Today was to be a long one....the second longest leg we had done since our first day out of Adelaide in late April. By the time we dropped anchor for the evening we had hauled east for 544 kms. And I knew it!
So let's be on our way, leaving Streaky Bay with great reluctance but with the prospect of fresh easterly winds to push us along. These are so rare at this time of the year in this part of the country that I had took the decision to get as far across the Nullarbor as we could before I pegged out (that is a pun, but you'll have to wait to find out why!)
It is amazing how seemingly relatively unremarkable things take on a new significance on days when we know we are facing a very long time on the road. Such was the case as we re-joined the Eyre Highway after the 100 kms leg along the Lincoln Highway from Streaky to Ceduna....well, that bit's done!
Apart from a quick fuel stop, we by-passed Ceduna. This is a town and an area we fully intend to take in at our leisure in the future. And we were in a hurry as we drove on through the undulating grain fields of the upper Eyre Peninsula where the crops were looking splendid. From our lay perspective the prediction for a bumper harvest this year seemed right on track.
Penong, the most westerly of the SA Eyre Highway towns came and went (I don't count Fowlers Bay..that's off the highway)
and we continued on our way through the last of the upper EP grain belt
which soon gave way to the low scrubland of the far west coast on our approach to the roadhouse stop at Nundroo. By now we had travelled just under 250 kms. It was time for lunch and a breather.
I recalled from my trip across the Nullarbor with Stu, when I had accompanied him back to Perth after he had been on Xmas leave in Adelaide (he was then undertaking his advanced fixed wing training at RAAF Pearce), that the Nundroo Roadhouse, hotel and caravan park complex was not the Ritz. How time dims the memory...it is far less than that.
Liz returned from her quest to buy a simple cheese and tomato sandwich with the news that there were plenty of sandwiches on offer...pick as many tuna and salad as you can eat but don't ask for anything else....that was altogether too much to expect. Needless to say we left Nundroo less than impressed, realised we were becoming lazy and the outcome had served us right, and decided to raid the van fridge instead.
The Colana Rest Area, some 25 kms east of the Yalata turnoff, became the chosen venue. Now I know this looks pretty agricultural, but the road was flat, we found a spot of shade and we were off the highway. What more could we want? And I got my cheese and tomato sandwich and a piece of Liz's fine fruit slice to boot!
Chastened and refreshed we pushed on into the heavier bush country of the Yalata aboriginal reserve area
where we did keep our eyes peeled for obvious reasons (and believe it or not we did see a few feral camels, but not just here).
Once past the Yalata turn off the topography changed yet again. The undulating hills and high scrub were left behind us as the countryside flattened and the bushes on it became much smaller and comparatively sparse. Surely the Nullarbor as we know it must be close.
It was. Within no time at all we had passed the sign proclaiming the eastern end of the Nullarbor Treeless Plain and there we were driving into the huge expanse of flat, treeless land which is the Nullarbor.
And this is where most people who have not driven this route live in blissful ignorance, believing as I did before I had actually made the crossing, that from this point onwards the road would take one through an arboreal wilderness for many driving hours.
This is far from the truth. In fact, to experience the true extent of the 'treeless plain' one must travel on the Indian Pacific railway. The Eyre Highway cuts through the mere south-eastern tip of the plain which extends for many kilometres north and west of this point on the highway. The railway line does run parallel to the Eyre Highway, but some 100 kms or so to the north, and this is where the 'real Nullarbor' can be seen.
But we savoured our little slice of this natural wonder as we continued on past the Head of the Bight towards the Nullarbor Roadhouse and our next fuel stop. We did poke our noses into the HOB entrance road on the basis of the fact that we had contemplated free camping there, but the signs proclaiming the requirement of an entrance fee and the fact that the gates were locked overnight, coupled with the fact that road to the cliffs at this point is over 10 kms of dirt, were all the encouragement we needed to press on. That and the fact that the wind was still at our backs and brisk at that.
The fuel prices at the Nullarbor Roadhouse are notoriously expensive. We knew that this was not the case at Mundrabilla, through which we would be travelling the next day. We declined to contributed to the greed of the owners of this establishment with more than a mere top up of 20 litres before again heading further west.
By now it was getting on in the day and I was beginning to flag. We had previously identified a number of potential overnight free campsites along this part of the highway. The search was now on in earnest. After a number of rejected sites were left in our wake, we finally pulled into a promising looking clearing known as 'Peg 52'. (I said at the beginning of this episode that there would be a pun on the way...for those of limited recall..of whom there are none I know...I refer you back to para 2!)
Despite its somewhat bleak appearance, this spot had a great deal going for it. We were safely off the highway, a mere three hundred metres from the edge of the cliffs of the Great Australian Bight, level, and on gravel not dust. This site also serves as a road gravel dump, and has been spread with a layer of fine aggregate. What a bonus.
