I would dearly love a dollar (or perhaps two or three) for every person who has told us that whatever we do or don't do in Western Australia, we must, absolutely must, visit Cape Le Grande and, in particular, Lucky Bay.
The time had come.....off we went with that now well developed sense of "Hummmm, I just wonder if the reality will match the hype". In this case, almost.
The road from Esperance to the Cape Le Grande National Park took us through some pretty grazing country where the condition of the cattle spoke volumes for the grass on which they were contentedly munching against the backdrop of the granite peaks of the cape.
Some 50 kms or so into our journey we reached the turn off to the park ranger station (where our permanent parks pass on the windscreen always makes us feel just that tiny bit smug as we cruise past those at the window paying their entry fee)
and the sign proclaiming we were indeed on the right track.
As we made our way back onto the main road we caught our fist glimpse of the sea across the low scrub of the flat coastal country in this area,
and the peaks of the three major granite hills on this part of the Cape, including the sharply pointed top of of the most well known, Frenchman Peak, all appearing slightly blurred and softened in the early morning haze.
Before we knew it we had turned off and were travelling along the Lucky Bay Road towards that part of the coast.
. This is what we had come to see as shown in this aerial shot from
the Internet.
Our expectations were rising.....could it possibly be that good. Our first glimpse was encouraging.
We paused on the dirt road into the Lucky Bay campground to catch our breath and survey the scene. Here, with the rocks of the western end of the bay in the background, we could just make out a few white objects dotted in the bush...that must be the camp ground.
Looking further to our left from this same point, there it was...Lucky Bay, one of the most
vaunted of holiday destinations, certainly in WA, if not Australia.
Well, the sand certainly does look white. We'll have a closer look in a minute, but first we drove past the campground entrance
and on to the car park at the end of the road in. We had come to see the monument to Captain Matthew Flinders who anchored in, and named, Lucky Bay on Saturday 9 January 1802 as he circumnavigated the continent.
Just beyond the bush BBQ at the edge of the car park
we found the path we were looking for.
From here we could just see the tops of some of the vans in the camp area
and the rocky slopes of the headland we were to partially traverse, but not for far.
I'm pleased our walk was short. Great view of this end of the bay, but what a fizzer of a monument. I would have thought that Capt'n Mat probably deserved a bit better than this, especially when one reads his diary account of his arrival and the reasons he named the bay as he did.
"The chart alone cannot give any adequate idea of this labyrinth of islands and rocks.... Seeing no probability of reaching a space of clear water in which to stand off and on during the night, and no prospect of shelter under any of the islands, I found myself under the necessity of adopting a hazardous measure; and with the concurrence of the master's opinion, we steered directly before the wind for the main coast, where the appearance of some beaches, behind other islands, gave a hope of finding anchorage. At seven in the evening we entered a small sandy bay; and finding it sheltered everywhere except to the south-westward, in which direction there were many islands and rocks in the offing to break off the sea, the anchor was dropped in 7 fathoms, sandy bottom. The master sounded round the ship, but nothing was found to injure the cables; and except the water being shallow in the north-west corner of the bay, there was no danger to be apprehended, unless from strong south-west winds. The critical circumstance under which this place was discovered induced me to give it the name of Lucky Bay."
From the Flinders Monument we could also see the knobby granite rocks dotted along the top of the hill above the car park, a scene utterly typical of this part of the world.
It was time to check out the camping ground about which so much has been written and said, and which, I might add, was full for the entire time we were in Esperance. As we approached the entrance I have to admit to being highly underwhelmed. This did not look too promising to me.
I will freely concede that the views are wonderful
but as for the camp ground itself.....'somewhat crowded' is something of an understatement.
The tent ground was equally popular
and whilst the ablution block seemed very well built and maintained,
the thought of living cheek by jowl on open, dusty sites such as we saw held no appeal to us at all, even if the most appealing of neighbours would pop in for morning tea and a quick chat (you may have to look closely).
