Category: Adventures

Being the amazing spot it was, Peace Gorge did not lend itself to hunting us out of bed early. We generally pottered around until the urge to get going crept in.

Travelling the short distance into town saw us fuel up, water up (again) and visit the toilet dump. All highlights in the day of a caravaner.

G visited the supermarket, stocked up on essentials, including a big bag of snakes and grabbed a coffee at the swish coffee van. We learned that Meeka (because we were now locals and can call it that) had two very different characters. One side was vibrant and well kept. Indeed there is a sign outside the public toilets proclaiming they were the voted the best facilities of their kind in 2017. Not sure how big the pool of applicants was or what the criteria was, but they were hovering at about the 51% approval rating as far as we could see.

We headed north with about 410 k’s to Newman. The map showed the road was straight with occasional curve about every 50 ks or so. It was right. The day was broken up by three trailer road trains mowing us down like we were standing still and escorted wide loads coming the other way. Lunch was by a lovely creek about half way before we found a camp spot in a gravel pit.

Gravel pits don’t sound like a villa overlooking the Greek Isles, but let it be well known, they are generally a damned sight better! Off the road behind ragged red hills under a cloudless, star lit sky, who could even dream about Greece and all that oil ridden food and good wine.

After setting up, another van came into the area and propped for the traditional walk around to find a spot without getting stuck. As the couple walked back without that look of ‘we just found the best spot ever’, Peter pointed out a spot just up from us. Avon and Mel parked, set up, then joined us for a chat and a drink.

Peter and G had not taken many photos to this point as the day was, let’s face it, pretty boring. Mel solved that in a buzz. She is a drone pilot producing some cracker pics for us. Being a trooper she even let us use them for the website. Love you Mel!!

Peter spent a bit of time fixing a little issue on Puma that would return her to her powerful best, such that she could fully stretch G-Sting.

The night was balmy, dinner great and sleep even better.

No one wanted to get out of bed this morning. The cold was just the perfect, snuggle up under 7 doonas, cold. Even the sun rose slowly having second thoughts about the day. Peter decided it would be a cracking idea to scratch a tiny shaving cut he had from a few days before. Well of all the dumbass things you could do in the middle of a lovely gravel pit miles from anywhere. He bled like a stuck pig requiring all the tricks of the trade to stop the flow that seemed intent on dropping onto the computer and threatening to add flavour to his coffee.

We headed off towards Sandstone about 130km away on what turned out to be a sensational bitumen road. Hardly any traffic, save the odd road train, the wind behind us and the temperature just on perfect, made the morning one to savour.

In no time we arrived on the outskirts of Sandstone to first visit the old brewery and London Bridge. The Brewery was in fact a big hole in the side of a big hill. Apparently, the home brew stayed at the correct temperature if it was stored underground. Under impressed with brewing, we were the opposite with the bridge.

London Bridge is a natural formation that spans a huge hole in a rock framing a view of the country on the other side. We might have missed the sign saying not to walk across the bridge until it was too late. Must have been a small sign anyway! This place was outstanding. We stayed for a while admiring what nature had served up for us.

Once in town we were immediately alerted to the way the town was kept. Every street, every building, every yard was in good order. The entire town was full of pride. This was confirmed by our conversations to the information centre lady and the owner of Black Ranges Teas Rooms.

Our time in Sandstone was most enjoyable. Topping it off however was the home-made apple sponge cake and coffee at the tea rooms. Hate saying it but OMG, this was next level morning tea. If nothing else on your next trip to WA make this a must stop. It is that good.

We headed for Meekatharra on all dirt roads. The trip was straight forward with the roads being so good we could easily motor along at 90 km/h with G-String tow. Upon arrival we did notice the G-String had been soiled somewhat. That dust gets in the most inconvenient places.

We filled with water at Meekatharra, before finding an ideal camp spot at Peace Gorge just out of town. It was amongst huge red boulders that took on a brilliance of their own on sunset. The team contributed to a great camp fire that lasted with us well into the night before 8pm told us it was past our time for sleep.

With thoughts of magnificent images flowing through the camera lens, Peter was up at 5.45am trudging out across Lake Ballard’s mushy surface to climb the hill in its middle. By torch light he clambered up the tiny trail, not realising the extent of the vertical drop offs till the later morning light revealed them to be far more lethal than he gave credit for.

