The Way of the Outback

After an easy 7km dirt drive out of Goongarrie, we were back on main roads and safe again. The central highway was still marked as closed, and we hadn’t heard back from the Facebook group recommended as the best source of information by the lady at the information centre in Kalgoorlie. In fact the facebook group didn’t even mention the road closure. At this point we were starting to think the lady at the information centre in Kalgoorlie didn’t know what the fuck she was talking about.

Our itinerary for the day was to visit the ghost town of Gwalia, before passing into Leonora to check in with the information centre, which would hopefully have someone slightly more competent than the fucktard at Kalgoorlie.

Gwalia was a gold-mining town that at its peak had more than 1000 residents, but is now largely deserted, with the town collapsing after the mine closed in the early 60’s. It is now mainly a tourist attraction, although there is still a gold mine there. We first went to the museum, which was free but encouraged a donation… we gave the best part of fuck all. It was OK; they had a war room about the men who worked there and died/fought in the World Wars, and a house named after the 31^st US president, Herbert Hoover, who lived there when he was in his early twenties and managing the mine. It was only when writing this did I realise that I was confusing him with J Edgar Hoover and I hadn’t really ever heard of him before. I’m glad we didn’t donate anything now, as that shit was fucking boring to write.

We then spent some time wandering around the restored buildings in the town. We did the thing where you pretend you live there.

Haha, look what those fuckers called a home.

or work at the bar

I'll take a pint of gold and a white wine spritzer for the lady

Becky even channelled her inner Stevie

I just called, to say, I love you

Great times were had. It was a very interesting place, as the miners themselves built the houses out of any old cheap shit they could find. It was no wonder they all left after the mine closed, as the houses were utter shit. But the town’s toilet was better than some of ones I’ve used on this trip.

At least it has a seat

After lunch we drove into Leonora to visit the information centre. Leonora itself didn’t look too far off being a ghost town, with many of the shops closed down. At least the information centre was open, and the lady was far more helpful than the turd in Kalgoorlie. The road was still closed, and contrary to what the twat from Kalgoorlie had said, closed to all traffic. In fact it will regularly close after heavy rain, something not mentioned on the fucking facebook page. She had no idea when it would open, but the weather forecast was good and suggested we should check with the Laverton information centre tomorrow. Dejected, we drove to the local caravan park to camp for the evening.

The park did little to improve our mood, as the tent site was tiny and the best we could do had us camped between gold fossickers, out to make their fortune. There were also a number of permanent residents, living out of their caravans, seemingly not realising the gold rush had ended in the region. The whole town was quite depressing, and the only place we could get a take away from was a petrol station. The two attendants were European, and after we'd ordered our shitty chips, Becky started asking them why they are there. She has been doing this with increasing regularity, either asking people if they had driven the Central Highway or if they are working in some shithole towns as part of their working visa. They were a Danish/German couple and were working in this little town to meet "real" Aussies. I didn't have the heart to tell them that real Aussies live in all the major cities too. After our shitty chips, we sat in the car surfing the internet. This was not a highlight of the trip... but nothing exploded and there was no fire in the engine, so that's something I guess.

The next morning we packed up and shipped out. We decided that we'd head for Laverton, and see what they had to say, but even if the road was closed we'd wait it out rather than drive back towards the cold, shitty weather in the south. We stopped briefly to fuel up, and Becky came out with a carrier bag full of presents for my birthday in a weeks time... I knew I'd have to work hard to keep myself from peeping at what she bought me during a 10 min shop in a Coles Express petrol station.

Laverton itself was much nicer than Leonora, and seemed in the grip of a new upgrade. As this is the gateway town for the Outback Way, we guessed this was a new tourist push... but we didn't confirm this by asking anyone. The tourist information was very helpful, and told us that although the road was still closed it should be open in the next few days and we could start the journey along if we liked! She then sorted out the permits to travel through the Aboriginal communities and did a good job in general giving us information... LOOK AND LEARN, KALGOORLIE! We thought we'd set out the next day, and set up at the local caravan park, which was also a great improvement on Leonora. We bought some Golds from the bottlo, where Becky asked the Scottish barmaid if she was working as part of a working visa. She was, and she liked it. Becky cooked some dinner, and we drank Golds. Today was a good day. And then I had to write the blog, which I was falling very behind on, as you may have noticed.

I'm so happy right now.

The next morning as we packed up Becky asked another couple staying in the park if they had driven the Central Highway. They had, and it was wet in spots but had nothing more to add, so that was a waste of time. We did learn from the NT government phone line that the road had opened to high clearance 4wd, therefore open to us... hurrah! And so we headed for the start of a proper drive through nothing.

Road to nowhere

So, this is just advice, right?

The roads we drove on that day were in fantastic shape and we had no issues making it all the way to Warburton, with a brief stop for lunch at Tjukayirla roadhouse. At Warburton we were again confronted with the terrible problems facing some indigenous communities in Australia... it was like something out of Mad Max. The whole camping compound was behind a security wall, with signs warning tourists to lock away any unleaded fuel away. The station only serves Opal fuel and the community is dry, so no beer for me. Despite the scary look, the campsite was very nice and well maintained. They also had a large number of resident peacocks, which had us entertained.

