No Trees

I really do think that the Mulga is the prettiest of trees! My partiality to them has grown following the rains. Their foliage, which can often look drab is clean and buoyant and they sway catching a thousand rays of the sun and looking like headless ballerinas. Their black bark too looks clean on their trunks and with their twisted appearance give the impression that these macabre headless ballerinas are doing perpetual pirouettes!

I remember my first foray into the outback too many years ago to ponder, but it was still a time when families ran the farms and rode the waves of floods, droughts, fluctuating cattle prices, and every other calamity in between managing it all in oppressive isolation. Many of the old fences had fence posts made from the trunk of the mulga and an old timer telling me that it was an extremely hard wood to work with and that the fences where a feat of extreme hard work when there was no easy alternative.

Of course, the mulgas are dancing on the crimson floor of the glorious outback, and we feasted on this site for some kilometres after leaving dear old Port Augusta last Saturday. This sight gradually morphed into the ubiquitous wheat fields again and sheep fields as we moved inland from the coast and out of the outback on our way to Ceduna. On the way I did stop and have a very posh cup of coffee in Streaky Bay. A gorgeous story book little village breathing refinement and expensive accommodation and we sat and sipped coffee and looked out on a bay that looked like a mirror it was so still, I did feel a twang of regret as I decided there was more traveling to be done and we pushed on to Ceduna.

Ceduna is known as the beginning of the Nulla Boor and the last time I was there I was 19. I must confess my recollections of it were not pretty as I remembered it as a very intimidating place, the main street was so quite and there were a line of people sitting outside the shops just starring. That was really my only recollection of the place, that and the desire to leave as soon as possible and yet when I arrived it seemed to have come a long way – as the saying goes. I was amazed to realise that it was on the coast, again I had no recollection of it – perhaps I was too intimidated to notice! The foreshore is lovely and has I am sure the only grass that grows in the town lining the whole strip. I did find the caravan park completely soulless – all pebbles and every piece of land in use for accommodation. I was wedged in between 2 elderly gentlemen who looked as though they were there for the long haul and crammed onto their caravan sites along with their huge caravans was their trailer with their tinnies. Apparently, the fishing is very good in Ceduna.

I had determined to stay there 2 nights as I knew that I had to prepare again for remote travelling, and I am pleased I did – even though I was staying there over the long weekend, and NOTHING was open (I really do sound like a city girl don’t I?) at least the supermarket did give me an opportunity to grab a couple of things. Water and fuel were my main concern and God help me the fuel prices were the biggest I had seen thus far 2.26 at the shell and next door 2.15 I really don’t know how that can happen and it doesn’t take any guessing at all to know which one I went to. While I was in Ceduna, I did take a drive out to Cactus Bay. Oh, it was stunning – it was a hell of way off the beaten track, but I am so pleased I did it. It was an interesting introduction to the rugged beauty that I was to be treated to crossing the Nulla Boor and the personality of this wild ocean. I had gone in my togs thinking a dip would be nice but the personality that was this body of water seemed to be yelling ‘don’t you dare’ as it lashed out at the rocky outcrop that I was standing on. I looked out at the ocean thinking of the seafarers both old and current and wondered at their courage.

On Tuesday we embarked on the odyssey that is the Nulla Boor. Again, for the first half of the day we were subject to more wheat fields. The wheat fields here though did not have the yellow hue of the mallee ones – the shawn ends of the wheat had a mauve hue which gave the landscape a regal vista. Slowly though the farms dissipated, and we moved into the familiar scrub of the outback although gone was the rich red of the soil and it was a browner earthy hue. Tantalizingly at the very edge of the scrub you can see the beginnings of the sand dunes of the Great Australian Bite. I had determined at each opportunity I would top up the tank remembering that these places can sometimes run out of fuel and the prices went up with each stop until I still can’t believe that I paid $3.00 a litre at the Nulla Boor road stop. It was hellishly hot, and I could remember from my foray as a 19-year-old that this road did butt up against the coast and I was really looking forward to a sea breeze to relieve the oppression.

