Walking on the Wild Side

I realise my blog posts have been backed up - I am not sure why this has happened but I promised my Grandma today over the phone that I would keep my posts up to date.  As such this post is not in chronological order (the ones to come are still in South Australia).  

This video has been taken in Torquay, Victoria.  Today the surf was low, as was my mood so as a solution I took my yoga mat to the Torquay foreshore to do some self practice.  I focused inwards on my self, my mind and my body.  Through that my spirit began to sore!  You can see my cheeky little smile as I finally nail this pose.  It felt good.  

Day 2 wasn’t quite as eventful as Day 1.  We set off on the road with no torrential downpours and no centipedes in tow.  Our aim was to make it almost to the border of WA, but alas as we neared on Ucla (some 700km later) the lady at the counter informed us the caravan park was closed.  She kindly offered us free camping with no electricity or water which we politely declined and decided to leg it the extra 40 minutes across the border into none other than Bordertown (which consisted of the roadhouse / restaurant / bar / caravan park).  We searched around the caravan park for a piece of gravel that wasn’t filled with ant holes.  It was pretty much impossible so we lay our swags between two mounds of ant hills with Dad chirping out “now ants you don’t mind if you lend your hole for my swag peg do you?”  

Luckily for us the weather was still stormy and blowing a gale so the ants were still taking cover underneath the ground.  After setting up camp (two swags, two fold out chairs and one table later) we decided to eat at the Bordertown restaurant that evening.  It opened at 5.30pm and I watched with fascination as all the grey nomads made their way out of theirs caravans towards the main building right on the dot.  

I chuckled/almost snorted in amusement at Dad, “You’re kidding me right?  This is what caravaning is all about?  Set off at the crack of dawn, park up by mid afternoon and have dinner as soon as the “dinner bell” rings?”

He laughed, “Ah Kate just you wait, they’ll all be in bed come 7pm!”

My look of disgust made him laugh even harder.  “So shall we have a beer before heading off to dinner?” I asked.

A simple nod was the only answer I needed.

We arrived at the “restaurant” just as the oldies were finishing their meals.  I overheard them exclaim how delicious it was and that they were too stuffed to even finish their meals.  Dad and I ordered Barramundi, a relatively safe Bordertown meal considering we were only a couple of kilometres from the ocean.  As we waited the oldies across from us (who were stuffed to the brim) had their desserts come out.  I laughed on the inside - to be fair, at least they shared one between two.  I guess I’m just bias in that I’d choose a full hearty meal, followed by a food baby, rather than saving room for dessert.

Dad and I shared a bottle of red and when our meals came out I was so impressed I actually had to take a photo (something I don’t normally do - I’m not a fan of this #cleaneating business - everything in moderation right?  But that’s a story for another time….)  I was actaully that impressed by the chef that I recommend to everyone wanting to cross the Nullabor to eat at the Bordertown Restaurant.  The chef is amazing and I even thanked him personally.  Haha he seemed a bit taken aback.

Dad and I retired to our swags after a game of cards and woke up at goodness knows what time.  The most confusing part about Bordertown, apart from the fact that it served amazing meals, was that it decided to be in “Middletime”.  Yes I know it sounds like something from Lord of the Rings - I kept on laughing every time I said it.  Basically it’s 45 minutes in front of Western Australia,  but 45 minutes behind South Australia.  So somewhere throughout Day 3 we lost another 45 minutes.

When the photos come through you can tell on Day 3 we made it to the Great Australian Bight.  What we actually did there is a story (or perhaps a photo opportunity) for another time.

Love and light

Photos as explained:

1) Torrential downpour

2) Simple but centipede safe shearer’s quarters

3) Beginning the Nullabor - first part of Australia’s straightest road

My trip across Australia began last Wednesday.  Up and Adam at 5.30am to take off by 6am (pushed to 6.30am due to last minute packing - my bad)!  My driving buddy had fallen through because her Australian visa wasn’t approved in time and so I was bracing myself to do it solo.  Not quite as fun but I’d already had everything set in stone; no excuses - no backing out.  Over dinner with Mum and Dad came the following;

“Well I don’t have much to do this coming week - why don’t we drive it together?” Dad suggested.

