Category: Western Australia

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Day 68: 5 August – The Ningaloo Coast – paradise regained

Author: Mr A

From: Exmouth Caravan Park

To: Mesa Camp, Cape Range National Park

Distance: 60 km

The day started as all good days should with a sausage roll for her (now, now) and a pie for me. The bakery in Exmouth is superb – I even tucked away a custard tart in the bottom of the bag for later. We were off round the tip of the Cape into the National Park. The water tanks were full, the fridge was straining at the seams, and we only were able to book one night here! Damm and blast. We rocked up to find the best campsite we have been to in all of this trip. A little slice of paradise. Right next to the beach, sea views, a bit of shade, a corner spot. Just perfect! 


We set up quickly, then dashed off down the coast to the end of the road where we wanted to paddle this little creek that we had read about. Out come the “bumper boats”, inflated in a jiffy, and off we dash up the creek (with a paddle). Yardie Gorge is a tranquil little creek with sheer rock walls, ospreys soared overhead and fish were darting around under the rafts. We had heard a rumour that the naval base nearby used to hide its submarines there in the war. No periscopes appeared on our trip, and we were soon back at the boat ramp, deflated and on our way. We were on a bit of a mission given our limited time here.


We stopped at a couple of the bays on the way back, and threw ourselves in at Turquoiuse Bay for a snorkel (guess what colour the water looks), sat on the beach and watched the surf pounding on the edge of the lagoon a few hundred metres out.



Back at camp we climbed the dune behind the van and Mrs A, also know as the dolphin whistler, soon had a small pod of them fishing literally metres off the beach. We watched the sun set, again, I predicted what would happen, the whole going down thing and the red bit, and it did. 

It was time to retire to the van, a spag bol was the perfect end to this fab day. 

PS I better mention that I didn’t do up the drain plug on one of the tanks properly, so we have a 100 litres less of water than planned. Ah well…still learning the art of vanning. 

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Day 67: 4 August – Diving the Navy Pier…with sharks

Author: Mrs A

Dives undertaken: 2 plus 1 in a swimming pool

Water temperature: 21.5 degrees C (brrr)

Wetsuits worn: 2.5

Mr A and I went out separate ways for the day as I had booked a couple of dives on the Royal Australian Navy Pier, considered one of the top 10 dive sites in Australia. I haven’t dived in a few years, so I was picked up shortly after 8am to do a refresher dive in a swimming pool, remembering how to remove and replace my mask, weight belt and BCD and tank underwater, and how to do an equipment and buddy check.

I had a brief 40 minute break in between that and being collected again, where I quickly ate breakfast and collected some extra layers.

11am the bus returned to collect me plus a few others to do the dive proper. In total there were 15 people doing the two dives and we were paired up with a buddy with similar experience. I got paired with a very tall bearded Simon from Denmark, who had learned to dive in Danish waters, no warmer than 2 degrees!

There was a lot of briefing involved in order to prepare us for this dive. It is located on active Naval land so we had to hand fill out a form with our name, address and date of birth, ensuring it accurately matched our photo ID. It took the 15 of us three turns to fill in this form with no errors! We then had to drive to the Naval base for the key to the pier, and line up at the side of the road while a man in a bullet proof vest with a gun checked us off against the form. Once on Navy land, there was a no photography rule until we reached the pier…not that there was really anything to photograph…

As we arrived at the pier we were immediately entertained by three humpback whales swimming past, just 50 metres off shore – just magical, and a sign of things to come. We we-suited up and climbed carefully down two flights of metal steps (not soft underfoot when you are carrying a heavy tank on your back!) to the platform. 

The jump into the water from the platform is about 3 metres, and it looks much further. It’s important to keep a hold of your weight belt and mask to ensure they don’t get lost on the jump down. I took a big stride off the pier and I was in. They then lowered all the cameras down to us via a hook. There were a lot of cameras – almost every diver had one, and I watched with dismay as mine was accidentally unhooked and sank down to the bottom of the ocean! Oh no!

We descended down the line to almost 12 metres below the surface and began our exploration. The sea life was incredible, just like I would imagine swimming in an aquarium. Every surface of the pier’s structure is covered in sponges, corals and fish of every colour and shape imaginable, huge shoals of fish visible everywhere – above, below and beside you as you fly gently through the water.


