The way to Heron Island is a well trodden path and there is always a great feeling of anticipation on the way there. Once you arrive in Brisbane you check in for the flight to Gladstone which has its own little sub terminal for planes with propellors which always seems like stepping back in time. The plane goes to Gladstone and then you are into the hotels radar and its all things 'Heron'. Gladstone is another town growing at an exponential rate due to it sitting on ludicrously large deposits of 'turkey wrap' or aluminium and coal. There is a huge port and a thousand ships waiting to get in a load Al or Fe into their bowels for dumping in China or Malaysia for 'their' building boom.
Heron Island is approached in one of two ways. By boat, a new 20 million super-cat or by helicopter. the helicopter is a great thrill and the pilot invariably dips down into the reefs that are all part of the same southern portion of the Great Barrier reef system. This is the southern most part of the 2000 km long reef and the largest living organism in the world..in our continual drive towards the biggest, the longest or the most enormous. It isn't of course one organism but it is a living continuous mass which does defy adjectives large enough to describe it! Anyway its awesome...
We take the boat and the trip takes two hours. The approach to the islands harbour is unmistakable. The plethora of blues, changing water depths, and the backdrop of yellow and green in an otherwise blue expanse is almost etherial. We are here..Heron Island and fve days of the best diving in the world, coupled with a tropical island of indescribable qualities...oh yes we like it!
Normally at christmas if you come there is a wildlife festival 24 hours a day. If the 'ruddy' noody turns aren't dive bombing you, the herons are causing havoc in the noddy's trees trying to steal their eggs and the 'mutton' birds caw like deserted babies all night in their nocturnal mating 'chat'. Meanwhile the turtles are coming onto the beach every night to lay their eggs which sometimes requires the use of the 'Turtle hotline' present in each of the rooms. If a turtle is in distress or is stuck in a tree root which often happens, one tap of the hotline and the 'turtle rescue team' are despatched to tackle any turtle tribulation!
There is also a research station run by the University of Brisbane which recently burnt down and is being rebuilt.
The diving lives up to expectations although the water temperature is lower than normal and the sun a little lower in the sky. Luckily Fo can snorkel at the same time as the divers are downunder...in fact in some cases the snorkellers see a lot more than the dive team...or so they say.
Brad is the buddy for the week. He is a farmer from north of Melbourne and has dived all over including a stint at the Coral Cay setup in the Phillipines. Only the second person i have met who has been on a Coral Cay expedition.
See www.coralcay.org
So in between diving, snorkelling, swimming with baby sharks in the evening and spending a bit of time with Brad, Sue and Will we just lay on the golden sands of the island and revelled in the solitude and silence. At night the stars reached right down to the horizon,they were as clear as i have seen and we were lucky enough to have a star expert on the island for a bit of education to boot.
Heron Island has to be top ten in the places you have to visit before you move to
Eastbourne.
Lets go to Brissie!!
Friday 31 August 2007
Saturday 18 August 2007
Darwin, Cairns and Cape Tribulation
You pull out a tent peg and suddenly rendered frozen in a position no sensible human would choose bent staring at the floor cursing for England. We knew it was bound to happen to one of us slaves to our vertebrae discs – over six weeks camping full of tent erections and blow up mattresses, climbing in and out of cramped vans, on and off precarious bed-ledges designed for lithesome ten year olds. This time the twisted spirit of slippery discs frowned upon Marco – and we gingerly said farewell to Broome in baking sunshine leaving by plane instead of the 4WD drive tour of the Kimbereley’s to Darwin that would have taken us deeply off road 'outback' for sure.
Our short and sultry experience of Darwin was made all the more invigorating by the energetic company of Brad and Aileeen who seemingly took us under their wings as we bumbled around the Barramundi Lodge backpackers like fish out of water searching in vain for pain relief and our ensuite respectively! At 11pm it was a humid 28 degrees and sweat was collecting in pools at our feet. The temperature rockets up in the summer and the humidity clocks 100 per cent. Then only english-folk and backpackers venture out for some extra tea of a long run at midday in a freshly starched collar!!
Our new pals from the Northern territories (of the UK) took us for tours round the compact city which boasts all the trappings of a modern city, a posh harbour full of grog palaces, a waterfront, hotels full of japanese tourists and a higher than average use of valium and amphetamines! Darwin is a town full of outbacker spirit and a real frontier state...the closest town where you can get dinner being Kupang in West Timor. It has gone through sweeping changes over 20 years and boasts all the mod cons and an extraordinary council building which wouldn't be out of place in Gormenghast. Definitely worth a visit and of course right on the start/end of a visit to the Kimberleys
Unfortunately the stifling frustration of not being able to move, sit, stand or lie down comfortably drove Mark onwards and eastwards and we flew out of Darwin three days later to the more temperate climate of Cairns - in search of physiotherapy and the tropical rainforest.
