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Published: October 21st 2010
After a 300km drive from Karijini we stopped in Port Headland, stocked up and decided to keep on trucking (it’s very much an industrial town so not somewhere we wanted to linger) and started the 611km journey along the North of Western Oz to Broome. To break up the journey we stopped at three absolutely amazing campsites on our way.
First up was a site on Cape Keraudren Reserve, no facilities other than a few bush bogs (or long drops as they’re also known, though often the drop is not nearly long enough for us ladies! My thigh muscles are solid from all the squatting) and just an area of land on a cliff top overlooking the sea and beach below where you choose your spot. The drive there was a bone shaking 30 minutes along an unsealed road and we were pretty much the only vehicle that wasn’t 4-wheel drive there! Was worth it though. The setting was stunning and we climbed down the rocks to the beach for a wander at dusk.
The second site backed straight onto 80 mile beach, which funnily enough is one bloody long beach. Golden sand stretching in either direction as far
as the eye can see. The campsite was small (did have normal loos and showers though) and appeared to be a haven for grey nomads - retired, more mature travellers of which there are loads in Oz. It was a gorgeous day and as Xan cowered from the sun’s rays inside the camper I slapped on the sunscreen and bathed/baked outside the van. As one of the mature couples walked passed we politely greeted each other, and the gentleman of the duo informed me I might burn, to which I responded with ‘it’s fine, I won’t burn, I’ve lathered myself in cream’. Lathered? Might as well have added in smeared and been done with it! As he choked, his wife gave me a dirty look and I went bright red (through embarrassment not sun exposure) all I could hear was the raucous laughter coming from inside the van.
When I finally felt ready to show my face again, and Xan had stopped laughing at me and repeating the ‘L‘ word over and over again, I headed off for a run along the beach. Whilst away, I managed to miss campsite entertainment of the highest order! The site residents had
gathered in their dozens, camp chair and early evening aperitif in hand, around one particular caravan. Outside this caravan, armed with a keyboard, microphone and amp, a couple were playing tunes for the enthralled crowd. Two particular highlights included the dedication of a song to ‘our good friends Dave and Margaret who are leaving today, now we want to see you up dancing, you danced for us last night, you can dance tonight’. Said couple obliged and stood jigging in front of their camp chairs to the delight of the audience. Shortly afterwards, two other campsite guests appeared decked out in full Morris Dancing regalia, they skipped through the crowd jingling their bells in time to the music and were gone almost as quickly as they had appeared, as if they were some Olde English figment of Xan’s imagination! Maybe he’s missing home more than I realised. I got back just as it was all winding up, gutted!
The third amazing campsite was a place called Barn Hill, a working cattle station. Again it was right on a stunning beach, again it was on top of a cliff, but the most wonderful thing about this site was the showers.
Individual cubicles, with hot running water and no roof! This meant that when it was dark, with there being no light pollution for miles (or kilometres as I should say), you were literally showering under a blanket of stars.
The beach at Barn Hill was also the first place we spotted turtle tracks on the sand - hundreds of them. We went for a stroll after dark to see is we could spot any of the actual animals themselves but unfortunately other than the tracks, there was no sign of them at all.
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