And this was a good day....we shuddered to think what this must be like when the wind whips up (as it so often does down here) and the rains lash the countryside. We concluded that day trips to spots like this were a much better proposition (not that we could come here in any event....Max is decidedly unwelcome in national parks....and no, not a sour grape in sight!!).
Let's see if the beach impresses us more, the beach with the whitest sand in Australia. (this is actually a proven fact...spectro-analysis of the grains of sand from this and other white beaches in WA put Lucky Bay on top....for what that is all worth!)
We were not off to a good start. Far from gleaming white, the beach at this point was a dirty brown, probably the result of road residue from the tyres of the many vehicles which hit the beach.
Things did look a spot better as we gazed past the Lucky Bay beach coffee and cake hut
So it was off to have a good look. As we travelled further along the beach the quality of the sand did improve markedly, but it still did not match the photos we had seen in the promotional material. The seaweed didn't help, I have to admit.
And what about the kangaroos. This is the shot which appears on all the blurb and is now gracing the stubbie holder which Liz added to our collection. This is the fiction......
...........this is the reality. But at least there was one roo on the beach.
He hopped about near the water for a while and then decided it was time to see what he could scrounge whilst the owners of these towels were taking a dip. Signs everywhere discourage feeding our national marsupial, but they seem to have little effect on the tourist determined to get that iconic photo from Australia..."look, Mum, I'm feeding a kangaroo".
I must crave your indulgence if my judgement of Lucky Bay seems somewhat harsh. I think it is yet another case of being a spoilt South Australian as far as beaches go. And interestingly, we both thought things then got better.
Nearby Thistle Cove is named after John Thistle, Flinders' ship's master who, with six other members of the ship's company, disappeared in February 1802 whilst searching for water off the coast of SA near Port Lincoln. Their fate was never determined. All that was found was their wrecked cutter, an oar and, ironically, a water barrel. They were presumed to have drowned.
One of the first features of this cove is the large and aptly named Whistling Rock. For some reason or other, the wind blowing over this granite lump creates a most eerie throbbing and whistling noise. It was in full song on the day of our visit.
And later, as we returned from a trek to the beach, we saw that, viewed from another angle, this extraordinary rock bore an uncanny resemblance to Albany's famous Dog Rock. We did wonder if we were the first to have made this somewhat startling observation (for us, at least).
From Whistling Rock the massive mottled granite outcrops and headlands which separate this cove from Lucky Bay are on full view,
whilst, looking in the opposite direction, the far tip of Thistle Cove beach can just be seen across the rocky slope.
Now this really is a cracker of a beach as we found after wandering down the access track through the scrub
and across another granite sheet (here seen on our way back)
Access to the sand off the granite slopes is particularly tricky which probably accounts for the fact that the beach was all but deserted.....another point of appeal.
From here we drove back past Frenchman Peak
but this time we pulled into the car park. Having seen a few intrepid souls wandering around the top of the rock, it occurred to yours truly that the view from that vantage point would be stunning.
Put that one in the 'good idea at the time' basket and leave it there!
Ten years and two good knees ago possibly...and I just loved the contradiction on the sign...."two hours hard walking"...."please follow the footpath from the car park to the gentle eastern gradient". Someone has a sense of humour.
Now for the gem as far as we were concerned....the oddly named Hellfire Bay. There is an unconfirmed thought that the name originated from the phenomenon know as St Elmos' fire, when an eerie bluish static electrical discharge erupts from the top of a ship's mast. To the highly superstitious sailors of old, this was indeed 'hellfire' and created huge consternation amongst the crews.
Whatever the origin of the name, this was for us, the gem in the crown of Cape Le Grand. A flight of steps took us down from the car park
to a neatly paved courtyard area from which the vista of the beach and bay tease the descending tourist.
But, in the words of that advertisement of so many years ago (now who remembers this...."but wait there is more"...hands up those who thought of steak knives?). And indeed there is...more that is. A beautifully well set up BBQ and picnic area in on hand for those who arrive for morning tea, lunch, or whatever else they fancy.
For us, it was lunch. What a setting in which to chomp on a fine corned beef roll with one of Liz's famed scotch eggs.