We arrive in Carins and set up in the Comfort Inn. Charming people and comfy beds. Also a small bar by the pool which opened every night for Seabreezes and the 'Lobeter Pot' restaurant which included a chef who looked like he had just walked in from a stint on a desert island and didn't have time to spruce up before putting on the fatigues for cooking.
And this is where it to go a bit pear shaped! Having been a confirmed Brian ‘magic hands’ Bourne (chiropractor and white wizard) fan for years Marco was loathe to cross no mans land into enemy territory but a physio was all that was on offer. The result was almost predictable - and if it wasn't so mindnumbingly painful, rather amusing - and a full bells ringing, onlooker wailing removal from the the practise on a stretcher into an ambulance. This was only after an ethereal amount of morphine and a lot of encouragement from the paramedics, one of whom was from Weston-super-mare. Great photo opportunity pour moi! Especially the zimmer frame stolen from the one legged octagenerian in the bed next door – which heralded the first steps by our hero: definitely one for the archives!
After copious amounts of mind altering drugs (would prefer body altering ones please) we were able to set off to the tropical lushness of the rainforest in Cape Tribulation named by Capt Cook due to the problems he had navigating the Great Barruier Reef when he first landed on the east coast 80 years after old Uncle William. Us Dampiers’ are made of sterner stuff and I drove Mark carefully northwards after several days recuperation and catch-up with the English Premiership overlooking Cairns Esplanade. The piece of highway between Port Douglas and Cairns is probably my favourite patch of road this side of Austrlaia – empty white beaches joined at the hip with tangled rainforest and the most azure of seas. As we approached Cape Trib the weather got warmer and wetter – it is RAINforest after all and the road recently metallised wound through the twisting canopy and boughs like parasitic ivy. It felt wrong that modern technology and the combustion engine should invade this wonderland - where nature is in control and man is not King.
We holed up at Cape Trib camping in a safari tent straight from 'Carry on up the Khyber' The beach was on our doorstep and tropical birds seranaded us all day and night whilst forest turkeys wandered around the campsite with their red shrivelled necks a blank looks. the campsite was a mix of all nationalities from around the world and the camp kitchen was like 'Hells Kitchen' every night!!
The whole coast is a tangle of mangrove and Salties (large crocodiles) have made their home here. The females tend to live up the creeks and require about 1.5km of free space. The males are polygamous and like to have three or four females in their hareem and keep a close eye on them all, but they are their own bosses and they do have the weekends off!
Despite the beauty of the beaches and the surf you can only swim here for approx 4 months of the years. The stinger Jelly-fish, which live attached to the mangrove roots for the winter all release themselves into the creeks and then the sea and get mating too, then you swim in the sea at your peril.
We observed lady crocs in the creek trying to warm themselves up, the water temperature being a little too cool for them. They look so passive but i am sure they can move incredibly fast when roused.
The Daintree Rainforset is the oldest rainforest in the world at 65 million years and beats the Amazon by some way - the Amazon being about 10 million years old - and has the greatest diversity in the world. It is also the omnly place in the world where two world heritage sites meet each other..the Daintree Rainforest and the Great Barrier Reef and it certainly is a jewel in Australia.
We stop in at Port Douglas on the way back to Cairns. A beautiful coastal town with a beautiful river port and anchorage leading to the sea. It is also extremely posh and is littered with Hydratherapy hotels with attached golf courses..the ideal his and hers weekend spot. There are happy smiling uniformly tanned couples smiling at you from their futon romp having just returned from their respective therapies imploring you to join their world from hoarding outside every 'village', yuk...no thanks you obviously never eat cheesecake and i don't want a condo.
We ahve to leave Cairns for Brisbane and we have picked up a great diving deal for 'Heron Island'...so that is too good to miss.
Goodbye Cairns and hello island cheesecake!
Our short and sultry experience of Darwin was made all the more invigorating by the energetic company of Brad and Aileeen who seemingly took us under their wings as we bumbled around the Barramundi Lodge backpackers like fish out of water searching in vain for pain relief and our ensuite respectively! At 11pm it was a humid 28 degrees and sweat was collecting in pools at our feet. The temperature rockets up in the summer and the humidity clocks 100 per cent. Then only english-folk and backpackers venture out for some extra tea of a long run at midday in a freshly starched collar!!
Our new pals from the Northern territories (of the UK) took us for tours round the compact city which boasts all the trappings of a modern city, a posh harbour full of grog palaces, a waterfront, hotels full of japanese tourists and a higher than average use of valium and amphetamines! Darwin is a town full of outbacker spirit and a real frontier state...the closest town where you can get dinner being Kupang in West Timor. It has gone through sweeping changes over 20 years and boasts all the mod cons and an extraordinary council building which wouldn't be out of place in Gormenghast. Definitely worth a visit and of course right on the start/end of a visit to the Kimberleys
Unfortunately the stifling frustration of not being able to move, sit, stand or lie down comfortably drove Mark onwards and eastwards and we flew out of Darwin three days later to the more temperate climate of Cairns - in search of physiotherapy and the tropical rainforest.
