A rolling stone gathers no moss

The next morning the wind picked up again, which made packing everything away difficult and confirming our decision to move on was the right one. Over the past week I had come to hate the wind with a passion. However, whenever there was a lull it would get too hot. The margins of what we’d consider a comfortable climate are shown to be very small when living in a tent.

We had been in contact with our Mitchell Fall saviours, Kris and Nan, who were visiting their son and his family in Exmouth. After we’d stocked up on food and beer, we popped round for a cup of tea. It was lovely seeing them again, and we had a great chat, getting some good tips for places to visit. Nan recommended visiting Mt Augustus, a very big rock (twice the size of Uluru), which we’d duly added it to our “places to go” list. As school holidays were only a week away we decided that we’d head to the more popular coastal national park Francois Peron first, before it fills with little turds, and then head back up, since families tend to avoid these types of inland areas during school holidays. Oh what perfect planning.

After saying our goodbyes we headed for Bullara station, and on arrival hit some proper heat. It was 42 degrees, which we both agreed was hot as fuck. In this heat we could do little but sit around moaning about the heat and wishing there was a little bit of wind to cool everything down.

Wake up, sheeple

Once the heat started to die down a little in the late afternoon, we wandered around the station and found some fun, “novelty” showers and toilets. The photo below misses the fact the shower was a bucket with a hose in it, but you get the idea.

Being follicly challenged has some advantages 

It was a really nice place, but as likable as this place was, Becky wanted to keep moving and I had no real reason to argue, as the dust and heat were almost as annoying as the wind. So the next day we packed up and headed towards Carnavon to stock up in a big shop and post a blog.

On route, we stopped briefly at the more popular Coral Bay. We’d heard about a small bay, a short walk from the main beach, that has a large number of nursing reef sharks during these months. We visited Coral Bay briefly in 2010, and found it a more family-friendly resort type place. Not our type of place at all, in fact I really didn’t like it, and found no improvement from my experience seven years ago. It was hella busy and the small beach was full of people trying to give their kids skin cancer. As we started to walk towards the shark nursery I got to see a rare sight indeed, Becky’s maternal instinct. This was a real treat indeed. As we walked along the beach we came across a small toddler, who could barely walk, tottering along chasing a ball. As we passed, the child stumbled and fell into the sea, splashing Becky with sand and seawater. Becky glared down at the toddler and sneered, “thanks for that” and continued on, without missing a step. I assume the child was OK, but I didn’t check, because I was laughing too hard. 

Luckily, the walk to the bay was worth it, and we saw loads of baby sharks swimming about… I think they were sharks as all we really saw were dark shapes in the water. If you watched long enough you’d see the occasional fin.

Scary sharks?

It was a lovely spot, and well worth the quick stop over… although I’d never stay in Coral Bay, that place is a fucking shit hole.

Becky don't give a fuck

It was nearing sunset by the time we reached our next stop, Wooramel River Station, which had been given glowing reviews on the not so reliable Wikicamps. We, however, were not impressed, and it all seemed very overrated. I don’t think the social campfire and live country music singsong was really our vibe, but the other people there were lapping it up. We did enjoy the car graveyard walk, but you’re scraping the barrel when that’s a fucking highlight. 

Slightly better condition than ours

We didn’t hang around the next morning, but our packing was slowed slightly by an inquisitive horse with a gunky eye.

Can't lead a horse to water

After a brief lunch stop in Denham, we headed into Francois Peron NP. Most of the driving in this park is on soft sand, meaning we needed to reduce our tyre pressure before driving along the single lane sand track. The park seemed very quiet, which I found especially pleasing.  About 20km into the park you cross a salt plain, not something that is, in itself, worth writing about, but in this instance we came across a thorny devil in the middle of the track! I’ve wanted to see one of these in the wild since we moved to Australia almost 9 years ago, so I was stoked.

Good looking fella

An artist at work

Despite my efforts with my long lens, Becky ended up taking the best shot of it with her iphone. So, size doesn’t matter

The real winner

I’d read that they were harmless, but didn’t have the balls to touch it, so I moved it to the side of the road using my flip-flops and we went on our way. It was the most chilled reptile I’ve ever seen, it didn’t give a shit about the attention we gave it. As we went round the next bend, there was another one sat in the middle of the road… We pulled over again, and this time I toughened up and moved him with my bare hands! Oh, and the chipmunk voices are back.

Feeling pretty pleased with our encounters, we continued towards the campsite. At this point I thought we’d see loads more, but sadly this wasn’t the case.