If our camp site had been a piece of real estate on the market, it would have been advertised as having 'sea glimpses', and, if you look carefully, you can just make out the blue of the Southern Ocean over the edge of the cliffs.
One great advantage of free camping is that there is very little to do once the van is on site. We had barely stopped and I was off...the lure of the cliff top was overwhelming. What a view awaited as I looked back to the east along the cliffs and
then to the west from the same point.
Signs at many vantage points along this coastline warn of the dangers of straying too close to the edge. There is a very good reason for this. As can be seen here in the foreground of this photo two large chunks of the edge have begun to fall away at this point on the cliff face. My photographic efforts were undertaken with some considerable caution.
But as this texta addition to the official blurb on the cage notice attests, it would appear that not all is well in the starling survey ranks. We did have a chuckle trying to picture the indignation of the offended soul who had appended this hand written admonition.
We really did love this site. What a gem for our first free camping experience. And we weren't the only ones.
Max was off on the prowl like a shot with Liz on the end of his lead. He roamed all over the area and was mightily put out when Liz would not let him launch into a large boxthorn bush on the other side of the parking area. Max has yet to encounter a snake....a situation we are keen to see continue.
After all this exertion a girl just had to put her feet up with a quiet evening drink,
while I was scurrying about snapping the sunset.
And who says one cannot dine in style in the middle of nowhere. We considered roses on the table to be de rigour at Peg 52.....and yes, I was bloody hungry. And no, don't ask about the roses....I'm married to a very naughty girl!
Despite the proximity of the highway, we had a wonderful night's sleep. It was so still that we could actually hear the swells of the Southern Ocean crashing against the cliffs.
As usual I was up at first light, sunrise in mind. Whilst there was no cloud to provide real colour, the sight of the rising sun over this flat open landscape was spectacular as it painted a swipe of colour along the horizon. The camera clicked away. Of all that I took, this is my favourite so I'll exercise editorial privilege!
Whilst eating tea, we heard another van pull in past us. This did provide some comfort in that it is always wiser to free camp in company rather than alone, however, I have to say we did not feel any sense of concern here at Peg 52 prior to the arrival of our 'neighbour' who politely chose to camp some distance away nearer the cliff face.
And as can be seen from this shot I took prior to our departure (when I was actually trying to capture morning light on the cliff face and managed a spectacular shadow!), one can camp quite close to the action if so inclined. We did consider this, but chose the practical advantages of the gravel surface rather than the dust of this part of the parking area.
We were both particularly chipper as we left Peg 52. The border was nigh. A mere 52 kms west, which reminds me to mention that the 'peg' designations are all apparently related to survey markers, all of which are nominated in kms from a nearby point of significance.
Before reaching the border we made two stops. The first was non-voluntary. This roadtrain had lost its rear trailer with the result that its load of foodstuffs had to be transferred to another truck. Of course we were still in SA. I had a chat to the young policeman managing the traffic and confirmed he had come from Penong, a mere 200 kms + distant. They have a big beat in the part of the world. The poor chap had been called out at 0200 and was looking a touch jaded by the time we went through.
Our next stop was one of our own choosing. A roadside sign invited us to a photographic site. We accepted the invitation on the basis of the fact I recalled that the coastline here takes a dramatic turn in appearance from the towering cliffs we had recently seen.
It was indeed so. The awesome, sheer ramparts defending the plains from the onslaught of the Southern Ocean had fallen away markedly. The cliffs had retreated and here the sea washed onto a sandy shoreline. What a dramatic change!
The border...and a greeting from the 'big kangaroo' which stands proudly at the entrance to the Border Village Roadhouse and Motel and also advertises the local Nullarbor Links golf hole.
And here there is a significant addition to the local infrastructure....the WA quarantine check point where the inspectors do not take prisoners. My recollection of my previous experience here was not good. Officious, pedantic and unpleasantly terse was my memory of the fellow who went though Stu's car with a fine tooth comb, despite the fact that it was patently obvious we were not self catering.
Our inspector was a charming older woman who spent much of the time during her very thorough inspection of the van and the cruiser lamenting the fact that she was a fully qualified forensic scientist who was reduced to this occupation through lack of other opportunities. We got on famously, and after ten minutes were on our way rejoicing.
We were in 'the West' at last
where the duplicity of signs on the border leaves no doubt about this fact.
It's all a bit of a bluff really to induce feelings of well being and a sense of achievement when in fact there are still hundreds of kms to travel through a great deal of nothing to really 'get anywhere'. But it worked for us...we felt at last that we were well on our way to our ultimate destination in Perth.
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