We arrive in Carins and set up in the Comfort Inn. Charming people and comfy beds. Also a small bar by the pool which opened every night for Seabreezes and the 'Lobeter Pot' restaurant which included a chef who looked like he had just walked in from a stint on a desert island and didn't have time to spruce up before putting on the fatigues for cooking.
And this is where it to go a bit pear shaped! Having been a confirmed Brian ‘magic hands’ Bourne (chiropractor and white wizard) fan for years Marco was loathe to cross no mans land into enemy territory but a physio was all that was on offer. The result was almost predictable - and if it wasn't so mindnumbingly painful, rather amusing - and a full bells ringing, onlooker wailing removal from the the practise on a stretcher into an ambulance. This was only after an ethereal amount of morphine and a lot of encouragement from the paramedics, one of whom was from Weston-super-mare. Great photo opportunity pour moi! Especially the zimmer frame stolen from the one legged octagenerian in the bed next door – which heralded the first steps by our hero: definitely one for the archives!
After copious amounts of mind altering drugs (would prefer body altering ones please) we were able to set off to the tropical lushness of the rainforest in Cape Tribulation named by Capt Cook due to the problems he had navigating the Great Barruier Reef when he first landed on the east coast 80 years after old Uncle William. Us Dampiers’ are made of sterner stuff and I drove Mark carefully northwards after several days recuperation and catch-up with the English Premiership overlooking Cairns Esplanade. The piece of highway between Port Douglas and Cairns is probably my favourite patch of road this side of Austrlaia – empty white beaches joined at the hip with tangled rainforest and the most azure of seas. As we approached Cape Trib the weather got warmer and wetter – it is RAINforest after all and the road recently metallised wound through the twisting canopy and boughs like parasitic ivy. It felt wrong that modern technology and the combustion engine should invade this wonderland - where nature is in control and man is not King.
We holed up at Cape Trib camping in a safari tent straight from 'Carry on up the Khyber' The beach was on our doorstep and tropical birds seranaded us all day and night whilst forest turkeys wandered around the campsite with their red shrivelled necks a blank looks. the campsite was a mix of all nationalities from around the world and the camp kitchen was like 'Hells Kitchen' every night!!
The whole coast is a tangle of mangrove and Salties (large crocodiles) have made their home here. The females tend to live up the creeks and require about 1.5km of free space. The males are polygamous and like to have three or four females in their hareem and keep a close eye on them all, but they are their own bosses and they do have the weekends off!
Despite the beauty of the beaches and the surf you can only swim here for approx 4 months of the years. The stinger Jelly-fish, which live attached to the mangrove roots for the winter all release themselves into the creeks and then the sea and get mating too, then you swim in the sea at your peril.
We observed lady crocs in the creek trying to warm themselves up, the water temperature being a little too cool for them. They look so passive but i am sure they can move incredibly fast when roused.
The Daintree Rainforset is the oldest rainforest in the world at 65 million years and beats the Amazon by some way - the Amazon being about 10 million years old - and has the greatest diversity in the world. It is also the omnly place in the world where two world heritage sites meet each other..the Daintree Rainforest and the Great Barrier Reef and it certainly is a jewel in Australia.
We stop in at Port Douglas on the way back to Cairns. A beautiful coastal town with a beautiful river port and anchorage leading to the sea. It is also extremely posh and is littered with Hydratherapy hotels with attached golf courses..the ideal his and hers weekend spot. There are happy smiling uniformly tanned couples smiling at you from their futon romp having just returned from their respective therapies imploring you to join their world from hoarding outside every 'village', yuk...no thanks you obviously never eat cheesecake and i don't want a condo.
We ahve to leave Cairns for Brisbane and we have picked up a great diving deal for 'Heron Island'...so that is too good to miss.
Goodbye Cairns and hello island cheesecake!
Friday 3 August 2007
The North West Highway, Karratha and Broome
It was a shame to leave Dampier, Karratha, Brad and the privateers coast, it had been fascinating and there was still much to discover in this industrial mining area but also one of the most beautiful coastlines we have visited. The mining companies actively discourage visitors here and it will remain so as long as they have a strangle hold over the available accommodation, the economy and the land...so be it. It seems that big companies will hold the glove in the north of Australia and its mineral resources with much of the money going overseas.
We set off for 80 mile beach which is the half way mark to Broome. We arrive at dusk, the road to the Caravan Park is red and sandy ...we slither to the gate and get our spot right by the beach. Its dark, the moon is large lighting up the beach which is covered in white shells. Its even more beautiful in the morning, the sun hot and high and fisherman all along the beach. The high tide is the time to catch the blue nose trout and the whole campsite must have been knee deep in water on the shoreline. A quick swim in the water, breakfast and on the road to Brooome. The road is red and long and we arrive late to the Roebuck Caravan park in Broome, we get an unpowered site and settle in. We walk down to the beach and the stairway to the moon is allegedly taking place this evening. The moon rises over the mudflats and is reflected a thousand times in the shallow water giving a path to the stars. Actually its slightly inclement for this to take place but 3-4000 people have gathered to watch from the town beach and its a beautiful white moonlit evening.
