Friday 31
We head back on ourselves. Roughly five kilometres, as we had passed the turn off to take advantage of a rest site shown to us on WikiCampers app the night before. Now getting used to the procedure, we air down as we’ve pulled up to a closed gate and Cath opens and closes the gate behind us. Set and ready, we begin the back track up to Cape Leveque – marked on the map as a four wheel drive track. Once again the usual warnings about taking it ‘at your own risk’ are present. We calculated that this route would save us about 150 kilometres of road due to avoiding driving further West to Broome then North, and as ever, we get to see more of Australia that most don’t along the way.
Driving through cattle stations we open and close gates behind us as we go and slow down for stubborn bulls that don’t want to get out of our way in a hurry. The track was mainly sand and having a few days up our sleeve, we took the track at a steady slow speed. It was all pretty easy going with a maintained track for use, as I could tell cattle trains frequenting the road – until we passed the last cattle gate. It abruptly turned from a regularly maintained track to an un-maintained bush bash. The road had been washed out in the wet season, turning the track into a riverbed that we slowly crept along. Cath was being thrown from side-to-side as we made our way over bumps and humps. Having the steering wheel to hold onto made for an exciting and humorous event.
Termite mounds, long grass and thick bush took over the landscape. We even passed a few wetlands where green grass and reeds were growing lush. Storks and other types of long legged birds were abundant as they waded through the invisible waters underneath. “Is that another gate?” I said looking into the distance. “Is it water?” Cath returned. As we got closer, a large body of blue water spread across the road, looking rather like a large billabong. However as we pulled up, we could see the track continuing on the opposing side. No one had been here for a while, there were definitely no tracks crossing it. I wanted to attempt it in the ute; envisioning getting bogged and wading through the water to attach our winch cable to a tree. The excitement of that prospect was stopped, as the wife shouted, “NO WAY babe, what if there is a croc in there?” To my disappointment, I had to agree with her. Not this time, perhaps if we were further south a bit more. You never know where those salties may be hiding.
We reversed up seeking a track around. If we did not find one, we were going to have to make one – but thankfully we found an old path around. We followed it and made it to the other side, continuing North. Perhaps if I was with the boys, I’m sure we would of given it a right royal go for a bit of fun I thought to myself.
The last turn was coming up on the GPS, due West. As we came to it there was a sign saying ‘detour’. That’s funny I thought. We turned the corner and straight away we were hit with a jungle of overgrown bushes hanging over the track; fallen trees and large branches scattered over and across it. Plagued with branches hanging down from all angles, I thought to myself ‘we’re going to get a puncture here for sure! Either that or rip a light off the side of the ute or bend the awning’. We slowly bashed through, listening to branches snap under the tyres and logs flicking up and bouncing off the paint work. Branches scraped along the front to the very rear of our trusty Steed. The bash plate underneath constantly pinging and ponging from sticks scraping, dragging and snapping off it. The track just seemed to get thicker and thicker as we went. Some branches too big to drive through, Cath would have to get out and bend them out of the way as I brought our rig passed. It was brutal to say the least. I don’t think anyone had been down here in rather a long time, the bush had reclaimed the road. The obstacles were constant; I was endlessly scanning the floor for sticks and roots that were bound to cause a puncture whilst keeping an eye out for low hanging or damaging branches from above. We winded in and out – it was a nightmare! Some spots I would have to choose taking on the branch or risking a puncture from a large displaced root – we were just unable to avoid both, as one would be on the right and the other on the left of the track. It was like this for what seemed kilometres. Slow going, we barely came out of second gear and reaching a top speed of 10km per hour. An hour later, we checked the GPS – we had miles to go! We had barely even started. “Ohh god” we both sighed. But with no stress of needing to be anywhere in a rush, we dawdled along getting through the challenge that lay ahead.
The track once again turned into a dried up riverbed. It was double whammy once again trying to take the smoothest path whilst avoiding low hanging branches. “Could this track get any worse? What an adventure!” I said to Cath.
