At the end of my last I posed the question....would 80 Mile Beach meet our expectations? Resoundingly....YES! This is great park and we fell in with a marvellous group. But more of that later....first we have to get on site.
I took the opportunity to look around
what was on offer here. Plenty. After all this is all there is at 80 Mile Beach......if the park store doesn’t have it neither do you! Of course there is always the option of making the trip to re-supply at Port Headland, a mere 250 kms plus away to the south, or the other alternative, Broome, 350 kms to the north.
Folk tend to arrive at
80 Mile well stocked up. The prospect of a 500 or 700 kms round trip because
you forgot to pack the Weeties is a great incentive to pre-plan the pantry
properly. But for those who don’t, the camp
office store does provide a wide range of goods, at a price of course, as could
be reasonably expected in the circumstances.
This includes meals. A large notice at the office door invites
residents to several varieties of set meals throughout the week. We were reliably informed that the ‘$6
Hamburger Night’ (chips extra!) is one of superior quality and value, but
unfortunately our four day stay did not include a Wednesday.
Our 15 May arrival was well before the annual rush begins here. This was a real advantage. 80 Mile does not take bookings. Some site preferences for those who return annually may be met, but this is the exception.
By and large the system here is simple. New arrivals are allocated a
powered site if there is one available. If not, they are directed to the
unpowered area where they sit tight until someone leaves and a ‘permanent’ site
becomes available. This could take a few days, but at least there is no
restriction on the use of generators between 0700 and 2200 hours (an unusually
generous time frame...normal camping courtesy demands that ‘gennies’ should be
off by 2000 hours....there have been some serious scraps in free camps when
this convention has been ignored!) And
80 Mile boasts that they will never turn anyone away. When you see the size of this place that does
not seem a hollow claim.
But as I said, we had arrived before
the hordes, and had been well served by our friend Lesley who had not only
arranged for Max’s 80 Mile visitor’s visa, but had also seen to it that we had
a site near hers and Bill’s. Again, Lesley, many thanks.
So, camp fees paid we were off to
set up. From the office we drove past the cabins at this end of the park,
down the well watered entrance road (what a boon daily road watering is...virtually no dust in this part of the world is, for yours truly, a true blessing) with its beautifully trimmed hedges,
past the open playing area (and market site)
and into our row.
We were soon at home.
Because we were here for a fleeting
visit of only four nights, and given that our site was reasonably well served
for shade, we adopted a very basic set up. Our small C-Gear flooring to cover
the dirt was all that we needed. There was one other odd requirement here at 80
Mile....power cords must be elevated off the ground (I forgot to find out why).
We did comply as far at the Waco cord went, but as for the flex bringing power
to the van, this was just too hard. In any event we were told by the regulars
that no-one bothered to check, so I worked on the principal that I had made at
least a token attempt to re compliant.
Whilst we were getting organised we
were welcomed effusively by the Boyces, (who’s van was but two from ours) with
the news that there was to be an impromptu concert in the ‘beer garden’ outside
their van at 1600 hours.
A concert?
Surely not. Surely yes! Two of our immediate
neighbours were amateur musicians with another couple who added their vocal
talents. We were on deck on the dot and indeed we did have a concert. Within no
time Jim was tickling the ivories, Merv was smacking the skins and Fran was
regaling us with a tune or two.
And then it was Jani’s turn, larger
than life Janis, our immediate neighbour, who is one of life’s real cards (with
not a bad voice to boot).
If any were in doubt that a real
sense of humour and good fun prevail in this part of the park, the ‘token tin
dog’ soon put paid to that notion.
What a hoot this lot were and what a
welcome. Mind you, we were far from alone in our enjoyment.
Liz was in her element, swanning around giving the crowd her best ‘Queen Liz’ waves
and chewing the fat with a couple we
had met a week previously at Point Samson and later in Port Headland, who just
happened to be here at the same time and who had quite coincidentally been
wandering past and stopped to find out what this was all about. What a lovely
surprise.
And speaking of surprises, in a later
conversation with the drummer Merv and his charming wife, we discovered that
they are permanent residents at the Rose Gardens park in Albany. We had been unwitting (almost) neighbours for
three months. For some reason our paths
had never crossed, a fact we all regretted when all this become apparent. It
really is such a small world!
