Kalgoorlie to Ceduna Week 46

Kalgoorlie to Ceduna - Across to SA

                            Week 46

Sunday found us heading south to follow the Nullabor Golf Links trail. The first stop was Kambalda, a new up and coming mining settlement that has a century old history, but only recent economic action. There was s target through the bush in case you couldn’t see the hole, and so our golfing journey has really begun in the vein that it will continue.

There are some important rules. Don’t expect a fairway. Practice hitting in the rough. Don’t take yourself seriously and don’t expect a good score. By the time we finish this we will need a medal for perseverance against overwhelming odds. It will teach us to laugh at ourselves - a lot.

To complete our first day, we rolled into Norseman. If planning your next holiday, leave it off. Poor Norseman hasn’t a lot going for it except some metal camels and a lot of gold mining. Two holes are played here. As I was expostulating the state of the terrain and the effect it had on my golfing prowess ( a long way of saying throwing a “hissy fit”), a car rolled by where a couple of locals were playing their course by driving around. Great!

Debating how far to travel, we passed lots of trees festooned with stuffed animals. Seems as we headed further into obscurity, the methods of decorating the ever-diminishing trees grew more whimsical. We have seen thongs, socks and shoes, banners and streamers , handbags and french knickers.  But I digress. Fraser Range was our next destination, where The Sheep’s Back Par Three is played. At last a score not totally embarrassing . It is an interesting place in its own right, so we decide to have a short driving day and enjoy the ambience of the stop. Small world territory, because a couple from Perth and their friends are here also.

By day’s end we just snuck in a quiet drink in the open before a storm rolled over. For most of the night the wind blew hard. Brian laughed at my thoughts of us rolling over, saying it would be impossible with both of us inside - too much ballast. Just as well we still love each other , isn’t it?

To be honest, and to our relief, the skies have been cloudy since we left Kalgoorlie, so the temperatures are much more moderate. Breaking our ride every 100km or so for the next hole has been enjoyable, not excessive as we had feared during the heatwave conditions in the previous weeks.

So we have stopped at Balladonia where Skylab scattered a trail of debris in 1979 and the Caiguna at the end of the ninety mile straight where the longest stretch of straight road in Australia finally turns a corner.

It is near here that we encounter our first cyclist, off for a healthy ride. We also encountered a strange winged bug which was very interested in climbing Brian’s hairy legs, hence the  out of focus shots as Brian tried to snap and run. Feisty little fellow but like nothing we have ever encountered before.

The road does run straight and true and the scenery is changing over the days from scrubby bush to light bush to sparsely wooded grasslands. Green is the colour of the landscape and how many greens can I see, let me count the colours - leaf, sap, olive, grey green, silver green, green tinged with yellow or red and on and on. Some greens were so dark they looked black from a distance. So my brain deals with the monotony and remembers reading the Sesame Street Books to my boys when they were little. My favourite was the Count who loved to Count things, “”AAAArrrhhh!” So you can see the effect of long distances with minimal stimulation.

Cocklebiddy was our next golf hole, but there is little else besides the roadhouse and one golf hole unless you 4 wheel drive out to the Eyre Observatory. A lot of these road houses were established when Perth hosted a Commonwealth Games to make travel easier. It worked.

After dragging full water tanks for a while, we finally pull up in a roadside stop for a free camp. No toilets here, but peaceful and away from the highway enough to dull the noise of passing semis. Murphy’s Law prevailed and we were serenaded by some new arrivals with a piano accordian belting out some gypsy taps and barn dances. Sounded like our Australia Day type of music so Brian was nostalgic about not DJ’ing  the yearly Australia Day Dance. Actually he was rather good. Turns out they have been to Tamworth for the Country Music Festival and were streaking home to Albany. We think 300km is a big day and they were doing a thousand plus a day. No thank you!

Because the weather gods have been with us, free camping without power has been very comfortable. In fact we were snuggling under our doona long before the morning. The last night in Kalgoorlie when the heat of the day took all night to dissipate seems a long ago memory.

Australia Day finds us pulling into Madura Roadhouse where we are aware of the range of mountains rimming the Roe Plain. It is like an old coastline from time before man. The range of low hills continues for hundreds of kilometres and we will encounter it again at Eucla, where the “town” is built on top of the escarpment, overlooking the old Telegraph Station, long ago consumed by the sands.

At Mundrabilla we pass the earliest sheep station, still an operating business. The staff and kids at the Roadhouse are painted and wearing flags, ready for an Aussie BBQ and game of cricket at the end of the day. The population is small, but the spirit is alive. We have reached an area where myriads of bush like trees stand like chorus dancers in a Petite Foilage at Merlin Rouge, their fringed petticoats raised high to the sky in a can can flick.

Sorry Eucla, but you aren’t on our house buying wish list. The story of the Nullabor Nymph came about when a journo, broke at the time, told the hotel owner he could fill up the pub for at least a week. He sent out a story of a naked blonde running with the kangaroos and all hell broke loose. Ten days of fame until someone got wise and the truth was unfurled. This story set Brian’s imagination on fire and he wanted a recreation on the golf course. No dice. Still it is a busy stop over for travelers, but not a destination in its own right.