The sounds are of clicking and crunching shells, as we see fish attacking clams for the sweet meat inside. All this time, however, I was also anxious for my camera, which we hadn’t seen once on the ocean bed. Before long, it was time to ascend for our shore break, and another workout as we carried our heavy tanks up a ladder out of the water, and back up the two flights to the top.

We had a cup of hot soup, connected our breathing devices to a new full oxygen tank, and got ready for dive two. I was handed my camera, to much relief, by another dive guide who had found it and carried it around with her during the first dive. I decided to not put it on the hook this time, and attached it firmly to my wrist and again stepped off the pier. This time I lost both my fins! I watched in dismay as they both sank to the bottom of the ocean. Swimming with no fins is not fun at all! Fortunately a replacement pair were found for me, and again we descended.

This time the dive was even better than the first. We explored much further, seeing groupers, a grey nurse shark, a white tipped reef shark, moray eel, octopus, lion fish, flat worms (sound uninteresting but are stunning)…the list was endless.


A brilliant dive site, mishaps aside, and much fun had by all. We ascended for our final time and packed away our gear. Out came a cry ‘Manta ray!’ And another, and we all rushed to see at least seven huge mantas swimming just below the pier. They were huge beautiful fish, swimming on the surface like giant black rippling birds. Just incredible.


It was impossible to capture the mantas on camera as it was into the sun, but believe me, it was wonderful.

I returned on a high to camp to find Mr A on the phone to the bank trying to organise new cards. This is how his whole day had transpired, after realising he had lost his wallet on yesterday’s boat trip – farewell Medicare card, drivers licence, the lot – probably also at the bottom of the ocean somewhere. A far less enjoyable day for Mr A.

We ended on a positive, however, enjoying a delicious meal out at a local restaurant; Whalers. Crocodile wontons and a smokey grilled kangaroo loin for me, soft shell crab tacos and a reef and beef for Mr A, thank you very much – delicious!

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Day 66: 3 August – Whale Sharks!!!

Author: Mr A

From: Exmouth Cape Caravan Park

To: Somewhere out beyond Ningaloo in the big blue

Distance: Quite a few bumpy kms in a boat

Well the day dawned when we would find out if whale sharks would grace us with their majestic presence in the UNESCO World Heritage area of the Ningaloo Coast. We were shipped out by mini bus to transfer to a little ferry and then onto our home for the day – a quite lovely cataraman. 

It was pretty nippy first thing (17 degrees) with a wind chill out on the water from a fresh breeze, and climbing into wet suits was done with some tripidation. We had a very good briefing on the code of conduct for whale shark snorkelling  – basically don’t get in its way – they will tend to dive and we’ll lose them. 

For those of you unfamiliar with this stunningly graceful fish (yes  – not mammal) they are called a ‘whale’ shark becuase of their size, growing up to 18 metres, and commonly seen around 6 to 8 metres here. A local doctor in Exmouth first noticed them hanging around in the 1980s and the book he wrote about his observations of them was the stimulus for the tourist industry that has now grown up around them. The coral here spawns stuff that the krill they feed on likes…and by the way it’s not a bad place to hang out if you’re dining for free. Turquoise waters, the longest fringing reef in the world, and lots of grey nomads to show off to. 

So in the water we went for a ‘Lets make sure you can snorkel’ session, inside the reef. I managed to remember which way up the mask goes, Catherine on the other hand was provided with a leaky snorkel (more like a straw than something you can breathe through!). So after a bit of equipment juggling we were sorted and ready to hit the open ocean. 

We all sat around shivering (except the really overweight people – very politically incorrect I know) and watching humpback whales splashing their tails in the water, until the spotter plane flying circles overhead (I know – pretty cool ay) finally located a grey shadow under the water. Full throttle, we were soon off racing over the waves, stomachs lagging a little behind, then pulled up ready for the “Go, go, go” signal! Mrs A, looking fetching as ever, I must say, in rubber, was slightly ahead of me I think (well I did land on something soft before hitting the water), and we were in hot pursuit.

Now what the whale shark was thinking at this point I can only imagine…’Bloody hell, here they come’ is my best guess. But we had strict instructions to keep at least 3 metres off its flippery bits (anatomical terms here you know). This particular whale shark had obviously had its fill of being gawked at and promptly set off the ‘Dive, dive, dive’ bell after about 10 seconds (potentially encouraged by the annoying bloke holding the Go-Pro in its face – not me!).


