Karratha to Port Hedland via Roebourne 200km

Karratha to Port Hedland via Roebourne 200km
It was only a short ride today, but oh was it a return to those high school geography classes with Mr. Nitsky. We learnt all about the mining in the Pilbara region. In fact we seemed to have learnt the same thing each year, perhaps indicative of a big country with much not going on, or more about a new school and the Australian education system. Anyway Tom Price figures boldly in my memory (who could forget that name). And there was a sign for it a few k’s out of Karratha. Tom Price a mere 400 km to the right across a dirt road. Why go to it when it can come to you. A little farther along I was stopped at a train crossing. The train was already part along when I stopped, but even then I counted about 100 cars, all loaded with iron ore, I assume from good old Tom Price. I later discovered the trains can have 150 cars and be pulled by 6 locomotives. Everything looms large in this country. I got to wondering how the town got its name. “Hey Tom what is this red dense rock we are standing on that goes on for miles?” “Dunno mate, lets take a sample with us and check it out.” “Tom Price you are not as thick as you look.” The truth is a bit less colorful in my view. Tom Price was the VP of Kaiser Steel in the USA.

Something I did not recall from my high school geography was the Roebourne jail where I spent a pleasant hour or two rambling around. The brilliant thing about most Aussie tourist attractions is a) they are free or by donation and b) they are run by little old ladies (well women about my age) who are more than willing to tell you everything they know about the place. The Roebourne jail even had free coffee. There was also the promise of muffins for $3. When the woman tracked me down to give me mine it was a microwaved cellophane wrapped affair, not the home made, full of wellbeing country baking I had been hoping for. I suspect the jail was not on my high school must read list as it painted a pretty harsh picture of aboriginal - white settler relationships in those early days. I am not going to get political here, but I will leave you with a picture that tells some of the story. One of the highlights was an amazing whalebone chair schlepped by one of the early settlers from goodness knows where. I suspect with the “help” of the natives - oops no politics.

The country is truly desolate now and mostly flat. Now heading east and the Pilbara is too far to the south to see anything. There was not even a roadhouse in this 200km stretch, but there was the Wim Creek Pub. An oasis of sorts complete with cabins and a swimming pool. What is weird here is that of the few cars you see every second one looks like an official vehicle of sorts, with lights on top and a big antenna. It is almost like the government is conducting some secret experiments (probably on passing motor cyclists). In reality I imagine these are vehicles that are owned by the mining companies, which owns everything in these parts, including the oasis.

Finally out of the heat haze the industry of Port Hedland emerged. The center of town in right at the port and it is amazing if you have a fetish for heavy mechanical things. The big ships literally come into town riding high only to slink out almost below the water line with hundreds of thousands of tons or iron ore destined for Japan, China and other places. Found a caravan park on the edge of town and experienced yet another variation on Aussie accommodation. Private room with shared kitchen come lounge and bathroom facilities. With the 5th test of the Ashes reaching an exciting stage on TV, it was fun to have a shared banter on that subject in the common room.

Went to a pub called the pier hotel for dinner, it was right across the road from the dock. An Aussie classic pub. As my English friend Tony has been want to say, “Australian pubs are characterless pits where they squirt ice cold amber fluid down your through from a hose.” A little off mark, but at least you could see where such an exaggeration might come from. It was a cavernous place of corrugated iron. Notable was the pictures of a number of people behind the bar who had been banned for various periods. Including one fairly harmless looking woman banned for life. Apparently she had attacked the owner at some point. On a Sunday evening it did not look like anybody was going to get attacked. You could throw a stick and not hit a customer. By all accounts the main action was on Friday night since that was pay day. Talked with a couple of locals involved in loading the ore, apparently there is cobalt and manganese as well as iron as a main export. I got to thinking how my life might have turned out if I had grown up in such a place.

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Part of trip: Great Motorcycle Journeys of the World - Australia West

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