From the BBQ and picnic patio, a set of paved steps lead those needing to walk off a mealtime excess
to a beach which is stunningly beautiful. Hellfire Bay does match the hype. We loved it.
After a long walk from one end to the other I could not resist the temptation to have a crack at whatever may have been swimming in the surf seeking a tasty morsel. My alluring squid bait did see the end of the adventures of three rather small herring, but that was it. Did I care? Not a jot...this is one place where that old saying 'a fish is a bonus' is actually true.
We left Hellfire Bay with some reluctance, but the Cape Le Grande camping site and the beach of Wylie Bay demanded our attention. We were particularly interested to compare the campground here with that at Lucky Bay.
The car park adjacent to the camping ground looks out over the azure waters of Wylie Bay
in the shadow of the seaward end of the hulking bulk of Mount Le Grande, and it is here that we should pause for a minute for another quick historical diversion.
Cape Le Grande was named by the early French explorer of this coast (of course you remembered...Bruni d'Entrecasteaux) in recognition of a very junior officer on his ship L'Esperance.
The good admiral's ship was in deep trouble as it neared what is now know as Esperance Bay. A thunderous storm had placed it in severe danger of foundering....a safe haven was an immediate imperative. But obviously, as this was a voyage of exploration, there were no charts to consult and certainly no 'notes for navigators'. What to do?
Up popped the indomitable Ensign Le Grande, who, in a feat of significant courage and physical skill, shimmied up to the top of the mainmast and from this vantage point he guided the ship into a safe anchorage just off Observatory Island in Esperance Bay. Goodness only knows through what arc and distance the top of that mast must have been swaying as the ship wallowed and rolled. Just hanging on, let alone shouting directional instructions over the noise of the howling wind and the crash of waves on the hull, would have been a feat in itself. Well done young Le Grande...your name shall live in perpetuity on this coast....and it does!
On the day of our visit the Cape Le Grande camp was full, as both the driveway bollards
It was not until we drew abreast of the actual entrance to each site that we could see who was lucky enough to be occupying them. How very
much more civilised the Cape Le Grande camp is compared to Lucky Bay. Every site here is separated from the
neighbours by thickets of scrub providing both
privacy and a sense of space.
Even the on-site caretaker is tucked away very neatly in his own little patch of heaven.
Cape Le Grande, for us, was something of a mixed bag. To our surprise, the areas we really liked were not those which make it to the top of the tourist tease. That may well say something about our priorities, or it might just be that, as I have mentioned before, we from SA have much of the same on our own doorstep.
Let us depart the Cape with one final historical snippet with a connection to our home state. One of the three major granite hills of the cape, Mississippi Hill, is located at the eastern end of Lucky Bay, and the next bay to the east is Rossiter Bay. What has all this to do with SA, I hear you enquire.
Hopefully the name of Edward John Eyre will jog a few memories of childhood history lessons. In 1840 Eyre set out, with John Baxter and three aborigines, to cross the continent from Adelaide to Albany via the coast of the Great Australian Bight. He was the first European to attempt this crossing. En route two of the aborigines killed Baxter and set off with most of the group's supplies. By the time Eyre and his remaining, faithful aboriginal companion Wylie, had reached Cape Le Grande, they were exhausted and starving. They were making for Thistle Cove where Eyre knew, from Flinders' records, they would find fresh water.
But before Eyre reached Thistle Cove, fate intervened in the shape of one Captain Rossiter. The French whaling ship, the Mississippi, which he commanded, was anchored nearby. Rossiter provided Eyre and Wylie with all the supplies they needed to successfully reach Albany. Had it not been for this chance encounter it is highly doubtful Eyre would have survived. In return, as was so often the case in these times, he rewarded Rossiter's good grace and generosity by naming the bay in which he had been anchored after him, and the granite hill nearby, Mississippi Hill, names they bear to this day.
And so, dear reader, on this historical note (for which I am sadly, and hopefully not too boringly, fond) we leave Cape Le Grande, its present splendour and its interesting past.
Next, back to Esperance and a tour of its marvellous beaches.
the Internet.
