A delightful couple we met last year at Kurrimine Beach had waxed lyrical about the joys of a stay at Quobba Station, a working grazing property which borders the coast some 70 kms north of Carnarvon.
I had taken a trawl through the relevant website offering, and remained unconvinced. There was only one way to find out....to go and have a look.....an easy return day trip from Carnarvon. Thank goodness we did. As you will see, neither Quobba Point beach camp nor Quobba Station itself presented what we would call an inviting destination, but in all fairness I must add that is a highly personal opinion based, in no small way, on my aversion to dust.
The road from Carnarvon to Quobba Point took us through the real outback country which is typical of this area where large tracts of sparse low scrub
are dotted with bleak, desolate salt pans
and large areas of bare, shallow lake beds. This is not the stuff of picture postcards although it does have some rugged appeal.
After half an hour or so the sand hills of the coast loomed before us
and in short order we were approaching the much vaunted Quobba Point beach front camping area where the first sight to greet us was of these vans jammed in together as if huddled against the cold and blustery south-easterly wind which did nothing to improve the general ambiance of the area on the day of our visit.
This is a real beach camp where the local authorities have obviously not yet caught up with that ridiculous Australia wide trend of ordering the removal of those good old fashioned beach shacks which provided so much enjoyment for so many in decades past in SA.
At Quobba Point there are as many shacks as vans and they come in all shapes and sizes. When looking at this wonderful conglomeration of galvanised iron clutter I could not help but wonder if the name given to these oddities of the Australia beach and river scene may be a derivation of the word 'ramshackle'.
The Quobba Point road runs parallel to the beach, and as can be seen here, the water is never far away.
This is clearly a real attraction for many who make this place their home for up to the designated limit of a month, and individual camps can be found tucked up into the low sand hills all along the length of this road. Fishing is the draw card. Good catches can be had all along this coast from both boat and shore, as we shall see later.
Even the local volunteer sea rescue group, which I have to say was the last thing I expected to find here, was head-quartered in a style consistent with the neighbours. The very existence of this group here is testament to the popularity of Quobba Point. (or is this but an elaborate ruse to 'get away with the boys'?)
And here, looking back over the beach front from the nearby blowhole area, there can be no doubting the fact that it is picturesque, and in good weather, offers not only excellent fishing, but good, safe swimming and snorkelling, or for those less active, a great spot to just loll about the beach (you may just be able to spy some of the vans....the whitish mass mid shot amongst the green of the sand hills scrub)
Despite some of the obvious attractions of this spot, it held little appeal for us. Apart from the fact that, like so many of these places (as we are discovering), the available sites are not suited to large vans, water (or rather the lack of it) presents a constant challenge. The one hundred and eighty litres we can carry does not go terribly far when it is in constant use, even if personal hygiene is restricted to a daily 'top and tail'. The other point I would make here is that the weather can be critical to the full enjoyment of camps such as this.
As it was, on the day of our visit, despite the sunshine, a strong, cold south-easterly was making camp life a misery for all at Quobba Point. The locals were hunkered down in hoodies and jackets, canvas was flapping wildly, the sand and fine limestone dust was blowing everywhere, and there was a general air of resigned despondency throughout. Frankly, for Liz and me, life is too short and there is far too much to be seen around this great country of ours on the 'blacktop' for us to feel the need to head bush and rough it without a very good reason to do so.
After our recce of the campsite we drove north past the ever watchful eye of the Quobba Point lighthouse to the area known as The Blowholes.
Here the sandy beach is replaced by a flat, rock shelf, which ends at the water's edge in the form of cliffs of varying heights
as can be seen here in this shot I filched from the Internet.
In many places the surface of this rocky shelf is gnarled and rough and care is required when walking across it.
In fact, 'care' is the watchword of this area where the ocean can, without warning or precedent, throw up killer king waves to engulf the unwary. Signs like this are here for a reason, and, as we soon discovered, this warning message has been ignored in the past with dire consequences.
The waters here are crystal clear, and as we looked across the channel between the shore and a small island off the end of the Quobba beach, the appeal of this area for those who swim, snorkel or fish was obvious.
But why 'The Blowholes'? On the day of our visit this was not apparent, but when the Indian Ocean swells reach a certain size, the answer is self-evident (as is demonstrated here in another 'borrowed' shot) when the fissures and caves of the cliff face force the waters of the incoming waves skywards in geyser like gouts of seaspray.
