Way before we made our way to the coast and the associated salty sand dunes, we had the delight of spending time in Karajini NP.  But not before a “what could possibly go wrong?” went wrong.  After buying fuel, checking our tyre pressures, acquiring fresh milk and various other essentials and feeling pleased with ourselves, we blithely drove towards Karajini, thinking we’d be early. But, well out in the desert by now, Lesley announced, correctly, “We forgot to buy wine!”.  Calamity!  We kept driving for maybe 5 minutes while we discussed the various benefits of going dry for a few days and, of course, made a U-turn.  Naturally, the only other car within 10km also wanted to turn into our turning space.  Aggressive hand gestures having been delivered by both parties, we went back to town, bought some wine (adequate, expensive) and resumed our journey. 

Camped at the Dales this time, we were within relatively easy walking distance (it’s only 280 steps down, and up) of Fortescue Falls and the attendant swimming holes.  Fern Pool is another few hundred metres along the way and is ignored by many.  And it’s better for that – this park area is as busy as can be, given that it’s in the sticks, but we had the place to ourselves for maybe ten minutes one glorious, warm, sunlit morning.  There’s a beautiful little waterfall providing exactly the right amount of pressure for the perfect shoulder massage at the end of a pool of deep but clear water.  Temperature was refreshing but not cold. 10 minutes in the water was fine.  We then retreated ashore, opened the espresso bar and had our mid-morning flat whites (fresh milk – I told you) while anyone watching gnashed their teeth.  Quality cups (thanks Marlies and Uri) are the key to a certain kind of life.

Awoken softly by dingos/dingoes singing in the early morning (it’s definitely not howling and they definitely cannot decide on the spelling), we put down our tyres and attempted the Banjima track.  At the visitor’s centre, they even sell “I survived the Banjima” t-shirts. This bit-of-dirt (we’ve started to feel masterful but hubris awaits, no doubt) cuts off about 50km of bitumen on the way to Weano Gorge – even better it allowed a stopover at Kalamina Falls on the way.  Rated as an ideal beginner excursion, Kalamina has the two fabulous advantages of being pretty easy to walk to and warmish clear water – that’s not all; flat rock ledges to sit on and virtually no one other people complete the benefits.  We loved it.

There were too many options at the next stopping place (Weano, Joffre, Knox, etc) but we chose to go to Handrail.  As it turned out, we should have gone to Kermit’s but this one was fun in an Indiana Jones kind-of-way.  The entrance involved a very narrow slit in the crazy rocks and then, of course, a big metal handrail to get down and up – so, not so natural but beautiful nonetheless.  Another swim and some rock hopping and a big explore for the adventurous souls, of whom there were lots, all aged about 16 we thought (so probably 35).

Keen geologists will already know that the horizontal slate-like rocks here are classic Banded Iron Formation, hideously old and compressed iron-rich and silica-rich sediments from the ancient sea floor, about 2.5 billion years ago.

Fires were banned in our campsite which was disappointing, but not a crisis, because temps remained way over 30.  Maybe even sensible, as wind gusts whipped around a bit.  More exciting were the willy-willys that blew through from time to time.  We were maybe 150m metres from ATGANI, walking home in our post-swimming gear (togs + shirts), when a little mini-tornado blew through the campsite.  To our horror, we saw our very well attached awning soar high above the van before crashing back down. “That doesn’t look good”, was the understatement of the day.  Fortunately, our guy ropes abated the worst of the blast and while one rope actually snapped (incredible!) their tether managed to save our awning.  Unhappy campers only 50m away had their entire awning mechanics destroyed.  We were talking to the guy (golly, we were the talk of the entire campsite for 10 minutes) but then he had to excuse himself to talk to his insurance company!  (Editor’s note:  If you’re with GIO, this will never happen – the talking, not the calling)

Exactly as we’d hoped, Karajini had been wonderful but, after several almost unabated weeks of red dust, we had the coast in our sights.  Stevens campsite, about 60km south of Coral Bay was too far away for one straight dash, so we stopped again at Cheelah Plains, a station stay which provided us with washing facilities and a fellow traveller who recommended “turning over” the van once our trip was complete.  “If you want to go again, just buy another one”, were his wise words.

The little question of our times has no readily-accessible answer.  Why is Ningaloo now spelled Nyinggulu and, more importantly, why is it spelled in both ways all the time in the local tourist literature.  Tim Winton doesn’t know the answer – he doesn’t even address it in his own prognostications (but I quite enjoyed The Shepherd’s Hut).  The Parks people (that’s government) are keen to let us know that the parks are managed by the traditional owners, with Parks as willing helpers!  There’s information to suggest that it’s about pronunciation – eg there is no “oo” so it’s represented as “u”.  The same information tells us that Nyinggulu is the sharp nosed emperor (a fish), but the same organisation also says it means a headland.  Are headlands sharp nosed?  It’s like being in Canada where everything has to be signposted twice.  Why on earth can they not agree on how to spell a word that comes from an aural tradition?  Maybe the little question is the big question?  As before, answers on a postcard.

None of that can take away from the spectacular beauty of this part of the remote western coast.

Way back when, we’d flown over $al$alis, a super-luxe glamping affair in the coastal dunes.  At the same time, we’d seen a bunch of caravans and campers in near-identical positions, nestled amongst the sand dunes and right on the ridiculously “cool and bright clear waters” of this incredible coastline, presumably for next-to-nothing.  Egalitarian society if you book up early!  So, we had booked up early (for exactly once) and had managed to secure a campsite in this part of the world.  We were further south than ideal but the fringing reef is almost 300km long, so there’s plenty of room.

Annoyingly, the weather had also changed.  After what felt like months of hot, hot, hot, the wind blew in from the south and, while it wasn’t actually cold, a 30 knot breeze at 20 degrees feels chilly!  Fortunately, our particular campsite was behind a substantial sand dune, giving some protection from the wind.  Unfortunately, the tranquil hours of lazing under a beach umbrella and snorkelling in the calm lagoon behind the fringing reef also became figments of our imagination.  But don’t be dismayed – it’s hard to imagine a more beautiful seascape anywhere on earth.  On the one occasion that I ventured into the choppy waters with my snorkel, the visibility was so good that my eyesight ran out before the clarity stopped me seeing stuff.

We now know that there are better places we could have stayed.  That’s because we took a little 4WD trip out to the next closest campsites – Maggies and Elles – with even beachier, windier positions.  At Maggies, the volunteer campsite host, Gary, completed the quintessential Australian image by telling me, “Man, you really should have been here last week”…for people of a certain age, refer The Endless Summer.

Our 4WD Skills were also challenged.  We’d watched (in dismay/disgust) a Nissan Navara dual cab ute (google it) make a complete hash of ascending a very sandy hillock, having at least three up-and-reverse-back-down attempts before succeeding.  So I was a bit nervous but stayed calm.  Well, when the time came for the same hilly assault, just a very little knowledge and skill allowed us to hand over to the LandCruiser and it didn’t even hiccup – my goodness, it’s a magnificent piece of machinery.  More sand hills, that’s what we want!

We left this part of Oz just a tad disappointed – the howling winds hadn’t shown it to its best – and it was still magnificent.  We also had a bit of a timetable and (please, don’t be shocked) had done some planning!  So we decided to move with all possible haste through areas we’d seen before and aim for the Busselton Jetty!  Just 1000km in a cuppla days – what could possibly go wrong?