One of the routine questions nomads ask each other as we wander Australia is, “Which direction are you going?”
For a couple months I could say, “South.”That covered everything from Darwin to Perth.Reaching Perth I started saying, “East.”
People would look at me in disbelief, then ask, “Are you crossing the Nullarbor?”Without waiting an answer, “That is a really boring drive.There is nothing out there!”
I’d ask, “Have you ever done it?”
“No, Who would want to?”
The answer is I do and that is just what this trip is all about; crossing the Nullarbor.Before starting the drive I wondered what to title this l-o-n-g segment of the trip.Ideas that came to mind were:
ØOn the Move
ØFrom Goldfield to Goldenfield
ØBoring
A few days ago I started the epic “Australian Road Trip.”A trip fantasized about by many, but done by few.I didn’t count but there may have been more dead kangaroos beside the road then vehicles traveling the highway.Road Trains must mow them down as if they were grass.
The trip was anything but boring.First off I crossed the roughest section of road I had seen in the last three months of traveling – a construction zone just east of the Norseman goldfields that lasted nearly 50 kilometres.I stopped near the end of it at a 24 hour rest area.
As the sun set over the dry pan I saw two bird species I had not seen before.That makes any birdwatchers day.The gum trees shimmered in the evening glow and the trunks glowed cinnamon red.
Waking in the morning I chased the birds with my camera then set out.A ways down the road was a sign – 189 kilometres to the next services.Checking my gas gauge I decided to fill up, succumbing to Highway Robbery - $1.75 per litre.I even had enough fuel to make it to the next stop but . . .Fuel there was $1.70 but I’m now getting ahead of myself.
I needed two sticks for the next section of road.No not for my eyelids!One to create a manual cruise control and the other to hold the steering wheel straight.Ninety miles of highway without a curve, twist, bend . . .
Do you know how far 146.6 kilometres is when it is as straight as an arrow?I was puttering along at 85 to 90 km/h.Fortunately the crosswind was ferocious. I had to keep straightening out the road.
Eventually I rounded the next bend to find Caiguna Roadhouse.I slowed down but didn’t stop.Coming around the sweeping bend I met Charley speeding towards me.Charley took 38 days to drive from Melbourne to Melbourne around the entire country as part of a road rally to raise awareness for cancer.Charley is a 50 year old tractor with a top speed of 80 km/h.
I whipped around and chased down Charley.Fortunately it stopped at the Roadhouse otherwise I may have had a difficult time catching the high speed tractor.
http://www.tailendcharliethetractor.org/
Another 80 kilometres or so down the road I finally caught up with Margie who has been riding a bicycle around Australia for the last nine months.After this meeting I almost forgot about my desire to visit the bird observatory however, had not called the Eyre Bird Observatory to make arrangements for a visit.35 kilometres of dirt road – the last 15 requiring four wheel drive with the tire pressure reduced to negotiate the sand pits.
http://www.renalride.com/
One regret about this visit to Australia.I did not have a four wheel drive vehicle but maybe that is best since I’d probably still be lost somewhere up north exploring the Bungle Bungles, Gibb River Road, Peron Peninsula – the list could go on and on . . .
For being portrayed as such a barren landscape the Nullarbor has amazed with the variety of plants and the hues of green painted across the landscape.I did not know green could range from red to gray and still be green.
Next – Madura Pass.If only I’d been here at sunset. Without any indication of change the Hampton Tablelands gave way to the Roe Plain – a 100 metre limestone escarpment; ancient seashore – a geological escarpment.My imagination tells me the glow at sunset over the plain below would have been phenomenal. Trees along the escarpment slowly fading into a brush plane and finally the Southern Ocean.
The talk of the Nullarbor:
ØTrees sprouting bottles.
ØA tree with shoes.
ØThe brassiere tree.
ØNobody mentioned the bonnet tree but I found it too.
All between Madura and Mundrabilla – as far into the Nullarbor as one can get.In people’s boredom it seems they have taken to decorating trees and bushes with intimates and bottles.
Perhaps it is better said, “There is nothing boring about the drive.”
I continued on towards Eucla where I planned to spend the night.Margie had said, “Don’t miss the beach at Eucla.You can see the Great Southern Ocean in all its grandeur.”I listened, arriving just as the sunset over the sand dunes.The Eucla Telegraph Station, now abandoned, being slowly buried as the dunes move.The station was hewn from blocks carefully stacked and arranged in arches over the doorways.A lone person perched herself on the wall taking in the sunset.As the final shades of maroon faded from the horizon I decided this would be my camp for the night.