As with many things in nature, the spectacular can be dangerous. Apart from the large warning sign we had seen, we came across this memorial plaque set on the rock face, a reminder to all
of the potentially tragic consequences which can be the outcome of treating the sea here with disdain. And this was the first of several we found along this coast.
On a day such as that of our visit, when the sea was relatively benign, it is understandable that many have difficulty in accepting that this can change quickly. Hopefully this (again borrowed) photo of two hardy (foolhardy?) fishing adventurers provides a different perspective.
And they do come here to fish, in their dozens, not only to Quobba Point and Quobba Station for lengthy periods, but as day trippers from Carnarvon and beyond. I soon discovered there is a very good reason for this.....bloody big fish, hooked using a technique I had read about but never before seen....ballooning.
As we drove further north along the coastal road towards Quobba Station, we soon came across a group of 4W drive vehicles parked some distance back from the edge of the cliffs. There had to be a reason for this. There was....their owners were fishing off the cliff edge.
The road from Carnarvon to Quobba Point took us through the real outback country which is typical of this area where large tracts of sparse low scrub
are dotted with bleak, desolate salt pans
and large areas of bare, shallow lake beds. This is not the stuff of picture postcards although it does have some rugged appeal.
After half an hour or so the sand hills of the coast loomed before us
and in short order we were approaching the much vaunted Quobba Point beach front camping area where the first sight to greet us was of these vans jammed in together as if huddled against the cold and blustery south-easterly wind which did nothing to improve the general ambiance of the area on the day of our visit.
This is a real beach camp where the local authorities have obviously not yet caught up with that ridiculous Australia wide trend of ordering the removal of those good old fashioned beach shacks which provided so much enjoyment for so many in decades past in SA.
At Quobba Point there are as many shacks as vans and they come in all shapes and sizes. When looking at this wonderful conglomeration of galvanised iron clutter I could not help but wonder if the name given to these oddities of the Australia beach and river scene may be a derivation of the word 'ramshackle'.
The Quobba Point road runs parallel to the beach, and as can be seen here, the water is never far away.
This is clearly a real attraction for many who make this place their home for up to the designated limit of a month, and individual camps can be found tucked up into the low sand hills all along the length of this road. Fishing is the draw card. Good catches can be had all along this coast from both boat and shore, as we shall see later.
Even the local volunteer sea rescue group, which I have to say was the last thing I expected to find here, was head-quartered in a style consistent with the neighbours. The very existence of this group here is testament to the popularity of Quobba Point. (or is this but an elaborate ruse to 'get away with the boys'?)
And here, looking back over the beach front from the nearby blowhole area, there can be no doubting the fact that it is picturesque, and in good weather, offers not only excellent fishing, but good, safe swimming and snorkelling, or for those less active, a great spot to just loll about the beach (you may just be able to spy some of the vans....the whitish mass mid shot amongst the green of the sand hills scrub)
Despite some of the obvious attractions of this spot, it held little appeal for us. Apart from the fact that, like so many of these places (as we are discovering), the available sites are not suited to large vans, water (or rather the lack of it) presents a constant challenge. The one hundred and eighty litres we can carry does not go terribly far when it is in constant use, even if personal hygiene is restricted to a daily 'top and tail'. The other point I would make here is that the weather can be critical to the full enjoyment of camps such as this.
As it was, on the day of our visit, despite the sunshine, a strong, cold south-easterly was making camp life a misery for all at Quobba Point. The locals were hunkered down in hoodies and jackets, canvas was flapping wildly, the sand and fine limestone dust was blowing everywhere, and there was a general air of resigned despondency throughout. Frankly, for Liz and me, life is too short and there is far too much to be seen around this great country of ours on the 'blacktop' for us to feel the need to head bush and rough it without a very good reason to do so.
After our recce of the campsite we drove north past the ever watchful eye of the Quobba Point lighthouse to the area known as The Blowholes.
Here the sandy beach is replaced by a flat, rock shelf, which ends at the water's edge in the form of cliffs of varying heights
as can be seen here in this shot I filched from the Internet.
In many places the surface of this rocky shelf is gnarled and rough and care is required when walking across it.