Thursday finds us traveling into a strong wind. Yesterday, Australia Day there was a scourge of trucks roaring down the highway in an eastward trajectory, so we spent much of the day pulling aside from them. Now the wind has stirred up, there are very few so that is the one bonus of the day.

For the first hour or so out of Eucla, we pass a surprisingly vegetated landscape, a symphony of green. It was a bit like traveling through a giant coral reef exposed at low tide. As the miles passed it became drier and the grasses took over, waving in the direction of the prevailing wind, like a crowd at a rock concert waving in time to the beat. 

Just beyond Eucla was Border Town, another roadhouse/motel for weary motorists. Here we have our first golf hole in South Australia, at the big Roo. Other than that there isn’t much else beside a lot of trucks and a border check for people leaving SA. We won’t encounter the fruit and vegetable denial until we reach Ceduna.

As we roll on, the Nullabor we have been expecting is becoming more real, but Brian is still disappointed. He imagined desert, but we have rolling grasslands. Where there are bushes they look like rocks and boulders from a distance and the trees such as they are are bent crazily to favour the direction of the winds.

The Nullabor Roadhouse is dusty and stark, and the wind has increased to gale proportions. To play the hole here you have to walk 600 metres through the paddock, and play back to the parking area. The reason is evident when we see a young lady with a very short skirt climb into a little Cessna and taxi past us to the side runway so she could take off into the wind. Good pilot, brave lady. To get the ball heading in the direction you want here, you have to aim about 90 degrees to the left and hit as hard as you can. By the time it lands the ball is in a straight line to the target, or even to the right, depending on the strength of the current gusts. This is the hole Merv had trouble on with the crow stealing his balls, but there are no crows today. They have been blown to Perth.

It won’t surprise you then that all the smart people, trucks and caravans are heading west. Never mind. We have found a bushy pull over area before our next golf stop to while the night away in seclusion. It is very pleasant. We have now hit the land of trees and rolling hills again, in fact not far from The Nullabor Roadhouse, our concept of the Nullabor was challenged again.

This morning we passed very close to the coast, but passed several photo stops because the haze hung low in the sky, leaching the colour and resting in a muddy pool by the horizon, like a painter who has run his finger over a too distinct charcoal line. Not good for photo crisp clarity. Sorry. In fact the head of the Bight is closed for refurbishment. Guess as it isn’t whale viewing season it is the perfect time to close it.

At Nundoo Roadhouse we play the Wombat Hole and find there are more than 2 million Southern Hairy Nosed Wombats and only 100 Northern Hairy Nosed Wombats ( from Queensland way). As they are nocturnal, we see evidence in the holes, but I guess even then it is too hot for them. They are quite different to the Common Wombat that you see in the eastern states. It is a long hole, 520m so as we have hit heatwave again, we are glad there is only one hole at a time.

Our last “On the Nullabor” stop is Penong Roadhouse. The town has windmills for the feature, not the Dutch sort, but the water pumping sort. You have to work here to live here. no comment. We were going to pull into Cactus beach for another free camp, but it is too hot and power is needed. The heat stays all night. We are in daylight saving here, so it is middle of the day sunlight well past 8 in the evening.

Cedunaa has the last two holes of the course that has been adding interest to our drive. We now have our proof of activity certificates and we can wait for suitable weather for our next golfing foray. There is a busy port here so there is a lot of rumbling of road and rail transport so if you are a light sleeper you won’t enjoy a stay here, but is is right there at the beach, so if you fish or just enjoy the water it has its good points.

The highlight of our visit was the wombat lady , Val Salmon, who takes in orphaned wombats and nurtures them to weanable size. She had an eastern red and some bearded dragons too, but specializes in wombats. There is a program underway to use the heavily populated Southerns to help breed the endangered Northerns, but it is a work in progress. She is disparaged by farmers who think they are pests, like our flying foxes and cockatoos and a scheme to get a fauna park for tourists didn’t get underway because the local aboriginals still see the wombat as bush tucker and didn’t feel their children should learn to rear them rather than see them as food. Poor lady needs a high profile supporter to help with the feed and bedding, and in these extreme 46 degree temperatures, coolers to help the animals stay at optimal temperatures. She’d care for them anyway, but we need a secret millionaire or a Dick Smith to help her with the nitty gritty. It is just like a new baby - two hourly feeds that take an hour to get a few drops. She deserves some support.

So another week comes to an end. We have ventured on to Streaky Bay. It is just as hot here, but you can see very popular with fishermen and sea-side holiday makers alike. If we are lucky we will experience it out of heatwave conditions, but we aren’t holding our breath.

Have a good week. We will.

The Roasted Nomads

York to Kalgoorlie

             York to Kalgoorlie

                            Week 45

Our Monday morning in York was of course predictable. Merv will be giggling, because he has guessed - golf. We were smart enough to start at 6:30 and lucky enough to have light cloud cover and a gentle breeze, so 18 holes was possible before the searing heat kicked in.

