Broome
The name itself conjured up idealic images of some far off place on the other side of the continent. At the same time it typified the real Australia – remote and hot with beautiful beaches.
It took three visits but I finally found myself in Broome – where the northwest really begins, entry point for trips to the Kimberly – I was leaving the Kimberly.
Chance was on my side. I arrived for the August full moon. Unfortunately, everybody else did too. The first two caravan parks had no space available, not even a dark corner for a tent. The third one I visited – right on city beach – had room if I could find a place to pitch my tent. I drove down to the “tent area” and found a small corner lot. We were camped in each other’s armpits, but at least I had a place to sleep.
A few minutes before sunset I quickly loaded myself back into the car for a trip to Cable Beach. The sun was setting. People were walking hand-in-hand along the beach. A photographer was taking wedding photographs or were they for an album cover? Processions of camels were being led along the beach. A sailboat crossed in front of the sun just as it was setting. The fiery oranges were reflected on the moist sand while the tide receded. It was a magical evening.
As darkness overtook the landscape and I was tripping on rocks along the beach I decided to make my way back to camp. I hadn’t really given it much thought but there was a street market set up just across the fence from my tent. Street comedians and fire dancers were hoping for a tip while they entertained the crowd. A variety of vendors were offering an evening meal. Artisans tucked beneath their umbrellas offered their works – photographs, candles, clothing, aboriginal themed collectables, pearls, paintings – everything imaginable. Rather then thinning as the evening wore on the crowd continued to grow. I began to worry that I would get no sleep. Shortly after eight the crowed massed on the beach. Intrigued, like a sheep, I followed. A little later the just past prime, full moon rose over Roebuck Bay.
People were toasting. I watched. As the moon rose above the horizon it left a path, a staircase of its reflection along the muddy flats. The reflection ended at the sandy shoreline. Little did I know I had happened upon “The Staircase to the Moon.” An event unique to Broome during winter and spring, extreme low tides which correspond with the full moon. People plan their vacations as a pilgrimage to see the staircase.
The next morning I was ready to move on. Crowds of people are not my favorite. After refilling the pantry I made my way to Broome Bird Observatory, an important area for migrating waders and shorebirds which congregate on the mud flats to replenish their fat reserves before completing migrations to the bogs of northern Russia to breed. During migrations, thousands, even tens of thousands of shorebirds utilize the mud flats. Even outside of migration the area is a very good bird watching location. There is a small, shady camping area and a couple rooms at the observatory along with several hides and watering holes frequented by birds and wallabies. If your idea of a good time is not a remote site in the bush, this isn’t for you. Nothing else happens. The evening’s excitement is when everybody sits around the table in the evening to record the day’s bird sightings.
For me arriving at BBO was like getting a breath of fresh air. I was tucked away under the trees. It was just a few minutes walk to the beach. At sunset I could walk along the sandy beach or wade through the muck exposed by the low tide. I loved the feel of mud oozing between my toes as I walked along. I don’t know who was more surprised, but one evening while walking along I suddenly felt something beneath foot. I jumped. A crab hurried away. Fortunately it wasn’t one of the HUGE crabs I’d seen earlier – one that probably could have snipped a toe off. Subsequently more attention was paid to where my toes landed.
It would have been nice to stay longer but my car had a date in Perth and there were many more things to see along the way. I returned to my southward migration midday on Saturday. Port Hedland and Karijini were my next stops.
