Well, after the excitement of the past few days, it's now back to the catch up. Our route out of Perth to the north took us initially though an industrial area in which, if ever it were needed, there was such clear evidence of the downturn in the mining in WA.
For quite some distance we passed yard after yard choked with all manner of heavy equipment
much of which bore signs such as this (it reads 'For Sale or Hire')
Even before the first of the 'junior miners', Altas Mining, announced the closure of its operations (now partially reopened) constant reminders of the mining gloom and doom have been a feature of the nightly news services here in the West.
Within short order, however, we were making our way out of the city proper, into the Swan Valley and through the small commercial centre of Bullsbrook. This brought back many fond memories.
Just beyond Bullsbrook itself we drove past the long boundary fence of RAAF Pearce, where, quite a few years ago now, Liz and I had the absolute thrill of watching Stuart (son number two) being presented with his 'Wings' after he had successfully completed his very rigorous military advanced flying course.
Today's trip was a comparative doddle, out along the Great Northern Highway for 70 kms or so until, at the town of Bindoon we turned off the main drag (which was as rough as we had suspected it might be from our New Norcia experience)
and wandered onto the secondary Bindoon-Moora road which proved to be much more user friendly than we had anticipated. We were back into the wheat belt, but here the grain paddocks lie amongst rolling hills and many stands of large trees, in complete contrast to the wide open spaces of the Esperance sand plains.
Within no time at all the town entrance sign announced our return to Moora. Here we knew exactly where we were going. Our great mate 'Shirl', who manages the Moora Shire Caravan Park, was on a day off, but our previous site had been assigned to us and we were set up within no time.
This was probably just as well, because, unlike our first visit almost a year ago, when the weather was fine, sunny and warm, we were now sitting under very threatening skies. And it was here in Moora that we made a very unwelcome discovery. We had developed a major leak in the van.
Now every caravanner will tell you that a leaking roof is one of their worst nightmares. They can be tricky to identify and fix and cause obvious internal strife. Our piece of good news was in Liz's hanging clothes cupboard. We actually only discovered this by chance when she needed something from the bottom of this locker....it came out wet. This was not good.
A frantic examination revealed a leak around the edge of the roof of this cupboard. Some of the lining material had begun to peel and I found dampness all down the wall. Most of Liz's hanging clothes ranged from damp to soggy, but the real problem was the fact that all the X-rays relating to her breast cancer, which she had stowed flat at the bottom of this locker, were also now unexpectedly washed.
By a process of deduction based on when Liz had last worn what, we were able to conclude that the leak was quite recent, no more than three days old. This was significant. One of the major problems with a leak which goes undiscovered for some time is that the wooden frame of the van becomes saturated and rots, with obvious, usually unseen, consequences. We had at least dodged that bullet.
The venetian blinds came into their own.
Whilst all this was going on we were off outside to try and determine the cause, with indeterminate success. We noted that there seemed to be some disruption to the silicon seal between the front panel and the roofing sheet, probably as a result of a bough strike. Could that be it?..it was in exactly the right spot.
The short answer was yes. We made another hurried call to the good folks at Country Time in Geraldton and alerted them to the fact that we had another task for their attention. It transpired we were right...they found water and mud pooling in the joint just where we through they might. A re-seal inside and out, and we are confident our problems have been solved, although despite the vagaries of the recent weather we've not yet been inundated to the degree we can confirm this one way or anther....time will tell.
I should point out at this stage, that I cannot see any point in presenting new photos of places to which we have already been, other than in relation to new activities. This will be the case for Moora, Geraldton, Horrocks and Carnarvon. I would invite any who are keen to to see what these various places have to offer to revisit the relevant previous blog entries.
One thing we did notice about the Moora park was the addition of good shade cloth to the previously open walls of the camp kitchen (where we did avail ourselves of the facilities) This a real improvement.
Shirl and here staff have been busy elsewhere in the past twelve months. The park gardens are an absolute treat, new lawn has been laid and two new cabins are under construction. As I have done previously, we cannot advocate a visit to Moora too strongly. And it was just delightful to again catchup with our park hostess. Shirl remembered us as well as we did her. It was like a homecoming. And we did finally make it down to the Moora Hotel for a drink and a meal on our pre-departure eve. Not quite what we had expected, but adequate. Mine host has just bought the pub and the interior is something of a work in progress after years of neglect, but at least we had ticked this off our list.
Geraldton came and went over the next two days. The Batavia Coast park was exactly as we had last seen it. We remained hitched overnight and were off to Country Time at 0700 hours the following morning. By mid-day we received the welcome call that the van was ready to be picked up. It is never great fun having to entertain Max in his cage in these circumstances.
