THE BEACHES OF THE DUKE OF ORLEANS BAY AND SURROUNDS - (MARCH 2015)

The Duke of Orleans Caravan Park is almost on the bay. There was an access track from the park through the scrub





but we found it easier to reach the beach through the area set aside for boat storage and launching, a short walk from the park office.

The local charter boat uses this as its base. We did see it go out once during our stay, but the call for the services of this worthy craft was not high. One thing I did spot when walking through here was the length of the draw bars on the boat trailers. Here craft have to be pushed a considerable distance off the beach to actually float.





I did spot a very large motor yacht moored in the bay on the afternoon of an approaching storm. This was a serious vessel, and obviously not one which would either be bought cheaply or sailed on a shoestring. Once told that it belonged to one of Gina Rinehart's daughters, all fell into place. We wondered if she was one suing her mother and needed a break from all the stress!!







I am sure we did not see the Duke of Orleans Bay at its best.  The seaweed had banked along much of the waterline which did detract somewhat.

But is was easily accessible on foot and we did take a number of lengthy walks along the beach beyond the piled up weed.

The huge granite rock which is Table Island lies at the eastern end of the bay. At low tide it is possible to walk across the exposed sandy strip between it and the mainland. We did not bother, but many do take advantage of the ability to fish from the rocks on the seaward side, a spot where it is as well to remember that old adage that 'the tide waits for no man'.

The wide, blindingly white and weed free expanses of Wharton Beach were in complete contrast to the bay...this is a stunning beach indeed, living up to all which we had read about it. Access to this marine paradise is a short 2 kms drive from the park. We made the trip often along the road which took us past the low sand hills and the backdrop of rounded granite hills. We were even treated to a few clumps of wildflowers at the bitumen's edge.

The road curves away through the low scrub 

and ends in this car park below the towering bulk of yet another granite hill.

From here the walkway to the beach 

took us past one of the area's more quirky assets, a sunset viewing bench set into the granite rock beside the track.

And then we reached the point where the beach cames into view.

On this fine, sunny day, the vista before us was spectacular. What colours these beaches present. This photo does not really do it full justice. But, as with most such beautiful natural areas, there are always those who will do all they can to mar the serenity and mood. This end of Wharton Bay is usually very sheltered. Here the beach shelves gently and, other than on stormy days (which we shall see shortly) this is an ideal swimming beach for young and old (apologies for the lack of justification here - another inexplicable blog conniption).

Sadly, those congregated here at this end of the bay on this lovely Sunday morning were not here to swim....they had descended from the caravan park in numbers to hurl themselves along the sands on their wretched quad bikes. Some would crash and bash their snarling way through the fragile vegetation of the back dunes, whilst others found it much more fun to churn up the beach in a series of 'wheelie' manoeuvres.

Whilst I concede they did avoid those of us walking on the beach as they raced to and fro across the sandy expanses, the noise and smoky exhaust fumes of these infernal boys' toys did absolutely nothing to add to the charm and beauty of this place. We did note on the park notice board several communiques from a Shire based committee currently taking a very close look at the use of these machines on both beaches and sand hills.  The level of public complaint about the behaviour of these hoons is reaching considerable proportions. Safety of those using the swimming end of the beach is a major concern. We would not be at all surprised to see these vehicles banned from that end of the beach in the near future, as are all motorised water craft already. 

This lot were the package deal...the tribe from Esperance who have been heard to brag about coming to The Duke to play up and make a racket.  And here we were worried about the Kalgoorlie miners! By Monday morning, however, all these mentally challenged ratbags had scuttled back whence they came and long strolls along Wharton Beach again meant a couple of hours of pure pleasure.

Apart from the quad bikes, many take advantage (in a much more sedate manner) of the firm sands to tour the bay and Victoria Harbour at its westerly end in their 4W drives. A well sealed road makes beach access simple, even for novices, and once on the sands, there are few traps for the unwary.  This is a very forgiving beach...most of the time. 

Like all beaches, the mood of Wharton did change with the weather. We were very glad to have seen it as its most benign during the earlier part of our stay. Strong south-westerlies, which dogged the latter part of our trip to The Duke, produced heavy, rolling surf on Wharton beach.

Storms sweeping in from the west became an annoyingly regular event. They did have a grandeur of their own

but under their influence the beach changed dramatically. The wide stretch of sand between the waterline and sand hills had all but disappeared. Where ten or more vehicles could have made the journey around the bay a week ago, line abreast, there was now just enough room for one in many places. Some were determined to make the journey no matter what the weather. Strangely enough we did not spy one tourist brochure photographer hard at work...this is not the image they wish to portray!

We did toddle down to one of the beach lookouts on a stormy evening in the hope of being treated to a sunset above the average, and whilst there was little pink or red, this golden end to the day as the sun sank over distant Cape Le Grand, made the short drive well worth the effort.

Off to the left of the Wharton Beach upper car park, is the track to Little Wharton Beach.

After a short climb this track begins the descent into a small,

sheltered bay (here seen panning further to the right).

Near the end of the track a small car park is also the site of a bush loo which bears a remarkable resemblance to an old Aussie dunny. Here the less adventurous can leave their vehicles, 

but others not so challenged can continue on down to the beach itself on the rapidly deteriorating surface of this end of the gravel.

With one final series of pitches and rolls through the large gashes in the track surface,

the sands and sheltered waters of Little Wharton Beach can been seen and accessed off to the left.

By complete contrast, to the right, a large, flat, rocky plate takes the place of sand at the water's edge.  This is used as a secondary car park by many who make Little Wharton their weekend playground by the sea.

We could not possibly leave The Duke without a return visit to my favourite spot, Nares Island. About half way along the Wharton Beach road, the Nares Island track leads off to the left.

This gravel track was certainly more corrugated that that to Little Wharton, but did not present any real problems for those of us on  a mission of piscatorial conquest.

Along the two kms drive to the water, the track passes huge granite lumps so typical of this area

and, on the other side, as the waters of Orleans Bay and the distant pyramid of Table Island come into view, much smaller (but still granite) rocks dot the low scrubby landscape.

Here also, secondary tracks lead off to the left to climb the slopes of the hill and provide further fun for those who live to quad bike through the bush.

The sight of the two largish fishing boats which make the waters in the lee of Nares Island their mooring place heralds the descent

to the beach access entrance at the end of the track. It was down here we made our way onto the beach which you have seen previously, to leave the cruiser parked up under the shade of the low trees and trudge off across the rocks to herring heaven.

Other more hardy souls take advantage of another real bush track nearby to drive through the scrub and up onto the rocky hill above my fishing spot. Whilst the concept of not having to lug all my fishing gear over the sand and rocks on foot did have some appeal, this was quickly dampened by the thought of the co-pilot's reaction if I returned, as would be inevitable, with redecorated cruiser duco.  Scratches are not her thing and no amount of fish would be considered even marginally placatory.

Well, finally, that's it from us from The Duke of Orleans Bay, a place we approached with caution and left with genuine regret. Despite the vagaries of the weather and the trial that no Internet access presents in relation to maintaining these missives in some form of timely presentation, these ten days were one of the highlights of our journey to date. For us, The Duke is a 'MacArther destination' indeed.