At sunrise I headed to the dunes watching there reflection of the rising sun change them from yellow and orange to cream and finally white.Wandering back towards the car I heard the surf rushing over the sand just south.It was calling.First my toes touched the water.I relished the swish of water and sand.Before long I had taken a full morning dip.
Back to town, the only town on the Nullarbor, and making tracks eastward again.Fuel cost only $1.47 here.I topped off the tank.Twelve kilometres down the road at Bordertown it was $1.69.
The road climbed back up the limestone escarpment entering the Nullarbor Regional preserve.Sandy beaches could be seen below the road.For two hundred kilometres there was no road access to the shore.The sandy shores slowly gave way to massive limestone cliffs.
Periodically a yellow sign, “RFDS Emergency Landing Strip” interrupted my thoughts.Runway markers were painted on the highway.A gravel pullout near the ends.When the nearest medical care is hundreds of kilometres distant the traditional ambulance is inadequate.Something different is needed.Based at the major Outback towns the Royal Flying Doctors Service is ready to fly to the most remote areas to pick up and treat critically injured patients.
Vegetation changed from shrubbery to bushes and finally to sparse grass.I had reached the western edge of the Treeless Nullarbor Plain.Dry is the only word to describe the plain – the most barren land along the highway and it been named the Yalata Aboriginal Reserve.
How similar to North American tradition – give the original residents of the land the bleakest landscapes.Having spent several weeks in Aboriginal lands and even temporarily residing under permit in Hermmansburg, working with the Aboriginal children I have noticed many similarities between the conditions in the towns as compared to what Native Americans and First Nations at home have been through.Unfortunately it reminded me of the conditions the First Nations lived in while I was growing up – not the improved cultural conditions of today.
On the horizon I saw a growing haze – perhaps dust.What kind of industrial development is out here?Getting closer it became thicker.Maybe evaporation ponds.I kept guessing.
Top of the Bight 12 kilometres south.
Again chatting to myself, “I’ll only be here once.I had better investigate.”
Approaching the coast I could at last see the base of the column.Sand Dunes.Massive sand dunes with blowing sand reaching several times higher into the sky.I had entered the Great Australian Bight Marine National Park.There was a visitor centre and trail at the end of the road.Ten dollars to enter and walk the 0.5 kilometres to the edge of the Bight.I walked away.A $10 walk.
Reminding myself, “You’ll only be here once”I returned and dutifully paid my fee.The path led to the edge of the cliffs.The Bight was azure.Tremendous swells rolled against the cliffs below
What was that?A splash?Then just off shore a long, black obstacle.The water broke.A reef at the surface?Changing to the telephoto lens I took a closer look just as a mist rose into the air.A southern right whale.It was simply resting on the water’s surface.To the left a fluke rose into the air, then a tail followed by a much smaller tale.A cow and calf.I sat down along the edge of the boardwalk using the railing to steady my camera.Seven whales.Looking to the east, five more whales; three of them, over and over, breaching.
Back on the road the barren plain quickly gave way to a eucalyptus forest.I paused at a parking area for my final vegetable feed.At Ceduna there is an agriculture inspection.No fresh produce may be carried into the agricultural area.
The excitement of crossing the Nullarbor was over.
Just as the thought escaped my lips I saw flashing lights on the hill ahead.Closer they came, straddling the centre line.I am finally familiar with the sight.Time to pull over.Something BIG is about to pass.
The pilot car passed.
A few minutes later a police car driving in the right-hand lane.
Still nothing.
Another police/traffic control car in the right-hand lane.
In the distance I heard a diesel engine struggling.
Ready, camera in hand.
Dead battery.
Quickly I changed to the spare.
Standing beside the road peering through the viewfinder I finally saw the OVERSIZE load.A steel structure wider then the road.I clicked the shutter and clicked again.
TWO tractors linked together by a steel beam were straining against their load; a load on 32 axles – over one hundred tyres groaning beneath the steal.
The forest quickly gave way to grain fields.Goldenfields of wheat – except it was withered and sparse.Drought is wreaking havoc on the farmers.With desperation they are looking for water, then giving up hope and try to sell their stations.The cities are inviting.The booming mineral industry luring.The farmer is looking for a greener pasture.
I pushed on past Ceduna staying in Smoky Bay Caravan Park before crossing the Eyre Peninsula then heading back north to Port August.I was hoping to cross Spencer Gulf by ferry but balked at the $144 it would have cost for passage.I changed course, skipped Adelaide, bound for the Grampians.
