ON TO PORT HEDLAND AND THE COOKE POINT CARAVAN PARK AKA 'BRING YOUR CHEQUE BOOK' CARAVAN PARK (13 MAY 2015)

Well, after having spent the past ten days or so without any electronic comz, in real time we are now in Katherine and 'back on the air' as they say.....phone, Internet and TV....we are reconnected to the outside world and I can get on with trying to catch up.

So it's back to resuming our adventures where I last left off....Point Samson. Let me take up the yarn again.

After the hectic activity of the past week, the prospect of the 250 kms drive from Point Samson to Port Hedland loomed as an easy day. And so it was, but with one major hiccup as we were to discover.

I had planned an early start, and indeed that is what we did.  As the sun poked its head over the horizon we were almost ready to go.

For the last time we drove the 20kms to Roebourne, but on this occasion we continued on through the town and turned our faces north-west.

For quite some time the North West Coastal Highway took us through open grazing country, a real change from the tumbled masses of red Pilbara rocks and hills we had been looking at for the past seven days.

This is real cattle country.  Across the plain we could see the ranges which extend well to the east, home to the Millstream and (much more popular) Karijini National Parks. Everyone who has been to Karijini has advocated that we just must not miss it. There is only one snag.....No Pets!  The delights of Karijini will just have to wait for another day.

Some 80 kms beyond Roebourne we had been expecting to drive through the small old mining town of Whim Creek.  Instead we found that it sits some distance off the highway.....this was something of a disappointment....the Whim Creek pub has a reputation, but not one sufficient to tempt us off the highway and onto a very secondary road.

Past Whim Creek and the grazing plains again gave way to the ranges, 

some of which were pretty impressive lumps of rock,

but then, as we neared Port Hedland, the countryside changed yet again as we traversed a flat and somewhat dreary plain.

With the Yule River crossing behind us, we were soon at the junction of the two major highways in this part of Western Australia.  

Our trip up the North-Western Coastal Highway was over....we had now joined the Great Northern Highway which extends from here south and inland to Perth through Newman, Meekatharra and Mount Magnet.....only three major towns in over 1,000 kilometres once one leaves Perth and the small towns of the north-west wheat belt. This is indeed a large state with long, lonely country highways. Is it any wonder that many coming here from the leafy lanes and numerous towns and villages of Britain and Europe suffer significant culture shock when they discover that their next chance for coffee and cake (or more seriously, fuel and/or water) could be 500 kms distant.

The outskirts of Port Hedland were upon us, and here we were given another reminder of the massive amounts of infrastructure required to develop a new, large iron ore mine. 

Roy Hill is the latest Gina Rinehart project, a huge prospective mine deep in the Pilbara. But it’s one thing to dig it up.  The ore then has to be transported to the nearest export port, and in this case it is Port Hedland. 

And there is only one way to do this......build a completely new railway line of course. Perish the thought that there could be any sharing of existing infrastructure with Rio Tinto or BHP! Is it any wonder that funds to finance these developments are counted in the billions of dollars. 

If we had a shadow of a doubt that we were now back in ‘big mining’ country, this was soon dispelled as we continued into Port Headland. Streams of huge road trains thundered past us on the highway, 

and in the distance, the gargantuan frames and grasping buckets of the ore loaders of this 

massive and very busy port overshadowed everything else on the horizon. 

The approach into Port Hedland is not pretty. This is a town with but one purpose....export shipping....iron ore and salt.  Tonnes and tonnes of it, daily.

And it was about here that our day took an interesting turn.  There are only two caravan parks in Port Hedland, both of which do not allow pets. In fact many travelling friends had questioned our common sense when we mentioned that we planned to spend a couple of days here. “Port Hedland!”, they would exclaim. “Overpriced and won’t take your cat.  South Headland is feral central and the rest of the town is nothing to look at. Why bother?”

As we discovered they did have a point, but I was determined to have at least a quick look at the largest and busiest port in Australia, from where, in 2012, over 240 million tonnes of product was exported.

But where to stay did present an obvious problem. We had found out that the Port Hedland golf club provided caravan sites and were pet friendly.  From what we could see this was not too far out of town.  That will do us, or so we thought!

As we pulled into the entrance driveway our enthusiasm for a Port Hedland visit plummeted.....this did not look good.