With brakes checked and reset, bearings replaced, the leak fixed (we hope) and a new water pressure limiter installed (and a spare in the gear locker) we hauled thankfully out of Geraldton bright and early the next day (despite our frequent visits to this town we cannot take to Geraldton.....something we have oft heard repeated, even by Western Australians).
Our sights were now set on a previously unplanned return to Horrocks Beach, less than 100 kms distant. Our mission in life at this point was to catch up with Barb and Bruce Shorter, the new Horrocks Beach Caravan Park mangers. We had become very friendly with this couple when they were working in Cervantes at the time of our visit there last year and we had not realised they had moved when we pulled into Cervantes again on our south-bound trip from Carnarvon at the end of winter.
After all the recent rains, including that dumped by Cyclone Olwyn, the countryside between Geraldton and Horrocks Beach was an absolute picture of green fields against the backdrop of solid hills.
At Horrocks we had been very thoughtfully allocated a sheltered site between two cabins.
Grass, space and easy access. With the Horrocks Beach escarpment in front of us we were well and truly at peace with the world.
Shortly after arrival we had another of those 'guess who knows who' experiences. The vacant sites behind us in this shot had been occupied by two couples and their families. As we got chatting one thing led to another....one of our neighbours, the CEO of the Jurien Bay Shire, is a cousin of Matt Malloch's, the owner of the Big 4 Plantation park in Carnarvon where we had worked over last winter. Nothing more to be said!
And speaking of nothing, nothing had really changed at Horrocks (apart from the park managers that is) including the fact that we really do like this place. We were even treated to a special Horrocks sunset on our arrival evening.
This showed real promise from the outset
and, as the sun sank lower
and lower, it did not disappoint.
What a wonderful backdrop this made for us as we meandered across to the front porch of the park managers' home
where we sat for several hours chatting, drinking and nibbling with the consistently entertaining Barb and Bruce as night fell across the boat moorings and the evening hopefuls made their way past us to the jetty with their rods and buckets. As was the case on this evening, we now find it particularly interesting to be able to swap 'park manager' yarns with those in the game.
And, as was the case in Cervantes, this became much more than a happy 'hour'. We really do get on well with this couple and it was just lovely to see them again.
We were having such a good time we actually extended by two days at Horrocks....why not? And this gave me the chance to have another crack at the local whiting. Bruce had tipped me the wink about 'The Whiting Hole' located at the far end of the beach. I baited up with my usual sense of optimism...surely this will be the day to hook a few of these fine eating fish.
It did not take long. I had virtually no sooner set the line when a very reasonable sized yellow finned whiting was flapping in my bucket. You beauty....this was to be my day. Wrong, bloody wrong. After hooking another smaller version of the species, I spent the next hour in complete frustration....the dreaded Western Australian blowfish, a tiny puffer fish, useless to the entire world at large, descended on the Whiting Hole in plague proportions.
Same old Horrocks Beach, made worse this time by the fact that I knew there were good fish to be had, if only they could beat the bloody blowies to the bait.
This disappointment with the vagaries of nature was offset to an extent by the fact that during this foray I had the real pleasure of watching two of the locals at work. A number of artificial nesting poles have been placed along the Horrocks foreshore for the convenience of the local Ospreys, which have made very good use of them. This particular fellow decided that, after watching me failing miserably in my attempts to land a tasty fish or two, it would show me how it's done. It launched languidly off its pole, soared sublimely over my head and then plummeted seawards. With talons extended like air brakes, this majestic raptor hit the water with a mighty splash and was soon winging its way back to the nest with its lunch writhing beneath its flailing pinions. What a sight! Breathtaking judgement, awesome strength and consummate skill.
Its companion was far less active and remained content to perch in the scrub atop the nearby sand hill.
These are truly magnificent birds of prey and are a real feature of the Horrocks Beach landscape.
Bruce and I did try another spot further north along the coast early on the morning of his day off.....with the same result. One large whiting almost immediately the bait had hit the bottom and then nothing but blowies.
Ah well, if the fishing is poor there is always sightseeing. A visit to a local landmark and an assuredly good lunch was on the agenda. Oakabella Homestead is situated about 15 kms south of Northhampton, off the Brand Highway. This place has an interesting history to say the least.
The entrance to the estate, which is a short drive off the main road, is marked by this somewhat whimsical flock of metal emus which gaze out over the green sward of the Oakabella camping ground.
Nearby is the restaurant,
whilst across the road one can find the clean, whitewashed walls of the old homestead
and the large, imposing original barn building which lords it over the more distant outbuildings. These house a collection of historical odds and ends, but we did not tarry.
