Who’s afraid of the big, bad wolf?

After leaving Esperance, we camped in a small town called Salmon Gums. It was a nice quiet community camp spot, although a train went past during the night that woke Becky… I didn’t notice. We spent the morning sorting through the car and adjusting to the space created by us dumping some stuff at a charity shop in Albany, but I won’t go on, as our charity work isn’t something we like to talk about. As the car had been behaving well, our plan had been to drive to Uluru via the Great Central Road. We’d be lent a book by Katrina, a friend from UQ, that mapped this drive, and with our confidence in the car renewed we were ready to drive over 1000km passing only three roadhouses that were part of indigenous communities. The advantage of this route was we hit warmer weather sooner, and could visit the red centre before coming south again to see all the wonders SA has to offer. Of course it is also 1500km shorter than the alternative, which is always something to consider. We had been monitoring the road condition for the last few days and that morning we found out the road was currently closed on the NT side due to flooding… oh goody!

Despite the road closure we decided to head to Kalgoorlie, as it wasn’t that far north of the turning onto the Nullabor at Norseman, take a gander at the “super mine” and talk to the information centre there to see how the road conditions are holding up. We stopped briefly at Norseman to try and have lunch, but it was too windy and cold so we got straight back in the car and continued on. We reached Kalgoorlie only to find our old friends; sunshine and warmth. After throwing off the shackles of multiple layers, we celebrated with a Nando’s and decided to stay in a motel. Becky picked out a cheap one called the Miners Rest. It was clean, but didn’t look like it had been decorated since 1979. Becky hated the place, and felt very down. I did too, until I’d drunk a bottle of red wine and we’d eaten some chocolate cake, then I felt fucking great.

Old school or just shit?

The next day I didn’t feel so great about the place, and we packed up quickly and left. We called the road info line again and found out that the great central road was still closed on the NT side. We went to the super mine lookout, but decided to miss the $70 tour of the mine site, because a) I don’t think they need any more money, b) we only wanted to see the site, and couldn’t be fucked to walk around it for 2.5 hours being told the how mining is not only good for the local communities but also the environment and the flora and fauna love it.

By "super" they mean fucking big

Besides, the lookout had all the interesting details and a few bits of old gear lying about. We also learnt that there is a shit load of money spent getting gold out of the ground… the trucks use 185 litres of fuel per hour and the tyres for the trucks are $45,000 a piece. I thought our car was dear to run!

Super digger

Super load bed

After the mine we visited the info centre to get more info about the road closure. We were told that the road was rarely closed for more than a few hours, and at most a couple of days, so we should be fine to head up there. The lady also told us they rarely close it to 4wd anyway. So that was a relief. We fuelled up and headed off. Just to be on the safe side and to allow more time for the road to open, we thought we’d overnight at Goongarrie NP, only 90km north of Kalgoorlie.

Goongarrie was an old partially developed sheep station that closed due to difficulty establishing sufficient water points and had been bought up by the state. It has three buildings you can rent beds in, and plenty of room for camping. The lady at the info centre said there was a caretaker there, so when we rocked up to find the place deserted we were a little surprised. We wandered around the different buildings, reading the visitor books, and it seemed it’d been a few days since anyone had been here. It was a really cool site, and had bits of old machinery and gear set about the place.

Has no one here heard of a scrap yard?

The buildings were about 100 metres apart, and obscured from each other by scrub trees. We decided to stay in or around the shearers’ quarters, I wanted to tent but Becky had seen beds and solid walls and wanted to set up inside. I reluctantly agreed, as it was unlikely anyone else would rock up so we’d have to share and it was only a few dollars more for the night. At this point we hadn’t paid, as we’d expected a caretaker, but said we’d call up the parks department when we left, as we didn’t know how long we’d stay. But the point is we’d pay, because not paying is bad, mkay.

Our new home

Once we’d set up, we started to fall in love with the place. The skies were blue, we were alone and there was a slight wind keeping the temp perfect and the flies away. We even hand our own “rustic” kitchen.

1950's kitchen and 1950's gender roles

As the evening closed we had a lovely bit of spag bol, and I lit a fire. What a perfect spot!

Who's afraid of the dark?

The thing about solitude in the bush is that at night things start to feel a little spooky. There is a silence that means any noise can make you jump. It’s an odd feeling, as you feel happy and relaxed, but at the same time your primitive brain is telling you there might be something out there in the darkness. For that reason we both decided it would be better if I slept with my machete to hand, because if something happened I might do more damage to any attacker than I would to us… probably.

