ACROSS THE NULLARBOR BEING KANE-TOED - "A Most Uncomfortable Journey"

Day 12
Wednesday 9 May 2018

Nullarbor Roadhouse to Cliff Camp 2

Up betimes only to find that we were the last customers of the Nullarbor Roadhouse to depart.

Not sure what this early rising thing is all about with these superannuated travellers.  It can't be that they they are racing each other to the next caravan park for fear of missing out on a spot - it's not that busy. 

Maybe they drive vast distances each day and like to make an early start? 

Maybe they are incontinent and wake up early whether they like it or not?

The Prop and Mrs P are not fond of driving vast distances and, being only moderately incontinent, like to sleep in until at least sunrise.  So, we do!

The "Big" Whale and the Cane Toad at the Nullarbor Roadhouse.  In fact the Big Whale is a bit of a tiddler being somewhat less than life-size.  Epic Whale Fail!

Mrs P identified a spectacular free camping site right on the edge of the continent atop 90 metre cliffs about 250 kilometres west of the Nullarbor Roadhouse. So that's where we went.

Seduced by the splendid panorama, the Prop established camp by locating the Cane Toad about 15 metres from the cliff face which, in broad daylight, seemed to be a safe and respectable distance which also permitted us to fully appreciate the outstanding vistas.

The great Australian Bight...munch, munch, munch!

The Cane Toad - at the Edge of Reality

However, in the dead of night as a strong north-westerly came in bearing heavy rains, the Prop's mind turned to geology, the probability of landslip, the coefficient of friction of rubber on gravel and the likelihood of our surviving a 90 metre fall into the chilly waters of the Great Australian Bight. 

The leading case of Muirhead v Kingborough Council also came to mind as the Prop slept fitfully on. 

Not since the infamous "Galata Tower Incident" (see "Hobart to Chios" 21 July 2015) has the Prop been filled with such intimations of mortality!

Day 13 
Thursday 10 May 2018

Cliff Camp 2 to Caiguna Roadhouse

Up betimes!

The dawn had arrived and the Prop was delighted to find that Mrs P, the Cane Toad, the cliffs and the Great Australian Bight were all more or less where they had been on the preceding evening.

Once again, the two or three other happy campers (who had all set up camp not less than 50 metres from the cliff face) departed before we did.  Maybe we should get an alarm clock?  Maybe the Prop should just stop worrying about being the last to leave?

A rainstorm rapidly approaching from the south-west galvanised the Prop into action and we once again headed west just as the maelstrom arrived.

The Gathering Storm     

We reached the Western Australian Border at about mid morning or noon - depending on which time zone you think you are in. Turns out that there is a little-known local time zone for the first 250 kilometres after the border which is 45 minutes behind South Australia (Central Standard Time) and 45 minutes ahead of the rest of Western Australia.

We were again required to jettison all fruit, vegetables and honey. Honey? What's that all about. The Prop has always thought that honey was good for you - not some kind of viscous disease-carrying emulsion as the Western Australian quarantine authorities would have us believe.  

The Prop is convinced it is some sort of scam.

Passed through Madura, the main attraction of which seems to be its one hole golf course and Roadhouse complete with Tasmanian "National Pies" and a thoroughly disgruntled proprietor whose second marriage seems to be no better than his first if his conversation while making us two cappuccinos is to be believed.

A couple of Associate Members about to tee off at the first (and only) at Royal Madura   

Just up the road from the golf course is a splendid lookout from which one might have viewed the "sunlit plains extended" had it been at all sunny.  Vast and dotted with funny little tree/shrubs it looks rather like the Serengeti - but without the elephants.

Not the Serengeti but room for a nine-hole course at least! 

Arrived at the Caiguna Roadhouse in the early afternoon - thinking it was 90 minutes later than the locals thought it was.

First to arrive and (as we shall see) again the last to leave!

The Caiguna Roadhouse Caravan Park.  Why would you want to leave early?

Day 14
Friday 11 May 2018
Caiguna Roadhouse to Harms Lake Camp

Up betimes but last to leave again!

Why others had deserted this veritable oasis in the Nullarbor is a mystery.

Frankly, the Prop is beginning to favour the incontinence theory. How else can it be that some people are up have had breakfast (one assumes - most unsafe to operate machinery on an empty stomach) and are on their way at 6.00 am?

Said farewell to Caiguna Roadhouse where, the Prop had enjoyed a surprisingly good “Fisherman’s Basket” and a glass of near-freezing sauv blanc the night before. Caiguna is not exactly a seaside fishing village, so the sight of seafood on the menu was too much to resist. The Prop thought that it would be a lot worse (and therefore, amusing) than it was.  As for the near-freezing wine, they serve all beverages here at the same temperature at which they serve their beer - ice cold.  This means that you can’t actually taste what you are drinking. On reflection, probably a good thing.