York is an old historic town, many of the buildings erected in the 1850’s and restored in the early twentieth century. Many are now in the stage of needing remodification again, the story of the historical old towns in this western state. We enjoyed the car museum and The Mill, an old mill now shops and art galleries. There were some amazing timber creations here that Wal would have admired. those made out of single pieces of timber were large and heavy, not meant for caravan couples.

Our caravan park here has a flock of cockatoos who are roosting here, very active in the evening and early morning. We were flabbergasted by the ranger who appeared with his double barrel shotgun and blasted the flock until a swathe were lying dead and the rest moved on. I’m sure they will return in an hour or two, so it seems such a sad way to deal with “pests”. With the west in drought, the poor birds are staying close to water, so it seems cruel on a number of fronts.

We had heard about a council caravan Park that had good reviews at Bruce Rock so we decided to take advantage on our way to Kalgoorlie. We were the only caravan, sharing the space with some Main Roads workers overnighting in the backpackers bungalows. There is a massive pool complex with water slide, beach volley ball court and cricket nets for the local youth. Incredible when you see the size of the town. The other positive is an affordable $17 a night. Having the aircon on all day and night is a must in this searing heat so we really have a good deal. The final plus was the free washing machine, where most parks are $4 a load. Yes Robyn, boring, but a fact of life that is often on our minds.

Margaret and Chris will be able to imagine Bruce’s Rock, a soak at the base of a granite outcrop where Bruce , a sandalwood cutter made his permanent camp. The town actually was not developed until around 1908 when the area was opened to farmers. Most of the time, the poor farmers didn’t get enough financial return for their crops to cover the cost of farming, hence the second job, sandalwood cutting. We met an old timer here in Kalgoorlie who used to go off camping cutting this timber, so the practice kept on well into the next century.

Once the sun had disappeared on the western horizon and the air cooled to a pleasant warmth, al fresco dining was the order of the day. Very ambient.

The next large town on our westward journey is Merredan, probably the preferred stop as the town is large with lots of shops and service businesses. After an exploratory stroll, we continued on our way, planning on overnighting in a national park further on our way. Our plans were rudely altered by a loud BANG and some bumpy, defensive driving from poor Brian who got us safely off the roadside, still rather precarious for tyre changing. Back in Esperance we had replaced the back tyres ready for the push homeward, so this tyre was only about six weeks old. Not knowing if Southern Cross, the next town west would have tyres, we stop at a roadhouse at Carabin and head back to Merredan to get the tyre fixed, or as Murphy has it, replaced. Two new tyres later and once again the budget is blown. We have yet to find out if we will get warranty, but we just have to trust they have our best interests at heart and do their best for us when the inspector does his rounds.

Our journey onward us shows us some graphic examples of how the salinity in this drought ravaged countryside has become. It looks more like a Martian landscape rather than a billabong.

Coolgardie, the place we had heard about in our primary school social studies lessons as a major gold producer is still here, only 33km from Kalgoorlie in distance but decades behind in modern development. The grand old buildings are in use, but in shappby condition and disrepair. There is not the commerce here to meld the old and new into comfortable modern living. Again, the heat shortened on desire for intensive exploration.

We have been following the pipeline that brings the water to this thirsty land over 600 kilometres, an engineering marvel in its time and still today. The older buildings in Kalgoorlie and Boulder are undergoing facelifts and are still used in modern businesses, alongside the Woolies, Coles and KMart concrete bunkers. We know what looks better, but unfortunately what is more practical for hygiene at an affordable price.So a mix is the perfect compromise.

The superpit is impressive and Brian was keen on being there for a blast. He waited an hour for the one o’clock balst and was a bit deflated at the lack of impact. Just because the ground shook, he was not totally impressed. The trucks here are huge, the wheels bigger than the original haul packs of the 60’s and 70’s.

An interesting place to visit is the Miner’s Hall of Fame, but not as impressive as the Longreach Stockman’s Hall of Fame. The entry gate is a Chinese gate and there is a memorial garden built by the Chinese, but there were no Chinese mining here in this area through history, so it is a bit confusing why they have taken so much trouble with this commemoration. None-the-less it is a pretty spot in a dirty, dry and dusty mining historical site.

Brian could relate to the more modern prospecting transport choices, but wasn’t sure he wanted to swap the comfort of air-conditioned modern travel.

Our plan across the Nullabor is to do the golf course, the first two holes for us here at the Kalgoorlie golf course. What a surprise in the desert. They have a green manicured course that is a credit to the designers, and far above my poor golfing ability. It is more expensive than our usual $10 games, but a truly international standard course recently opened. It was very hot even at 7 in the morning, so my the third hole I had a migrane, losing my clear vision for a half hour. That half hour produced my best score, so go figure that one. Brian did much better than I, but the standard would be better for Wal’s A Grade golfing skills rather than our poor hit and giggle skills. I don’t think the rest of the course is going to be quite like this, but it does give us a focus on our next leg of our journey.

So tomorrow, Sunday, will find us heading south toward Norseman before our easterly journey begins in earnest. As those of you on the east coast of Australia put up your umbrellas, spare a thought for us this week sweating away.

Cheers for another week

The Sweating Nomads