Ah well, back we went to the boat. Now came the tricky bit…..getting back on the bit at the back which was rising and falling like the Venezuelan bolívar. Catherine of course sprang up like the sprightly young thing that she is….let’s just say that my exit was….different. 

More hanging around and shivering…then…we’re off again..another…hopefully more obliging beast has been spotted. In we go, and…yes…this whale shark clearly was seeking fame and glory on Facebook. He (determined by a crew member who swam underneath it with a camera) just ambled along just under the surface of the water, cruising at the perfect speed for us to kick like crazy and keep up.


What a stunning sight. They are so beautifully marked with spots, each one sporting a uniquely identifiable cluster of markings. I think he winked at Catherine. All too quickly it was time to get back on the boat. Catherine again springs up likes she’s got a submersible pogo stick. I…well I…I get onto the deck, put it like that. You know you these terrible clips of whales getting beached. Well..something like that. 

More shivering…I had mixed feelings about how good I wanted the spotter’s eyesight to be…but we got the signal “Tallyho!”. In the water I sprinted ahead, feet thrashing (I’m surprised there wasn’t a tsunami alert issued), and get right alongside this chappie. The swim seemed to go on for ages..I spotted Catherine kicking like a mad thing (a very elegant mad thing of course), and then we were together with this magnificent creature. 


A great experience, and delivered very sensitively (I think) to not encroach on the whale shark’s personal space. Another dream convereted to a memory. Just wish our friends Jenny and David could have got lucky when they did it. There are no guarantees when it comes to wild creatures. 

So we’re off for fish and chips to celebrate (is the fish bit wrong?)… It wont be a late one tonight! 

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Day 65: 2 August – Exploring Cape Range National Park

Author: Mrs A

Distance hiked: 8 km

Distance cycled: 8.5 km

After a morning of housekeeping (doing the laundry and making use of the free wifi to download some more Netflix) we headed off in the car 20 minutes south of Exmouth (hereby nicknamed Exy – i.e. expensive) and into the Cape Range National Park, driving up into the range itself. The wind had finally dropped, making for a much more pleasant morning.

We’d read about the Badjirrajirra walk online, with people raving about how stunning it is, a circuit leading to a lookout over a ‘mini Grand Canyon’…we had high hopes. I think we have been truly spoiled by the Blue Mountains and the incredible hikes around where we live, as, while I don’t deny it was a pleasant walk, it wouldn’t make my top 100.

High up on the range, it started at a lookout and lead off along the top of the range, through a largely barren, rocky, spinifex filled landscape. There were no flowers, extremely few birds (we saw two in nearly 3 hours!) and the national park authority had offered no information to educate us on the landscape. After about 90 minutes we reached a lovely unofficial lookout where we stopped and enjoyed a cup of tea and an apple, marvelling at the view. It was just as well we stopped there, as the official lookout was closed due to risk of sinkholes.


Given there was no information provided, a quick Google on our return educated us. We learned that here we were looking out onto Shothole Canyon – apparently named in the 1950s after the shot holes left in the canyon walls after explosive charges were let off in the search for oil. Nice!

We returned to Exmouth and decided to finally see the coastline, jumping on our bikes for an explore. Exmouth was on form as we headed down a road that looked like it headed right to a beach – surprise surprise, all the beach access points were shut due to someone burying asbestos in the area!


Instead we continued on and explored a new development, some extremely large houses, most of which enjoy water access and private moorings. It was rather interesting. Mr A later found out that many are owned by people in mining, some local business people made good, and mostly they are for holiday rental.


We returned to camp for hot showers and dinner. Not too bad a day! Off on a boat trip in the morning…lets hope the wind keeps calm and the whale sharks are cooperative!

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Day 64: 1 August – Exmouth welcomes us…in that special way that tourist traps do

Author: Mr A

From: Giralia Station

To: Exmouth

Distance: 110 km


If you are not into reading a whinge you might want to skip this post. I shan’t be offended! No pretty pictures today. 

The day started OK, with a quick motor up Exmouth Cape, home of the world famous Ningaloo Reef. We arrived in the flat, drab, town to be greeted by howling winds and dust storms,  not quite what the picture postcard shots had conjured up. 

We checked in, power was out, when it finally came back on at lunch we tried our washing machine again, to find that has remained broken…we had hoped a little respite while we were off power would have restored its inclination to provide service…alas not.

