Date:
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10 - 12 /06/2017
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Location:
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Cape Leveque (Western Australia)
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Distance Travelled:
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208 km
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Temperature:
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Min:
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9.6
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Max:
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27.0
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days ‘cihillaxing’
on the beach:
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3
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Today we would be heading away from our comfy little trailer,
and heading off with our tent, for one last time. Whenever we transfer our
lives from the van and ‘go bush’ for
a few days, it always amazes me how much we can fit into the boot of our car. In
these moments, I am very thankful for the 20 minutes we spent before leaving
Melbourne; during which I took out the third row of seats from the back of the
car and stowed them away in our spare room. I’m sure these extra seats will
come in handy in years to come, particularly when we’re providing a taxi
service to our kids and all their mates; but now they would have just been
extra weight to lug around this vast continent. What’s more, with the seats
gone, a whole chunk of extra boot space appeared (including a compartment in
which to store those items that only reared their heads once in a blue moon).
Under the floor of the boot we had stowed all the camping beds, along with a
pump to blow them up; a handy spade for digging us out of tight spots (or building
sandcastles on the beach, when not otherwise engaged in saving our lives); an
air compressor to pump up our tyres (see Darwin Post for more on this); my tool
box and fishing gear; as well as an assortment of other bits and pieces that just
didn’t quite fit anywhere else.
With our car crammed full to the brim, we made our way a few
kilometres down the road to a trailer storage facility. Pulling up, we noticed
another family was also waiting to drop off their own trailer. Having a quick
chat to these folks, we learned that they had been waiting for a while and
there was no sign of the facility owner turning up. So, after a few phone calls,
we were able to drag the manager out of bed and had him open up so we could lock
away our trailer. As soon as we were done, we snuck off before the trailer knew
what was happening...
Heading out of town, we followed the same route out of
Broome by which we’d arrived a few days earlier. However, this time we were
heading towards the turn off to Cape Leveque, only a few kilometres up the road.
The road started smoothly enough and there was even bitumen for the first 14km
or so… But from there, it quickly turned a little, errm, troubling. Hitting the end of the paved road, we pulled over and
let down our tyres. As usual, this was pretty much guess work, but whatever PSI
we ended up at, we were glad we did. Moving up the road, we found it to be littered
with remnants of many tyre carcasses and bits of old rubber. That’s never a
good sign…
Cape Leveque - Road Information
But onwards we pushed. The track that lay before us began
reasonably enough. A few bumps here, a bit of sand there. But very soon these
small bumps turned into ever bigger and more incessant contusions. At times,
the furrows subsided for a while, but in their place the sand grew ever deeper
and clawed at our tyres. The road also started to bank up on either side – in
places, we found ourselves driving on slopes of at least 30 – 40 degrees. But, despite
the precariousness of these steeply banked roads, they were still preferable
from driving on the heavily corrugated soft sand down in the valley floor of
the track. On the odd occasion that we did pass a car travelling in the other
direction, we weren’t always certain if either vehicle would be able to maintain
their trajectory on the sandy walls, or if one would come careening down
towards the other…
Bumpy banked roads
…but, two and a half hours later, we arrived at the end of
Cape Leveque and turned into the driveway of the remote Kooljaman wilderness camp. This little gem was owned and run by the
indigenous Bardi Jawi communities. It was a perfect spot, tucked up against the
shores of ocean, for a few days of swimming, fishing and exploring an untouched
marine wilderness. And there we stayed for three long, blissful days!
Kooljaman campsite
Having arrived late in the afternoon, we only had time to
wander down the beach to explore a few kilometres of seascape. This stretch of
beach was magnificent. Slowly curling waves crashed languidly against the white
sandy shore.
Knowing that it would soon be sunset, we also took a few
drinks and nibbles (as well as our camp chairs) down to the beach to sit and
watch the sun head towards the horizon. The brilliant red sunset glared down on
the equally dazzling red rocks of the cliffs behind us. Soon, the whole
landscape was enflamed by a ruddy glow. And so, with beer in hand (fruit drink
for the kids) we marvelled at the solar light show that was put on just for us.
