The Nullarbor's not boring

I’m finding it difficult to blog today, perhaps because this part of the trip is hard to put in words.

After leaving Ceduna we have a long long drive through unchanging silver and dark green scrub. Despite road signs warning against camels, wombats and kangaroos we see none of them, Just road trains whomping past every so often and shaking the bejesus out of our van.  There’s a sense of endlessness on either side of the road that is rather peaceful but also intimidating.

Our first night we stopped at Nullarbor Roadhouse Caravan Park – a rather chilling place, full of caravans shut up tight like clams on the white ground and truck drivers in the bar, their faces glazed with fatigue and perhaps loneliness. There’s no camaraderie or the “east or west?” question here. We hop into our van ourselves, draw the curtains and have a gin and tonic.

In the morning everyone except us has driven off.  The caravan park is empty as the landscape.  I decided to have a little walk on the plain knowing for once I can’t get lost as the roadhouse is the only interruption in the landscape for as far the eye can see.  I set off feeling faintly absurd – there being not even a tree to aim for. No goal. No possible objective. There is a certain lesson in it for me.  This is life, just stepping out into the unmarked unknown.  Intentions not needed. Tomorrow will happen anyway and tomorrow after that.

Suddenly with my back to the road I begin to really see where I am – not on a desert but in a rich vibrant place.  Wombat holes chiseled into the red clay. Little silver salt bush puffs. Once this all used to be the sea and it feels that way – ancient and crumbly.  There are reportedly huge cave complexes underneath it all.  I hop across  white rocks and a spikey thorn penetrates my croc sole.  It doesn’t hurt me but makes me look where I step. Yesterday Pam in the Indigenous Culture Centre in Ceduna ran her finger over her tattered map to show the storylines of the area.  “Beautiful country” she rhapsodized and I got it at last. It is so different from the stern straight bushscape that we sped by all yesterday.  I feel like walking on and on but also feel the need for a pee.  I am inhibited, however by the lack of the merest bush to crouch behind. It seems rather exhibitionistic to pee on this huge stage. Way back sit the mighty articulated road trains and I just can’t face the sense of exposure so I turn around  and go back,  Perhaps its just as well because the call of the horizon is quite powerful.  I could have gone on for ever.

We set off again with the intention of getting to the roadhouse at Cocklebiddy because of the nice name but various off road temptations slow us down,  There is the Whale Watching  platform which is windy but very spectacular.  The whales haven’t arrived yet but  it is full of information,  The cove there is where mother whales have their calves and feed them up in the warmer water before their long migration in October.   Sometimes there are as many as a hundred whacking their tails and breaching.  I wish I could have seen them.  When I get back to the van, Grant has stuck a teeny whale on to the dashboard with bluetack which was nice of him.

Our next distraction was an old telegraph station half buried in a sand dune.  The beautiful brickwork was reminiscent of Macchu Picchu – all the stones locked together.  But it was fast falling apart under the pressure of the wind and the sand and all the graffiti will soon be gone along with the whole building.

We are now seriously behind schedule and the blinding afternoon sun makes the drive difficult.  As dusk begins to fall it is hard to see which side of the road the headlights are on and reluctantly we abandon Cocklebiddy as a destination and settle for a nearer roadhouse called Madura Pass Oasis, We are given a red key to the Mens amenity block but no key for the Womens’ which is open. If anything one would expect it to be the other way round. I wasn’t meaning to criticize but I was curious and so I ask about the disparity and get a scowl.  That’s apparently just the way it is.  I guess roadhouses get sick of travelers asking the same questions over and over again.  In fact there is a little trick that gets played in the roadhouse bars all across the Nullarbor.  A large notice above the bar features this sequence of letters

 YCWCYTDFTRFDSTY.

 Of course inquisitive people like me ask what the sign is for – perhaps a test to check you are not too drunk to order another beer?  With a grin you get told “Your Curiosity Will Cost Two Dollars For The Royal Flying Doctor Service Thank You”

But at last there are trees again and hardly anyone in this park. Despite being called an oasis there is no water for our van and no Dump Point.  It is also the most expensive site we've stopped at - $40 a night. There is one other caravan, however with a sign on the back CYCLIST AHEAD.  A ride is being done by a couple to raise funds  for kids’ cancer research. The guy is riding from Adelaide to Broome and wearing pink socks while his partner drives behind  with the van to protect him a bit. I wonder what it’s like when a road train goes by if you are on a bike.

 For once we are not the last to leave in the morning.  The cyclist and his partner are still in situ.  I hope he isn’t getting tired already.  He’s got a long way to go yet.

There is something just slightly gloomy  and inhospitable about Madura Pass Oasis Roadhouse and it is a relief to get to jolly little Balladonia, the hundred km further on. This roadhouse got an apology phone call from US President Carter when chunks of the US Sky Lab fell around the area in 1979  They’ve got a bit of its insulation in a glass case in the little museum there, A lucky lad in Esperance apparently got a reward of thousands of dollars for finding the first piece of the debris and sending it to President Carter. It must have all been so exciting for this little outpost.  There is also a picture of an elephant that came with a circus in the thirties with a note that unfortunately all the performing dogs died on the journey due to dust inhalation.  I think how lucky we are to have a sealed road and not be choked like the doggies.