The images he imagined were just not there. As sometime happens others emerged. The patterns of footprints leading from iron statue to iron statue (read yesterdays blog) created stunning leading lines and contrast to the lake’s flat surface. It was worth the effort and the cold.

A quick trip into Menzies where we didn’t find a café was next on the agenda. We again spent a fair bit of time on the phone and internet trying to manage our COVID travel situation. Finally, we bit the bullet and decided we were having a holiday in WA and elected to definitely head north towards Broome.

A bit before lunch we travelled north to Leonora for a world-famous sausage roll that lived up to their name. We fuelled, met some of the people who were on the Kalgoorlie brothel tour with us, but not before visiting the Gwalia super pit just outside of town. This place has history. US President Hoover was instrumental in kicking it off and treating miners like rubbish whilst he presided over things from his mansion still standing above the pit. The onsite museum was brilliant. Only surpassed by the Gwalia abandoned old township dominated by its massive hotel long since closed to patrons.

We continued north before electing to turn westish at Leinster towards Sandstone. A few ks later, might have been 20 or 50, who knows, we lucked upon a hidden gravel pit well off the road to camp. Being the best camp of the trip so far, it was flat, dry, protected and pretty well perfect.

Peter made his famous burnt bottom pizzas for dinner. Actually the famous ones aren’t burnt but he added a special touch given it was such a special camp spot. We sat and chatted till the cold night air told us it was bed time.

With the COVID situation changing by the minute today would be a difficult one. Serious decisions had to be made as to where we went today, how to get home in the long run and what our priorities were.

In the end we made fair few phone calls, headed north out of Kalgoorlie towards Menzies then off into the bush to Ora Banda. This is an abandoned hamlet that has a real history. It was the site of the murder of the head of a bikie gang back in the day. Legend has it, it was a senior police officer who hid in wait before shooting the bikie. Sometime later the police officer’s car blew up killing him. Coincidence?

We figured our brains were fired, so some time in nature was the best tonic. Lake Ballard is about 50 odd ks northwest of Menzies. It’s not a lake full of water, however, is not totally dry either. It’s surface is salt ridden and just soft enough to plaster your shoes with mud that gets an inch thicker each step you take.

The lake does have it claim to fame. A few years ago some on paid someone to make a whole heap of arguably cute or ridiculous human sculptures out of steel and stick them in the lakebed. We are not sure of the significance, but they do provide a point of interest. The better point is the view from the top of the little hill perched in the middle of the lake. From here the footprints between the sculptures create stunning patterns in the mud.

At the end of a rotten day, this was a fantastic place to camp.

Jumping out of bed this morning, our first business was to check that we still had all our possessions in hand. The copious signs around the van park telling us to lock up did nothing for our confidence the night before, nor did the late-night text message from the park owners to all residents warning us of impending theft. A quick check revealed that Kalgoorlie thieves had targeted someone else.

We headed off meeting Trevor and Sue on the outskirts of town. From here we convoyed into the centre of town to take on the museum. The free mining museum at the eastern end of town if ridiculously good. It explores the history of the town, the mines and the people. Some of the figures related to how much gold has been located nearby are mind blowing. The lengths people go to in order to get gold are equally beyond belief. This was a quality stop leading to lunch.

We lunched at a café called ‘Dome’ being the sister of one we dined in at Esperance. The food was equally good, the service fantastic so long as you did not want all of what you ordered, and the company right up there with the best.

As we headed over to Woolies for a bit of shopping we experienced another of Kalgoorlie’s treasures. The public toilets here are super technical with push button entrances, audible warnings that warn you have only 10 minutes to do your business and leave; all in a stainless-steel box in the middle of the footpath. As we approached one of these structures a sizable male exited just in front of us. One wonders with all ones wondering power what internal conflict was going on in that poor man. Being down wind with no escape, we were caught by a 40 knot gust. We staggered at the weapon a single human had unleashed. As our knees buckled we lurched eastward in every effort to gain an upwind advantage, not reaching safety for far too long. Kalgoorlie had again amazed us.

Following Woolies, we realised we were just in time for our appointment at the longest running working brothel in Australia. The Questa Casa runs tours for curious visitors. We had heard about the tour from our friend Lynne, who recommended it highly.

