Australia 2
18 April 2011
Hot, happy and sitting by a pool in Point Samson.
This is the first internet connection we’ve had in a week or so, and unfortunately the best reception is just by the pool… The gardens of the beach chalets (air con, hot showers and an oven) are planted with tropical plants, watered by automatic sprinkler and visited by lizards and small, as-yet-unidentified birds (by me, that is, I’m sure they are not rare, unknown species). This is our ‘compromise’ accommodation as I was happy as a pig in the ‘no water, longdrop toilet, 30 yards from the beach and kangaroos next to the swag’ campsite in Cape Range National Park, but Tim and Jen have this thing about washing…
To fill you in: Jen is a friend from Newcastle days who is doing some research out here, Tim is her partner who is with us for a couple of weeks. After that, Jen and I head into the Kimberley (if it ever dries out) and perhaps, though looking less likely, up to Darwin. We are doing a round trip to Perth, not heading out east or down south, so sorry to all friends who are on the east coast. It seems so close, and yet so very far away.
The first couple of weeks have been a pretty intense drive up the coast. Miles and miles of it is being sold off in ‘Land Sales’, I assume with the intention that in 50 years’ time it looks like the east coast. Personally I find this a shame, but then I like bushcamping.
Carnarvon is trying to big-up its tourism, but the welcome panels are unfortunately sited: ‘Picture perfect’ being set on a bad road, in front of pylons and black smoke from what looked like burning rubber on a hillside. The tourist road takes you past recently flooded mudflats and dead palmtrees. The public toilets in the park area have boxes to get rid of your needles before (or after) you use the facilities. In one of the roadhouses on the journey where we stopped for ‘all day bacon and eggs’ we were confronted with the owner, sitting in the corner of the restaurant smoking a cigarette and moaning about Britain and Australia being invaded by foreigners – he is a self-declared racist, sexist, homophobe and has written a book about it. We left as soon as we could, long before it was polite to.
To counter that, at Coral Bay I swam with whalesharks – magnificent greyblue beasts with white spots in decorative patterns, surrounded by smaller fish seeking protection under their bulk. Small, steady beats of its tailfin needed constant and tiring fin-kicking from me to keep up, but it was worth every second. I saw, but didn’t get to swim with, manta rays, as our boat broke down and we had to be towed to shore by sea-rescue – but at least we were the right way up and dry – a dinghy capsized on the reef about the same time and they got home on the upturned hull, trailing their feet in the water for two hours. We saw reef shark, turtles, rays, indo-pacific humpback and bottlenose dolphin, moray eel, convict surgeon fish (which live in shoals of 300 females, one male: when he dies, the females change sex and fight it out to find another dominant male and then turn back again.. ??!) and so many more I can’t list.
On up to Cape Range which smelt like and looked like Africa – low scrub in sandy soil, real seaweed, rockpools. Here I found living trilobites which hide in hollows in the rocks (not sure what they really are, but they look like pictures of fossils). We scared the crabs, and I came face to face with a five foot reefshark at 6.30am. I don’t know what type, as neither of us stayed around to find out. I have to say that spooked me a bit, so I spent more time on shore, stalking kangaroo. Found a family or two of red kangaroo living just by our campsite. Clearly by this time I smelt like Africa, too, as one kept coming over to my swag at night. The second night I turned over to go to sleep and saw him leap away from his spot, inches from my head.
For those of you who don’t know, a swag is like a small, low tent. Mine has a mosquito net inner zip-layer, so I can sleep open to the stars, or protected from mossies, or covered with canvas to keep out the rain. Inside you keep your mattress and bedding and simply roll it all up in one go in the morning.
Point Samson, near Karratha: a tiny community with one shop selling chinese meat cleavers, frozen bait, snorkels and fried food, and a bottle shop the size of the whole of the rest of the store. There are nice beaches, but up here we are in saltwater croc country, so another reason to feel nervy about going in the water. The water is a bit sandy, so not good snorkelling, though apparently the archipelago around Dampier has the most varied marine life this side of Australia, comparable with the Great Barrier Reef. Unfortunately it has either been nuked by testing on the islands, or poisoned with asbestos or will be mown down by the enormous tankers taking iron ore out from the Pilbara. This is a controversial area with incredible rock art sites on the Burrup Peninsular sitting side by side with a vast, noisy gas plant. Communities are growing around the iron, salt and gas industries, but with shoddy tin housing or dry, hot, unplanned suburbs of towns with no water and no facilities. The petroglyphs I saw yesterday, carved tens of thousands of years ago, depicting strange tailed humans and kangaroos and concentric semicircles, are just about protected by tiny, faded metal signs. The ‘Burrup Peninsular Conservation Area’ sign, placed with the view of the gasworks in the background seems deeply ironic. I know I also use iron, and salt, and gas, but this seems monstrously ignorant.
Tomorrow Eighty Mile Beach, the next day Broome, the day after Kooljaman and an aboriginal owned eco-resort with apparently magically saltwater croc-free beaches.
Troopy the Landcruiser is behaving magnificently, my sketchbook is filling up fast.
Thank you for all your messages. My real apologies that I cannot reply individually, but I am thinking of you all.