In fact, 'care' is the watchword of this area where the ocean can, without warning or precedent, throw up killer king waves to engulf the unwary. Signs like this are here for a reason, and, as we soon discovered, this warning message has been ignored in the past with dire consequences.
The waters here are crystal clear, and as we looked across the channel between the shore and a small island off the end of the Quobba beach, the appeal of this area for those who swim, snorkel or fish was obvious.
But why 'The Blowholes'? On the day of our visit this was not apparent, but when the Indian Ocean swells reach a certain size, the answer is self-evident (as is demonstrated here in another 'borrowed' shot) when the fissures and caves of the cliff face force the waters of the incoming waves skywards in geyser like gouts of seaspray.
As with many things in nature, the spectacular can be dangerous. Apart from the large warning sign we had seen, we came across this memorial plaque set on the rock face, a reminder to all
of the potentially tragic consequences which can be the outcome of treating the sea here with disdain. And this was the first of several we found along this coast.
On a day such as that of our visit, when the sea was relatively benign, it is understandable that many have difficulty in accepting that this can change quickly. Hopefully this (again borrowed) photo of two hardy (foolhardy?) fishing adventurers provides a different perspective.
And they do come here to fish, in their dozens, not only to Quobba Point and Quobba Station for lengthy periods, but as day trippers from Carnarvon and beyond. I soon discovered there is a very good reason for this.....bloody big fish, hooked using a technique I had read about but never before seen....ballooning.
As we drove further north along the coastal road towards Quobba Station, we soon came across a group of 4W drive vehicles parked some distance back from the edge of the cliffs. There had to be a reason for this. There was....their owners were fishing off the cliff edge.
One had a strike just as we arrived, and if you look very closely at this photo, you will see a red
'blob' over the water about half way between the cliffs and the horizon at the left of the shot....a balloon.
And if more proof were needed of the opportunistic attacks on the hooked fish by the cruising predators, I invite you to look closely at the tails, or more to the point, the lack of them, on two of these three recently caught fish (two Spanish mackerel and a tuna).
So just how does this balloon fishing actually work? Without going into too much detail, the large, whole fish baits which are secured to three ganged hooks are literally floated out to sea by an attached helium filled balloon which suspends the bait in such a manner it skips across the surface like a live bait fish. Just the thing a prowling hungry mackerel or tuna is after.
After rebaiting, our 'shark attack victim' was soon back in action, his red balloon hoisting his 'mulie' well out to sea. It was fascinating to see balloons dotted all along this cliff face and to listen to the banter between all the fishermen, most of whom I suspect feel they belong to a pretty exclusive club.
And then there is the other club....that to which membership is not sought and once gained, is permanent.
And then there is the other club....that to which membership is not sought and once gained, is permanent.
This particular memorial plaque had a connection with home....what a very sad end to a young life and a fishing odyssey.
Next on the agenda was a quick stop at the local memorial to HMAS Sydney, erected here quite some time ago, well before her wreck was discovered, by members of the Carnarvon RSL. Access to the cairn is gained by walking along a track from the car park to the cliff top,
Compared to that which now proudly overlooks Geraldton, this Quobba memorial is a modest tribute, but I was impressed by the fact that something had been done, and, as I now know, by a group numbering very few.
Beyond the memorial we finally reached Quobba Station, the second camping ground and van park in this area. Would this be more inviting to us than Quobba Point? We were not encouraged by the entrance roadway. This was looking decidedly bleak and dusty.
And so it was. This is clearly a spot designed to accommodate those who are more interested in location than amenity.
Folk who make this their temporary home clearly come here to fish.
and they are well catered for with fish cleaning facilities if nothing else.
To be fair, the ablution block here at Quobba Station is new and very well maintained
and there is an on site shop...somewhere in here...
ah, there it is! This is indeed rustic.
Quobba Station does not pretend to be anything other than what it is, a camp ground on a working station. It was a little disappointing from my perspective (and by now I certainly should know better) to compare the reality with the website. With my wonderful affinity for dust, I remain particularly grateful we did not haul out here 'on spec'. but having said that, both Quobba Point and Quobba Station are camp sites which would be more than acceptable to those who are in for a 'bit of roughing it'....that number just does not include us these days.
After browsing through the internet i came across your story. looking through the photos i noticed a few familiar ones. This day by far ws our best fishing day at quobba station. lucky for us more fish where landed after you moved on.
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