Lynne was on the money. For about 2 hours, we were educated, entertained and bewildered by the owner and Madam of the establishment. Her knowledge of the industry history and local history, combined with her candour about the industry, was refreshing. The tour crowd was almost all our age, save three 30ish people and a miniature Dashhound.

To say we had a great time is an understatement. We are not sure we will change professions any time soon but when G asked, “Is it lucrative,” the answer came in a simple, but forthright ‘yes’. Known for its 11 pink doors at the front where to this day the professionals display their goods, the iconic picture of the ‘starting tables’ is an imperative. G obliged.

After brothelling, we made our way back to the vans to research the latest on COVID, learning that the news was considerably different from the official health directions for each state. Who would have ever thought the media would exaggerate!

Peter submitted his ‘changing human behaviour’ assignment and breathed a long sigh of relief.

With no real reason to leap out of bed this morning, we elected to slowly let the blood start to flow, and the morning warm up before sticking our heads out.

After breakfast G and Peter headed off to a caravan park for a day so they could do the washing, fill water tanks etc. Google did its usual trick and took us for a reverse lap around Kalgoorlie before dropping us off exactly where we would have been half an hour earlier had we just read a paper map.

The van park was standard fare save the multiple signs telling us to lock everything up due to the prevalence of stealing offences in the area! Welcome.

After chores we met Trevor and Sue in Kalgoorlie town centre for lunch. Trevor had earlier spoken to us about a phenomenon called ‘Skimpies’ that we just had to experience in Kalgoorlie. Peter looked forward to a tasting plate of Skimpies. They sounded like they were some form of juicy crustacean. Whilst waiting to catch up, G and Peter stuck their heads in the door of the Exchange Hotel and got a face full of a life size Skimpy. Standing behind the bar, it had flawless dark skin, was scantily clad in a lacy pink top with matching see-through knickers covering a skimpy G-String. After recovering from the sudden education, Peter was certainly glad he did not have a whole plate of these to eat for lunch! We later noticed billboards outside a number of hotels advertising the same menu.

In due course we had lunch at the York Hotel. Sitting on the upstairs balcony of this historic building we looked out over the city and ate incredible food. The sun was warm, the skies clear and life was indeed good. Inside the hotel, secrets of its past remained. Rooms adorned with carved wood, archways, massive leather lounges and ornate lighting were the order of the day. We agreed the days of the Kalgoorlie gold rush must have been heady times in Australia’s history.

The afternoon was spent visiting the Super Pit, being the Kalgoorlie mine site. We went without expectation. A big hole in the ground is a big hole in the ground. How wrong we were. This was not just an average backyard hole. It’s proportions are impossible to grasp. Massive 200-ton dump trucks look like matchbox cars. This is massive on any scale. We learned that they take about 500,000 ounces of gold out of the mine every year. Quickly calculating that amount at about $1800 per ounce, we realised it was…….a lot!

Lastly we headed to old Boulder town main street. Sadly the street is dilapidated with most shops closed and not much sight of redevelopment or a future. The old buildings however were amazing. The history literally dripped out of them. It was impossible not to be enchanted by the area.

Back at the van we did not much, still processing the massive lunch we had enjoyed. Dinner was a ridiculous thought we tried to avoid.

We were up early today and underway by 8am. With 400km to go we were not in a huge hurry, but still needed to break the back of the trip to Kalgoorlie before lunch.

Puma hummed along at a steady rate, pulling hard up the long shallow hills headed north towards Norseman. We returned through the small hamlet of Grass Patch. You’ll never guess what we saw there. We wondered however, why the town came to have such a name. Surely even in a drunken state the local councillors could come up with something more imaginative.

At about 11am we rolled into Norseman being the pivot point for all roads leading to the south of WA. We said gidday to Norseman, being a statue of the horse that gave the town its name. The story goes that a miner many years agon tied up his horse, ‘Norseman’, overnight. Being a bit bored Norseman scratched the ground with his hoof a few times and by morning had revealed the biggest gold nugget anyone had ever seen the area. So they named a town after him. Maybe a horse further south peed on a Grass Patch?