The buildings of Oakabella are surrounded by grassy undulating plains with the ridges of various low ranges distant on the horizon. This is very pretty country.
The restaurant is run by the indomitable Loretta, and what a tale she has to tell. Born in Canada of Native American decent, Loretta Wright claims to have dreamed about the Oakabella homestead as a child.
She came to Australia with her then-husband some year ago, and after a chance meeting with the owner of Oakabella at the Geraldton races, she accepted the offer to visit the property. As she says, she knew immediately that this was the home of her childhood dreams and that this was where she was meant to be.
She stayed on and has spent many years restoring and refurbishing the old homestead and learning about its history, which includes a number of incidents which resulted in the deaths of various occupants. One, a three year old child was killed when a window sash fell on him as he was clambering through it. Another resident was killed in 1966 when he accidentally shot himself whilst cleaning a gun. Oakabella is reputed to be the most haunted property in Western Australia, a fact Loretta is quick to point out when conducting her guided tours through the homestead.
But Loretta does more than that. Her scones are famous throughout the west and her restaurant meals are not to be sneezed at either. We lunched at Oakabella on the specific recommendation of Barb and Bruce who have come to know Loretta quite well, and were not disappointed.
Her 'fish and chips' was a meal to be remembered. Plump fillets of succulent pink snapper encased in the best beer batter we have ever tasted, crisp chips and a fresh salad which included Loretta's special coleslaw.....a simple meal given real class.
The other did enjoy a fine Sav Blanc.....I martyred myself in the cause of friendship and was the 'skipper' for the day. This had been another occasion on which we had thoroughly enjoyed the Shorters' company, and it was not the last.....farewell drinks on our departure eve were mandatory.
This had been a wonderful sojourn, and it was with real regret that we upped stakes and made our way up the Horrocks Beach hill and back out to the Brand Highway at nearby Northhampton.
We were on our way to Galena Bridge free camp site and a new experience.
Bruce and I did try another spot further north along the coast early on the morning of his day off.....with the same result. One large whiting almost immediately the bait had hit the bottom and then nothing but blowies.
Ah well, if the fishing is poor there is always sightseeing. A visit to a local landmark and an assuredly good lunch was on the agenda. Oakabella Homestead is situated about 15 kms south of Northhampton, off the Brand Highway. This place has an interesting history to say the least.
The entrance to the estate, which is a short drive off the main road, is marked by this somewhat whimsical flock of metal emus which gaze out over the green sward of the Oakabella camping ground.
Nearby is the restaurant,
whilst across the road one can find the clean, whitewashed walls of the old homestead
and the large, imposing original barn building which lords it over the more distant outbuildings. These house a collection of historical odds and ends, but we did not tarry.
The buildings of Oakabella are surrounded by grassy undulating plains with the ridges of various low ranges distant on the horizon. This is very pretty country.
The restaurant is run by the indomitable Loretta, and what a tale she has to tell. Born in Canada of Native American decent, Loretta Wright claims to have dreamed about the Oakabella homestead as a child.
She came to Australia with her then-husband some year ago, and after a chance meeting with the owner of Oakabella at the Geraldton races, she accepted the offer to visit the property. As she says, she knew immediately that this was the home of her childhood dreams and that this was where she was meant to be.
She stayed on and has spent many years restoring and refurbishing the old homestead and learning about its history, which includes a number of incidents which resulted in the deaths of various occupants. One, a three year old child was killed when a window sash fell on him as he was clambering through it. Another resident was killed in 1966 when he accidentally shot himself whilst cleaning a gun. Oakabella is reputed to be the most haunted property in Western Australia, a fact Loretta is quick to point out when conducting her guided tours through the homestead.
But Loretta does more than that. Her scones are famous throughout the west and her restaurant meals are not to be sneezed at either. We lunched at Oakabella on the specific recommendation of Barb and Bruce who have come to know Loretta quite well, and were not disappointed.
Her 'fish and chips' was a meal to be remembered. Plump fillets of succulent pink snapper encased in the best beer batter we have ever tasted, crisp chips and a fresh salad which included Loretta's special coleslaw.....a simple meal given real class.
The other did enjoy a fine Sav Blanc.....I martyred myself in the cause of friendship and was the 'skipper' for the day. This had been another occasion on which we had thoroughly enjoyed the Shorters' company, and it was not the last.....farewell drinks on our departure eve were mandatory.
This had been a wonderful sojourn, and it was with real regret that we upped stakes and made our way up the Horrocks Beach hill and back out to the Brand Highway at nearby Northhampton.
We were on our way to Galena Bridge free camp site and a new experience.
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