Heading for Broome time

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Cable Beach

Another long stretch to Port Hedland and we definitely had the feeling
that we had already experienced the best the west coast had to offer.
We weren't even near the coast anymore, in any case as we trundled
along the Great Northern Highway saluting the infrequent vehicles that
we met. This was the Pilbara - a whole vast, barren and unpopulated land
rich in mineral wealth, but precious little else. It was easy to see
why a charge of manslaughter could be levelled at anyone who passed a
fellow traveller in distress. Without shade and water it wouldn't take
long to perish in this environment. Even though the temperature was
not particularly high outside (maybe 30c max) the sun had a searing
effect even through the windscreen of the van. I had to hold the steering
wheel with one hand and hide the other behind the seat to allow it to
cool down and after a few minutes switch them over - all this with the
aircon on full!
We were relieved to pull into the caravan park in Port Hedland in the late
afternoon and true to form grab the last campervan spot - that was after
we nearly left because Agnes had told them we had a CARAVAN, but luckily
the lady saw us before we turned the CAMPERVAN around. Will the yanks ever
learn how to speak proper english? Port Hedland has two principal colours:-
the dazzling white of it's mountains of industrial salt and the ever
increasing coating of red iron ore dust on all things stationary and mobile.
The latter is because this is one of the main ports for the export of
minerals to Japan and China. This dependence on mineral wealth has created
a strange situation for residents wishing to rent accommodation in the town.
Apparently it's extremely difficult to rent anything within the towns limits
unless you work for a mining company because they subsidise your lodgings
and so I guess the landlords can charge more. That's all there is to say
about PH, our last night stopover before Broome was the caravan park next
to Eighty Mile Beach and there is even less to say about that. A pleasant
place, but the sea was miles out and my attempt at a dip in it's very
shallow waters was not comfortable. The seawater is an opaque light grey
colour (due to the sand) making it impossible to see any nasty beasties
that might have been lurking in wait. Another strange thing for us was to see the
aussie holidaymakers driving their big and loud all terrain vehicles up and
down this pristine beach. I couldn't recall ever seeing more than a tractor
on any beach in Europe (usually to remove garbage or pull out a boat)
and the same up to that point in Oz.
Broome was reached early the next afternoon and a nice cailin from Portlaoise
gave us one of the last camping spots at a park near Cable Beach. We relaxed
by the pool for a while delighted to have made it to our final destination
without having mashed a roo or anything bigger into the front grill of the
van. At the same time we were a bit sad to be handing back our mobile house
that had served us well as a home for 3 weeks. Just to make sure that
everything would go smoothly next day with the return of the van, we drove
out to Trailmasters dropoff point where a big, friendly chap called Micheal
McNamara (father hails from Macroom, Co. Cork) assured us that all would
be well and that if we gave the van a bit of a clean up there would be no
further charges incurred. Grand so, it was back to Cable Beach to enjoy a
couple of coldies down on the famous beach itself. The long white strip
of white sand and ocean was busy and we noted sadly at one end a huge
parking lot of 4 wheel drives on the beach itself. Apart from that it
truly is a beautiful beach, but there is no natural shade anywhere, so its
a case of rent a parasol or sizzle. With this in mind all of our subsequent
visits to CB were in the late afternoon when the fierce sun had started
to weaken. It must be unbearable in summer and with 90% humidity added. A
couple of weeks previously we had heard on the radio in the campervan how
a large saltwater crocodile had been spotted on this very beach, causing this
and all surrounding beaches to be shut down for several days until the
dangerous beast moved on. That situation was hard to imagine as we lay on
the sand and watched whole families splashing about in the gentle waves
while some teenagers tried at the same time to coax some action out of the
ripples on their surfboards.
The next day was full on as we discovered that red dust had found it's way into
every nook and cranny of the camper and this took ages and a lot of elbow
grease to remove. We lugged all our stuff into the Cable Beach Backpackers hostel
and I went back to drop off the van while Agnes got dinner ready. It was
strange to be back with fellow backpackers again and even stranger to have to
adhere to the all the so-called rules that went with it. If ever a hostel
typified the "scummy backpackers" label it was this one. $20 key deposit,
$10 blanket deposit, $10 deposit for cup, plate, bowl and cutlery - I'm
surprised that the toilet paper was free! The best one was the numerous
signs everywhere that re-iterated the strict rule that no alcohol was allowed
on the premises as the hostel was licenced and it was strictly against the law
and therefore incurred a $300 fine. The bar was supposed to serve beer at below
average prices, but we soon discovered that the $5 bottles were the same
price as Divers just down the road. I must have been the only fool to hand
in my half-carton of coopers pale ale, which I had left over from the van,
to be stored in the bar fridge and only for consumption when we left for the
beach. We much later discovered that nearly everyone else were sneakily drinking
spiked soft drinks and only buying every 3rd or 4th beer from the bar. Anyway
the scummy backpacker theme was enhanced by the shower system being out of order
for a few hours (they turned off the water while Agnes was soaped up inside -
not a happy backpacker ....) and the news that some poor chap had had half of his
clothes stolen from the line - even underwear! I was definitely too old for this shit.
One saving grace was our new roomies who were two friendly and very polite chaps from
Taiwan who were whoofing in the hostel (working for their rent) and had jobs in
another hotel and a sushi restaurant. They told us about the free wi-fi signal
which happened to cover our end room, so I used the opportunity to update the
blog on Vietnam.
The much hyped town of Broome itself was a big disappointment. Famous for it's
pearling tradition, which ironically enough was revived by the japanese in the
60s, it has a somewhat artifical feel to it. During the day the nice cafes and
souvenir shops are overpriced and have an older and affluent clientele. When
darkness falls all businesses except for a few pubs and restaurants shut down
and the streets are deserted except for the odd tourist and the aborigines -
shadows of men and women sitting around stupified with cheap alcohol. We went
to the big openair nightclub, the Oasis, in the centre one night and it was even sadder
to see these people in there: while everyone around was chatting and laughing
in groups, these poor souls mostly sat alone vacantly staring into space while
drinking and smoking. A lot of the time that I saw these types of aborigines
in Australia they reminded me of ghosts. Maybe the fact that Broome's airport is
right beside the centre is the reason for the strange atmosphere in the town?
We did find one shining light in the darkness - Matso's Microbrewery makes
excellent and unique beers and even have an indian chef to cook up some really
fiery curries. Another good experience was a restaurant just down the street
from our hostel;The Old Zoo Cafe gave us the opportunity to sample a tasting
platter of crocodile (interesting), pearl meat (yummy), kangaroo (delicious) and
camel (tough and chewy), all washed down with a bottle of chilled chardonnay.
So much for the pearl of the northwest. Despite the 6:30 a.m. pickup we were
excited and happy to leave Broome and the scummy CBBs behind us when a young
chap, with a sparkle in his eye despite the early hour, checked our names off
his list and threw our backpacks up on the roofrack of a huge toyota landcruiser,
which had a trailer in tow. We collected our other travelling companions and Joel
pointed us in the direction of Derby and the Kimberley.

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Photos

3 trailer road train
THese monsters don't stop for anything except blonde hitchhikerettes with long legs and we didn't see any of those.

Comfortable stalls ....
We went to see Silver surfer and the Fantastic Four here one night at this open air cinema. During one action sequence we were really impressed with the sound effects. Then the 737 jet appeared over the big screen and quickly disappeared behind it to land Broome airport which is located near the centre of town, which is why I guess nobody lives there.