Our expectations were rising.....could it possibly be that good. Our first glimpse was encouraging.
We paused on the dirt road into the Lucky Bay campground to catch our breath and survey the scene. Here, with the rocks of the western end of the bay in the background, we could just make out a few white objects dotted in the bush...that must be the camp ground.
Looking further to our left from this same point, there it was...Lucky Bay, one of the most
vaunted of holiday destinations, certainly in WA, if not Australia.
Well, the sand certainly does look white. We'll have a closer look in a minute, but first we drove past the campground entrance
and on to the car park at the end of the road in. We had come to see the monument to Captain Matthew Flinders who anchored in, and named, Lucky Bay on Saturday 9 January 1802 as he circumnavigated the continent.
Just beyond the bush BBQ at the edge of the car park
we found the path we were looking for.
From here we could just see the tops of some of the vans in the camp area
and the rocky slopes of the headland we were to partially traverse, but not for far.
I'm pleased our walk was short. Great view of this end of the bay, but what a fizzer of a monument. I would have thought that Capt'n Mat probably deserved a bit better than this, especially when one reads his diary account of his arrival and the reasons he named the bay as he did.
"The chart alone cannot give any adequate idea of this labyrinth of islands and rocks.... Seeing no probability of reaching a space of clear water in which to stand off and on during the night, and no prospect of shelter under any of the islands, I found myself under the necessity of adopting a hazardous measure; and with the concurrence of the master's opinion, we steered directly before the wind for the main coast, where the appearance of some beaches, behind other islands, gave a hope of finding anchorage. At seven in the evening we entered a small sandy bay; and finding it sheltered everywhere except to the south-westward, in which direction there were many islands and rocks in the offing to break off the sea, the anchor was dropped in 7 fathoms, sandy bottom. The master sounded round the ship, but nothing was found to injure the cables; and except the water being shallow in the north-west corner of the bay, there was no danger to be apprehended, unless from strong south-west winds. The critical circumstance under which this place was discovered induced me to give it the name of Lucky Bay."
From the Flinders Monument we could also see the knobby granite rocks dotted along the top of the hill above the car park, a scene utterly typical of this part of the world.
It was time to check out the camping ground about which so much has been written and said, and which, I might add, was full for the entire time we were in Esperance. As we approached the entrance I have to admit to being highly underwhelmed. This did not look too promising to me.
I will freely concede that the views are wonderful
but as for the camp ground itself.....'somewhat crowded' is something of an understatement.
The tent ground was equally popular
and whilst the ablution block seemed very well built and maintained,
the thought of living cheek by jowl on open, dusty sites such as we saw held no appeal to us at all, even if the most appealing of neighbours would pop in for morning tea and a quick chat (you may have to look closely).
And this was a good day....we shuddered to think what this must be like when the wind whips up (as it so often does down here) and the rains lash the countryside. We concluded that day trips to spots like this were a much better proposition (not that we could come here in any event....Max is decidedly unwelcome in national parks....and no, not a sour grape in sight!!).
Let's see if the beach impresses us more, the beach with the whitest sand in Australia. (this is actually a proven fact...spectro-analysis of the grains of sand from this and other white beaches in WA put Lucky Bay on top....for what that is all worth!)
We were not off to a good start. Far from gleaming white, the beach at this point was a dirty brown, probably the result of road residue from the tyres of the many vehicles which hit the beach.
Things did look a spot better as we gazed past the Lucky Bay beach coffee and cake hut
So it was off to have a good look. As we travelled further along the beach the quality of the sand did improve markedly, but it still did not match the photos we had seen in the promotional material. The seaweed didn't help, I have to admit.
And what about the kangaroos. This is the shot which appears on all the blurb and is now gracing the stubbie holder which Liz added to our collection. This is the fiction......
...........this is the reality. But at least there was one roo on the beach.
He hopped about near the water for a while and then decided it was time to see what he could scrounge whilst the owners of these towels were taking a dip. Signs everywhere discourage feeding our national marsupial, but they seem to have little effect on the tourist determined to get that iconic photo from Australia..."look, Mum, I'm feeding a kangaroo".