We sped north though Higginsville and Widgiemooltha before deciding to take the slightly longer detour to Coolgardie. Coolgardie is a delight. Stunning old buildings line the street giving it a good feel. As we have come to learn in many WA towns, people were hard to spot. They are a species that just don’t seem to come out in the daylight.

Half an hour later we were in Kalgoorlie catching up with Trevor and Sue again. We set up in the best free camp area we had been in so far. Provided by council, on the edge of town, it had everything. The afternoon passed doing chores, chatting and beginning to freeze. It was cold. Not the windy, wet, blow the icicles off your nose cold; just pure bone shattering, get under your toenails cold, from which there is no respite.

As usual, after dinner activity saw Peter studying, G watching Real Idiots of Beverly Hills on the i-pad and hoons cutting loose.

The night was filled with a constant V8 roar and screeching tyres. This place was out of control. Peter wondered when in the evolution of the human species, people replaced Friday night sex with burnouts. Ah the good old days!

With most of the tourist things already done, today was to be a down day with not much on the agenda. We had not done much exercise during the holiday, s we decided to walk into the town centre.

The day looked fine, then cloudy, then rainy and it was of course cold. We trudged our way ever south seemingly getting no closer to our destination. Finally the massive ships in port, that looked like broken dinghy’s initially, dominated the horizon. So imposing we they, we just had to take some photos. In doing so, we located the perfect viewing platform through a steel gate at the end of a pathway. It was round, paved and stood proud on a structured rock wall. We stood, now closer to the ships and took some lovely snaps. On our return trip we noticed the sign saying helicopter landing area ‘Stand Clear’.

A visit to Woolies revealed what we had thought. There is a disproportionality large number of bent over people in Esperance. We don’t know why but there is. Any good trip to the supermarket must be followed by a good trip to the café for cake.

Holy hot apple pie, Batman! We found an old pub that now masquerades a café. The Blueberry cheesecake and hot apple pie were made in heaven. We ate, we drank some good coffee and tea and we relaxed in the warm sunshine in huge old leather chairs that had some storied to tell.

Back at the van we did not much until dinner time. Having seen a Thai place earlier in the day we thought it would be worth a try. And it was. Genuine Thai cuisine, cooked by genuine Thai people. Can’t get better. G chicken and cashewed, whilst Peter ate a memorable bowl full of……..it will be memorable one day.

Peter finished the night studying as G slipped to a great night sleep with the promise of fine weather tomorrow.

Today started off with a bang. We jumped out of bed to a morning that looked even more gloomy than yesterday. It had rained on and off during the night, but the wind saw us rocking like a drunken cowgirl on a mechanical bull.

The bang came at exactly 8.50am in the form of a Hyundai sedan deciding that ramming us in the rear of Puma was the WA sport for the day. They say other cars are Defender’s air bags. Well; it’s true! The Hyundai had a massive hole in its front courtesy of our towbar. It’s radiator was pushed back, and its bonnet stoved in considerably. Puma, ha, just a flesh wound. Not even a scratch on the tow ball cover could be seen. No injuries to anyone. We swapped names etc and headed off.

G was just on time for her hair appointment, whilst Peter returned to the van to do some study. About two hours later, G was set free from the blow drier and the day was ours. Her cut was exceptional. Even Peter could see this one was out of the box. He wondered the ongoing cost of G flying to WA every few weeks for a hair appointment though.

We dropped into the Esperance Information Centre for some information on the tourist drive we had heard so much about. The local lady with the strong American accent provided us with a map and comment on the much-anticipated Pink Lake. “When you get to here,” she drew on the map, “you might as well turn around and come back because the Pink Lake has not been pink for fifteen years. This other one over here is trying to be pink but isn’t.”

Peter was as flat as a cold pancake. His reason for visiting Esperance was to photograph the pink lake at sunset. The stunning image he envisioned would show a distinct line between the normal blue water and the algae coloured pink water meeting it. It would be a showstopper. All we could do was laugh.

We headed south along the coastline, directed by brown tourist signs pointing out each remarkable point of interest. Some were, some weren’t. The coastline however was beyond stunning. At each new bay the blistering wind and massive seas smashing against the headlands provided a show you’d pay good money for at the Brisbane Ekka. We just could not get enough of it. The bitter cold each time we got out of the car was worth every bit of discomfort. There is no way words or photos could do justice to our experience.