Needless to say this was the welcome
to end all welcomes and very effectively set the scene for what was to be three
more delightful days of good fun and fine, warm weather here at 80 Mile Beach.
The very next morning, a couple we
had met at the concert, invited Liz to join them across the road to breakfast in the sun.
Before we left, Lorraine and Russell
were quick to point out that their home in Brisbane sat on a very large block
and were quite insistent that we give serious consideration to a Brisbane
sojourn with them as we head south from FNQ.
In another of the extraordinary coincidences of this travelling life,
it turns out that two other couples who have become good friends of the road
both live within five minutes of Lorraine and Russell’s. I think a visit will
be inevitable!
I have banged on about this
invitation because nothing provides a better example of the warmth and generosity
of the group with whom we found ourselves camping here at 80 Mile Beach.
Apart from our neighbours, this is a
marvellously set up and maintained park, and it is truly huge. Unlike so many
others, the claim that it is but a short walk to the famous beach is absolutely
true. Let’s look around.
From the end our our row we could see
that we were not far from the sand hill which separated us from the beach and here we had our first glimpse of the renowned 80 Mile Beach Vietnam War Memorial.
This really is something, a simple
memorial surrounded by its white picket fence, its evocative nature a product
of its position.
This valuable reminder of the
contribution so many Australians made during that awful period (many as
conscripts) was conceived and constructed by a group of Vietnam vets who
annually make this place their winter home. Even whilst we were there one of
their number was busily repairing and repainting the pickets of the fence.
A short walk across the dunes
and here we were. Looking northwards we
could see but a snippet of the extraordinary expanse of this, reputedly Western Australia’s
longest uninterrupted beach.
The view to the south was almost
identical and on this occasion the sands were strangely empty. This is entirely
a product of the tide, but more of this later.
I was now a conflicted
man.....delighted by what I had seen of the beach and frustrated to hell that I
was not to be one casting a line here for the prized threadfin salmon which prowl
back and forth in the high tide gutters. The Matron’s ban on any activity which
threatened my foot with sand or water was absolute.
For those of you who know your scribe
well, I can already hear your muttered comments....”He must be really worried
about his recovery...he has never taken a medical ban seriously in his life before!” And you would be right. I was determined to
do nothing to postpone that joyous day when I could again be fully active in
any environment, and particularly those involving sand and sea water.
But enough of the closet whinge. Returning to our tour of the huge 80 Mile
Beach caravan park we retraced our steps across the dunes from where the
expanses of the park open out before us, firstly to the
north
then back over the War Memorial site.
Panning further to the right, a very
important feature of this park comes into view....the fish cleaning
station....where the successful try not to preen excessively as they scale and
slice succulent slabs from the frames of unfortunate threadfin.
Those watching empty handedly try equally
hard to sound sincere with their
congratulatory comments and then proceed to make oblique enquiries, usually
very poorly disguised as ‘fishing chat’, as to the type of rigs and bait used
and the time and place of the catch, queries which are invariably met with a
similar lack of direct honesty. These are wonderful conversations to eavesdrop.
It’s like a verbal chess game!
I once had the enormous pleasure of
witnessing the rejoinder of a crusty old salt at the Seacliff beach launching
area who had been beset by a very pushy fellow about to go to sea, with less
than subtle questions as to the location of his fishing grounds. After several minutes of responses which were
polite but clearly lacking detail, the old fellow finally rounded on his
tormentor. “Listen mate, I don’t know you from Adam and there are three things
I never share with blokes I don’t know....my missus, my beer and my marks. Now piss of and stop bothering me.” If the nearby Seacliff pub had been open I
would have insisted that I bought this chap a beer...no questions asked!
One thing we had noticed when we
first arrived here is the very clever way in which the good folk of 80 Mile have
recycled old tyres. They use them as very effective site markers. Here the
small clutch of idiots who travel from park to park trying their best to uproot
tap posts and other park infrastructure as they back into their sites, can do
very little damage (we had one in Carnarvon who managed to run over a tap
twice, coming and going....that has to be an Australian record for stupidity)
For a park which is literally in the
middle of nowhere in a part of the State where water is scarce, the grounds of
80 Mile are an absolute treat. Apart from the acres of grass, neatly trimmed
hedges abound, as do shade trees, both established and newly planted.
Ornamental trees are dotted throughout the park like
this large and flowering frangipani.