Headed "straight" for Harms Lake Camp.

The 90 Mile Straight - just about drove us round the bend!

The Nullarbor is a plain of contradictions! Seafood served at an outback roadhouse but no lake at a place called “Harms Lake”. In fact, not even any water of any kind. This, in stark contrast with Hobart which, as the Prop’s satellite dish revealed, was swamped with over 100 mm of rain overnight.

Harms Lake Campground - dry as a bone

Still, it was a very nice “free” camping spot with lots of room well away from the highway (and the sound of passing road trains in the night)  

Also, surprisingly little used toilet paper lying about.  A pleasant change!     

Day 15
Saturday 12 May 2018
Harms Lake Camp to Salmon Gums

Up betimes and the last of five overnight campers to leave.

Drove about 150 klms to Norseman at which place one can either turn south and head towards Esperance on the coast or turn north and head inland to Kalgoorlie.  Decisions , decisions.

The Cane Toad on autopilot - stopped outside the Norseman Hotel

Someone once said that when you come to a fork in the road, you should take it.  

So, we did!  And ended up in a little town with a name that implies a serious oral health problem; “Salmon Gums” (e.g., “No wonder he has no teeth - he got Salmon Gums when he was a kid and they all fell out.”)

The Salmon Gums Hotel - centrally located in the CBD

Salmon Gums is a town with a population of about 40. Two of them live in, and run, the local pub and most of the rest of them seem to live in the caravan park which is thoughtfully located adjacent to the railway line used to carry iron ore from Norseman to Esperance in 160-wagon trains both day and night.   

Day 16

Sunday 13 May 2018

Salmon Gums to Lucky Bay via Esperance

Up betimes and astonishingly, NOT the last to leave.  

As a matter of fact the Prop believes that only us and the couple on the site next to us left Salmon Gums that day.  Everyone else stayed!  

Still as the couple next door left before we did and no-one else left after us, I guess it could be said that we were, in fact, again, the last to leave!

Salmon Gums Community Caravan Park

Just like the Hotel California, you can check out any time you like...

Prior to departure Mrs P was presented by the management with a little posy of chrysanthemum and mint for Mother’s Day.  A delghtful but perhaps risky gesture made on the (happily correct) assumption that Mrs P was indeed a mother.  

Arrived in the very pleasant town of Esperance about mid-morning.

Mrs P visited the local Turkish bakery to buy some bread only to discover that no bread was baked there on the weekend but that, on the bright side, kebabs were freely available 7 days a week!

Esperance: No bread, pleasant but hopeless

Visited the excellent Esperance “black water” dump site and…well…dumped some “black water” and then, on the recommendation of Mrs P’s matron of honour, made our way to “Lucky Bay” in the Cape Le Grande National Park about 50 klms east of Esperance.

Perfick!!

Lucky Bay - very nice indeed!

Decided one day was not enough so we booked in for two.

A very pleasant 26 degrees and a beautiful beach with crystal clear water, so we decided to take a dip in the Southern Ocean.  

Never let it be said that Tasmania has the coldest seawater in Australia.  In the Prop’s admittedly limited experience only the frigid waters of Noriel Park at Albury in NSW which are drawn from the very bottom of the Hume Weir, can compare to the temperature of the water at Lucky Bay.  In fact, the Prop would go so fas as to say that the water at Lucky Bay was even colder that that sauv blanc the Prop was served at the Caiguna Roadhouse two nights before.

Recent arrivals at Lucky Bay seen here protesting about the water temperature

NB: Some readers may think that “Lucky Bay” is so called as a result of a “naming-rights” sponsorship deal between WA Inc and the proprietors of the Tasmanian outdoor and sporting goods stores “Allgoods”.  This is not so. In fact Lucky Bay was so named by Matthew Flinders who, in 1802 anchored here during his circumnavigation of the continent.  

Maybe the water wasn’t so cold then?

          

Day 17
Monday 14 May 2018
Lucky Bay

Up betimes to watch others departing… because we weren’t going anywhere!

Decided to take the “easy walking” track from Lucky Bay to Thistle Cove.

Thistle

Thistle Cove

Not a thistle

A New Holland Honyeater - facing extinction on account of WA quarantine regulations (see Day 13 above) 

Now the word “easy” is a relative term. 

What was “easy” when the Prop was 20 years old may not necessarily be “easy” in more recent times.  And so it was with the the Lucky Bay to Thistle Cove track.  Like the curate’s egg, it was easy in parts.

The Curate's Egg - hard boiled

In other parts it was not easy but it was worthwhile.  Splendid scenery that is strikingly reminiscent of the Freycinet National Park in Tasmania. 

Cape Le Grande or Freycinet? Je ne sais qua!  

Talk about taking coals to Newcastle!

Enough cliches for one day!