THE ROAD TO PERTH AND AN OVERNIGHT STAY IN BROOKTON (30 MARCH 2015)

And so we 'waved' farewell to The Rock (you had to expect something along these lines!) and began the trip northwest further into the southern part of the WA wheat belt, 

back into the bigger gum country of towns such as Kondinin

where, like so many of these relatively small farming towns, a major intersection demanded a decision. Ours was a right hand turn on the road to Perth through the next main town of Corrigin to our planned overnight destination of Brookton.

Another consistent feature we had noticed in many of the towns through which we have travelled in this part of the State was the width of most of the main streets. The road out of Kondinin was no exception.

If there was any doubt as to the fact that we were passing through grain growing country, this was soon dispelled by the sight of grain trucks hauling into one of the many grain receiving 'bins' (as they are called in the West) which are also a constant feature of these landscapes.

But just before we reached Corrigin, the comfort of the day's travel thus far suffered a decided setback. "What the hell is that, ahead of us, Lizzie?  It looks like smoke."

It was, thick cloying smoke, an accumulation of several days of stubble burn off which had obviously been trapped in a temperature inversion.

There was no escape for many kilometres. The only thing which altered was the density. In a number of spots safety demanded a speed reduction to no more than 30 kph.

Looking out over some of the passing paddocks one could be forgiven for thinking we were in the depths of a foggy winter's day. We were just very glad we knew that the source of all this smoke was not an approaching bushfire.

Finally, after quite some distance, we drove out of this horrid pall of smoke and emerged into clean air.  The majestic stand of gums lining the highway on the outskirts of Corrigin was a welcome sight.

Another 100 kms to the west along the Brookton Highway and our destination hove into view. This had been a relatively easy day's driving notwithstanding the challenge of the smoke screen and we were looking forward to seeing what Brookton had to offer.

Within no time we were negotiating the Stan Wall Memorial Entrance to the Brookton recreational grounds, the location of the Shire owned Brookton Caravan Park.

Obviously at this point we did not stop to read the plaque, but when I did so later I was quite surprised to find that this significant memorial was built to honour the service of the officer in charge of the Brookton Police District for 20 years.

I'll let the words of the plaque speak for themselves.  Naturally I was delighted to find that the good folk of Brookton had gone to the effort to acknowledge a real pillar of their community, unlike so many others where the good work of the local bobbies often goes unrecognised and unheralded.  Of course, I have to admit to just a touch of professional bias in this regard! 

Past the memorial entrance we drove, on towards the impressive buildings of the Brookton rec centre and our overnight lodging spot, which, at first glimpse was less than entirely inspiring.....

all bitumen no less.

But as we have learnt over the months, we take what we can get, and in this case it turned out to be much more than first appearances promised. Our site was level and there was no need to unhitch. The weather was mild so we did not suffer from reflected heat, and,

this quaint, practical little park boasted one of the best ablution facilities we have ever come across. Individual bathrooms, fully equipped with a shower alcove which would grace any home, toilet and washing basin of equal standard, and all spotlessly clean....a traveller's delight. What a totally unexpected and delightful  surprise this was.

The resident caretaker, George, a retired merchant navy seaman and local ambulance driver (amongst many other things) lives on site in a van surrounded by a very impressive above ground veggie garden and brilliant splash of bougainvillea colour.  We and George got on famously. He is a real wag and a bottomless pit of interesting local yarns.

George is also a man of a decidedly colourful turn of phrase. In the late afternoon of our stay Liz spied what she described as the 'ugliest woman she had even seen'.  I roused myself from whatever I had been doing at the time...."Er, Lizzie, I think you'll find that isn't a woman." "But she/he, is wearing a skirt and blouse......and stockings"  I quietly shook my head......what a sheltered life my dear spouse has led, and this after most of it spent in the nursing game.

When later chatting to George about the vagaries of at least one of his permanent park residents, he rolled his eyes and commented, "Ah, you've seen the 'cock in the frock' have you?" Somewhat crude as this description may have been, I cracked up. There are very few Australian turns of phrase with which I am unfamiliar, but this was a first.  Liz tells me it was actually first used in the film 'Priscilla Queen of the Desert' but I had no recall of it.  Our man would have fitted right in......each to his - her (?) own!

I'll share our later walking tour around Brookton with you in my next missive.  

For now, it was time to enjoy glimpses of a brilliant crimson sunset through the park trees, reflect our our day, break out our pre-planned pasta meal and retire for the evening.