In addition to the myriad of caravan
and camp sites, the park does have a few cabins
But this is not really the type of
spot which holds huge appeal for those who travel the country in relative
comfort. This is very much a fishing
park.
Near the park office, store and cafe,
a small park area boasts tables and benches for those who wish to use them
and a rather poignant plaque which records
a local tragedy.
In the late 1800’s this area was home
to much of the early pearling activity of the north-west. Boats of all shapes and sizes plied these
waters in the quest for the jewels of the sea. Of course, as we all know, this
is cyclone country, and in 1887 (well before these awesome displays of nature’s
might were given names) a monster struck with little warning.
Along this part of the coast there is nowhere
to run and nowhere to hide. In the space of hours, twenty four schooners and luggers
were sent to the bottom, together with their entire crews. One hundred and thirty perished. Many bodies were
washed ashore along 80 Mile beach and to this day the shifting sands occasionally
expose the skeletons of some of the boats which foundered during that fearful
storm. We who now visit this area are
asked to respect these sites (and in what I view as a sad reflection on the
outlook of some) and not to remove anything from them.
Just below the office area is a row
of sites which abut a long, open grassed area opposite. With commendable forethought by those who
designed this park, this area is set aside for all those, young or old, who
wish to indulge in rowdy ball games.
Believe me, park roadways or the odd vacant site are decidedly
unsuitable venues for an amateur footy or cricket match when the ball in use
seems to spend more time belting into the sides of vans or knocking drinks over under
awning tables.
More annoying than these intrusions are the false apologies and
promises of no repetition which accompany most retrievals. Well done 80
Mile....a place for these folk to play without straining the tolerance of the
rest of us. This area also serves as the local Sunday market place, but more of that anon.
Further along this row we came upon
an 80 Mile institution...the extraordinary headquarters of the local ‘Coast
Watch’,
in front of which was a collection of
standard quad bikes, complete with rubbish collecting trailers, and one
complete oddity. Now who said a group of hopefuls
cannot travel together in comfort and style to pursue threadfin some distance
along the beach!
And, believe it or not, the owner is
just as unique. I spotted him, thin,
gnarled and the colour of old oak, sitting in his shed making salmon rigs. He
was on for a yarn. My obvious mission was to find out what this coast watch was
all about.
This long term permanent resident of
the park organises a group of regulars who mount a patrol along the beach for
miles and miles in both directions keeping their eyes open for any suspicious
or untoward activity, including illegal fishing, drug running and boat people.
I was somewhat taken aback by all
this and did raise the issue of the potential danger of confronting a possibly
armed drug runner. Observe, scoot and
ring and report is the catch cry of this mob....they eschew any form of
confrontation. I was relieved to hear it. It did occur to me that despite this
somewhat ‘Dad’s Army’ flavour of this operation, it does provide a valuable
service to this local community, and, for the longer term annual visitors,
something to do other than chase fish or work on a tan or a hangover.
Mind you, some had already taken
advantage of the space on offer, and in this case plenty was needed. This was a
massive rig, complete with all the toys.
Others nearby did not take up nearly
as much room.
As we made our way back to our patch
we could see clear evidence of what we had been told....many come here to 80
Mile for three months or more, and, like The Duke of Orleans Bay, a great
number roam far and wide along the beach on their quad bikes seeking that
elusive magic fish gutter (and then later being less than completely honest about its location at the fish
cleaning table!)
As would be expected in a park of
this size, there are a number of ablutions blocks dotted about. Basic but
adequate is what I consider a fair description of the amenity of these
facilities, the largest of which was at the far end of our row, together with
the vary basic outdoor camp kitchen.
This is a park where the vast
majority of punters arrive with all that is needed to make life comfortable,
including cooking. Scantily equipped scruffy backpackers, who universally
exhibit a class culture of swarming all over camp kitchens with little or no
regard for other users, are a rarity here.....another positive for 80 Mile!
As is my want I must end our jaunt
around this magnificent park with a couple of snippets. We have, by now, seen
just about all there is to see when it comes to gear in or on caravans, but
this was a first...an outdoor sink no less!
And as I think I may have commented
on previously, Western Australia must lead the country in terms of personalised
number plates. Some are wittier than
others. This one did appeal.
Next, the marvellous 80 Mile beach,
the hunt for the elusive threadfin salmon, the local market and more partying.
