Before we share our adventures between Perth and Carnavon and a marvellous Anzac Day, I must interrupt the normal chronology of the MobileMarshies blog to bring you up to date with a somewhat momentous past few days, days we will be happy to dine out on but days we would much rather have not experienced.
As I write the date is 4 May. Liz and I are currently in Onslow where the van in in one piece, but your scribe is anything but. Let me expand on those two rather cryptic comments, and to do so I must begin at Coral Bay on Tuesday 28 April.
After our quick drive in and out of Coral Bay last year whilst heading up to Exmouth, we knew that it would be crowded, noisy and completely 'tourist orientated' but we decided to give it another try in the hope that we would be beating the annual winter rush.
As it transpired, our attempt to enjoy Coral Bay for what it is was doomed from the outset. We arrived at the Bayview Caravan Park only to find that the site we had been allocated was completely inadequate....even with all our experience in tight parks we couldn't get on. This is a park for which all bookings are managed out of an office in Perth by staff who clearly do not have a clue about their jobs. We had made a point of stipulating our length on the basis of prior advice that this park can be tight.
Fortunately the lass who had actually checked us in walked past as we were attempting to moor. She at least had the brains to realise that we were on 'mission impossible' and promptly organised a much larger patch for us at the back of the park. I have no wish to sound ungrateful, but here we ran into more strife.
Whilst this photo does not show it as well as I would have liked, the edge of the grass on
which we had to park was a good 18 inches higher than the roadway. Fortunately the ground was very soft and sandy.....after a few failed attempts we finally got on but not before having used the bottom of our 'A' frame as a plough and leaving a metre long furrow on the lip of the ledge as we inched on.
And this was just the beginning. After a good wander along the Coral Bay beach and poking our noses into the resort pub and the shopping arcade the following morning, I went back to the van to try to catch up with some of the blog whilst Liz headed off to the park pool.
This is when things went badly wrong. The wind had lifted and I went outside to secure the awning fringe which was flapping about wildly. And from this point you must bear with me as one thing led to another. And a cautionary note to the squeamish.....a couple of the following photos may cause distress (as they say on the news services).
As I was attaching the small fastening clip to one end of the fringe, my right foot must have been under the steel spring of the guy rope holding the awning roller. I had stupidly forgotten to wear my fly net when I went outside (the flies were still horrendous) and as I was trying to dislodge one stuck in my eye, I tripped backwards. Ouch! I felt a sharp sting in my right foot, but did not think too much of it until I looked down.
This was the sight which greeted me, or very much like it. How I managed this I still don't quite know but the only explanation I have is that as I wrenched my foot backwards a sharp end of the spring coil caught the skin of my foot at the outer edge of the base of my big toe and just ripped off this rather nasty sized flap of skin....right down to the bone.
Needless to say The Matron received a hasty call. "I think I'm in a spot of bother, Liz. Your professional services are needed." She took one look at the mess and rightly decided that this was not a first aid problem...far more serious repairs were needed.
Fortunately, after our morning's recce, we knew exactly where to find the Coral Bay nursing station, our immediate destination. Here I was fortunate to have been the recipient of the most magnificent care.
Anthony, the nurse practitioner on duty could not have been more reassuring, competent and efficient.
And, once the full extent of the injury had been determined, he did acknowledge that he had a job on his hands. I had managed to expose the bone and rip the bone sheath as well as the covering skin. To our great joint relief, the bone strike had prevented any tendon damage.
The injection of the necessary local anaesthetic was not fun, but beyond that I was relieved that the repair process was less challenging than I had anticipated (been dreading really!). The consummately skilful Anthony cleaned the wound and stitched everything back together, including three internal stitches to rejoin the torn bone sheath.
This was seriously tricky stuff, but after nearly two and a half hours and 23 stitches later, I was back on my feet....well one at least. Liz was more than impressed with Anthony's surgical skills. She was happy to share with him that she had seen far worst results from the hands of specialist cosmetic surgeons.
As for my saviour, he was prepared to admit this had been one of his more challenging jobs but one from which he had derived some real satisfaction. I am sure these chaps are not paid their full worth.
I was supposed to spend at least the next three days with my foot elevated to promote initial healing and we subsequently arranged to have an extra day at Coral Bay for this purpose. And what better post op therapy than an evening chat with friends under our awning and a fine white wine.
We had pre-planned Albany garfish for tea this night. I was determined that a buggered foot would not stand in my way. Who said you can't cook and keep a foot elevated at the same time? This rather challenging stance even had the approval of my overseeing nurse (she did think I was stupid, but she does love crumbed garfish!)
And sure enough, we did eventually sit down to a fine fish meal. It had been a long day!
