Day 62: 30 July – Gas plants and sheep stations

Author: Mr A

From: 40 Mile Beach

To: Giralia Station (Exmouth Gulf)

Distance driven: 385 km

Distance hiked: 5.6 km

We had to tear ourselves away from our cliff top view this morning, and the first job of the day was a visit to the gas plant up the road. ‘Why?’…you might well legitimately ask. Well it was the only place listed on Wiki Camps where you could get water for hundreds of kilometres. So we joined a queue of other water-poor vanners and waited our turn, in the interim picking the brains of the other grey nomads about where to camp heading south. Catherine didn’t reach for her camera. We donated a few dollars to the Royal Flying Doctors as a payment.

Ms Google’s instructions for the day; ‘Turn right in 335 kilometres’. A short stop for lunch then another spell behind the wheel and we were soon turning off the bitumen onto the dirt road leading to our home for the next two nights…a 700,000 acre property that used to be a Marino sheep station. Its current business status is uncertain. 

Off we marched for our late afternoon exploration down a walk called the ‘kangaroo trail’. A couple of big reds obliged us with their presence, their fur glowing in the setting sun. We sat on a seat and I pondered with Mrs A about all the decisions, risks and luck, that had brought us to this place, this moment in time. 

Back to the mobile apartment and we joined a group of our fellow travellers round a campfire. It was a lovely atmosphere, listening to all these people (some even older than me, yes) laugh and tell their stories about life on the road. A Polish couple in their late 60’s were a hoot, sipping away at their home made bourbon, bringing a shot glass over for me to try. Suddenly up the guy jumps and starts telling a very risqué joke to the whole crowd. Brilliant…a moment to file away and smile about. 

We crept away when food pangs overtook us and Mrs A is rustling up a chicken saté. I know many of you are saying to yourselves  ‘Doesn’t he ever cook?’ And no, I don’t do dinner or lunch. I’m let lose on a BBQ brekky but that’s it. My role is sole driver and  executer of tall and dirty jobs (e.g. porta potty emptying – enough said). 

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