It wasn’t long before we reached the camp spot we’d decided to stay in, Gregories, right next to the beach, and, best of all, it was empty. We quickly put the tent up, and headed to the lookouts at Cape Peron. One of the cool things about this park is the red sands of the outback go right up to the golden sands of the beach. It’s a pretty great place.

I like it a lot

At the lookout we saw a few sharks, rays, turtles and other marine life swimming in the clear seas below. We were on our own, and stayed at the lookout for quite a bit, enjoying the views and wildlife.

Outback meets the sea

Back at the camp, we discussed what we should do next. There is no water in the park, and although we had 25 litres of drinking water and 35 litres of water for cleaning, Becky was stressing about the lack of water. Becky is a clean freak, to the point she insists I wash my hands after having a shit, even if the tissue didn’t break. Seriously, while most of us like to shower everyday, Becky MUST shower everyday. And not because she stinks or anything, she just doesn’t feel comfortable until she’s had a morning shower and, in this heat, an evening shower too. We decided to take stock of the water in the morning, after showers, before making a decision. 

We enjoyed our evening here, and as the sun set, I ate my salad dinner out of the bowl it was prepared in to reduce the number of dishes and save some water. I really wanted to spend more time here, and why wouldn’t you?

A perfect Bushman's takeaway

Underwater Rhymes

After an easy drive from Giralia, we hit Exmouth and were pleased to find it relatively unchanged from our last visit in 2010. We bought a few odds and ends from the local IGA and, most importantly, stocked up on Golds. We then headed for the same caravan park we’d stayed in during our last visit, Yardie Homestead, a short drive out of town and on the border of Cape Range NP. Although there is camping inside the NP, it’s $11pp with no showers, drop toilets and very visible neighbours. NO, THANKS. I guess more importantly, they were fully booked.

Once at Yardies, we paid for two nights and were told that most people in tents set up on a grassy area by the camp kitchen. After a quick inspection of the grassy tent area I started to think my dream stay here was over, as it was small, busy and totally shit. While I started to get everything down from the car, Becky decided to ask if they had anything more secluded. BINGO. They said we could set up in a corner on the other side of the park, however it was quite dusty and had no grass. Who gives a shit? NOT ME.

Our new site was perfect for us, away from people and with our "own" toilet and shower near by. Although the whole area was still a little windy, we set the tent up quickly and headed into the park. We found it just as we remembered, a beautiful landscape with pristine beaches. We visited a few of the snorkelling spots, and although a little choppy and cold in the water, I had my first snorkel. Becky decided it was too cold and watched from the sidelines, making sure I didn’t drown in the waist deep water.

We headed back to the site at dusk, driving slowly to avoid the multitude of kangaroos that had come out to feed. After dark, a car pulled up in the spot next to us… of course they fucking did. Out got three loud Americans talking about how some film was different to the book. What an insightful reflection on two different storytelling art forms, you total fucking wanker. They turned out to be my favourite type of people, young, know-it-all, dickhead backpackers. Luckily it was dark, so I couldn’t see them, but we got to listen to the two blokes argue about whether one of them had an extra beer at lunch and how many they each had left. So, young, know-it-all, broke, tight-arse, dickhead backpackers. After they’d worked out their drinking situation they were generally quite quiet… Becky said they watched a film (probably the one that was different from the book) but it didn’t stop me from sleeping.

The next morning, the wannabe hippy backpacker twats packed up early and were gone. Welcome back relative solitude, my old friend. We then started to hit what became a routine for our remaining time there. I’d get up and struggle to make a cup of tea on our stove due to the wind. After brekkie, we’d head into the park and move between different beaches, snorkelling

Floating bald rock

taking selfies,

Are we still doing this?

farting about,

Still got it.

Never lost it.

using the sea as a toilet,

Luckily the sea has no pee dye

posing,

Posing, not peeing

taking arty photos of dead coral washed up on the beach,

Very nice

and so on, until after 3pm when we’d pop past the information centre and have an ice cream. We’d be back at the spot by 4pm to cook something, slowed only by the wind, before going to bed occasionally being woken up by the tent flapping in the wind. It was quite windy.

The only drama was a hire car we noted hadn't moved or been touched overnight at one of the beaches. We reported it to the information centre, and the next day noted a cop car entering the park. This made us go into full nordic noir mode and we started to discuss if they'd been murdered or washed out to sea, and that we'd have to be called as witnesses. After inquiring about it, it turned out they'd just locked their key in the car. BORING.