Sunset at the Kooljaman Campsite
After a hearty meal and retiring to our tent for a good
night’s sleep, we woke the next morning ready to head off on an adventure of a
lifetime. One of the big draw cards that had brought us to Cape Leveque was the
chance to go on a tag-along-tour with a local aboriginal guide. In this part of
the world, the name Brian Lee
is synonymous with an awesome day out!
For a small fee, Brian takes out a group of people deep into the traditional
lands of the Bardi Jawi people. He is known for the stories he tells, his knowledge
of the land, as well as for relating the traditional stories of his people and
giving a glimpse into their way of life. Being a tag-along-tour, you take your
own car and follow him through some rather inhospitable terrain. For me, I was
keen to use this as an opportunity to expand my knowledge of driving our little
Pajero through some areas that I wouldn’t have been confident to attempt on my
own.
Along the way, there would also be opportunities to fish at secret
fishing holes and Brian would take his tag-alongers to his favourite mud crab
hunting grounds. The day was set to be topped off with a big feast of all the
sea food we’d managed to collect over the day; before heading home as the sun
went down.
But, alas, turning up to reception at the crack of dawn, we
were sadly told that the renowned Brian Lee had injured himself whilst walking
over a bed of oysters during a recent tour. His feet, we were informed, had
been cut to shreds and he couldn’t walk or drive his car. As much as I felt
sorry for Mr Lee, we were all deeply disappointed that we weren’t able to go
ahead with what would have been an awesome experience. As for me, I was particularly
sad that I wouldn’t be able to get the tips and tricks I’d hoped to learn about
driving through some very inhospitable conditions.
Standing forlornly at the reception building, we realised
that we had to come up with a plan for the day we didn’t expect to have free.
Together, we studied the hand-drawn map we of the Kooljaman area. Being on a
peninsula, there were beaches all around us; but on closer inspection there
were a series of arcane signs drawn on the map; some had symbols of fish, other
indicated swimming, but many also had warnings about sharks and other deadly wildlife.
Chatting to the helpful ladies behind the reception desk, we
decided that the best course of action would be to follow a chunk of the trail
that we would have covered during the Brian Lee tour. However, this would take
us down a narrow sandy path, as well as over a few sand dunes, onto the beach
to the south of the campsite. Fortunately, the crew at Kooljaman were well
prepared for this and an air compressor had been set up for travellers to
reinflate their tyres after they had taken a spin down the track and along the
beach. So, determining that this would be our destination for the day, we made
our way down the coastal track and dropped our tyre pressure to 18 PSI. This
was the lowest I’d dared go throughout the trip to date; but one of the friendly
folks at reception had cheerfully told us that her husband was down on the
beach today – so if we got stuck, we could flag him down to help get us out…
Now that’s an insurance policy, WA style!
Sandy road to beach
With our tyres deflated as much as I dared, we faced off against the sand dunes and gritted our teeth. It was a case of either do or die (well, do or walk back with our tail between our legs and get some help… but, sitting behind the wheel, it felt a little more epic than that!). Revving the engine, I made sure the car was in a low gear and faced off against the sandy nemesis. Getting a good amount of speed up, we started floating over the sand. Onwards we travelled. Bumping our way along on top of the white powder, until, FINALLY, we reached the other end.
Having made it to our destination, we unpacked our chairs
and the beach umbrella that we’d hired from a little café / shop / book
exchange run by a woman from a local community, as well as our snorkels and
fishing gear.
Over the course of the day, the tide rolled in (causing us
to move the car a fair bit higher up the beach on several occasions) and the
out again. It was amazing how far the ocean moved between high and low tides.
At one point, we were pinned against the sand dunes at the top of the beach,
the next we were wandering many meters down to the low tide mark. As we
explored the newly exposed sand left behind as the tide receded, we also picked
up many meters of lost fishing line, sinkers and hooks that had been discarded
by other people fishing. It soon also became clear as to why so much fishing tackle
littered the beach. Hidden amongst the waves were columns of razor sharp
oysters, clinging to rocks like some crudely made defence against intruders
storming the beach.