Broome is a great little town surrounded on all sides by beach. The town beach below the campsite has beautiful waters and allegedly...crocks. a lot of people stand on the edge of the water and look doubtfully at the sea..a few brave ones have taken the plunge...crocks or no crocks. The other beach is cable beach on the east of the coast. It is gorgeous and the popular beach in the town. We spend days lying on cable beach just chilling...its serene.
If we were going to visit the place Dampier anchored to careen his boat Cygnet in 1688 we had the not very difficult decision to make – shall we go and stay in Cape Leveque Koolmajan Resort? The answer would always be yes once visited and we flew to the tip of the Dampier Peninsula over flat bush, stunning inlets and beaches –to an exclusive, simple, peaceful and serene lodge/campsite where food and really comfortable accommodation is provided - and you are left to your own devices.
We made a rendezvous with Eric Hunter one of the Bardi people who runs the Tag-a-long tour and a boat hire business at the resort and hired him to take us to Karrakatta Bay near One Arm Point. The location of Dampier’s harbouring and cleaning of the Cygnet in 1688 has been fiercely discussed by historians for many years but the conclusion is the remote Karrakatta Bay which you can only approach in a hefty 4WD driven by someone who knew where he was going – and we luckily had Eric guiding us. When we arrived through a wood of paper-bark gum tree – Melaleuca, I was stunned to see the bay so wide and at very low tide exactly as Dampier described it – with mangroves and a wooded area, with low dunes where the crew set up their tents and repaired the sails. We were joined by thousands of soldier crabs all scuttling the same way across the wet sand, on serious manoeuvres, pincers to the sky. How could somewhere so beautiful be unvisited or not attract any inhabitants? Eric divulged that the Aboriginal Tourist Commission had considered setting up the resort there but the bay contains sites of ceremonial significance for the Bardi people who decided to settle for Cape Leveque.
We had an opportunity to walk the whole beach and photograph the aboriginal sites before we made our way to the community of One Arm Point the central settlement for the Bardi people. Here we bought water and snacks in the shop before Eric took us to the hatchery where we were entertained by Barry and Eric who explained how the fish and turtles were having a helping hand in their conservation and Barry very kindly presented me with a beautiful shell as a gift to a Dampier…..
On our way back to the log cabin we stopped at a viewpoint for Kings Sound where Dampier sailed and first touched base with the unknown country New Holland in 1688. It was on one of the islands here he met and conversed with the indigenous people of this exotic arid land, the first white man to record such a meeting, and later the native Australians were to be termed Aboriginal people, and where he wrote the description that was to last to present times and mark his place in history. Dampier had been to many countries and spent time with different cultures and native communities – but this was the first time a ship and white men had ever been seen by the long resident indigenous indians and it would change their destiny and history for ever.
I had an illuminating chat with Paul Sampi, Erics uncle and aboriginal elder of the local community Bardi people and I learned how some of the traditional practices of hunting and gathering are still used every day. Just as we were talking Bulla came by carrying his fishing spear back from a hard mornings work and gave me a quick demonstration how to catch my breakfast. In the 20th Century both Paul and Eric were brought up on a strict catholic mission in Lombardina and recalled several tough stories from their childhoods. Paul was proud to reveal he had 8 children and 36 grandchildren and how important they were to him – a good catholic through and through.
Back at our log cabin we had 2 more blissful days chilling writing and swimming with various creatures to comfort us – notably the green tree frog that lived in the loo cistern. We cannot recommend the Kooljaman resort and the friendship of the Bardi people high enough.
Back in Broome there is much Dampier memorabelia which is scattered around the town. There is a memorial park which houses a memorial to Dampier and gives some spurious information about a landing and buried treasure...all tosh i think.
Broome is a town with a real feeling of Australia which has been lost in the cappucino capitals around the rest of the country. Its refreshing and there is a spirit of freedom here being surrounded by thousands of miles of desert and bush.
The problem of booze and indigenous people getting 'out if it' is rampant here and its the worst i think we have seen. Still don't know whether there is an answer or it will just bumble not being addressed as is the policy it seems.
It is a sad day but we have to hand our beloved van back so we hire a load of equipment from Shane the camping Mafia. On the saturday it seems like the whole town is off to the 'Broome Races' (including Shane Belafonte) and all our campsite. We decline but the town is deserted as is the beach. Later that night there is much hilarity and champagne giggledrops and the couple next door to our tent have won the the 'Pearl necklace classic'...they bandy the trophy around and we get a shot, a horse shoe encrusted in pearls...quite a trophy. They have dressed for the occasion and all this around a dusty track on the northern spit of the town...Ascot, eat your heart out.