Just a rather uncouth aside when I was making my way over to the west as a 19 year old somehow – I don’t remember how it came about but I left my car in Port Augusta (I think it must have been) and joined 3 chaps in a combi – the nuns would have been horrified – but it was all pathetically innocent – I slept on a platform that sort of slid across pop top, I remember thinking it was a bit like a coffin and I remember we drank a lot of beer at every road stop along the way. And as hard as it might be to believe having grown up with 5 brothers it was the first time that I learned that you could set fire to farts! Unbelievable they showed me and even more astoundingly I watched! I remember leaving them at Kalgoorlie and I took the train into Perth!

There were signs everywhere warning of wildlife on the road and no one had to remind me twice after recent experiences and I edged my way along keeping a good eye out. I had to travel some distance until we came upon the coast and low and behold there was this wayside that I simply could not resist and pulled in for my first dose of free camping. What a sight I had I eaten my dinner looking out at the ocean, listening to waves crash. The ocean was deep blue and the sky a gentler version of the blue and clear of all but one strip of windblown cloud. As the ocean comes into shore the water turns a deep greeny aqua as the physics of the waves turn the waves into maelstroms and they churn the depths like an impressive washing machine.

The generator that I am carrying very obligingly allowed me to make a cappuccino (quarter strength of course). Bingley doesn’t like the generator he took fright as I started it just outside the caravan door and then hid on the bed as it churned through an amazing array of gear changes as the coffee poured into the cup and I frothed the milk. That is all that I used the generator for, otherwise, you would not know that you are not in a caravan park. It was all extremely comfortable and picturesque albeit solitary. In the morning I got up and did my yoga on the edge of the cliff looking out at the ocean like an odd little Sharman. We set off for a short drive to Bordertown – which again is just a roadhouse with a place to pull up the caravan – I did have access to power – for the coffee machine – but no water etc you still had to rely on your own resources.

It was here that I discovered the joys of crossing the border into WA – at least you can cross these days, but it is still a palaver. I had to apply for a G2G pass – whatever that means – but it essentially a visa. I had to apply online which was a nuisance as the website wasn’t working on the mobile, so I had to go back and get the computer, you have to provide ID, proof of address and proof of vaccine status. Thankfully it was all approved instantly, then I had to download an app on the phone and upload the visa. Then the next morning, after topping up the car, $2.68 this time, I made my way to the rather intimidating border and quarantine building stretched across the highway. I had to show my visa to a very nice policeman who then introduced me to the quarantine lady who went over the car and caravan with a fine tooth comb seeking contraband and then I was in.

The landscape moved in from the coast. Nulla Boor apparently comes from the Latin Nullus – meaning nothing and the Latin abhor meaning tree – so no trees and of course it is very aptly named as beyond the odd heroic spindly mulga (gone are the luscious ballerinas) there are none, but now we moved into a landscape of eucalypts and scrubby bush. Again, we pottered along stopping to top up – the price dropping in the gradations in proportion to the extent that you emerge from the Nulla Boor. It was at this time I discovered a weird phenomenon – all of the roadside stops that we encountered had a golf course. No grass of course just dust, flies and now the ever-present marsh flies and I have no idea how often they are used or why so many – there must the a clue in the Scottish origins of the name Perth, I don’t know and neither did anyone else see to know why these and nothing else were so prevalent (except for Marsh flies of course!). This night just as the atmosphere was telling me the wildlife would be beginning to come to feed, we pulled into Cocklebiddy. A dusty little oasis in the remoteness. Again, we had power but nothing else.

We explored a little around the Cocklebiddy, seeking out the caves and yes had a look at the golf course and then we headed on to Norseman. I have mentioned the marsh flies – I hate the stealthy buggers that sneak up and sting – and I did make a slight sceptical of myself topping up the car at the stop before Norseman – I was balancing the diesel hose when I felt something on the bridge of my nose – I am sure for an instant I made a comical crossed eyed sight before I dropped the hose and frantically flapped my arms around my head! I regained my dignity fairly rapidly and resumed topping up the car!

Norseman which is seen as the end of Nulla Boor is a lovely little town sadly full of empty shops and houses and rough huen corrugated iron rooves which must be fabulous when it rains – but it does have a supermarket AND water says this relieved slightly anxious traveller. One outstanding feature of this town is that it has the widest main street I think I have ever encountered. I learned just today it was built this way to accommodate the camel trains which operated here until the 1920’s. Here we stop for 2 nights while I do some washing, writing, cleaning, and restocking and then we will be on the move again on this glorious journey!