Week two – Carnarvon to Exmouth
Life in the parcel van settled into a rhythm. Lisa swept the floor every twenty minutes when we were set up in a van park. I’m not sure why, given the ground just outside the van was invariably sandy, and given neither of us do much sweeping at home.
She also lost something about every twenty minutes in the van. Even when we’re driving and she was sitting in the passenger seat, she seemed to lose things. The loss always precipitated a frenzied search that involved moving a bunch of other things that inevitably become the subject of future searches. The cycle of loss kept going while she slept, too, so in the morning there would be a dozen things that had gone missing all by themselves during the night. (Of course, all of this is something that does happen at home, too.)
It’s partly because she’s so industrious. Suzanne (Brett’s wife) and Lisa were making squares for a rug that will be auctioned at the school fete later this year. So both of them were using the driving time to crochet squares. In our van, the crochet needles, wool, scissors and finished squares took it in turns to go missing. It could have been my imagination, but I sensed that down south where it was cold, Lisa was crocheting more quickly, with either a hope that the increased friction would warm her, or that the rug would be finished and could be put to use.
With the rug squares finished, it was time to do some painting. While we were driving. I watched out of the corner of my eye as Lisa got out these stiff, postcard sized pieces of watercolour paper, and the watercolour paints. And the water – yikes! They were all precariously balanced on her knees. I wondered if at any time it occurred to her that the whole painting while driving thing was a good idea, but I wasn’t game to ask. So she would paint a picture of what was outside – the view never changed, luckily – then dry it on the dashboard in the sun, then write on it, then mail it at the next town. So her mum, who turned 80 while we were away, got 17 postcards. And there were no spills. How’s that for industrious.
The proportion of grey nomads started increasing toward Carnarvon. Boy, they’ve got the whole wave thing nailed. I studied their technique closely. I don’t think they waved at all. They seemed to have three or four fingers permanently cocked – sort of like a claw – on top of the steering wheel. If it’s not technique, it’s arthritis.
We pulled into Carnarvon on Sunday afternoon and I found out quickly that it’s pronounced C’narv’n. It’s a bigger town – around 8,000, apparently. Buggered if I know where they were, because there was nobody around. I didn’t really get a feel for the place as it was only an overnight stay, but it had a vaguely tropical feel. It must be about 1,000klms north of Perth and they grow bananas and mangoes there. It’s got a decent river, too. And an old wooden jetty that supposedly sticks out one mile. It’s a town probably worth spending more time in than we had – especially if you want to get to the end of that jetty.
Next stop Exmouth, or Exm’th.
So it was back inland on the coastal highway and up to Coral Bay for a lunchtime swim, and then on to Exm’th.
Every tourist heading north goes to Coral Bay. There is nothing much there on land: a caravan park, some shops, a dozen houses. But in the water, they have coral.
http://www.coralbay.org/photos.htm
The people up there have a bit of a chip on their shoulder over the Great Barrier Reef off Queensland. Sure, the Great Barrier Reef is lots bigger and more glamorous, but you need a boat to get out to it. Or you need to be staying on one of the many beautiful, tropical Queensland islands that are on the reef.
Western Australia has Ningaloo Reef. It’s apparently ‘the world’s biggest fringing reef’. And, boy, they want to make sure everybody gets that message. I must have heard it said or seen it written a dozen times. (A fringing reef, by the way, is one that touches the shore.)
I was sitting outside the shops in Exm’th one day waiting, and waiting, and a local bloke next to me was doing the same thing.
‘Gidday.’
‘Gidday. Where you lot from?
‘Over east. The poor side of the country.’
‘Seen the reef yet?’
‘Yep. I’ve seen the Great Barrier Reef a few times, too…’
I could feel his hackles rise.
‘It’s rubbish,’ I lied.
He loved that.
‘Well, it’s not a fringing reef.’ He said, puffing up.
‘I know.’ I said. ‘Give me a great fringing reef over a great barrier reef anytime.’
I reckon I made his day.
But just between you and me, the Great Barrier Reef is pretty good. Still, it was great at Coral Bay to be able to put snorkeling gear on, waddle into the water, and flop down with coral below.