This is the busiest time of the year in the north and it is impossible to get flights, hotels, campsites and the flight to Darwin costs a 'kings ransome' The morning we leave 'Shane Belafonte' is unavailable after a skinfull at the races and we hang around..meanwhile i do my back in...brilliant!!! We set off for Darwin and the great 'Top End' and home of the Salties....new place, new adventures.
We set off for 80 mile beach which is the half way mark to Broome. We arrive at dusk, the road to the Caravan Park is red and sandy ...we slither to the gate and get our spot right by the beach. Its dark, the moon is large lighting up the beach which is covered in white shells. Its even more beautiful in the morning, the sun hot and high and fisherman all along the beach. The high tide is the time to catch the blue nose trout and the whole campsite must have been knee deep in water on the shoreline. A quick swim in the water, breakfast and on the road to Brooome. The road is red and long and we arrive late to the Roebuck Caravan park in Broome, we get an unpowered site and settle in. We walk down to the beach and the stairway to the moon is allegedly taking place this evening. The moon rises over the mudflats and is reflected a thousand times in the shallow water giving a path to the stars. Actually its slightly inclement for this to take place but 3-4000 people have gathered to watch from the town beach and its a beautiful white moonlit evening.
Broome is a great little town surrounded on all sides by beach. The town beach below the campsite has beautiful waters and allegedly...crocks. a lot of people stand on the edge of the water and look doubtfully at the sea..a few brave ones have taken the plunge...crocks or no crocks. The other beach is cable beach on the east of the coast. It is gorgeous and the popular beach in the town. We spend days lying on cable beach just chilling...its serene.
If we were going to visit the place Dampier anchored to careen his boat Cygnet in 1688 we had the not very difficult decision to make – shall we go and stay in Cape Leveque Koolmajan Resort? The answer would always be yes once visited and we flew to the tip of the Dampier Peninsula over flat bush, stunning inlets and beaches –to an exclusive, simple, peaceful and serene lodge/campsite where food and really comfortable accommodation is provided - and you are left to your own devices.
We made a rendezvous with Eric Hunter one of the Bardi people who runs the Tag-a-long tour and a boat hire business at the resort and hired him to take us to Karrakatta Bay near One Arm Point. The location of Dampier’s harbouring and cleaning of the Cygnet in 1688 has been fiercely discussed by historians for many years but the conclusion is the remote Karrakatta Bay which you can only approach in a hefty 4WD driven by someone who knew where he was going – and we luckily had Eric guiding us. When we arrived through a wood of paper-bark gum tree – Melaleuca, I was stunned to see the bay so wide and at very low tide exactly as Dampier described it – with mangroves and a wooded area, with low dunes where the crew set up their tents and repaired the sails. We were joined by thousands of soldier crabs all scuttling the same way across the wet sand, on serious manoeuvres, pincers to the sky. How could somewhere so beautiful be unvisited or not attract any inhabitants? Eric divulged that the Aboriginal Tourist Commission had considered setting up the resort there but the bay contains sites of ceremonial significance for the Bardi people who decided to settle for Cape Leveque.
We had an opportunity to walk the whole beach and photograph the aboriginal sites before we made our way to the community of One Arm Point the central settlement for the Bardi people. Here we bought water and snacks in the shop before Eric took us to the hatchery where we were entertained by Barry and Eric who explained how the fish and turtles were having a helping hand in their conservation and Barry very kindly presented me with a beautiful shell as a gift to a Dampier…..
On our way back to the log cabin we stopped at a viewpoint for Kings Sound where Dampier sailed and first touched base with the unknown country New Holland in 1688. It was on one of the islands here he met and conversed with the indigenous people of this exotic arid land, the first white man to record such a meeting, and later the native Australians were to be termed Aboriginal people, and where he wrote the description that was to last to present times and mark his place in history. Dampier had been to many countries and spent time with different cultures and native communities – but this was the first time a ship and white men had ever been seen by the long resident indigenous indians and it would change their destiny and history for ever.
I had an illuminating chat with Paul Sampi, Erics uncle and aboriginal elder of the local community Bardi people and I learned how some of the traditional practices of hunting and gathering are still used every day. Just as we were talking Bulla came by carrying his fishing spear back from a hard mornings work and gave me a quick demonstration how to catch my breakfast. In the 20th Century both Paul and Eric were brought up on a strict catholic mission in Lombardina and recalled several tough stories from their childhoods. Paul was proud to reveal he had 8 children and 36 grandchildren and how important they were to him – a good catholic through and through.
Back at our log cabin we had 2 more blissful days chilling writing and swimming with various creatures to comfort us – notably the green tree frog that lived in the loo cistern. We cannot recommend the Kooljaman resort and the friendship of the Bardi people high enough.
