Monday, 21 October 2013

CAIGUNA - NORSEMAN (8 OCTOBER 2013)

True to plan, we left Caiguna on the dot.  Before doing so I checked the fuel prices and was more than pleasantly surprised...I was stunned.  They were reasonable (relatively) so we gave the cruiser a good drink.  I cannot but suspect that competition from the Mundrabilla mob may be having some effect (pity it doesn't translate to the booze and food prices).





So it was in good spirits that we farwelled the Caiguna gnomes and headed out for our next adventure, the 'Ninety Mile Straight'.  You might well be thinking "how boring".  Spot on!










Apart from the novelty value of this patch of blacktop, there is little else to be said for it. Annoyingly it is very difficult to find a spot from which to take an indicative photo.  This was the best I could do.






As I had hoped, the winds were fair at this time of the morning and we were sailing along very nicely.  There is precious little in this part of the world to break up an adverse blast so I was more than pleased that the forecast had been correct.  The treasurer was equally delighted.



Our fortune (good planning really) was another's misfortune.  We did feel for this poor chap as he bashed his way eastwards into the headwind.  I have to say, however, if his very cheery wave was any indication, he was not too put out by it all.  This is definitely not our idea of a good time!







The standard roadhouse/motel/caravan park complex at Balladonia awaits those emerging from 'The Straight'.  But before this is reached, the topography changes dramatically.  From the open, sparsely vegetated plains of the Nullarbor, the road plunges into the Great Western Woodlands, or part of it at least. 





I had previously taken scant notice of this other than to observe the change, but on this trip I came across a plaque which provided information about this phenomenon.  The statistics are mind blowing.  This woodland, which is internationally significant, is the largest remaining area of intact Mediterranean climate woodland in the world.  Covering over 16 million hectares (which is about the same area as England) the woodlands, mallee and scrub of this woodland connect the south-west corner of the continent to the inland deserts.   It is home to many threatened and unique species which are to be found nowhere else on the planet.  To provide some perspective, over a fifth of all Australia's native plant species can be found here including 160 different eucalypts.  Most of the woodland stretches across unallocated Crown lands (despite its significance it is not very suited to agricultural development).  Bushfires, pest weeks and animals are putting the area under increasing pressure, and there are significant steps being now taken to properly manage and conserve it.  We later drove through long stretches where the bushfire damage was obvious.




Once into the woodlands, Balladonia soon loomed.  We drove in merely for a recce to tuck away for future reference. The roadhouse and its surrounds were largely as I had remembered, and are consistent with most in this part of the country,








as are the caravan park sites (dry and dusty but at least well shaded).

The advertising blurb rattles on about the wonderful home-style cooking to be had in the restaurant.  Sounded inviting.  Out of interest I checked the menu and prices.  At $36 for two lamb shanks, for example, a visit to the dining room would not be a feature any future stay here. 







Shortly after leaving Balladonia, we came across parts of the woodlands which were showing clear signs of bushfire damage, but as is so often the case with the Australian bush, regeneration was well under way.





We took a pit stop and one of the many roadside rest areas dotted along the highway.  Liz travels with the free camps book on her lap. Each spot we pass is the subject of objective scrutiny and subsequent notes in our book.  We are building a good reference source for any repeat visits along these roads where much more free camping will be a primary objective.




This one was interesting in that it abutted a colourful salt pan, had a dump point and a long drop loo, but its surface, other than on the entrance roadway, was so uneven that we would not have been able to set the van up level without great difficulty.  Scratch one rest area! 








The first sign we had of our approach into Norseman was the appearance of the red hills which are typical in this area.  This and much else of the topography reminded me a great deal of Tennant Creek and, of course, both have gold mining in common.






Norseman is a dying town, about which I'll have more to say later.  But they locals are fighting back.  This was evident as we made our way into the town itself, where the roadside is festooned with advertising signs inviting those on the highway to visit the CBD and make a few purchases. One of the snags they face is the fact that those travelling on to Kalgoorlie do not have to pass through the town itself and particular effort has been made to flaunt what is on offer.  It reminded me of similar efforts made by the inhabitants of Dublin and Lower Light on the Port Wakefield road.

And there is no doubt that the good folk of Norseman, those few remaining that is, including the local authorities, are making valiant efforts to reinvent the town as we shall see later.

But first things first...we need to drop anchor at our chosen park.  That's a spot of literary licence really...there is only one caravan park in Norseman which we approached with gratitude for the fact that another day's travel was almost behind us.  As I had expected from the forecast, the last 100 kms or so had been into a stiffening cross wind and the fuel gauge was telling the story.







Down the entrance roadway we went,














and past the office area 











to our allotted site, where we can be seen here through the trees to the right of the Avan. All in all this was a reasonable park and one we would be happy to revisit.






But for now it was set up, get tea organised and settle down with a quiet and well earned drink. Max decided he too had had quite enough for one day.  Don't bother to pour me one, thanks.



We decided to make Norseman a two night stop-over.  Tomorrow we set off to discover what the town has to offer. 


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