All thoughts of wading into the beautiful lagoon and exploring the coral that sits just off the beach were dashed as the gale force winds continued to scream around us. So it was the next job on the list. We headed over the road to collect some parts sent by Zone to a local caravan repairer. 

Over 4 weeks ago we had sent them an email confirming our arrival date in Exmouth, and another one following this up. Then made a phone call in which we were told “we will fit you in” by a very arrogant woman who gave the impression she was doing us a big favour to let us spend money with her. A week ago we received a mail from her letting us know the parts had arrived from Zone and “When were we arriving?”. Dur. She then said they had a big job on and they couldn’t do the work – but could do it the week after, maybe. I told her that didn’t work for us. She told me I was “so rude” – I ended the call rather confused about what exactly was rude about what had transpired. So we picked up the parts that were left on a pile on the floor by her husband and told to leave the premises

So what lessons did we learn from this experience? A lack of competition that you often find in these isolated tourist spots breeds a very “special” kind of behaviour to customers. There are no caravan repairers for over 3,000 kms if you you are heading north in your van (as we had found out the hard way). South its 834 km until you next find someone who might take your money if they have time and you really grovel. Having mainly lived and worked in places where there is stiff competition for every business, I find it hard to plead with someone who has screwed up our booking, offers no explanation (let alone an apology) and pay them money. The thing is this business is clearly doing really well (nice new premises and workshop), because people have no choice. Incidentally the Chariman of the Council of Exmouth was removed from office for “unethical behaviour” (offering untendered work to tourist based companies).  Again the customer will be unlikely to benefit from this practice. As we found out when Catherine booked two dives on the Navy Pier for her, and a trip for each of us out on a boat when we might see and swim with whale sharks…a thousand dollars thank you very much. 

We tried to put a positive spin on the day and go out for dinner. We had some very ordinary food, two small entrees (a basket of chips and 3 small chunks of lamb in a pumpkin hummus), an entree sized main (3 little fish tacos), two small beers and a glass of wine, left hungry and were removed of nearly $100! 

We compare this to our experience in France, where we visited the top tourist sites, and almost always got fantastic service and value. Why the difference? It wasn’t that these restaurants were particularly busy either. I’m left wondering. I just don’t trust its the transport costs that changes the pricing. When bottles of water can be shipped across the world for next to nothing why does it suddenly triple the price to ship it another few hundred kilometres? Value based pricing. Apparently it’s worth what you can get the customer to pay based on their access to other options? We are making good use of the ‘post restante” service at Australia Post offices. Buy something at the city price and its shipped free. 

Ah just remembered, something fun did happen, an emu came to say hello at our campsite! 

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Day 63: 31 July – Bikes, birds and beaches

Author: Mrs A

Location: Giralia Station (Exmouth Gulf)

Distance cycled: 17 km


We started the day with a mountain bike ride, heading off down several 4WD trails into the property. We cycled until the sand got too deep to pedal, then left our bikes and walked up into the red sand dunes, covered in beautiful wildflowers and a multitude of tracks from the action last night. It was a stunning location, so peaceful we could hear little more than the flutter of wings and the twitter of birds.


On our return we visited the homestead to learn more about where we were staying. Giralia Station had remained (at least partially) in the same family since the 1920s, only being relinquished in 2005 when the Western Australia Department of Conservation & Land Management purchased the land, recognising it as a site of special interest. It has several kilometres of coastline as well as much land which is gradually returning to its natural state since the removal of cattle and sheep.

Our explorations would suggest there are still camels wandering around here somewhere, with evidence of footprints on the dunes, as well as feral cats, having spotted small paw prints in the sand also. 

We decided to drive out to the coast, which felt desolately beautiful with the tide out and beach overtaken by soldier crabs hunting for a feed on the mud flats. We also felt cool (it was only 23 degrees C) for the first time during the day for ages – we almost needed long sleeves…almost…we must be heading south!