More challenges came when we hit a deep soft sand section. Trenches deep on both sides leaving a large mound in the middle. My tyres although large, are not the largest on the market. Whoever had been through here in the past had much larger tyres as it kept there differential well above the mound in the middle. However for us, this was not the case. We dragged ours through the mound of sand all the way. Our trusty Steed fighting to carry us through in low-four as she would bog down and drag the low underside through. It probably didn’t help having the suspension bent, which dropped our fuel tank as low as our diff; hauling that anchor too as we went through. She gave up when we hit a really deep spot. I stuck her in reverse and managed to pull her back. As soon as I came off the gas we immediately stopped, giving clear indication it was going to be hard to get her moving again. I had to try and get us out of this trough we were in. I put it in second gear and punched it. She just started moving as the wheels span. I ripped the steering wheel to the bank that had built up to our right but the wheels didn’t follow – we continued straight as the front wheels just dug in making us come to a stop once again. “You’re not defeating us!” I shouted at the sand. I reversed up with wheels straight this time and gave it another crack. Starting in second again, I let the go pedal have it. We jerked forward and this time with a bit more pace and less turning of the wheel we popped up and out. The back end sunk right through the sandy bank dropping the revs low again, but our trusty Steed pulled through without stalling. “Woohoo” we both screamed. We were out. The sandy track went on as far as the eye could see. We bush-bashed our way along next to the track, weaving in and out of small trees. Luckily by this point it was not a jungle as previously found and we were able to make our way along unscathed.
We were following precisely where the GPS was showing the track lead until we suddenly veered North; the path no longer continued West ahead of us so we had no choice but to follow the new route. There is a record function on our GPS; I turned it on as we made our way further and further from the track that was indicated on the map. We weaved in and out of several tracks, cutting through the bush. The place was littered with paths to take in all directions. Sticking to what looked like the most frequented route, we continued on hoping to make it to the main road. We crossed several arid wetlands that were covered in dry grass. The map showed a river that we were moving parallel to on our left. It eventually ended at the main road that cut up to Cape Leveque. We had finally made it to bitumen! With smiles on our faces, we high fived each other. Conquering that track without any damage to the vehicle and no punctures was exhilarating. “What an adventure!” we both told each other. We wouldn’t want to do it again, but it made for an extremely nerve-racking 3 ½ hours.
After checking into our expensive powered site for the night at Kooljaman, due to no un-powered sites available, it was only fitting that we took full use of the ‘swimming’ beach available to us. Located at the very tip of Cape Leveque, we weren’t sure how or why it was safe to swim here, as it seemed no different to any other beach along the coast. We didn’t question it, and with everyone else in the water, we jumped straight in. It was the warmest ocean I had ever swam in. Cooler with body parts out of the water than in, it was heaven. Not wanting to get out after five weeks on the road without being able to swim in the ocean, we body surfed in the waves for well over an hour.
We had so much washing to do after all this time travelling. We filled two washing machines up. Luckily, I had only been changing my shirts after I started to smell, and wearing the same shorts for several days in a row, yet we still managed to fill up two machines. Mainly the wife’s stuff and several towels but it was a must do before she ran out of clothes to wear – even though she brought half her wardrobe. I would have been happy to keep wearing mine – just maybe reversing everything and wearing it inside out. With the washing drying and us clean from a long shower, we decided to head to the bar.
“Alcohol free zone! Arghh man!” I said disappointingly. Due to Cape Leveque being an Aboriginal area, alcohol is not allowed to be sold or brought onto site. I had built myself up for a cold refreshing beer to complete the day, however happily, we noticed there was a wood fire oven and it was pizza night. “Sweet darl, let’s get one of them. Why not!” I said to Cath, who was in total agreement. As some of you may know, I built a pizza oven in our back garden in Kalgoorlie due to the fact that pizza was one of my most favourite meals. Our first night getting take out on our trip, and what a take out it was. It was one of the best garlic cheese pizzas I had ever tasted! We also got a bit carried away and got a ‘bush’ pizza. This consisted of slow-cooked kangaroo and emu. Getting a bit fancy – I know right! We smashed it down, not a slice left. Yum!
