Our friends, Eddie and Sue were long gone by the time we raised our sleepy heads from the soft embrace of our pillows this morning. We had expected nothing less and have become quite used to being the last ones out of the camp, as we exited the van to find the sun shining warmly, no breeze to speak of, nor clouds cluttering the sky. It was a majestic morning on which to continue on our trek across the Nullarbor.

It was just on 10:00AM when we bounced out of the scrub, with which we had been encircled last night, Bec carefully navigating from outside the rig to ensure we didn’t take any of the low hanging tree branches for a ride with us. Safely through the slalom course of trees, we rejoined the Eyre Highway. It was a mere 20 minutes later that we arrived in Balldonia. Marked on the map in the vision of a town, there is nothing more than a single building here which is home to the restaurant, petrol station, caravan park reception and strangely enough, a museum. You wouldn’t think that such an inconsequential dot on the map could warrant enough history to have its very own museum, but you would be wrong. Largely due to the Skylab space station having scattered chunks of debris across this entire area way back in 1979, there is also a series of other displays about the local natural history and long ago held motor vehicle reliability trials. Entry to the exhibition space was free, so having a look wasted nothing other than a few minutes of our time.

Back on the road, it was only a few more kilometres later that we came to the much photographed sign advising us that we were about to embark along Australias longest straight stretch of road. Naturally, having made the pilgrimage this far, we too stopped to add to our own growing collection of photographs. Aptly named the 90 Mile Straight, it’s 145.6Km long in the metric vernacular to which I am accustomed, or so the sign says. If you do the math, 90 miles is actually equal to 144.8Km, so I’m now not too sure which to believe.

What ever the case may be, to give you some idea of the distance involved, I could have set the cruise control for 100Km/h, wedged some shims into the steering column to keep it on a steady heading, then had a nap for an hour an half. Well, I could of if it wasn’t for having to overtake another caravanner who seemed intent on taking a slightly longer nap as he sat on a steady 80Km/h. The distances in general around here are huge by any stretch of the imagination, but it is actually quite tiring sitting at the wheel, trying to keep it immobile as you scoot along the gentle undulations of the highway, the Nullarbor whizzing past at an alarming rate.

Even the scenery didn’t help pass the time much though, as the thick stands of trees gave way to a flat featureless landscape across which nothing much higher than knee height grew. There were a few lonely looking clumps of trees that sprouted up here and there, but for the most time it was like a giant blanket had been spread across the land, creating a rolling, undulating surface. The scene is difficult to describe, as it wasn’t desert like, as I had imagined, but it could hardly be considered thickly vegetated. It was this landscape of strangely muted colours for which the Nullarbor was named and it was quite easy to see how it transpired. For kilometre after mind numbingly straight kilometre, the bleak landscape stretched out for as far as the eye could see.

THE 90 MILE STRAIGHT IN 5 MINUTE BLOCKS (A photo essay)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Timed to perfection with Swiss watch like precision, it was an hour and a half to the minute between turns of the steering wheel, as we pitched off of the highway for a rest at Caiguna. Like Balladonia, this spot on the map is nothing more than a multi-faceted business masquerading as a town. Nevertheless it gave us a chance to get out and stretch our legs before reclining in the van for a lunch of homemade sandwiches. It was also around here that there was a change in time zones. Such are the indescribably vast distances, an unofficial time zone has been declared, the central western time zone. We had therefore entered a kind of twilight zone between central standard time and western standard time that will last until we cross the border and pass into South Australia where the official change in time zones occurs.

Depending on which clock I looked at, we pulled into our chosen campsite at either 3:30PM or 4:15PM, where we did as we had done last night. We bashed through the bush for a few hundred metres to distance ourselves from any other campers. With our piece of dirt selected, the dogs were walked, the van set up and most importantly, the big black platter that collects the television signal was carefully aimed at the sky.

With little else to do once we finish up our driving for the day and the local population of blowflies too numerous to make enjoying the great outdoors a pleasurable prospect, we relaxed in the comfort of the van to watch a little bit of TV, struggling with the fact that everything seemed to be running 45 minutes late. In a similar vein, dinnertime rolled around a lot sooner than expected and I haven’t even begun to try and figure out what it will mean to our estimated time of arrival back in Melbourne. I’ll have to get back to you on that front, just as soon as I get a chance to do the appropriate calculations.

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