There were a number of babylon staying the at the place, with a couple of police dogs. Becky was full of questions, but didn't see an opening to start asking them that evening.

Po po, making themselves visible

That morning we were woken by the sounds of horny peacocks and much to Becky's enjoyment, a resident cat.

Becky's new mate

As we were pottering about, Becky seized an opportunity to ask the pigs a few questions. They were tasked with giving support to the small number of resident coppers in the communities around the central highway. It sounded like a tough job, and they had two police dogs with them. Warburton was the biggest community in the region, with a population of around 1000, but it was difficult to get an exact number as "they are very nomadic". After a pleasant chat with the filth, we went off to have breakfast.

In the breakfast room we were joined by two workmen. Becky was on a roll, and curious about how things worked here, asked them about their jobs. They were building car ports for the teachers in the community, and worked for a company responsible for aboriginal housing and community infrastructure across most of Australia. They had been everywhere across Australia and in some of the most remote communities. The conversation got a little stilted when they asked what I did, as I was in full bogan mode and this caused the mask to slip somewhat, "I was one of they fucking academics, at the University of fucking Queensland, studying the genetics of fucking sexual dimorphism, fucking, fucking". It was interesting to hear what it was like in the communities themselves. One of them made a comment about the amount of money the aboriginals get given by the government. I wanted to make a point about how it didn't look like the individuals living there had much money floating about, but it seemed the wrong place to start a tense political conversation.

As we left, we filled the car up with Opal fuel. This required asking an attendant to come out, unlock the cage, then take the padlock of the pump before filling the tank. It was a difficult place to comprehend, mainly as I'm a lefty and fully aware that I sit on top of the privilege pyramid. Being a middle-class, white, straight, educated, English male means I have never really felt the throws of oppression. I once wasn’t allowed to ride on the Black Hole at Alton Towers, as I wasn’t tall enough, but thinking back that was probably a safety thing, rather than institutionalised prejudice. Having no real first hand experience means my opinion carries no weight and this is difficult for me to admit as forming an opinion on a complex issue I learned about seconds beforehand is one of my talents; that, and being able to hold in my shit for up to five days. All I can say is that is was very sad to see first hand and it made me uncomfortable. Luckily we were leaving, and I felt much better for it.

Totally normal

Although the road was now open to us, we decided to head the short distance to Warakurna Roadhouse first, spend the night and push for Yulara the next day. this way we would have almost two days around the area, but only need to stay at the expensive Yulara for one night. The road to Warakurna was a lot rougher than the day before, but we saw a snake on the road and a few camels

Native camels

As Becky was taking this photo, the check engine light came on again for the first time since Perth. Becky was pretty freaked out, but I'd read loads of bullshit about knock sensors on the internet, so wasn't too worried at this point, because strangers who's credentials I knew nothing about had replied to someone with a different car and different problem, saying it wasn't anything to worry too much about. To calm Becky, I got out and opened the bonnet, checked the batteries weren't loose, stared blankly at the engine and said everything looked fine. I promised Becky I wouldn't turn the engine off until we reached Warakurna.

Despite the check engine light we reached Warakurna without issue. The place didn't seem as rough as Warburton, the campground didn't have security walls for instance. As we were paying for camping, the manager told us the road was closed towards Yulara. Confused, we told him we'd phoned the transport number and it had reopened. A second guy, buying some snacks confirmed the road was open. This is the quality of the information you get... even the roadhouse before the border gives the wrong fucking information. As we had some time that arvo I spent the afternoon blogging, as again I had fallen behind. I am literally in a red queen scenario, sprinting to stand still. I also googled "knock sensor" and "check engine light landcrusier" again, just for good measure.

We were up early the next morning, with the red centre in our sights. The car started fine, and there was no light. As we set off we saw another snake. This one didn't slither off, but struck out at the car as we passed. We circled back, and found a very angry mulga snake. It was not happy with us, and kept giving warning lunges at the car. We tried to video it, but we both got a little nervous with the windows down. As it moved away I edged closer with the car, which caused it to turn a strike out. I never want to meet this snake without 2 tons of metal protecting me.

Dun't fook wit me

Not long after, the check engine light came on again. Everything still sounded as before, so there wasn't much we could do, but again I promised Becky I'd keep the motor running until Kata Tjuta. The road was pretty rough until we reached the NT border for the second time on this trip... and they hadn't even bothered to make a different sign

De ja vu 1

De had vu 2

Once over the border the road smoothed out and the car was running fine. We had heard this would be the worse part of the journey, but found it very easy. The rain had left a few muddy puddles for us to drive through, some of which left the car coated in mud, but it was a pleasant end to a fun few days of driving through some amazing countryside and surprisingly different terrains, even with the distraction of a check engine light. As lunch time approached, Kata Tjuta (the Olgas) appeared on the horizon.

We made it!