I must crave your indulgence if my judgement of Lucky Bay seems somewhat harsh. I think it is yet another case of being a spoilt South Australian as far as beaches go. And interestingly, we both thought things then got better.
Nearby Thistle Cove is named after John Thistle, Flinders' ship's master who, with six other members of the ship's company, disappeared in February 1802 whilst searching for water off the coast of SA near Port Lincoln. Their fate was never determined. All that was found was their wrecked cutter, an oar and, ironically, a water barrel. They were presumed to have drowned.
One of the first features of this cove is the large and aptly named Whistling Rock. For some reason or other, the wind blowing over this granite lump creates a most eerie throbbing and whistling noise. It was in full song on the day of our visit.
And later, as we returned from a trek to the beach, we saw that, viewed from another angle, this extraordinary rock bore an uncanny resemblance to Albany's famous Dog Rock. We did wonder if we were the first to have made this somewhat startling observation (for us, at least).
From Whistling Rock the massive mottled granite outcrops and headlands which separate this cove from Lucky Bay are on full view,
whilst, looking in the opposite direction, the far tip of Thistle Cove beach can just be seen across the rocky slope.
Now this really is a cracker of a beach as we found after wandering down the access track through the scrub
and across another granite sheet (here seen on our way back)
Access to the sand off the granite slopes is particularly tricky which probably accounts for the fact that the beach was all but deserted.....another point of appeal.
From here we drove back past Frenchman Peak
but this time we pulled into the car park. Having seen a few intrepid souls wandering around the top of the rock, it occurred to yours truly that the view from that vantage point would be stunning.
Put that one in the 'good idea at the time' basket and leave it there!
Ten years and two good knees ago possibly...and I just loved the contradiction on the sign...."two hours hard walking"...."please follow the footpath from the car park to the gentle eastern gradient". Someone has a sense of humour.
Now for the gem as far as we were concerned....the oddly named Hellfire Bay. There is an unconfirmed thought that the name originated from the phenomenon know as St Elmos' fire, when an eerie bluish static electrical discharge erupts from the top of a ship's mast. To the highly superstitious sailors of old, this was indeed 'hellfire' and created huge consternation amongst the crews.
Whatever the origin of the name, this was for us, the gem in the crown of Cape Le Grand. A flight of steps took us down from the car park
to a neatly paved courtyard area from which the vista of the beach and bay tease the descending tourist.
But, in the words of that advertisement of so many years ago (now who remembers this...."but wait there is more"...hands up those who thought of steak knives?). And indeed there is...more that is. A beautifully well set up BBQ and picnic area in on hand for those who arrive for morning tea, lunch, or whatever else they fancy.
For us, it was lunch. What a setting in which to chomp on a fine corned beef roll with one of Liz's famed scotch eggs.
From the BBQ and picnic patio, a set of paved steps lead those needing to walk off a mealtime excess
to a beach which is stunningly beautiful. Hellfire Bay does match the hype. We loved it.
After a long walk from one end to the other I could not resist the temptation to have a crack at whatever may have been swimming in the surf seeking a tasty morsel. My alluring squid bait did see the end of the adventures of three rather small herring, but that was it. Did I care? Not a jot...this is one place where that old saying 'a fish is a bonus' is actually true.
We left Hellfire Bay with some reluctance, but the Cape Le Grande camping site and the beach of Wylie Bay demanded our attention. We were particularly interested to compare the campground here with that at Lucky Bay.
The car park adjacent to the camping ground looks out over the azure waters of Wylie Bay
in the shadow of the seaward end of the hulking bulk of Mount Le Grande, and it is here that we should pause for a minute for another quick historical diversion.
Cape Le Grande was named by the early French explorer of this coast (of course you remembered...Bruni d'Entrecasteaux) in recognition of a very junior officer on his ship L'Esperance.