But then things just went from bad to worse. We often talk about bad things coming in threes....we had had one and two....what could be next? The answer to that was simple and not long in coming....Tropical Cyclone Quong had intensified in the Indian Ocean, was now at Category 4 strength and was tracking directly towards the WA coast. We were alerted to this news late on Wednesday evening. Bloody hell! We are not insured for any caravan damage which results either directly or indirectly from anything to do with a 'named' cyclone. Quong was well and truly named.
So, from late Wednesday evening and all through Thursday I was on the computer every three hours checking the predicted cyclone track and beginning to make evacuation plans. By Thursday evening I had contingencies for flight north, north-east, east and south. Distances and projected elapsed times had been calculated together with refuelling points. I had plotted all the roads which crossed major rivers and worked on last minute alternatives if the cyclone changed track suddenly.
After a pretty sleepless night Thursday night, and the confirmation at 0300 hours Friday morning that Quong was heading directly for Exmouth and was still a Cat 4 system, we took the decision to leave at first light. We had agreed our best option was to head south. We knew exactly where we were going, what was available en route, and I knew that even if Quong tracked SSE along the coast we could outrun it as it degenerated into a tropical low. All the other alternatives had some advantages over our chosen course, but carried risks we were not prepared to take.
We were pretty miffed because we had booked the extra day for which we knew we would not get a refund, and of course, the last thing I should have been doing was hitching up a van and driving for hours. The possibility that the foot might later require re-stitching was by far the lesser of the two evils, but having to hobble about in a 'crock' without bending my toe at all was a real trial.
In any event, off we went at 0700 hours, south as fast as conditions would allow, under a very threatening sky and rapidly increasing winds. At Carnarvon, where we stopped for brunch, I checked the cyclone track again and the predicted heavy rain forecast, and although with hindsight we now realise we probably could have stayed there, the degree of risk was still too high. We ended up at Billabong Roadhouse for the night, nearly 500 kms south of Coral Bay. Here I knew we would be safe from Quong's widest reach.
And then, of course, Murphy took over.....Quong fizzed as it hit the coast, there was none of the predicted remnant rain and we had gone probably 200 kms further south than we needed to. But as it was we had a cracker of a night in the Billabong Pub where, to our utter amazement it turned out the owner grew up in Coffin Bay and knew an ex-police colleague of mine very well! We also spoke to another couple enjoying an ale or two who told us that they had been in Coral Bay under tents, and had been told to evacuate. We later learnt that both Exmouth and Coral Bay suffered a hammering for several hours before Quong turned up its toes, so I felt vindicated in what we had decided as the result of what had been a very tricky evaluation and decision making process. After all, we are used to bush fires, not bloody cyclones.
So next morning (not quite as early as we had planned) we headed back north again. We were a day behind our scheduled arrival into Onslow where the park managers were more than understanding of our plight and had no hesitation in altering our booking.
After another very long day on the road (544 kms), we crept in over the muddy ground of a free overnight camp site at Barradale with great relief and put our feet up (in my case literally) for the night.
I'll revisit our journey and this really pretty 24 hour rest area in a later blog. For the moment, let's just deal with one final emergency en route to Onslow, hopefully our last for many, many moons.
One of the alternative destinations I had considered out of Coral Bay was the North West Coastal Highway roadhouse at Nanutarra, about 100kms south-east of Onslow. I discarded this option on the basis of BOM advice that heavy rain was possible in that area as Quong degenerated.
How right they were, the boys at the Met Bureau, that is. Although the later predicted rain did not eventuate, Quong did its best as it first crossed the coast.
This was the result, two days later, about thee kilometres north of Nanutarra....and this was the short, shallow stretch.
Water was everywhere on both sides of the highway and was pouring across it.
We halted to let this road train through before taking the plunge ourselves (no loss of sense of humour here). The last thing we needed was to be forced off to the side into the deeper sections by this oncoming monster which had nowhere else to go.
Safely through this section, we were both heaving sighs of relief when our sense of self-congratulation at having accomplished something we had never done before was dashed instantly by this sight in front of us.
This torrent was much deeper and flowing swiftly. Again we came to a shuddering halt to watch to progress on the oncoming 4WD ute. Although this driver was prone to be a hoon (we were reminded of little boys and puddles) we could see that we would have sufficient clearance to make the crossing,
very, very slowly. Even so, our front wheels did create a real bow wave, and we could see in the mirrors that the water was lapping at the bottom of the van door. To our great relief we had a clear run through. There were several spots where I had to take the high point at the centre of the road to prevent the van from being flooded.
Surely there can be no more challenges.....I for one had had more than enough excitement for a few days. We were by now just hoping against hope that we would like what we found in Onslow. We do, but that's a story for another day.
In my next I'll return to complete our travelling tale from Perth to Carnarvon, share Anzac Day and take a closer look at Coral Bay.
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