We had a great nights sleep last night, the likes of which can only be had in the depths of the wild or, as was our case, far enough off of the highway so that traffic noise is nullified. Instead we drifted off to the sounds of what sounded like mating cattle, although even that died out, leaving nothing but the sweet sounds of silence. It had only just gone 8:00AM though when the grinding noise of trucks cruising past our camp site, along the rock strewn access road, woke us as they headed for a work site further down the track. I fitfully dozed for another hour, until the alarm took its turn to try and get us out of bed.

This did the trick, as we got up to face a glorious morning, the sun beaming down brightly, a slight nip still in the air. I could feel that it was going to be a good day, as we eased ourselves into it.

Turning back out onto the careening highway, the hills we had sighted late yesterday caressed our view, turning out to be little more than a few rugged hills sprouting from the surrounding plains. After we had passed the hills, the featureless plains returned with vigour, causing time to slow, as it was hard to judge distances against the desolate backdrop of grass.

We were on the highway for about an hour though, when the signs of civilisation began to manifest in our surrounds. First a power line here and there, then a mine workers camp and a low flying airliner on its ascent from a nearby airport. Yes, we were nearing Port Hedland, where we planned on driving around to see if anything should take our fancy for a more in-depth look.

As it turns out, there wasn’t much to see. Driving through the outskirts of town, my first impression was that it was a pop up town, with large estates of portable buildings seemingly the only form of accommodation for the transient population of miners inhabiting the town. As we drew closer to the centre of town, we did however spot some more permanent looking domiciles. The town itself was much as I had imagined. Built as it is on the mining boom, industry features heavily and is the main source of income in the area. Great big, sprawling industrial complexes take up the majority of real estate, all served by a small town centre. The whole area has a grimy feel, not so much from the factories, but the ever pervading grits and grains of red dust which coats within seconds, anything that isn’t moving. As a tourist destination, Port Hedland is extremely unremarkable, apart from an outdoor display of old mining and railway related machinery.

The locomotive display.

A quick walk around that with the dogs, accompanied by a stop to give ‘The Beast’ another drink, and we were off, heading hopefully for greener pastures. We still had a few hundred clicks to go before reaching our intended destination, a well recommended beachside camp ground between the little town of Roebourne and Karratha. This particular camping spot wouldn’t have been my first choice, but thanks to the powers that be of the Shire of Roebourne, roadside camping of any type is prohibited, punishable with fines of several hundred dollars. Instead, they have two designated camping areas, that have no facilities other than rubbish bins and sullage dump spots, all the while charging you $7.00 a night to park there.

Now, I wouldn’t mind this so much, especially since it is still a cheap nights accommodation, but there are no maps to be found of the camp ground, which stretches for hundreds of metres along a beach. So after driving at a hopefully caravan friendly 50Km/h along the 15Km long dirt road just to reach the grounds, we then proceeded to get ourselves hopelessly lost on the myriad of rugged, sand covered tracks that would have been better suited to an off road van than our strictly on road model. Without even a guide as to where we might hope to find a vacant strip of land on which to prop, we were driving around blindly, although bouncing around would be a more suitable term of words.

We eventually tripped across a site, disparagingly within easy view of the entrance, which was of ample length to park on without the need to unhitch overnight, although the width was of an issue. After a few tense minutes as we struggled with threading the van onto the narrow patch of cleared earth, we found it to be barely wide enough for the van. Ingress to and egress from the van is subsequently hampered somewhat by the close growing vegetation. The low lying scrub being of a varietal of sharp, lacerating Spinifex, it is a strange sight to see me lofting the dogs in my arms, from ‘The Beast’ to the van. So bad had been the paths, that when we did eventually open the caravan door, we found that the freezer door had somehow unclipped itself, and a cascade of thankfully still frozen goods greeted our entrance. My mood was worsening by the minute.

For the single night we are planning on being here, it will suffice, but I was left feeling enraged that roadside camping is forbidden while nearby caravan parks don’t accept dogs, meaning that we are pretty much forced to avail ourselves of this designated campsite of horrors, for which we will most likely still have to pay for, albeit such a minimal sum.

Our first sighting of…

…Western Australias wildflowers.

A strong drink, and a walk over the dune to the beach later, and I was starting to mellow, seeing the allure of the area. Certainly, the spot we have parked is far from the best location and the bulk of the prime positions are rigorously defended by long term tenants, but just to sit in the near silence and watch another spectacular sunset over the rocky shores of the beach had me mesmerised. Back at the van, it was a further revelation, when I lifted the TV antenna skyward, to find that we even get TV reception here. I was beginning to think that it might not be such a bad idea to stay an extra night.

Another mesmerising sunset.

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