Exm’th, a bit further up, is the home of the whale shark viewing industry, too.
http://www.ningaloodreaming.com/whaleshark.php
There would be a dozen companies offering charters off shore to see whale sharks doing their thing. It’s all pretty organized and there were spotter planes that find the sharks and tell the boats so they can race over to where they are and toss their tourists in the water as the sharks swim past.
The cost for a family of four is well over $1,000. And it can be a bit hit and miss because some days the whale sharks aren’t there. Of course, all the tour companies have a guarantee that if you go out and don’t see anything, you can come on the next tour where there are free spots. That’s all very well (and very clever) but most tourists don’t have unlimited time to hang around Exm’th waiting for fish to hold up their end of the deal. We passed on the whale tour, but our kids did get the dolphin experience in Hawaii earlier this year – they were in a pool, so it wasn’t a punt.
Brett and co punted on the whale sharks, and thankfully got lucky. I’m glad, because there would have been tears if the sharks were taking that day off.
Exm’th only has a couple of thousand people, and if those whale sharks ever decide to relocate, the town will be stuffed. They really are the town’s only industry.
We stayed about 40klms out of Exm’th at Yardie Creek. It’s a big, red dirt park a couple of klms from the water.
The further north we got from Perth, the more ragged round the edges the van parks, and the people in them, got. We finally found the grey nomads. I was wrong about the big holding area. I ran my theory past a couple of them and though they liked the sound of it, they said they stay north at this time of year mainly because it’s warmer.
I like the rhythm of a van park. Mornings there is lots of activity as people who are moving on pack up. Then it goes quiet. Late afternoon, things crank up again as the new arrivals show up. People get very proprietorial about their spot in a park. There are people who come to the same spot every year – I met a fair few of them.
One bloke I never spoke to raked the dirt in front of his van every morning. He did it in lines like one of those Japanese gravel gardens, but I suspect it owed more to boredom than a leaning toward Zen Buddhism.
Larry and his wife Rae were across from us. They’d been there for two and half months and it’s the fourth year they’ve been to that park – and stayed in that spot. And they’re from Melbourne. That must be a 12,000klm round trip. Larry has a pretty flash fishing boat. He likes the Exmouth area because the marlin and sailfish are only a few kilometers off shore and it takes less fuel to get to them. I didn’t ask whether he had factored in 12,000klm worth of fuel for the drive to and from Melbourne.
Being a longer term resident (and owning a flash boat) Larry was pretty popular. Every afternoon, there would be a few people sitting with him under his annex. Larry, who was a short, nuggety bloke, had a big chair. His visitors had smaller ones. It was mostly Larry’s voice I heard drifting across, so I think he liked an audience.
The nomads are very annex proud. It’s where they entertain their visitors – usually other nomads for afternoon drinks. I suspect very few people get invited into ‘the van’. Though there would be solo nomads who would no doubt do their best to lure unattached women into their van.
During a lull between visitors, Larry waved me over one day. Rae, without being asked, slipped out of the van, put a cup of coffee in front of me (it wasn’t beer o’clock yet), and then slipped back inside. Their annex was very neat. On the ground, and indeed on the ground all round his van, was beige shadecloth held down by steel pegs. It was brilliant idea. Dirt and sand fall through the shadecloth and it keeps it out of the van. If we had some shadeclothe, Lisa would have done a lot less sweeping.
‘Brought a whole roll of it from Melbourne,’ he said. It turned out that Larry owns a couple of hardware stores. I noticed Larry’s shadeclothe on the ground in quite a few annexes in that park. I bet he sold it to them.
It must have been our third morning there when I saw Larry with the boat hitched up and the annex cleared out heading off.
‘Where are you off to, Larry?’
Onslow. Up the coast. Need to get away from things for a few days.’
I laughed. ‘So, you’re having a holiday within a holiday?’
‘Yeah mate, I need a break.’
I wasn’t sure what he needed a break from, but I reckon for some of the nomads, the road has become a job. They must go home occasionally for a rest. Or if home is too far away, they just head off for a few days like Larry and Rae.