And on this occasion, unlike many others when we have pulled thinking 'Yea Gods' only to later discover that our new temporary place of residence was fine, first impressions were correct. After her sortie to the office Liz returned to tell me that we could park anywhere we liked “on the grass”.  Grass my foot.....thick, high weeds is a more accurate description.  Unpowered, no shade and $30 a night. Admittedly we would have had full use of the clubhouse facilities, which were pretty good, but the thought of spending two nights in a virtual wilderness in a van which would become a furnace under the baking sun, the need to run out the generator to power the necessary air conditioner and absolutely no security whilst we were out and about.....this was not happening!

What to do?  We knew that South Hedland is less than appealing from a socio-economic standpoint, an opinion which was borne out a few weekends later when the local police had to close all the liquor outlets in an effort to quell a serious outbreak of anti-social behaviour by the South Hedland ferals (of both colours). The park in that area was not an option. 

That left the Cooke Point Holiday Park as the only viable alternative. A quick phone call and we were booked in and on our way. Bugger their ‘no pets’ policy, this was an emergency.

So it was back onto the entrance road into the main section of the town where the degree of functionality is matched equally by the lack of visual appeal

and where there was no shortage of lighting (as we were to see later at night...a completely different picture)

Here we passed the first of the innumerable ore trains we were to see over the next two days,

and here, for the first time we saw evidence of the enormous total weight of these monsters.....trains 2.5 kilometres long or more are the norm. They are so heavy that in addition to the two huge diesel locomotives at the head, two more are placed in the centre of the line of wagons to provide the necessary hauling grunt. We had no difficulty accepting the fact that these are recognised internationally as the heaviest trains in the world.

So it was past yet more salt pans,

and on to the caravan park, with one essential stop on the way. This was the time for subterfuge.....poor old Max was about to experience his first trip in his cage in the van...on his own.  Hopefully when we were on our site and could join him again his coat would still be black, not white with fright!

Within but a few moments we were on the approach to our park, both of us feeling somewhat guilty about the Black Panther’s current situation.

“To hell with your rules”.  When we were to be charged the exorbitant fee of $52 a night we felt no compunction about just happening to fail to mention our little furry travelling companion.

That’s right.....$52 a night! For a site in a very average type of caravan park in Port Hedland of all places.....hardly the tourist mecca of the North-West I can assure you. This is an outrageous rip-off and I was not happy, but in the circumstances we had no choice. There was no way we would stay in South Hedland (I did wonder if this had a bearing on the fees charged at Cooke Point...a spot of gouging perchance?) and I was determined to see the port whilst we were in this part of the world.

As we pulled up near the office, Liz steeled herself to fib by omission.  This is far from her preferred way of dealing with things, but she 'took one for the team' and performed admirably. Mind you, I suspect it was as well that she was not asked any direct questions about animals.

Our allocated patch of paradise (if the charge is any guide) was just beyond the park pool and first BBQ.

That would be right. On the very first occasion we have cheated on the No Pets rule we were plonked on a site within direct view of the office. Max old son, you are about to become very much an indoors cat!

Our site was all cement slab,

as were most of the transient sites throughout this quite large park.

The Cooke Point caravan park provides a number of tourist cabins for those who want this type of accommodation

in addition to a very large number of what appeared to be older, permanently occupied cabins. From what we saw, this park is obviously part ‘workers’ camp’, and in many areas is well past its prime.

Some are lucky enough to have sea glimpses

but with the best will in the world I could not describe the local beach as something about which to become overly excited.

Apart from the BBQ area near the park entrance, the camp kitchen at the end of our row of sites seemed adequate, if not a little exposed to the wind.

Then we come to outlook.  From our site I would describe it as interesting, far better at night than during the day.  The rear of our van looked out over the local stream known as ‘Pretty Pool’...a real misnomer...of which we could see but a little, just enough to know that fishing there was not an option!

Beyond that the flat plain between our park and the distant ore train railway line is primarily occupied by a horse adjustment business.

Focusing in, we could see some of the seemingly jumbled expanses of  the infrastructure 

of the port of Port Hedland, a sight which dominates most views of any part of this town (and if you look closely the tops of the bridges of two bulk carriers) 

and between it and us, the never ending stream of huge iron ore trains delivering their product to the port day and night. Not for the first (or last) time I was frustrated by my inability to photograph the entire length of any of these enormous trains as they edged their way inexorably towards their destination.  

So here we were at least settled in to Port Hedland despite the challenges. Tomorrow we visit the port itself to watch the arrival and departure of a couple of the bulk carriers which constantly stream in and out of this port on the high tides.