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Published: January 18th 2022
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Today we head south to Eighty Mile Beach which is a hundred or so kilometres south of Broome where the Great Sandy Desert meets the Indian Ocean. It seems that there are a few different ways to spell the name of our destination - the way I’ve spelt it, or Eighty-mile Beach, or even 80-mile Beach. I’m not too sure why they’re so concerned about the spellings when it’s not really even 80 miles long; apparently it’s actually somewhere around 140 miles long, so not even close. We’re told that it used to be called Ninety Mile Beach, but the name was changed back in 1946 to avoid confusion with the Ninety Mile Beach in Victoria. You’d think they would have at least taken the opportunity to get it right and rename it 140 Mile Beach, or at least correct the error to get it closer to the right length rather than further away. I wonder who makes these decisions.
We head south along the highway and then turn off down the ten kilometre bone-rattling sand-blown track that leads into our destination, the Eco Beach Resort. We check in and head off towards our room, before realising that we haven’t
been given a key. It seems that this is a “keyless resort”. Hmmm. I wonder if any wannabe thieves are aware of this. Ooops. If they weren’t before they are now. Our “eco villa” is on the side of a sand dune and has a large balcony. I hope neither of us sleepwalks while we’re here; the balcony’s a couple of metres high and there’s no hand rail. Maybe they figure the sand’s soft enough to ensure a safe landing…...
I think we’ve now broken every rule we were given when we collected our hire car a few days ago. “Don’t drive on the beach” the man said - a beach would be less sandy than the track we drove on into here. “Only drive on designated roads” - there’s no chance that that track was a designated anything. And most importantly “always lock the car keys in the hotel safe when you’re not using them”. What hotel safe, even our room door doesn’t have a lock. I hope the gent from the rental company isn’t reading this.
We head off down to the beach to watch the sunset. The scene is stunning - a seemingly endless expanse
of sand, and no sign of any other human habitation for several tens of kilometres in either direction. As is the case everywhere in this neck of the woods the tide range is huge - we’re told it’s a stunning nine metres here. It’s right out, and if you wanted to take a dip I suspect you'd be close to Africa before you managed to get your feet wet. We crawl into a hammock to admire the show. It’s hard to imagine anything more idyllic.
Dinner is in a large tent covered structure high above the beach. To get there we need to navigate a narrow boardwalk several hundred metres long over the sand dunes. I hope we get there safely. As was the case with our balcony, the boardwalk doesn’t have any hand rails. Presumably there must have been a shortage of hand rails generally when this place was built. Lighting’s a bit scarce too. My phone’s got a torch in it, but I’ve bravely left it in our unlocked villa together with my wallet and camera. Fortunately Issy’s got her phone with her and we manage to navigate the boardwalk in the now near pitch blackness without
suffering too many obvious injuries. It’s a bit cool on top of the dunes, so heaters are turned on and blankets offered up to comfort shivering diners.
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D MJ Binkley
Dave and Merry Jo Binkley
Living the dream
A good place to hang out.