We motored on, deciding to do the whole tourist loop and not turn back prior to Pink Lake. We encountered point of interest number 14, or maybe it was 15, being a road leading up to a wind farm. With thoughts of our travelling friend Trevor, who desperately wants a wind turbine for his back yard, we admired the enormity of humankind’s engineering achievements towards building such a massive, overtly expensive, hard to dispose of, environmentally irresponsible thing to farm wind. After all, our experience showed Esperance had enough wind to last a lifetime. Why create a farm to make more?

We arrived shortly thereafter at Pink Lake. Immediately our attention was drawn to the sign the said, ‘Why is the Pink Lake not Pink’. We nearly rolled out of Puma laughing. This is the number one tourist attraction in Esperance. It has a road named after it. It has a caravan park named after it. But it doesn’t exist. The great train robbery had nothing on this heist!

After meeting the friendliest magpie we had ever encountered who hitched a ride on Puma’s bullbar, we plugged on to a glass recycling studio. In simple terms, a lady, whose name will one day be randomly remembered, grabs old bottles, torches them a bit till they melt, cuts the top off them, then charges heart attack prices for you to take them home and never use them. G bought one.

Back in town we decided a few hours at rest was a good way to spend the afternoon. Later we headed into town to the Fish Face restaurant. A quirky little place on a corner that doesn’t look much from the outside. On the inside, the outside is reflected. The food however is something else. As has been the norm for all of our trip in SA and WA, the fish was superb. It was however, soundly beaten by the sticky date pudding for dessert. No words, just no words. We devoured it like it was our last meal. Back at the van Peter studied for a few hours, now trying to work out how to change human behaviour through systems thinking, modelling and whatever else put him to sleep before he finished it.

Occasionally the weather bureau has a great day. All of the clouds, rain, hail and wind align to produce a carbon copy of their predictions. Today was such a day. We enjoyed a windy, rainy night to be greeted by a more windy, rainy morning, that was ice cold with some tiny hail thrown in. We were not deterred. We were going to enjoy Esperance no matter what.

Heading eastish, we pointed our noses towards Cape Le Grande National Park and Lucky Bay. Apparently these destinations are the very best Esperance has to offer. The run out flew by, with a stunning, English like countryside of green pasture, dotted with some of the cleanest sheep you would ever see.

A turn to the right had us on the Cape Le Grande Road. Things became slightly hilly, before huge little mountains started to emerge across the landscape. We entered the National Park after paying our fees at the personless pay station. Soon we turned left toward Lucky Bay, but first were presented with a magically view of Frenches Peak. This character filled mountain to our left, dominated the landscape. On a drier day we would definitely have taken the walk to its peak to lookout at the world through the huge hole in its southern face.

We headed further into the park following the signs to Rossiter Bay. That was until the road turned to sloppy wet gravel filled with bone jarring corrugations. We did not feel like being cold, wet and shaken today, so turned around.

Lucky Bay was………frankly there are few words to describe it. Perhaps the most beautiful bay we have ever seen. The foreground is occupied by a perfectly shaped, half moon bay, with beautiful blue water lapping pure white sand. The background is filled with multiple castaway islands completing a postcard view that would be difficult to beat anywhere.

Reluctantly leaving the bay we headed over to the other little bay that is near Lucky Bay. We were again left speechless as to the beauty of the area and the power of its violent sea smashing rocks. We got wet again.

The journey home was filled with conversation as to how beautiful the national park was, how lucky we were to be able to enjoy it in Australia, and how nice the tea would be back at the van.

We decided on a late lunch in town, but not before G visited a lovely little shop with a novelty feel in a weird little village setup just near the main street. She left with new boots and some whacky pants that look really nice. The lady serving us was a long-term resident who has worked with her husband on a grain farm until recently. Now the kids are gone she is enjoying a more creative outlet in her shop.

We eventually feasted on fresh roast chicken and even fresher bread for lunch back at the van. What a magnificent choice. Simple, cheap, warm and filling. Perfect.

Our afternoon was spent doing not much. We excelled at doing it as the wind and rain continued. Tomorrow we intend to go to the Pink Lake to see if it really is pink or just a pigment of our imagination.