very large farm, ranch
stubby – small bottle of amber liquid
tinny – a can of amber liquid
too right! – absolutely!
true blue - dinkum
tucker – food
ute – utility, pick up truck
veggies – vegetables
walkabout – lengthy walk away from it all
whinge – complaint, moan
yabbie – small freshwater crayfish

Often, aussies seem to roll many words into one.

“Djahavagoodweekend ?” - “Did you have a pleasant weekend ?”
“Whadayalookinat ? - “I don’t like you looking at me or my girlfriend for that matter”, “Keep your nose out of my business”
“Djabringtheherald ?” – “Why are you late ?”
“Knockyourselfout” – “Go ahead, do as you please”, “Do your best”

Day 9 17th June 2006

2006-06-25T20:50:00.000-07:00

Eve : The wet sand at low tide stretches out through the fog. And we’re off, chasing the sunrise.

We stop off for some sightseeing at Murphy’s Haystack and Ted observes the vast expanses of this land from the comfort of Chewie’s backpack. “She’s dragged me everywhere, since that Xmas when she first grabbed my ear and dragged me towards her. Now he’s doing it too. Although I must say, this is pretty good stuff.”

Ted gets to ‘walkabout’

Relaxing at Murphy’s Haystacks

Murphy's Haystacks

Murphy’s Haystacks

Two white-bellied eagles, quite rare from what we have read, circle above the coastal cliffs with the fading half moon (still high in the sky in the afternoon) behind them. This has to be a memory picture. It takes time to stop. Even at 50 kmp/h.

Point Labatt Conservation Park is definitely worth a looksie. (‘Looksie’ is from the phrase: ‘Look. See?’) From the lookout on the cliffs, high above the beach, a sea-lion breeding colony relaxes in the afternoon sun. A young pup calls out to mum. A bull rolls over lazily on the flat rocks, while sharks lurk out in the ocean.

Point Labatt Sea Lion colony with a view over the Southern Ocean

Sea Lion siesta

No human footprints on this beach

Osca : This park and aquatic reserve protects a special colony of Australia’s only endemic pinniped (seals and their relatives), as this is the only site where the Australian sea-lion breeds on the mainland. These sea-lions are Australia’s most endangered marine mammal and one of the rarest pinnipeds in the world.

Point Labatt was dedicated as a reserve in 1973 as a result of the concerns of the owners, Ellen, Myra and Ron Freeman, that illegal shooting was threatening these endangered mammals. They donated the land to the South Australian National Parks and Wildlife Service so that the seal-lions could be better protected.

Eve : Cotton wool ball clouds glide over the horizon. The sand dunes atop the coastal cliff are behind us. The vegetation changes. The sun beats down, drying off yesterday evening’s drizzle.

On a gravel, unsealed, road the conditions are always changing. Here it is like it was corrugated iron, where the dips and grooves form as vehicles drive along them, weathering them down into this corrugated pattern. Let’s just say it’s quite bumpy, at any speed. (Out here Chewie averages anywhere between 10 km p/h and 50 km p/h. He stops quite frequently.)

More like 10km per hour along THIS STUFF

Ted thinks that the passing drivers are quite enthusiastic in returning his waves. I see their faces stretch into broad smiles as he does.

As Chewie walks off into the distance to capute yet another perfect shot, those cotton wool ball clouds gather and reflect in the calm waters of the bay. “Tidyoo, tiddy – yoo. Eet, tee tee, eet.” Or ‘chirp, chirp’, for clarity.

‘Cotton wool ball clouds glide over the horizon’

Scattered windmills grace the landscape. This time sand dunes supply the backdrop.

A scattered windmill

We stop at Streaky Bay for phone calls and supplies. There’s no digital mobile coverage here, so we make good use of our change containe, before we take a walk along Perlubie beach. I understand why the beaches seem so white here. At a closer look the sand is mingled with tiny white shell. And you ought to check out the view from this swing. “Sky, horizon, beach, horizon, sky, horizon, beach, horizon sky”, the swing squeaks rhythmically as I float through the air. I let my head drop back and watch the clouds in the sky move back and forth. I feel as if I were eight years old again.

‘Sky, horizon, beach, horizon…’

We arrive in Ceduna at the end of the day and settle in one of the many caravan parks for the night. In the morning Chewie has a long hot bath, which releases his tense shoulders and neck. He caught a chill the other evening and the driving and holding camera steady and updating blog and sleeping in a smaller than usual space, has given him a ‘pain in the neck’.

Sunset over Murat Bay

Osca : Set on the shore of Murat Bay, Ceduna, with a population of just over 3,800 is the westernmost town of any size in South Australia. The name Ceduna is a derivative of an Aboriginal word “Chedoona” meaning “a resting place”. It is a fitting name as it is the ideal place to finalise preparation for the journey across the Nullabor to Perth (some 2,000km).

Ceduna was proclaimed a town in 1896. It’s original name Murat Bay was given by a French explorer Nicholas Baudin, in 1802. The original settlement was at Denial Bay, about 10km west of the present Ceduna. Provisions for the early pioneers were unloaded from ships anchored just off shore and brought onland in wagons at low tide. For some time, the Denial Bay pier was the second longest in South Australia.

Eve : In the bright morning 47 carriages, carrying gypsum (used to break up clay into soil), clattered past along the railroad track. “How’s the ticker mate?” the engineer joked in a typical ausiie larikan way, having just scared the heck out of Chewie, making him jump, as he blew his engine horn.

“How’s the ticker mate?”

As we drive into the center of the town we have our first sighting of aboriginal people.

Ceduna seems a sad place. The people do not seem as open and friendly as in Coffin Bay. I’m not sure why as yet.

But just on the other side of the small bay lies Denial Bay. A brightly coloured playground and a long jetty (once the second longest in South Australia) greet us. I see pairs again.

The silos of Ceduna, which is surrounded by cereal country, dominate the view.

View from Denial Bay