The good admiral's ship was in deep trouble as it neared what is now know as Esperance Bay. A thunderous storm had placed it in severe danger of foundering....a safe haven was an immediate imperative. But obviously, as this was a voyage of exploration, there were no charts to consult and certainly no 'notes for navigators'. What to do?
Up popped the indomitable Ensign Le Grande, who, in a feat of significant courage and physical skill, shimmied up to the top of the mainmast and from this vantage point he guided the ship into a safe anchorage just off Observatory Island in Esperance Bay. Goodness only knows through what arc and distance the top of that mast must have been swaying as the ship wallowed and rolled. Just hanging on, let alone shouting directional instructions over the noise of the howling wind and the crash of waves on the hull, would have been a feat in itself. Well done young Le Grande...your name shall live in perpetuity on this coast....and it does!
On the day of our visit the Cape Le Grande camp was full, as both the driveway bollards
and welcome sign made more than clear. It was here we were staggered to come across a couple who had driven out 'on spec' expecting a site and were complaining loudly and bitterly about the fact that they couldn't stay. They were only marginally mollified when, as they asked if I knew what was going on, I told them that had they first checked at the Esperance Information Centre, or even at the Ranger Station on the way in, they would have saved themselves a trip...novices!
We were impressed by the fact that a site map at the entrance made it quite clear where things were,
because as we soon discovered this is a camp in which those who choose to stay will be tucked away in their own little private site. Vans could barely be seen as we looked along the roadway.
The ablution
amenities are excellent
and the camp
kitchen is spacious, very clean and well equipped.
Even the on-site caretaker is tucked away very neatly in his own little patch of heaven.
We left our
brief exploration of this home away from home for campers and caravaners with
real regret that the ship’ cat precluded our entry. The Cape Le Grande camp site provides peace, privacy, personal space, wonderful shelter and good amenities....no wonder it was fully occupied. Like Lucky
Bay, this camp is also right on the beach. And what a beach this is.
From here,
those who are so inclined can drive almost all the way back to Esperance along
this wide, generally firm strip of bright, white sand. We had seen the exit
point near Wylie Head some days ago, and had been told by several that this was
indeed a safe passage, but the views of the co-pilot did not match my
enthusiasm for an alternative return to Esperance. “What’s wrong with the road...we know that
won’t be difficult.” Another time perhaps....on this occasion domestic harmony won out against a sense of adventure.
Cape Le Grande, for us, was something of a mixed bag. To our surprise, the areas we really liked were not those which make it to the top of the tourist tease. That may well say something about our priorities, or it might just be that, as I have mentioned before, we from SA have much of the same on our own doorstep.
Let us depart the Cape with one final historical snippet with a connection to our home state. One of the three major granite hills of the cape, Mississippi Hill, is located at the eastern end of Lucky Bay, and the next bay to the east is Rossiter Bay. What has all this to do with SA, I hear you enquire.
Hopefully the name of Edward John Eyre will jog a few memories of childhood history lessons. In 1840 Eyre set out, with John Baxter and three aborigines, to cross the continent from Adelaide to Albany via the coast of the Great Australian Bight. He was the first European to attempt this crossing. En route two of the aborigines killed Baxter and set off with most of the group's supplies. By the time Eyre and his remaining, faithful aboriginal companion Wylie, had reached Cape Le Grande, they were exhausted and starving. They were making for Thistle Cove where Eyre knew, from Flinders' records, they would find fresh water.
But before Eyre reached Thistle Cove, fate intervened in the shape of one Captain Rossiter. The French whaling ship, the Mississippi, which he commanded, was anchored nearby. Rossiter provided Eyre and Wylie with all the supplies they needed to successfully reach Albany. Had it not been for this chance encounter it is highly doubtful Eyre would have survived. In return, as was so often the case in these times, he rewarded Rossiter's good grace and generosity by naming the bay in which he had been anchored after him, and the granite hill nearby, Mississippi Hill, names they bear to this day.
And so, dear reader, on this historical note (for which I am sadly, and hopefully not too boringly, fond) we leave Cape Le Grande, its present splendour and its interesting past.
Next, back to Esperance and a tour of its marvellous beaches.
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