Unfortunately, I too fell victim to this defensive outpost,
and I managed to slice open one of my toes whilst swimming around the rocks. I
suddenly developed great empathy for our would-be-guide, Brian Lee, and the multiple
cuts he had all over his feet. I mean, these little suckers are so sharp that I
didn’t even feel the cut (but was only alerted to the damage when I noticed the
water turning bright red). “Bugger”, I thought, “That’ll hurt in the morning…”
Our final day on Cape Leveque was spent back at the same beach we had navigated to the day before. This time, however, we came prepared with our reef shoes (to fend off the razor-sharp oysters), a bag full of plasters (aka band-aides), and a spade (for some serious sandcastle action).
Having tried our luck again (unsuccessfully) at fishing and had
and taken our fill of the ocean from under the waves, we turned our attention
to the hitherto unadulterated sand that lay all around us.
When I was a kid, I remember building a gigantic car out of
sand with my dad and my brother… I think this might have been on a trip to on a
summer holiday in New Zealand (possibly on the Coromandel peninsula). But what
does stick out for me was the car.
All day long I remember having spent crafting that lovely sandy automobile; until
in the end, we had a sculpture to be proud of!
And so, when my kids said, “let’s build a sandcastle, Dad”, that’s
what came flooding back.
For many hours we toiled away at that beast. In the end, we stood
back and admired our creation; and felt proud that we had even added a trailer on
the back as well!. Looking a little like ‘Herbie´ from the 1968 film ‘The Love Bug’, in the end our little car was big enough for Ben and Daniel to
take the front seats and I was dragged along behind!
Our fabulous ‘sand car-stle’
We got a few smiles as people passed us on the beach and were
even asked if we could take some folks for a spin up and down the beach (the boys
swelling with pride as the compliments came). But, as with all sand sculptures,
in the end, the tide began its indifferent procession back up the beach – and
it was time for our awesome creation to meet its soggy end. However, rather
than allowing it to be slowly consumed by the ocean, Nat and the boys took
great glee in crumbling the short-lived car into a pile of flattened sand once
again.
Before the sun fully set, we made our way back to our real car and headed to the campsite once
again. A block of cheese was pulled from the esky (aka Chilly Bin) and we made
our way to the top of the cliffs to watch the sun go down.
Cape Leveque - final sun set
Dragging ourselves out of bed the next morning, we were
sorry to leave this amazing slice of paradise. If time had been permitting, we
could easily have stayed much, much longer.
And so, with great sadness, we packed up our tent and shoved our belongings back into the car. With everything stowed away, we began the return journey down the formidable track that brought us to
Cape Leveque. There was, however, an altogether too brief moment of excitement
when we passed a huge snake sunning itself in the middle of the road. Two
‘Steve Urwin’ imitators had already pulled up and were using their jackets and
spare shoes to try and shoo it off the road. For a while the serpent headed
towards our car, which gave ample opportunities for a few awesome snaps, but it
eventually made its way across to the sunny side of the road opposite us.
Snake-based excitement over, we continued to battle our way
down the tilted sandy track, back to the end of the Cape Leveque road.
With a little good fortune, we managed to make our way the end of the road without incident once more.
Pumping up our tyres and refuelling at a nearby service station, we were ready
to roll! All we needed was our ever-faithful trailer, which we subsequently
picked up, then we were away.
Our destination for the next few days was to be Karijini
National park. However, there were a few miles to cover first …
As much as I truly loved Cape Leveque, I must admit that I was
glad to see the back of our tent for a while. It was therefore a
pleasure to be able to store the green and red beast under the front seats of
the van once more, as we continued our grand tour of Australia back down to Victoria. Don’t
get me wrong, I am eternally grateful for the warmth and protection that this
little dome of wonder has provided us from the elements. I am also exceptionally
grateful to Nat’s folks for lending this mini-marquee to us!! But,
squeezing Nat, I, and two growing lads into a two-man tent has been a bit of a
push at times. Then again, without this cloth carapace, we simply wouldn’t have
been able to behold some of the most spectacular sights we have seen on this
journey.
So, with a bit of perspective, I shall wrap up our fabric igloo, our silken cottage, our clothed dome, with the reverence and respect it deserves (I might even find it in my heart to scrap off some of the bird poo it has accumulated along the way) and store it as one would a fallen solider awaiting a return to its home soil…
Bye ‘d bye
Gregg
Awesome photos!
ReplyDeleteThanks Kelly! Not bad for a few holiday snaps, eh?
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