Each day I’d spend quite a bit of time snorkelling, taking videos using an underwater camera that was okay when we bought it six-years ago. I have now, for your viewing pleasure made a compilation video of the highlights of my underwater forays, complete with funky backing music. Sure, it’s not going to win any prizes and I don’t think the BBC will be seeing me as any sort of competition, but it’s the best I could do with what I had and I spent far too long filming shit to not have anything to show for it.

The great thing about this place is, it isn’t just the sea that is teaming with life and we saw plenty of lovely animals on land too.

Not fat, big boned

A real bustard

Lil' perentie

Made famous by Rod Hull

and the campsite was full of galahs, which soon became a favourite of Becky's

Who's a pretty boy?

For four days we followed this same pattern, until on the fifth night the wind and sun exposure started to takes its toll. The only place we could find refuge was the car, and I was starting to fall behind on this ball and chain again.

The true cost of keeping the folks happy

So we made the hard decision to move on. That night we enjoyed the sunset into the sea

What's that button do?

and headed back for our last night at Yardies. I knew, on a cold Swedish night sometime in the future, we’d regret leaving this place, but the elements had pushed us to our limit and I was getting a little tired of seawater dripping out of my nose during dinner. Plus, I’d run out of golds.

Nothing to regret!

Back in the trenches

We’d asked Google for directions to the Broome Bird Observatory and it had lead us down a strange off-road track. Once there we booked in for the night, and were assigned a small spot, in what was a small campsite. After our 5-star accommodation, we were both a little dismayed by the set up. After putting up the tent, we went for a wander around the place. The amenities were good, and had been set up with birders in mind. The camp kitchen had views of man-made watering holes to watch multiple different bird species drink. However we decided to wander down to the bay instead, and saw some nice things, such as a couple of black-wing stilts

Legs of a teenage male

There were also plenty of crabs, sand gobies and we even saw a sea eagle.

Nicer with a blue background

As you can see, the day was still cloudy and thus our point-and-click-photography suffered. It’s much easier when the skies are blue.

As we were walking back to the camp we heard a rustle in the bushes and found two blue-tongued skinks having a scrap. They were both a little bloodied, but it was cool to watch.

They both looked pretty exhausted and neither moved much after gravity had separated them. It’s hard out there for a skink.

The winner?

That night we sat in the camp kitchen, and I tried to catch up on the blog while other people chatted. I gave up eventually, and we talked with the two old men also inhabiting the kitchen. One had been there since May, and seemed to be a volunteer helping with the bird census, although he was about 40 years older than the other volunteers. He was a nice fellow, despite the grey, wispy ponytail he was rocking. He also informed us that the road we’d taken in was closed to the public… thanks a lot Google.

Another cool thing about staying in places like this is they actively encourage wildlife around the camp. This means that going to the toilet you can find a few frogs sitting in the bowl.

Difficult to miss

Although it was a nice place, we decided to move on the next day. We’d been sat still for a while and the campsite wasn’t how we like it. We wandered down for a last look at the bay, and there were still a few clouds persisting in the sky. Oh, when will our blue skies return?

Awful weather

Not long after we left the bird observatory the blue skies returned. At least that weather nightmare was over.

We’d decided to head toward a campsite on 80-mile beach and the journey there was long and boring. By the time we’d arrived we were both tired and I was a little grumpy. We booked in and were given a site number. We’d read on Wikicamps that the sites were large and spacious, and the reviews had generally been good. Well, Wikicamps and the twats that write the reviews got that totally wrong! The sites were tiny and other people surrounded the tiny spot of grass we’d been designated, only a few metres apart from each other. What was worse was the park wasn’t even full, and you could see areas with no one on them. This did little to lighten my mood, and even a short walk to the cloudy, clayey, shitty beach didn’t lift my mood.

80-mile beach? More like 80 miles of shit 

Becky tried a few arty shots on the iPhone, which entertained her.

Small headed people

We went back and slumped in our spot, only to have other campers use it as a through fare. The German family behind us used it to save 20 seconds when walking to the beach. I responded in the only way I know how, and that’s passive aggressive retaliation; I walked through their camp to save 5 seconds when walking to the amenities block. I even walked through their camp in just my towel after a shower, while they were eating. DON’T FUCK WITH THE ENGLISH, WE’RE MASTERS OF THIS SHIT.  

The next day we packed up quickly and left our crowded hellhole for pastures new. We stopped to restock in South Hedland, just south of the huge mining port, Port Hedland. We bought a few food stocks and, mistaking a local cemetery for a shady lunch area, ate our burritos surrounded by the dead. Afterwards we spent some time reading the headstones, mainly to remind us that not only are we doomed to die, but so will everyone we know and love, and, sooner than we all like to think, we will be forgotten, not even appearing as a footnote in the history of humankind.

