FAST FORWARD TO REAL TIME....A MAJOR INJURY, WE DODGE A CYCLONE AND MAKE IT TO ONSLOW (28 APRIL - 3 MAY 2015)

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.

OUR BRIEF RETURN TO PERTH, THE BANKSIA PARK AND AN OLD FASHIONED PUB CRAWL (31 MARCH - 7 APRIL 2015)

Our trip back into Perth from Brookton took us in through the foothills suburb of Kalamunda, an area we promised ourselves we would visit before leaving.  But for the present there was work to be done, beginning with establishing ourselves in our new park for the next seven days. 

We had chosen the Banksia Caravan Park for two main reasons.  Firstly, it is located very close to our good friends the Cooks (they had joined us in Denmark for the Albany 100 weekend) with whom a renewed social agenda had already been planned. Secondly, I was partly sucked in by what I had found on the park website, despite the fact that I now know to take much of this with a pinch of salt. I shall give you examples of the blurb and the reality shortly.

As we approached the entrance on the busy Midland Road, things were looking to be on song,

and as we drew to a halt outside the very impressive office building nothing changed immediately.

I began to gain a feel for the way in which things were managed here when I read the two notices posted on the office door 

This did not strike me as being very user friendly....a major metropolitan park and they close for lunch, close early on Saturdays and do not open at all on Sundays. Come on.

Admittedly the interior of the office was amongst the most well appointed we had ever seen, but as I later discovered this is very much window dressing. Ah, well, we booked in and began to make our way to our allotted site.

It was as we negotiated the entrance boom gate that we came across the most ridiculous system we had ever encountered. Yep, your eyes are not deceiving you. The system demands that those entering do so on the wrong side of the road.

And, obviously, the same applies on departure, when vehicles veer to the right onto what would normally be the incorrect side of the roadway to trip the automatic boom gate reader.  What a ludicrous set up this is and so easily solved.

So after passing this entrance examination, we continued down the roadway past some motel type units

and on towards the very pleasant BBQ area which marked our turn.

We were aware that this park was home to many permanent residents, and at this junction we could see on into the 'forbidden city'. 

We dutifully turned left and continued along past what we soon discovered is the only area in this entire seventeen hectares where sites are actually grassed.

Off to our left ran one of many roadways housing semi-permanents

whilst, to our right, we found the very large park pool, one of the selling points for me in making the decision to stay here.

This is indeed a large pool. We know of very few parks which boast this type of aquatic feature, other than those like, for example, Mossman, where the main town pool is managed by the park owners, or our favourite, Kurrimine Beach where the 20 metre pool is a real draw card. Here the pool is 16 metres long, but, as you can see, that is it.




No poolside furniture, no lawn (real or artificial) and a completely paved surround. We did wonder just how inviting this would be during the heat of a blazing summer day with the sun baking the pavement.

On we went past the pool to the roadway at the back of the park and our allotted site

where we finally set up on a large cement slab between two permanent residents.

At this point let me quote from the park website.  This is the description given of the 'Premuim Powered Dog Site', which ours was.

"Conveniently located across from the ablution block and dog exercise area."

Now this is absolutely true but here is the dog exercise area over which we looked from the front of our site.

"Very spacious and can accommodate any caravan, campervan or motor home in pleasant surroundings."

This is also true as far as the site size goes, but 'pleasant surroundings?'  If you look closely at the previous photo you will see a raised area of earth beyond the scrappy grass of the pooch patch.

I was first alerted to what this might be when, as we were setting up, our olfactory senses were assailed by a most unpleasant odour. My immediate suspicion was confirmed by our very amiable neighbour who did his best to convince us that things would improve when the wind direction changed. It takes a very long stretch of the imagination to describe any location in the immediate vicinity of a smelly settling pond as 'pleasant'.

"Conveniently located in wide open shady space with plenty of room to move."