Despite our irrational brains, we slept deep and long and woke feeling utterly refreshed. That morning, under the rational light of the sun, we were joined by an iguana that seemed to be living in the roof, and popped its head over the gutter to say hello.

The real owner

The birdlife around the place was fantastic, with huge flocks of galahs keeping us company. There were also other parrots, but I was unable to identify them using our bird book… I’m not a very good twitcher, but I took photos anyway.

Who are ya? Who are ya?

We pottered about like we owned the place, and I started a fire in the donkey heater, so we could shower down warm. As we were getting use to the solitude, an old couple rocked up towing their caravan. They came over for a chat, and were looking for the caretaker, as they were also volunteer caretakers and wanted to check the place out. They had come from the Great Central Road, and told us the road had closed while they were on it, but was drivable, just very wet and muddy. I also told them that we were going to pay as soon as we left, but we had no phone signal (which was a lie, as we could even get 3G), but they didn’t give a fuck and said what eva! After our pleasant chat and swopping names (I forgot their names before they even said them), they went over to the main homestead building, and left us to do what we do best, fuck all.

After several hours of blogging, throwing stones, and starring at the sky, I decided I needed to collect more firewood. As I was wandering around the site, I saw our old friends, let’s call them Mildred and Fred, leaving. I wandered back and asked Becky if Mildred and Fred had been over to say goodbye, but they hadn’t. They’d just left, without a word to their new neighbours. We were quite hurt, but got over it quickly and carried on doing nothing.

A few hours later another, younger, couple rocked up. It was turning out to be a busy day. They came over to chat, and had called the parks department to book, to be told there hadn’t been a caretaker at the site for a long time, and they didn’t really even need to pay. This should have been our first warning that the lady in the information centre in Kalgoorlie was full of shit, and didn’t have a fucking clue about nothing. We chatted for 20mins about how great this place was and how they’d probably stay a few nights, before they headed to the main homestead to set up. The rest of the day went passed in an uneventful blur.

After a fantastic day, we decided we were really country folk at heart and we should definitely stay another day. That evenings, with our new neighbours settled and just close enough to placate our lizard brains, we relaxed around the fire. Just after dark another car came into the camp. They circled round, not stopping to say hello, and headed back to the third, empty building. This was not unusual in itself, so we settled back to watching our fire and enjoying the full glory of the starry outback night. 

A short while, maybe 10-20mins, after the “newbies” had arrived an explosion disrupted the silence of the night, and it had come from the direction of their house. Of all the noises you don’t want to hear in highly flammable bushland, an explosion ranks quite high on the list. We jumped up and looked over towards the other house. We could see the orange glow of fire off the top of the trees. I put my shoes on and told Becky to pack our shit up and be ready to flee. I started walking towards the house, but the orange glow had gone. Not only is this environment extremely prone to bushfires, it is also infamous for being an easy place to get lost and disoriented in when walking about during the day, with warnings on the walks about what to do if this happens, and surprisingly this is not improved by darkness. I wasn’t that keen on wandering into the bush, so waited to see how things unfolded. We could hear voices and they weren’t screaming. We could also see flashlights pinging about in the bush, like they were looking for wood. We sat back down and I got my machete. I looked over at the good neighbours and could see their evening fire. We waited and watched, until things started to feel “normal” again and the silence returned.  

An hour or so after all the night drama we started getting ready for bed. That’s when we heard the newbies car start, and begin to drive off, stopping only briefly down the road for I have no fucking idea, before heading into the night. THAT DIDN’T HELP! We continued to get ready for bed, but prepared the car so we could get the fuck out of there quickly. I DON’T LIKE REMOTE PLACES ANYMORE! Despite all this we slept really well…

The next morning the place looked its inviting self once more. Even though we loved this place, the event of the night before was telling every bit of us we needed to leave. We took our time, enjoying our little country homestead for the last time, and once we were packed we headed over to say goodbye to the good neighbours. Those muthafuckers hadn’t stuck around and had already fucked off, without checking on us, the BASTARDS. It seems we weren’t the only ones who got a little freaked out by the previous evenings shenanigans. We quickly passed the other house and found evidence of a freshly burnt Nokia mobile. Perhaps this is what caused the explosion? The Prado they were driving looked too new to be teenagers and they’d made no other noise… Perhaps they were big time gangsters destroying the evidence? I guess we’ll never know, because after that we got the fuck out of Dodge.