- Part 1: The Universe Gives Me A Nudge
- Part 2: Bangkok & Rest & Realisation In Koh Lanta
- Part 3: Singapore Slings & Bali Tranquility
- Part 4: A Trip To The Place Where Oceans Collide
- Part 5: Geraldton, Woodchopping & Kalbarri Majesty
- Part 6: Monkey Mia, Ningaloo Reef & A Deep Sense Of Dread
- Part 7: The Tent & The Bull
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After four nights in a tent, I decided to treat myself to a bed. The cattle station Cheela Plains had been recommended to me so I retraced my steps.
It was still and dry as the sun blazed down unforgiving and relentless. I climbed a hill to watch the sunset and mile upon mile of farmland stretched out flat into the far distance. There was a communal meal both nights and the food was beautiful, very special, with the guy who ran it all hailing from Leicester……
Next stop Karratha, a little over 400kms away. I missed camping so I went to the Discovery Parks campground.
After easily pitching my tent at Tom Price, it was a different matter that evening. I was in between two big caravans/RVs and the wind had whipped up but after much jumping around, I managed.
The Mines, The Pyramids & A Cloud Of Red Dust
I took my car in for a service near the airport. A stream of light planes and helicopters were taking off and arriving to and from the oil rigs. Some I think may have also gone to the mines that were hundreds and thousands of kilometres inland.
Karratha: It was like observing a Meccano town where every little piece had its own job and everything came together.
Driving back one day, I dropped down on to the main Karratha road when I was confronted by a red cloud drifting across the highway. I glanced to the right and realised it came from a train – that was goodness knows how many kilometres long – transporting iron ore. The cloud drifted across the salt flats and was close to apocalyptic.
It was rush hour with 4WDs everywhere, presumably coming from the mines and the port. The Rio Tinto uniform was ever-present with blue overalls and fluorescent yellow. Helicopters flew here and there overhead.
Dampier: Standing at Hearson Cove I did a 360. A huge port on one side, the sea ahead with glaring white sand and to the other side with the very visible Aboriginal rock art. A café overlooking the marina with a pyramid of salt in the distance. Red Dog.
Cossack: A ghost town that had been a hub of the pearling industry formerly known as Tien Tsin. It was the first port in the north-west. Many Aborigines were killed either by sharks or drowning when they were forced into the water to look for pearls. They were made to dive up to 11m without equipment.
It was quite a haunting place: there was the courthouse with a well, a store and cemeteries for colonisers and Japanese. There was a very heavy presence in the heat there.
Point Samson: Blue sky, blue sea, beating sun. Looking out at the sea spotting the whales. Swimming. A general store
On to Port Hedland with mountains of salt and enormous road trains big enough to force you off the road.
After a night there, I moved back onto the highway north on a journey where the land changed from plains to hills and ranges and back again. Some of it reminded me of the Peak District.
The Sky On Fire At Barn Hill
I’d often wondered about the tracks that led off the highway – where did they lead? Farms? Villages? Where?
I found out. Barn Hill campsite had been recommended to me as a place to stop only a couple of hundred kms south of Broome.
I took a left off the highway where a track of orange sand stretched into the distance. When I’d phoned up to book I’d asked if it was suitable for a 2WD and been told that people had managed it before.
A couple drew up behind me as I opened the gate and said they often drove their 2WDs on such tracks before heading away in a cloud of orange dust.
It was a little unnerving: I could feel the wheels slipping and sliding at times and it felt like the track was going on for ever. I got there though and pitched my tent. And what a beautiful place it turned out to be.
I went to the beach to watch the sunset where the sky looked as though it was on fire with bands of deep red, orange, purple and black.
I overheard snippets of conversations with people’s journeys/stops/destinations the main topic. One man had been on the road for seven years and a woman had just come south from Kunnunura and was still adjusting.
Pizza had been ordered and delivered which I ate washed down with tea and chocolate cake in my tent.
I swam in the azure sea the next day and sat on the beach with my back to the red clay of the cliffs.
I loved camping there: it was quiet among stunning nature and yet we could order pizza.
Next stop Broome
As I was driving, I saw something flickering slightly ahead of me to the left. Only when I got closer did I realise it was a flame – a long, orange flame that was fluttering in slow motion like a flag. It wasn’t sinister or negative but rather mesmeric.
As I had quite a lot of work and meetings, I booked a holiday apartment where a pool was at the heart of the accommodation. The first night was gorgeous and really quiet but as time went on the acoustics meant all the yells and shrieks and spills in the pool were magnified. I’m not a party pooper but it was LOUD!
I went into the town centre: I got my hair done, had brunch and bought a dress from Rip Curl. I took a look at the exterior of the outdoor cinema and went to the bookshop.
I saw a head of train of camels heading to Cable Beach where I watched people out in the surf despite croc sightings. I returned for the sunset which turned the sand red. I walked on the jetties over the mangroves where the crocs hang out.
I didn’t really get a strong sense of Broome because I was doing so many ‘normal’ things – hair, shopping, work etc.
There was a feel of it being a frontier town but little did I know what was coming when I left Broome and set my car for Fitzroy Crossing and beyond.