We did have shade.  I'll let you be the judge of our wide open spaces.  We were jammed in with permanents on either side and behind us.This was the sight at the rear of our van looking one way, 

and this, the other (our  path to the conveniently located ablutions). I will reiterate here that the two neighbours with whom we had contact could not have been more pleasant, but I am sure that the website was not referring to them.

Finally, this is the major website photograph of a caravan site.  Admittedly those we had passed on the way in were grassed, 

but this is what the vast majority of the park sites are really like....either narrow, red brick paved slots (again, admittedly with hedgerows between them as advertised)

or these quite uninviting cement slabs (again admittedly amongst trees)  We remain eternally grateful we were not here in hot weather...the park would bake.

The only other area of grass we found was that set aside for tent sites, and few at that.

As you may have guessed by now I was less than impressed with our site, our 'pleasant surroundings' and the pool.  And as for the 'tranquil traveller's paradise'  as the website home page vaunts, the constant traffic noise from the nearby Roe Highway put paid to that.

In fairness I must take a quick jaunt through the rest of the park in general for any who would like the bigger picture.

The children's playground is more than adequate and located well away from most of the transient sites, which for any who have had to deal with screaming kids on the slippery dip at 0600 hours (as we frequently did in Albany over the Xmas holidays) is a real blessing.

The camp kitchen and one BBQ are located under the roof of the main office building at its rear, adjacent to the playground.

The large, well lit indoor kitchen provides all that is needed for the culinary requirements of those who have the need to use it.














This room leads off

into the adjoining recreation room where leather lounges lend a real touch of luxury.










But here again, the ambiance suffers with notices such as this posted large on the walls. Our park management experience taught us that one has to expect all types, but there are many ways in which to adequately caution the rowdy rabble to behave......this is not one of them.







The amenities block, which was indeed close to our site, housed facilities which were perfectly adequate for purpose. Hot showers, a strong flow and plenty of hooks are all that can be asked for. 











Apart from the permanent block of park houses behind the pool, which out of courtesy I only snapped from a distance,













there are a number of other roads populated by full time residents,












some of whom take obvious pride in the outward appearance of their humble abodes.












Banksia is also home to row and rows of cabins, some in the upper range










others much more modest in their amenity.










But despite  the drawbacks of this park from our perspective, we were here to stay and did make the most of it. The convenience of its location was indeed a winner, as was one particular sunset which I initially spotted through the park trees in its early stages.










I quickly scooted around into a better viewing position and within a few minutes this was my reward....a real beauty.






And we couldn't move on without sharing two more snippets unique to Banksia. Liz had, by now, finally decided that Max had well and truly adopted his new internal scratching post 

and that the old portable stump could be consigned to the bin. I was overjoyed... no more stubbed night time toes.














Mind you, she doesn't look happy about it, does she? 










Now I have made previous mention of our park neighbours, and you would have rightly assumed I was referring to the human kind. Indeed I was, but we had others.  It was the Black Panther which first alerted us to the antics of these other park residents......bandicoots of all things.

They were very elusive and particularly hard to photograph, but we did manage this shot of our little long snouted neighbour as it scurried under Max' baleful eye past this old lattice at the rear of our van 

and off to its sanctuary beneath the floor of our neighbour to the side, a man who was considerably underwhelmed by their presence, and more to the point, their penchant for digging.






Fortunately we were aware that these southern WA bandicoots do not, like their more northern cousins, carry the dangerous paralysis tick. Had we not confirmed that with several vets, poor of Max would have been confined to quarters for the duration. As it was, Billy Bandicoot provided as with a few moments of distraction in the great outdoors.

Well now that I have been more than forthright about our digs, let's get on with business. We were back in Perth primarily to allow Liz to complete her annual compulsory nursing competencies, and we had another problem to solve.


We had spent a considerable amount of Tuesday grappling with the ongoing problem of our leaking water pressure limiting valve, or more to the point, trying to source a replacement. After having no joy with three major plumbing suppliers, we made the cross town trip to a caravan shop in Welshpool where we were persuaded to buy an alternative plastic model. I was less than convinced it would fit but took the gamble.  