Back in Broome there is much Dampier memorabelia which is scattered around the town. There is a memorial park which houses a memorial to Dampier and gives some spurious information about a landing and buried treasure...all tosh i think.
Broome is a town with a real feeling of Australia which has been lost in the cappucino capitals around the rest of the country. Its refreshing and there is a spirit of freedom here being surrounded by thousands of miles of desert and bush.
The problem of booze and indigenous people getting 'out if it' is rampant here and its the worst i think we have seen. Still don't know whether there is an answer or it will just bumble not being addressed as is the policy it seems.
It is a sad day but we have to hand our beloved van back so we hire a load of equipment from Shane the camping Mafia. On the saturday it seems like the whole town is off to the 'Broome Races' (including Shane Belafonte) and all our campsite. We decline but the town is deserted as is the beach. Later that night there is much hilarity and champagne giggledrops and the couple next door to our tent have won the the 'Pearl necklace classic'...they bandy the trophy around and we get a shot, a horse shoe encrusted in pearls...quite a trophy. They have dressed for the occasion and all this around a dusty track on the northern spit of the town...Ascot, eat your heart out.
This is the busiest time of the year in the north and it is impossible to get flights, hotels, campsites and the flight to Darwin costs a 'kings ransome' The morning we leave 'Shane Belafonte' is unavailable after a skinfull at the races and we hang around..meanwhile i do my back in...brilliant!!! We set off for Darwin and the great 'Top End' and home of the Salties....new place, new adventures.
The North West Highway, Dampier Revisited
For 575kms the flat arid bush imperceptibly changed its landscape to hilly outcrops, some classified as ranges in the distance, of raw red sandstone – iron rich rising out of a perfectly flat tableland in between. We were heading into mining country where instead of plunder and pillage of the seas of beautiful fish white man turned his eye onto the land for some of the richest deposits of iron ore in the world. Hamersley Iron's operations in the Pilbara are integreated across eight mines, a dedicated heavy haul railway and port facilities in Dampier. From the enormous open cast at Tom Price to Karratha and Dampier the millions of acres of originally Aboriginal land was dedicated to make two huge companies, neither Australian owned, even huger. With the estimated value of $190 mdpd (million dollars per day) we're not talking small fry here and I wondered what royalties were paid to the Aboriginal communities for the 'use' of their land, after all they were there first! These often sacred sights of cultural significence...my understanding the answer in none, null, zero.
Our entry into Karratha after a long hot drive was a welcome of salvation - we would be saved by any number of fundamentalist Christian sects – with pole position taken by the Jehovas witnesses who sported their meeting hall proudly on the great north highway towards Karratha town centre. Then as we ventured along the Karratha north circular various side streets promised us secondary deliverence with sign posts to the Church of the Latter Day Saints (Mormons to you), the Seventh Day Adventist church, the good ol' Sali Army and last but by no means least the Catholics with a modern monstrosity pointing a pinnacle of hail mary's to the sky. Thank god! Atonement and retribution was close at hand – those mining sinners souls must be in desperate need for a whole lot of saving. Its funny isn't it that when you come upon a group of incredibly hard working fellows chasing the filthy dollar you always find some nutty types who want to save them from that murky fate? Ploughing on around several roundabouts we happened upon our little Bethlehem for the next few nights – Karratha Caravan Park. The reportedly upmarket Pilbarri Tourist Park had already decreed 'no room at the inn' and the alternative was KCP as we liked to call it who promised on the phone they would squeeze us in between a couple of their vans if we were lucky! We were – their address was Karratha Light Industrial estate – very salubrious but beggars and all that. Multi skilled Jazz greeted us to the Merthyr Tydfil of Western Australia, answered the phone three times, sorted some post for 2 large, very long bearded chaps who may have been in the band ZZ Top their flourescent jackets covered in a light red dust ,and told off her kids while handing me the a key to the toilet – 'Ladies is always kept locked love, you'll need this!' Mmm, an unsettled feeling was slowly creeping into my boiled dry subconscious – why did the ladies have to be kept locked? The answer didn't take long to dawn judging our new surroundings - we had booked into a miners residential camp for three nights and they might want to take a peek! I recalled the evangelists along the route to the camp – who am I to sit on the moral low ground? I would have thought brothels more useful in frustrated male environments, not God. After all wasn't Mary Magdalene….?
We had arranged to take a guided sail trip round the archipelago and land on East Lewis island where William Dampier had all those years ago with a fellow WD enthusiast Brad Beaumont and had to leave from a jetty in the town of Dampier a few kilometres away, so we made a hasty retreat from our new home to give the family namesake a reccy. We entered Dampier the town, created and named in 1966 as the new service port and accommodation to support the mining conglomerate Hammersley Iron and later Woodside Gas, now read Rio Tinto and Shell.If you look past the enormous tankers that hold 200,000 tons of iron ore and can be filled in 12 hours using the 2kms of rail trucks (behind one strong little engine), the gas terminal and the port you will gaze in wonder at the beauty of the Dampier Archipelago, low slung islands fading into the distance dotted in the sparkling sea like lonely lily pads on a pond. Everything was flat and quiet and we watched a stunning sunset over the bay, nearly tripping over the vibrant red Sturt pea (Willdampia Formosa) growing wild in the car park – was this some sort of sign?
