We have enjoyed Exmouth immensely, but today marked the end of our time there, as we hit the road and moved onwards, heading further south, and ever approaching the cooler climes that we have been hoping to avoid for as long as possible.

We, okay well, I had a bit of a grumpy start to my day, having to get up way too early for my body clock to deal with, then finding one of our hand held radios had somehow mysteriously disappeared into thin air. It was nowhere to be found and without it, I honestly can’t fathom how we are meant to broadcast our caravan park reversing escapades for all and sundry to listen in to. A quick rifle through ‘The Beast’ and the caravan failed to locate it, but time was a wasting, so we called off the search. It’s not like we don’t have 3 or 4 spares stashed about the van for just such an emergency anyway.

Spare radios or not, I was still a little grumpy as we travelled down the peninsula, heading 150Km or so to the tiny tourist outpost of Coral Bay. It doesn’t matter which way you look at it, I still find the road in and out of Exmouth to be one of the most boring drives we have so far undertaken. My cantankerous mood this morning didn’t help liven up the scenery as we drifted down the highway, almost on autopilot.

We had originally planned to stay at Coral Bay for a couple of nights, but were disheartened when we found out that the caravan parked was already booked solid by the time we rang to enquire about getting a site. To circumvent this problem, we decided to pass through today for a quick look, before continuing on to a freebie roadside camp this afternoon.

It wasn’t until we got nearer to Coral Bay that I realised we would have to detour off of the main road about 15Km each way. I almost suggested that we just bypass it all together, but we were running ahead of time having managed to leave the Exmouth park a ¼ of an hour early (For those of you keeping track, that will make our arrival time back home 5:15PM on the 11^th of October. See you all then!). Not only that, but my heavy eyelids were a constant concern for Bec, who was probably paying more attention to the road than was I. With time on our side and me in desperate need for a break from the drivers seat, we turned right at the Coral Bay road and headed for paradise.

Apart from a couple of massive, but extremely busy caravan parks, what looked like a holiday resort and a few shops there is nothing here. We were actually going to turn around and head back to the main road, but a caravan parking spot opened up right in front of us. We took it be an omen, so I brought our meandering rig to a hasty halt. Because of the dunes, you can’t see the beach from the road or car park, so we entombed the dogs safely in the van, and took off on foot, cresting the low sand dune to be confronted by what can only be described as the most amazing beach I have ever laid eyes on. The sand was so white, it wouldn’t have looked out of place on the sterling salt mounds of Port Hedland. The powder like grains were spread out in a horseshoe, leading gently down to water ever so clear that the shallows were indistinguishable from the dry sand further up. The deeper the water got, the deeper the bright aquamarine hue the water took on, until it reflected the colour of the sky and took on a vivid dark tone of blue. Darker patches spread across the small bay concealed submarine coral reefs.

Even “pristine” doesn’t do it justice. Coral Bay.

We had barely dipped our toes into the cool water before we looked at each other, great smiles spreading across our faces as we decided that today would be the day that we would break out the snorkeling gear that has been otherwise gathering dust in the back of ‘The Beast’. Like the bike, it was thrown in on the off chance we would get to use it, and our decision was about to pay dividends. Not only that, but the luck, or lack thereof, we’ve had at catching fish, the only way we’re likely to get a look at any sea life is to go swimming with them.

Back at the van, while Bec got our swimming clobber ready, I set about extracting the fins and snorkels from their storage place, deep within the bowels of ‘The Beast’. Happily, by the time I was done, not only had Bec dragged our towels out of the tub that we’ve been storing them in, but she had also come across the missing radio, which had inadvertently slipped in amongst the bathing gear. The day was getting better by the minute.

Leaving the dogs in the comfort of the van, we rushed back to the beach, where we donned masks, snorkels and fins, rather uncoordinatedly I might add, and jumped into the water. What felt cool and refreshing on our toes earlier, took on a decisive feeling of frigidity once we were bodily submerged. So much so that it took my breath away, as I chomped down on my snorkel almost to the point of chewing off the little rubber nodules that you’re meant to gentle hold between your teeth. Above the gentle swishing noise of the rippling water, all I could hear was my own breath, coming in short, fast gasps as my body acclimatised to the freezing water.

It was several minutes before I stopped struggling to breath, and was able to take in what was going on all around me. Below us, the floor of the ocean was a mixture of wide sandy patches and lolling coral reefs. A lot of the coral has been damaged, I would guess by indiscriminate swimmers, but there were great tracts of the hard coral in good condition to peer through the lenses of our masks at. Naturally, swimming in, around and about the coral was a huge range of colourful reef fish, from fingerling sized sprats, right up to some that would have been well over a foot in length. Everywhere you turned, there was another fish to see, swimming unconcernedly past.

What a whopper.

Beautiful coral.

Bright fish.

What the hell sort of fish is that?

We spent about ½ an hour, drifting over the ever changing subterranean scenery, excitedly pointing out each new discovery, or diving down to chase fish around the coral branches, much to the amusement of Bec, before the chill of the water started to take the enjoyment out of it. Back on shore, as we struggled to detach our flippers from our feet, I was beginning to think that the water was actually quite warm as a cool breeze played across our wet torsos, causing a shiver and another near bout of hyperventilation.

Exhilerated

Over a lunch of meat pies from the nearby bakery, we decided that while it would have been cool to have been able to pull in here for a few days, we were exhilarated that we had at least been able to sample the delights on offer. Here we were, almost not even turning off the main road to head to Coral Bay and now our few hours here can be rated as one of the highlights of the trip so far. The spontaneity of turning up unannounced and just jumping headlong into a snorkeling adventure made it all the more stimulating.

Thankfully, we hadn’t planned for a long day on the road today, and it was only a further 45 minutes driving before we were pulling into the rest area. It was during that 45 minutes that we crossed southbound over the Tropic of Capricorn, the border between the tropical north and the temperate south. The last time we crossed this line, we were in Rockhampton, on the other side of Australia, complaining about the cold and rain, only three weeks into our odyssey. It’s crazy to think back over what we have seen and done in the time since then. Just shy of three months it has been that we have spent in the tropics, and we have loved (almost) every minute of it.

South of the Tropic Of Capricorn. Back to the temperate zone.

As for our chosen rest area, there’s not much here, other than a wide cleared area of white dirt, a couple of shade cloth covered picnic tables and a simple long drop dunny. It will suit us just fine for the evening however, although after waking up weary, coupled with the exertion of swimming, I was exhausted and would have been almost as happy just pulling up in the grass alongside the road. An early night I expect, will be had by all.

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