We decided to head out for a final bike ride before dinner, to try and spot the cockatiels and budgerigars we had seen flying past last night. Unfortunately it was a fated ride as an evil twig lashed out and attacked Mr A, catching him across the nose and cheek. He now looks like he has been in a fight…I meanwhile was fighting back the giggles as I tried to be sympathetic to his pain and embarrassment…I think he’ll be ok though (brave soldier!)…

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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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Day 61: 29 July – 4.5 miles of 40-Mile Beach

Author: Mrs A

Location: 40 Mile Beach

Distance hiked: 7 km

It was a somewhat disturbed night as the wind got up and flapped our awning around – we had to get up at 2.30am to put it away – along with several other neighbours. We had a bit of a sleep in as a result, not waking until around 8.30am – bliss! It was an unusual start to the day, there were these white things in the sky…c…c…clouds I think they are called. We have not seen any of those since about mid May! They didn't hang around for long.

We packed up a lunch and our swimmers and decided to explore the beach.


We barely saw another person all day – a couple of guys fishing near the camp area, and then a lady on a stand up paddle board coming from a boat moored at the other end of the bay, otherwise just us. We stopped after 3.5 km, where there were no other footprints and jumped into the ocean for a swim – just heavenly.

We were entertained by a pair of White Breasted Sea Eagles on our walk back for hot showers and cold drinks.

The clouds returned just in time for sunset, making for a fabulous display and a fitting end to the day – nature's fireworks. We've really enjoyed our time at Gnoorea Point, but it is time to move on tomorrow, heading a couple of hundred km south to a former 700,000 acre sheep station…should be interesting!

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Day 60: 25 July – Southward bound

Author: Mr A

From: Port Samson

To: 40 Mile Beach – Gnoorea Point, south of Karratha

Distance: 111 km

It was goodbye Port Samson, and hello the Great Northern Highway south, via Karratha to get a very reluctant tyre to part from the rim of my bike. Another replenishment of essential supplies at Beer Wine and Spirits, oh and some food, and off we go.


Early afternoon saw us turning off the highway onto a gravel road that Wiki Camps reliably informed us would take us to a ‘4 out of 5′ campsite. We came over the last hill and saw around 50 vans all lined up by the beach. Yup….’You’re never alone in WA!’. We found a patch to call our own and set down for lunch admiring the fabulous view out over the ocean one way, and over the hills in the other . Its actually one of the best spots, with a view of more than the van’s washing line to feast our eyes on. 

We wandered along the mangrove lined beach, and spotted quite a few feathered friends showing off their acrobatic skills. 


Along the foreshore we could see lots of vans tucked behind the dunes. Now, some of these people will be here for months at a time, with no running water….bet they don’t change their sheets once a week! Not our cup of tea…going feral for us means we cant find the wine aerator! 

Retuning to the Zone it was time for  Aperol cocktails and a chat with the neighbours. The guy turns out to be a caravan repairer from down the coast, built his own van…I pick his brains for a bit. His industry, by his own admission, has some shonky operators. There just doesn’t seem to be enough repairers to introduce some healthy competition and get standards up. 


A usual one minute we are basking in the 30 degree late afternoon sun, and a nanosecond later the sun slides off and the temperature dial drops 15 degrees in as many minutes and all the banter around the tables full of grey nomads sharing a glass and a tale suddenly empty. We all scurry back into our burrows and will emerge blinking in the sun of another perfect blue sky tomorrow. 

Tonight is curry night – ‘Well that’s not unusual’ I hear you say – and it’s not – we like a ruby and a red – no doubt about it 🙂

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Day 58: 27 July – Goodbye red dust, hello oh so blue ocean!

Author: Mr A

From: Millstream-Chichester NP

To: Port Samson 

Distance: 171 km



It was time to say a fond goodbye to our spot by the very picturesque forest of Millstream and head to the coast. Not a bad drive, some corrugations, but livened up by the multi-coloured shrubs now lining the road. 

We made a short detour via Karratha to purchase some new camp boots. I love these pull on, leather, ankle length work boots for knocking around the dusty sites. Keeps at bay the bull ants, snakes, prickly spinnifex and everything else that’s out to get you in our wonderful bush. 

Port Samson is the only non-industrialised settlement we could see on this “WA Inc” coast of the Pilbara. It’s a very “functional” campground (i.e. No effort made whatsoever so pretty it up), concrete slabs for the van and a view of your neighbour’s washing out-so-close-you-need-to-duck when the wind blows. 


An afternoon of cleaning car, van, clothes and ourselves was long overdue after a couple of weeks in the red dirt. I’d woken up again before dawn, so it wasn’t a big night. Madam made a cracking spag bol, just the ticket, the remnants of the Bin 8 and that was it for me…done. 

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