I'll never forget you, whatever your name was.

Refreshed after our lunch, we headed for Whim Creek hotel. Our new besties, Dajana and Rob, had given us a tip about a free campsite next to a place called BallaBalla pools. We’d been told that, after dark, the plankton in the pool means any disturbance just below the surface causes a bioluminescent glow. As it was a free bush camp the only place to shit was the hole you dig. As I have explained multiple times, this isn’t an issue for me as I don’t mind crapping in a hole and if the location ain’t great, I’ll lock the backdoor until later. However, Becky isn’t as lucky, and is as regular and on time as Japanese trains. Plus, she isn’t a fan of the hole in the ground, so we planned we’d stay at a campground near to Balla Balla, Whim Creek hotel.

Stay here on a whim

When we arrived we found their campsite was just the car park. It was free, and you could use their toilets, but showers were $5. After the shit camping at 80-mile beach we didn’t feel ready to set the tent up in a dusty, rocky car park. We decided that we’d check out Balla Balla first, and see what the deal was, then make a call either way. And what a good decision that was.

That's what I call space.

It was a lovely spot, and with only a few others camping there we had plenty of room. After a walk along the creek we decided to spend the night there, and at first light we’d hot foot it to Whim Creek so Becky could get her poop on. It was a lovely late arvo, and I polished off the last of my Golds, knowing I could restock in Karratha the next day. We even had some good company.

I don't mind you as a neighbour

After dark we wandered down to the creek edge and watched the bioluminescent trail left by the fish, darting about, occasionally breaking the surface. Neither of us were brave enough to swim, but just kicked the surface with our feet. Unfortunately none of this photographs well, but take our word for it, it was fricken awesome.

We returned to Whim Creek the next morning to poop and shower. I had a coffee to help get things moving and we paid for a shower. There was a toilet in the shower room, and I certainly got my monies worth.

Back on the road, we headed for Giralia station, and just out of Whim Creek, spotted a sand goanna crossing the road.

Sandy

This sort of thing is what makes the trip fun; a lovely bit of wildlife. We hit Karratha, only to find the bottle shops are shut on Sundays. This meant I’d have no beer until Exmouth! I decided this was a good time to have some dry time, not really a decision, and more a forced course of action.

We arrived at Giralia station after 5pm, with sunset fast approaching. It is an old sheep station that has since ceased working and is now a conservation park. After being shown to a crowded area, right next to a large caravan, Becky asked if we could have somewhere more secluded, and we were given a great spot next to the pet cows, Trev and Joss.

Alright Trev, alright Joss

As we were setting up a huge wasp landed near us and started dragging what we thought was a rock, but on closer inspection turned out to be a large spider. Of course we started taking photos, as the wasp dragged the spider to a slow death as the host for its young

This may sting a little

Nature is a cruel beast! But the Galahs looked nice.

Chatting with your mates at the local drinking hole

The next day, we started the serious business of catching up with the blog. The station had a good camp kitchen and I could sit and get a few things written. I spent far to long catching up and even then I didn’t manage to get any further than Broome. I think this was mainly due to the lack of beer, I write better with a few beers… well not better, but it numbs the pain somewhat.

The face says it all

So, while this was a nice place I spent the majority of my time writing this fucking blog. Later that evening we went for a short walk to the top of a sand dune. That was exciting as the day got, and that’s a good thing. Although it would have been better with a few beers.

Table service is a little slow

That night the wind picked up, and we felt the terrible combination of an exposed landscape and a canvas home. Now, we’re not talking super strong winds, maybe max 30km/hr, but when the wall of your home is slapping against the top of your head and stopping you from sleeping, it’s strong enough.

After a terrible nights sleep, and some time fixing the tent after the winds damaged a few bits, we pretty much did the same as the day before. I spent most of my time writing the next blog, sat out of the wind in the camp kitchen, totally sober.

At the end of the day we sat by our tent enjoying the sunset, despite the wind and lack of beer.

Not too bad

We had enjoyed 3 nights stay at Giralia, but the wind, lack of beer and blog writing had pushed us to leave. We were heading to Exmouth and Cape Range NP next, a highlight of our 2010 trip to Western Australia. We had been looking forward to this part of the trip for some time, and we felt our expectations were a little too high, because we all know how things tend to turn out when you expect a lot.