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.