We had service with ocean views, and not being far from the restaurant, we could clearly hear the duo playing live music on the deck and sat outside on our chairs calling family under the Milky Way that glowed above us. It was an amazing end to one part of our journey and we reflected back on conquering the Gibb River Road. I’m sure well be back again!
Saturday 1
“Its my birthday in 16 days, what are you getting me?” Cath asks.
“Nothing. This is your birthday prezzie” as I point to the ocean view.
Showered, washing up done, clean clothes filling the suitcases, once again it was time to leave. Almost ready to head off, a women asks me about the awning we have. Its been hot topic and great conversation starter these past five weeks. Everyone has been interested in it. Whenever I have a project, some of you may be aware that I dive deep into it, paying 100% of my free time researching and thinking about it before any decision is made. Depending on the project I may think about it for a while. In this case with our rig, I have been researching and thinking about it for a couple of years solid. So to me the awning is nothing new.
We chat and share stories, swapping useful information and ask each other for their opinions on certain subjects. Another friendly group of people and more smiling faces to remember on our route.
Saying goodbye to the guys we just met, we fill our water tank full and set off for some further exploration of Cape Leveque. We made our way around the top, scouting out all the places to visit. We had rung the Department of Tourism WA yesterday to obtain a permit for the area – One Arm Point in particular, which is home to the Bardi Aboriginal community. The waters were iridescent blue and we ended up stumbling across a place called the Hatchery. Unsure of what it was – I presumed chickens as we made our way in. Inside were 15-20 large tanks of water, each with their own set of fish. Being of all different varieties of coral and ‘Nemo’ fish. We weren’t sure why they were in there for seeing that it was called the Hatchery – I presumed for breeding of some description. Some of the fish were not swimming, lying on their side not moving and one large barramundi cod had its tail sitting at the surface with its head perched vertically facing down. “They sit like this for month’s” an Aboriginal guide said whilst showing another couple around. “Yeh I’m not sure that fish is well babe, its probably depressed sitting in the tank with the water stagnant all day. It’s a pretty small tank and it can’t see out. No other fish are in there with it. Poor bugger”. I told Cath. It was unfortunately a pretty depressing place to see all these large fish in such small tanks for tourist viewing purposes. “Not sure what that was all about” I said as we returned to the car.
“Yeh, I saw a sea turtle in there with no friends… I felt so sad for it” Cath replied.
We made our way slowly south and were hesitant to pull into other communities. Yesterday we had visited Lombardina, which boasted freshly baked bread on Fridays. However it was all closed up when we arrived and the town’s police gave us a wave as we drove down the street. We decided to make our way to the Northern Beaches of Broome – a stretch of beach with free camping. We had to drive the whole length of Cape Leveque Rd south to then turn back north and make our way along the beach side. The road quickly disintegrated to red sand, mimicking that of a waterslide chute. The road angled up on both sides as we drove on either side of the road trying to find the best traction without corrugations. “This track hasn’t been graded for a looooong time,” I said to Cath.
“Perhaps just back at the start of the dry season” she replied. Picking a good line through the trough shaped road was hard. We bounced along through sections as if we were on a bouncy castle, throwing our bums up and off the seat over and over. I tried slowing down but it didn’t help. Sitting at a top speed of 80kph, it made a short journey a long one.
“Is that… is that what I think it was?” as we drove past what looked like a small light bar sitting in the middle of the road. We spun around and quickly made our way back. “Get outta here! How’s our luck darl? It doesn’t sound like anything is rattling inside”. There were no marks, it was just a bit dirty. The power cable hanging from it looked like the solder had broken off, yet the cable itself was perfectly in tact. The whole thing must have rattled off someone’s ute. We had funnily enough been talking about getting another light for the rear of the ute as it was the one spot at night that was shadowed. Stoked with our find, and feeling sorry for the poor person who finally realizes they have lost it, we carried on.
