As I explained in the first of these Bremer Bay blogs, our caravan park was situated on the southern bank of the Wellstead Estuary, separated only by a roadway. Our first impression of this stagnant, and often quite smelly pond of brackish water, was less than entirely favourable, especially given that the algal booms meant that I could not launch the kayak and take advantage of its sheltered expanses to gain some much needed exercise.
In fact, on our first venture along the southern bank to Main Beach, we soon realised that any advantage to be gained in terms of a shortcut was more than negated by the constant assault on our olfactory senses. Ah, the smell of H2S in the morning, particularly under glowering, grey skies (of which we saw far too many)!
The muddy edges of the channels were actually firmer than they looked, but after our first venture, we chose other routes.
A walking track through the paper barks, peppermint trees and coastal scrub, stretching from the end of the estuary to the Bremer CBD, parallels the southern bank.
Near the fish cleaning station, a trackside sign provided a fascinating historical insight.
This was the site of a very early 'Corduroy Crossing'. A what? An explanation is required. In 1875 work began on the construction of the overland telegraph route connecting Albany to Adelaide. At this location, known as Shelly Point, the waters of the Wellstead Estuary consisted to two channels some 20 metres wide, separated by a broad, shellgrit sandbar. The obvious problem was how to cross these channels and lay the cable. The answer was simple. A large number of the local paper barks were felled. Their trunks were bound together and these were laid across the channels as a rudimentary bridge. Corduroy crossings, so named because of the ribbed appearance of the bound logs, are still in common use, particularly in the construction of crossings in wetlands. (apologies for the lack of justification here....the blog this morning is one which has been determined to have a mind of its own)
Even today, the channels and sandbars of the estuary remain, unlike the crossing which was used right up to 1980, many years after the demise of the original telegraph line, by local fishermen hauling large salmon catches from Main Beach.
But back to the present and the walking trail. Liz and I toddled along this track into town on a number of occasions until one particular morning, when, as I was looking elsewhere but along the track, my attention was galvanised by a most 'un-Liz-like' scream from herself. "Don't move". "What?" "Look in front of you". I obeyed instantly, and there it was, all two metres or so of it, slithering serenely across the track but twenty metres from us with sublime indifference to our presence (thankfully)......a very healthy looking tiger snake! Needless to say, we froze until 'hissing Sid' had cleared the walkway, and then did what any sensible, bold, nature loving couple would do.....turned tail and ran the other way....never to use this track again. We rationalised this lack of pluck with the argument that we had already seen what it had to offer, and the roadway presented a shorter route in any case. The Leyland Brothers and Malcolm Douglas would have had nothing to fear from us!
where the sign pointing to the beach abutting a picnic area and coastal park directed us off the road and onto the approaches to the sandy flats of the end of the estuary.
And here we found a another sign which changed our previously less than positive views of this body of water altogether.
This is a pretty important spot in the natural scheme of things, and we now adopted a different attitude towards it....obviously the birds don't mind the pong...why should we?
a fence protects a closer approach to the estuary waters from possible intrusion by the more adventurous (read idiotic) in their 4WD's.
are also fenced off in this area to protect the breeding places of endangered plovers and oyster catchers.
The track on the northern bank presents an interesting drive. It is shown on the relevant maps as the Gordon Inlet Road. The approach hardly inspires confidence that the word 'road' is apt.
It's not. The initial sandy section of the track
soon deteriorates into the rutted corrugations which are a constant feature of the Gorden Inlet Road. And, as I discovered on my first sortie along this track, things only continue to get worse. I gave up after reaching a point some 5 kms in where a sign presents a disclaimer by the Shire authority in respect of any responsibility for the condition of the surface beyond that notice. Smart move....things just got worse.
Even the locals, who use this track to reach Trigalow Beach, do so in old 'bush bashers'. I was less than impressed.....Trigalow Beach is probably the pick of the fishing spots near Bremer Bay, but having almost shaken out a few teeth fillings on my one and only failed attempt to reach it, the fish of this beach remained safe from any predation by your scribe.
Here the channel and sandbar nature of the estuary can be clearly seen.
A small parking bay a short distance further in provided me the opportunity to
have a close look at the thick shell grit which is so common in this area,
and from here I could also see the fish cleaning station on the opposite bank, an area with which I soon became intimated acquainted.
But more of that later....we have yet to visit Main Beach and the coves of the rocky headland at its southern end, including the fascinating Rock Cairn. I'm gradually catching up!
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