I should have trusted my initial judgement...attaching this to our rig was impossible. Thankfully, we were able to return the item for a full refund, but this meant another lengthy trip through the suburbs of Perth later in the week. In desperation I contacted Country Time in Geraldton. I wish I had done so earlier.....I was assured that they could fit an alternative device when we arrived for our brakes and bearings service the following week.  Tick off one more problem.

Shortly after we had arrived back at the park, our old mate Cooky popped in for a quite couple of beers and a planning meeting...a pub crawl the following afternoon and an evening BBQ chez Ann-marie and Jim was confirmed.  So, bright and early the following morning I drove Liz the 26 kms into, and past the city, to Osborne Park where she presented herself for examination. 

Whilst she had her head down I did number of errands, including sourcing foam rubber to improve Max's ride in his cage, and some square hard foam to fit over the awning rafters as a buffer between them and the canvas. 





And then it was back to Banksia where the redoubtable James Cook esquire arrived as planned and the boys were off to the pub(s). The charming old suburb of Midland was our initial destination, 










or more to the point, the 7th Avenue Bar and Restaurant in the Council Club Hotel.












Could this possibly be true in Western Australia? A pint of beer for $4.90....all day every day?












As we walked in through the very appealing dining area of this good old fashioned pub













the notice at the bar confirmed that my dreams had come true. And the special for this month was Tooheys Extra Dry, my tipple of choice.  Cooky, you absolute champion!










This was but the start of the afternoon's festivities.  Next it was off to the nearby and less up market Commercial Hotel where the atmosphere was decidedly 'working class'. So what, when 'handles' of beer arrived in front of us on the bar in exchange for a mere $5.00.  Another triumph of procurement for the ever resourceful Mr Cook.



We completed the afternoon at the much more trendy High Wycombe Hotel where, for a couple of pre-dinner hours each afternoon $2 middies are available.  We availed ourselves liberally!


To top off a wonderful day, Liz and I were then whisked off to the newly acquired Cook mansion for a fine BBQ dinner. I am not often prepared to admit that the 'sheets to the wind' number three, but they certainly were this evening. I cannot remember how long it has been since I spent several hours with a police mate chewing the fat and reliving 'war stories' over far too many beers....it was just great fun. Thanks Jim, you are even forgiven the hangover!


This was not the end of our social engagements. The following evening we had arranged to catch up with Tim Hanna, the President of the SA RSL, and an old sub-branch and Keswick Officers' Mess mate of mine. Tim is currently working in Perth and had been too busy to join Liz and me for a planned weekend in Albany whilst we were there, so we were making amends....which we did in fine style at a flash restaurant within easy walking distance of Tim's West Perth apartment. Another very enjoyable and entertaining evening indeed. Apart from catching up with all the SA RSL news, Tim, in his role as Toll Holdings' Barrow Island CEO of logistics, was able to provide us with a real insight into the extraordinary scale of the mining industry in WA, and the current problems they are facing.

Before leaving Perth we did spend a very pleasant morning walking around the hills suburb of Kalamunda and paying a surprise visit to Jeanette Hadden, the widow of Pete Hadden, our first Helicopter Rescue pilot in Adelaide (Pete and I flew together in 1974 and remained firm friends thereafter).  On the next day, our last, the urgent demand for some solid exercise found us taking a very long walk along the banks of the Swan River in the casino precinct before we pulled down in preparation for our departure.

And this was not a moment too soon.  From this point on the weather turned on us. We woke the next morning to hear that Perth airport, a mere kilometre away, had recorded overnight wind gusts of 75 kms....even all the park locals were complaining. I was very grateful all our canvas was securely tucked away.  

So, with Liz re-qualified for another year, the van groaning with supplies, some serious social engagements completed and important repair and replacement arrangements made, it was time to take our leave of Perth for the last time and make our way northwards though the wheat belt to spend another couple of nights at Moora, one of our favourite little country towns.