We looked at the map and spotted a four wheel drive track that made its way along the beaches. We headed towards it and ended up popping out on the beach. I aired down the tyres – low this time, as sand has been hard on our heavy end of the Steed. 16psi in the front – 18psi in the back. We took off in high four wheel drive and drove north up the beach. The sand near white in colour with a turquoise ocean lapping at it shores stretched out to the horizon. Paradise once again. We passed family’s and elderly couples in four wheel drives dotted along in little secluded sections of the dunes every 200 meters or so. Searching for a spot, we made it to the far northern end. The wind and swell a fair bit calmer – sheltered a little more from a small rocky cliff. We found a spot and set up camp. Firmly digging our feet into the warm sand and taking rest in the shade of our awning. “Finally a real chance to do nothing” we said.
That night we opened up the roof window in our RTT and gazed up at the clear night sky while the Milky Way wrapped around us as we felt like we were on the inside of a big glass bowl. Without any light, apart from the glow of Broome 30 kilometres away, it was magical.
Sunday 2 – Wednesday 5
“So loud” I remarked to Johny as the waves crashed upon the shore. After spending week’s inland, we’d forgotten what it was like to have Mother Nature crashing next to us. The view was just as spectacular in the morning as it had been yesterday afternoon. Crystal clear blue waters on a white sandy beach; if only we could swim in it! I took a walk yesterday beachside and noticed a handful of large jellyfish scattered on the tide’s edge. Not the friendly kind, these guys will either make you seriously ill or have tentacles poisonous enough to kill. Unsure of what time of year these creatures are at their worst, I vow not to tempt them. I peer at the washed up coral and revel in having my feet in the sand – a refreshing feeling after weeks of dirt and muck.
Today we decide to move further north and explore some other beaches. Our trusty Steed almost just as happy to be here as we are – our first ever trips together in Esperance are bringing back memories as we carve the sand dunes. We pull up and take a look over the now rock cliffs down to the beach. Just exquisite. I have been waiting for this moment for so long – to be back in Broome, a place where the red meets the ocean. A contrast that is too hard to explain and has to be seen, to be believed.
We decide our suspension needs a second opinion and have it booked into a mechanic on Thursday. This gives us the ultimate opportunity to do absolutely-friggin-nothing! We follow the beach track another 20km and decide on a spot overlooking the ocean. Other campers are dotted 200m in either direction, but with the big open blue in front of us, we’re happy. It doesn’t take long after setup to notice splashing on the horizon “Whales!” I scream, and for the rest of the afternoon we are treated to 4 or so different pods of whales travelling south, frivolously breaching and splashing about. I have had such a fascination with these creatures since I was a little girl and today’s sightings have just been a wonderful addition to our trip.
As I’m starting to feel a little like an invalid, sitting propped up on my chair dazing into the ocean and occasionally reading my book, I wonder how we will ever get the momentum to keep moving. At dusk we spot hermit crabs, and on closer inspection, find what seems to be a whole nest of them. “Ekkkkkkk!” I cry to Johny, the whole ground seems to be moving and we are both just as grossed out. Apparently the scavengers of the beach, they appear to be moving down the sand to the water, however whatever they are doing, and make for one freakish site.
The mornings are met with the smell of salty air and sunscreen. Slapping it on, the smell reminds me of being a kid down by the lake. Choosing our battle colour for the day, we smeared the fluorescent pink, green or blue sticks onto our faces grinning from ear to ear. Thankfully those bad hair days and zinc stains are gone, but the memory remains and is a happy one.
Johny makes time to swap the front tyres as I still gaze out the binoculars to those captivating whales. During the night we hear what only can be described as the sound of fireworks. Intermittent and loud, the sound we think is coming from a boat sitting out on the horizon. It baffles us, yet nightly we look around for it’s source. As I sat one afternoon staring out into the ocean, a large humpback starts tail slapping – a magnificent site, I grab the binoculars and both Johny and I are in awe. “That’s the sound!” we both elate, as the whale repetitively slaps down with such a force the sound is heard seconds after. It’s two calves mimic the slaps and it’s sincerely an amazing moment to witness.
The days ahead we catch up on maintenance, permits for our trip across the centre and generally take the time to have a holiday without the corrugations. Johny even managed to have a shave, de-bearding his somewhat caveman appearance.
We look forward to continuing our trek south, however for now, are quite content watching the world go by.
The Cooks.
TotallyCookd. 
What an adventure! Paradise!
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