The next landing point of the William voyage in 1699 was to journey north from Sharks Bay where the Roebuck crew 'jogg'd along' using 'favourable winds' the west coast of New Holland and found themselves threading the leaky ship carefully through the Dampier Archipelago named by French explorer of note, Louis de Freycinet over a century later in 1803 as an honour to this remarkable voyage of discovery. At first William anchored the Roebuck off Enderby Island and then on 1st September weighed anchor off East Lewis Island, took a tender with some of the crew and landed at what is now called Pirates Cove on East Lewis Island. Once more his curiosity and passion for natural history took him away to that different place he so often went when on dry land and he voraciously gathered specimens, recording their look, smell and taste and wrote himself into western natural history books. Modern research recognises that the 'stones all of a rusty colour, and Ponderous' are the natural heaps of dark red boulders lying on the shore today – Gidley Granophyree, an igneous intrusive rock approximately 3000 million years old. His gatherings included the species of Olearia, currently known as Eurybia dampieri; probably the Green Bird Flower (Crotalaria cunninghamii) named Bibarn Bibarn by the Ngarluma people who for thousands of years, unbeknownst to him and western naturalists for 250 years thereafter, used it in a solution as an eyewash for sore eyes, or soaked in a wet cloth and applied to the head to relieve headaches, swellings or pain; the common blue tropical plant Northern Bluebell (Trichodesma zeylanicum)aboriginal name Warrawanggan Jabajaba which they used either as a diuretic or to bathe sores once boiled in water.
We had the great fortune to sail to East Lewis with Brad and a curious crew of friendly folk on board the Spinifex Spray a double masted lugger, sporting the skull and crossbones me hearties! For Brad was another of those curious native Australians I keep meeting - a complete Dampier nut! How lucky am I to have so much interest and knowledge shared by people who are truly passionate about my extraordinary ancestor as I am. And I have to say Brad is the nearest thing to a bucaneer sea-dog you are going to meet - he has all the character and stories of a pioneering explorer having spent much of his life helping other countries while in the army and in other guises. He is a book himself - and I hope he takes a moment to record his adventures one day like William did.
We stepped onto the beach at East Lewis and it was exactly as William described - a tingle shivered down my spine. Brad knew this place well and showed us to the memorial the local school children had built for the William Dampier tricentenary in 1999. Just above the beach on one of the red ponderous rocks Willam referred to was some clear extraordinary rock art - maybe preceding Dampiers visit or not, another magical symbol of the indigenos 'owners' of this land.
We had a wonderful cooling swim, a hearty lunch and beers were had by all. On our return we stopped on Sams island, where an unusual characterful Serb had lived in a self built fort and where he is now buried. Brad is involved with the upkeep of this beautiful place, an island of independence in a corporate landscape of huge (mostly offshore) mining companies. Sam arrived in Australia and worked in the mines and eventually moved to he isand in sight of the port, already a reasonably large operation. He built himself a house to live in, a castle and a kitchen to cook in. When he retired he moved here permanantly and the palm trees he had planted many years before served his shady patch where he sat and surveyed his territory. An attempt was made to evict him but it failed ad he died and was buried on his plot. It commands beautiful views of the bay and it is still tempting to ring the bell Sam installed to announce your arrival to the birds, lizards and other creatures which live in his shaded garden.
Our entry into Karratha after a long hot drive was a welcome of salvation - we would be saved by any number of fundamentalist Christian sects – with pole position taken by the Jehovas witnesses who sported their meeting hall proudly on the great north highway towards Karratha town centre. Then as we ventured along the Karratha north circular various side streets promised us secondary deliverence with sign posts to the Church of the Latter Day Saints (Mormons to you), the Seventh Day Adventist church, the good ol' Sali Army and last but by no means least the Catholics with a modern monstrosity pointing a pinnacle of hail mary's to the sky. Thank god! Atonement and retribution was close at hand – those mining sinners souls must be in desperate need for a whole lot of saving. Its funny isn't it that when you come upon a group of incredibly hard working fellows chasing the filthy dollar you always find some nutty types who want to save them from that murky fate? Ploughing on around several roundabouts we happened upon our little Bethlehem for the next few nights – Karratha Caravan Park. The reportedly upmarket Pilbarri Tourist Park had already decreed 'no room at the inn' and the alternative was KCP as we liked to call it who promised on the phone they would squeeze us in between a couple of their vans if we were lucky! We were – their address was Karratha Light Industrial estate – very salubrious but beggars and all that. Multi skilled Jazz greeted us to the Merthyr Tydfil of Western Australia, answered the phone three times, sorted some post for 2 large, very long bearded chaps who may have been in the band ZZ Top their flourescent jackets covered in a light red dust ,and told off her kids while handing me the a key to the toilet – 'Ladies is always kept locked love, you'll need this!' Mmm, an unsettled feeling was slowly creeping into my boiled dry subconscious – why did the ladies have to be kept locked? The answer didn't take long to dawn judging our new surroundings - we had booked into a miners residential camp for three nights and they might want to take a peek! I recalled the evangelists along the route to the camp – who am I to sit on the moral low ground? I would have thought brothels more useful in frustrated male environments, not God. After all wasn't Mary Magdalene….?
