The first stop heading North from Perth was a little town called Cervantes, the nearest place to Nambung National Park, home to the famous 'Pinnacles'. The Pinnacles are loads of limestone columns on a sandy plain, which were originally formed underground and have gradually become exposed by the elements.
We arrived at sunrise and walked the 3km track as the morning light cast long shadows across the sand. There were very few people around and it felt a bit like walking on the terrain of some new planet.
After that we headed up to Geraldton, a town of little note, except for yet another lovely beach. We did treat ourselves to some fish and chips and a film, though, and were quite amused to be only two of four people in the whole cinema on a Thursday night.
The next stretch of road was where it all got a bit hairy. We'd been driving for a couple of hours, when suddenly all the lights on the dashboard came on simultaneously. Not too sure what this meant, we pulled over to the side of the road to decide what to do. Unfortunately mobile reception just doesn't happen on those long empty roads and we were miles away from any town. We tried to stop the one passerby that came in a space of about half an hour, but they just drove on.
Crossing our fingers, we chose to carry on to the next roadhouse, as the van would start at this stage. Much farther than it appeared on the map, we finally pulled in, stopped, drove onto the petrol forecourt...and couldn't start the engine again. Coincidentally, another smaller van with two German girls driving in the opposite direction pulled in a few minutes after us describing the same problem!
After phoning our '24 hour roadside assistance' who were unable to provide any assistance as we were in the middle of nowhere (helpful), the roadhouse owner kindly gave both us and the other girls a battery charge which seemed to do the trick in getting the van started. The lights were all still on, but we needed to get moving so headed off up the next 200km of road to the next town.
We knew at this stage that Ben had to keep driving without stopping or we may never start the van again. Some other drivers were broken down by the side of the road and, even though we were probably the first vehicle to pass for ages, this time we had to be the ones to fly on by without stopping.
Then the clock on the radio went dead, shortly followed by the speedometer, which dropped to 0km/hr. Ben had to have the accelerator permanently to the floor as the van was strating to pull backwards heavily. We were still a long way from our destination, Carnarvon, and it was nearing sunset, so we just had to power on. By this point I was gripping the dashboard muttering 'please, please...'
Magically we reached the turning for the town and Ben did his best to take the sharp corner without slowing too much. By some miracle, we made it to a residential street before the engine died again. At least now we were in relative civilisation and an RAC man came and told us our alternator was gone and gave us a battery boost to get us to a caravan park.
Carnarvon is a hot, humid small town with a problem of drunken violence and a whole lot of nasty insects flying around, so we weren't too thrilled when it looked like we might be grounded there until Monday (we arrived Friday night). However, after a few phonecalls in the morning a knight in shining ute showed up. A local mechanic who fitted all the stereotypes of the typical Aussie bloke drove up, took away our alternator and came back with it fixed half an hour later.
We were greatly relieved to be back on the road and headed off North again, hoping the van would behave itself for the rest of the trip.
