The 7:30AM wake up call was treated with much disdain and derision this morning, as I rolled over and snuggled even deeper beneath the warm cocoon like embrace of the doona, happy in the knowledge that when I should decide to emerge, I would be warmed by the blissful heat thrown forth from the heater. Yes, it was cold again, at least overnight it was, and I was in no hurry to leave the warm spot on the bed that marked my nocturnal resting place, to find out if it was still cold.

As it turned out, when I did solemnly extricate myself from under the covers to wander across the field to the amenities block, it was indeed still cold. So cold was it, that immediately upon my return to the van, I donned a thick jumper, while boiling the billy to make a pot of steaming hot coffee.

Over breakfast, we listed what needed to be done in order to be travel ready, then got stuck into our jobs. While Bec tidied up inside, I was on duty outside (did I mention it was cold?), first of all trying to extract as much stray sand from within ‘The Beast’, before moving onto the tub, which on first sight looked like a childrens sand pit. After practically emptying the tub of our gear, carefully brushing the loose sand from each piece of kit, I swept the floor liner. I was seriously worried that I might get into trouble for thieving the fine white sand, as a small sand dune began to form at the rear of ‘The Beast’. A bit of a squirt down with the hose, ably assisted by Bec, to get the bulk of the salty sand off of the exterior of ‘The Beast’ and we were ready to hook up and move out.

We hit our estimated departure time right on the head today, rolling out of the park at 9:30AM, which was actually a better effort than I had imagined given the amount of extra work we needed to get through.

Then we were in for the long, boring and tedious drive towards a camping area about 75Km short of Port Hedland. There was nothing to see along the way, as sprawling plains of twiggy brushes stuck up through post apocalyptic looking grassy regrowth. An ever so gentle rolling swell of the landscape was the only thing that prevented us from staring endlessly at the distant horizon, as the road struck out for tens of kilometres at a time in an unerringly straight line. Hour after hour we stared through the grimy windscreen at nothing more than huge tracts of flat grassland, which could possibly be described as a savannah, except doing so would lend it a notion of romanticism which we didn’t find present.

Kilometre after kilometre of nothing.

The only thing that broke the monotony was watching for the pleasant waves from travellers heading north. It is an unwritten rule when towing a caravan that you wave to all other caravanners travelling in the opposite direction. There are sub-clauses of course that the smaller rigs ought to initiate the wave with larger rigs for instance, which makes it infuriating when drivers of obviously inferior rigs don’t even raise a finger from the steering wheel. On the other hand, it is invigorating when drivers of snaking long road trains raise a hand to wave, most likely at the sight of a Cummins powered little brother that ‘The Beast’ is. Drivers of larger motorhomes don’t seem to wave at anybody who is towing their own accommodation, nor do drivers of rental vehicles. We though, generally wave at everyone, and take notice of any out of the ordinary waves we get back. It’s always nice to see someone go to the effort of an ‘arm out of the window wave’, while the other day both driver and passenger presented us with an extra special fever pitched wave with matching bright neon pink fly swatters. Some folk even go to the effort of installing cardboard hand shaped cut outs on their dash that oscillate with the flick of a string. Today however, was the first time I have even gotten a wave of the foot, thankfully from the passenger and not the driver.

Apart from the boredom buster of the ‘watch the wave’ game, we stopped midway at the out of the way, but extremely busy Sandfire Roadhouse. Literally hundreds of kilometres from anywhere, it was like a light in the night sky, drawing moths, in the form of hulking fuel hungry four wheel drives, from everywhere. At $1.935 per litre, it was the most expensive diesel we have yet had the pleasure of rehydrating ‘The Beast’ with. Thankfully we only needed 60 something litres at that price, and were still able to afford a couple of steak sandwiches with which to fill our own bellies before sliding back out onto the highway to put the last couple of hundred kilometres behind us for the day.

We had almost hit the 500Km mark, when we at last sighted some hills of such grandeur that they caused more than an insignificant ripple in the horizon. Not that they were all that noteworthy, but given the cheerless plains through which we drove today, anything was a break for our travel weary eyes. Nor were we to reach them today though, as a few kays short we wheeled off of the road and into the De Grey River Rest Area. A network of talcum powder like dust covered dirt roads lead to various little camping areas littered amongst the bush alongside the river.

That’s it, parked up for the night.

We didn’t make it as far as the river, before pulling into a single spaced site off of the main access road, separated from the other campers by a sufficient distance that I feel comfortable in firing up the generator later this evening, to give us all of the luxuries of home. Not that we will need much in the way of power hungry devices tonight, given that the weather is quite mild, running the air conditioner would be simply folly. The heater on the other hand might need a work out at this rate, as even before the sun had dipped fully below the tree line in a show of lurid colours, the temperature had dropped substantially.

Another sunset to add to our collection.

Until next time, stay safe, have fun and don’t forget to write.