“Really?  I mean you just came across the Nullabor in November last year.  Would you really want to do it again?” I asked with a hint of doubt.

Mum piped up, “Kate it’s a really long drive and we wouldn’t forgive ourselves if anything ever happened to you.  Plus travelling alone as a female....” she trailed off.

“Oh please you’re just thinking of Wolf Creek!” I scoffed.

“Kate it’s a very vast country out there.  I don’t like the thought of you 1) driving the whole thing yourself, not to mention by yourself, and 2) camping out there alone.  It’s not safe!” She exclaimed.

I sighed.  “Come on it’s Australia - one of the safest countries in the world!  But I do see your point.  And to be honest I wouldn’t mind the company.  I was actually of thinking of just heading down to a backpackers here in Freo to find a “friend” who was up for the adventure!  This could actually be quite fun - Daddy-Daughter Road Trip!” I said with a grin.  

And so it began.....

The first 6 hours to Coolgardie were pretty eventless.  We had lunch at the servo just as a few raindrops began to spatter overhead.

“Better get going,” I exclaimed.  “Perhaps we can outrun the storm.  It’s my turn to drive so I’ll gun it and see how fast I can get Xena* to rev!” (*Xena the X-Trail)

Dad frowned, but didn’t say anything.  He knew I was just trying to rile him up.  What are daughters for after all?  We hit the road with my trustee cruise control keeping at a solid 110kph.  That was until the rain hit.  Rain is an understatement - it was a torrential downpour!  I’d never driven in a storm that bad in my entire life.  Eventually it teetered and we continued to chase the storm with the most amazing lightning show up ahead.  It reminded me a lot of when I walked the Oxfam 100km Trailwalk last year and we chased a storm for one leg of the journey after it hit just up ahead.  It was the most beautiful natural fireworks I had ever experienced and I remember having this overwhelming feeling of being at one with the universe in that there was no where else in the world I needed to be than exactly where I was at that time (strange thing to say considering at that time I was in the middle of dense bush at midnight wearing a head torch after having already trekked 60km non-stop).  Oddly enough as I was driving behind this storm and watching the lightening show I had that exact same feeling.  Like the universe was smiling at me and putting on another show to let me know I was on the right path; where ever that path may lead....

The torrential downpour hit again and had softened to consistent spatter as we pulled up at Fraser Ranch, some 830km from Perth.  Unfortunately the camping ground was just a puddle of mud so rather than have a miserable evening setting up wet, muddy swags I forked out the extra money to put Dad and myself up in the old shearing quarters.  The room consisted of two single beds and one fridge with old cemented walls.  After a $1 shower we were sitting outside our extremely basic quarters enjoying a nice glass of vino and watching the rain spatter to the farm floor.  An absolutely gorgeous young Kelpie came galloping up to try and steal our cheese and biccies as we chatted away about the day and the adventure ahead.

Later that night we chucked some snags on the bbq, dished up whatever salad we had in the esky and enjoyed our first meal of the road trip.  We watched as a centipede, some 3 inches long, crawled up the bbq from where we’d just cooked our meal.  Generally centipedes forage in the matter on the ground for food, but this little(big) guy had discovered he could scavange everything he needed from in, around and under the bbq lid.  Toby (our new Kelpie friend - so we decided to name him) stood to our guard as the centipede made his way out of the bbq and towards us.  After a few playful barks from Toby the centipede scrambled off in the direction of the shearer’s quarters.

“Well, at least we’re not in swags on the floor,” I said raising an eyebrow.

Dad may have said something rhyming with Truck and then “I’ve never seen something like that in my life.  What a clever little bugger.  If they bite you they really, really hurt.”

That night we both dreamt of creepy crawlies and were happy to be tucked up in our safe single beds come the morning as Day 2 of the trip began.

To be continued.....