We had arranged to take a guided sail trip round the archipelago and land on East Lewis island where William Dampier had all those years ago with a fellow WD enthusiast Brad Beaumont and had to leave from a jetty in the town of Dampier a few kilometres away, so we made a hasty retreat from our new home to give the family namesake a reccy. We entered Dampier the town, created and named in 1966 as the new service port and accommodation to support the mining conglomerate Hammersley Iron and later Woodside Gas, now read Rio Tinto and Shell.If you look past the enormous tankers that hold 200,000 tons of iron ore and can be filled in 12 hours using the 2kms of rail trucks (behind one strong little engine), the gas terminal and the port you will gaze in wonder at the beauty of the Dampier Archipelago, low slung islands fading into the distance dotted in the sparkling sea like lonely lily pads on a pond. Everything was flat and quiet and we watched a stunning sunset over the bay, nearly tripping over the vibrant red Sturt pea (Willdampia Formosa) growing wild in the car park – was this some sort of sign?
The next landing point of the William voyage in 1699 was to journey north from Sharks Bay where the Roebuck crew 'jogg'd along' using 'favourable winds' the west coast of New Holland and found themselves threading the leaky ship carefully through the Dampier Archipelago named by French explorer of note, Louis de Freycinet over a century later in 1803 as an honour to this remarkable voyage of discovery. At first William anchored the Roebuck off Enderby Island and then on 1st September weighed anchor off East Lewis Island, took a tender with some of the crew and landed at what is now called Pirates Cove on East Lewis Island. Once more his curiosity and passion for natural history took him away to that different place he so often went when on dry land and he voraciously gathered specimens, recording their look, smell and taste and wrote himself into western natural history books. Modern research recognises that the 'stones all of a rusty colour, and Ponderous' are the natural heaps of dark red boulders lying on the shore today – Gidley Granophyree, an igneous intrusive rock approximately 3000 million years old. His gatherings included the species of Olearia, currently known as Eurybia dampieri; probably the Green Bird Flower (Crotalaria cunninghamii) named Bibarn Bibarn by the Ngarluma people who for thousands of years, unbeknownst to him and western naturalists for 250 years thereafter, used it in a solution as an eyewash for sore eyes, or soaked in a wet cloth and applied to the head to relieve headaches, swellings or pain; the common blue tropical plant Northern Bluebell (Trichodesma zeylanicum)aboriginal name Warrawanggan Jabajaba which they used either as a diuretic or to bathe sores once boiled in water.
We had the great fortune to sail to East Lewis with Brad and a curious crew of friendly folk on board the Spinifex Spray a double masted lugger, sporting the skull and crossbones me hearties! For Brad was another of those curious native Australians I keep meeting - a complete Dampier nut! How lucky am I to have so much interest and knowledge shared by people who are truly passionate about my extraordinary ancestor as I am. And I have to say Brad is the nearest thing to a bucaneer sea-dog you are going to meet - he has all the character and stories of a pioneering explorer having spent much of his life helping other countries while in the army and in other guises. He is a book himself - and I hope he takes a moment to record his adventures one day like William did.
We stepped onto the beach at East Lewis and it was exactly as William described - a tingle shivered down my spine. Brad knew this place well and showed us to the memorial the local school children had built for the William Dampier tricentenary in 1999. Just above the beach on one of the red ponderous rocks Willam referred to was some clear extraordinary rock art - maybe preceding Dampiers visit or not, another magical symbol of the indigenos 'owners' of this land.
We had a wonderful cooling swim, a hearty lunch and beers were had by all. On our return we stopped on Sams island, where an unusual characterful Serb had lived in a self built fort and where he is now buried. Brad is involved with the upkeep of this beautiful place, an island of independence in a corporate landscape of huge (mostly offshore) mining companies. Sam arrived in Australia and worked in the mines and eventually moved to he isand in sight of the port, already a reasonably large operation. He built himself a house to live in, a castle and a kitchen to cook in. When he retired he moved here permanantly and the palm trees he had planted many years before served his shady patch where he sat and surveyed his territory. An attempt was made to evict him but it failed ad he died and was buried on his plot. It commands beautiful views of the bay and it is still tempting to ring the bell Sam installed to announce your arrival to the birds, lizards and other creatures which live in his shaded garden.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
