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| Bad luck can stay away |
It seems afew short trips have proven that our beloved patrol is not quite ready to gallivant around Australia lugging a big 750kg camper trailer. Having already clocked over 230,000km on the odometer, she has been struggling to breathe, is driving like a snail, and is a little partial to overheating. Sham's mind runs around in circles about all the possibilities and options to get the old girl back to feisty fit condition, but instead of listening to his instincts and knuckling down on the car, he listens to his restless wife who is keen to get out of the city and hit the road.......
We had both heard rumours about Yalata, in South Australia. "Dont stop at the roadhouse there, the aborigines will mob you" "You'll get hounded for cigarettes so collect empty packets and throw them out the window to distract them" we were warned! But we had also heard that Yalata has the most beautiful beaches and some of the best fishing you could ask for. I was intrigued by the possibility of seeing the aborigines, and Sham was sold on the dream of catching a decent 25kg mulloway. All we needed was a permit to enter the Native title lands of Yalata, so I called a number that directed me to another number, that gave me two other numbers, both of which had full message banks. With no permit, a fragile car, and an excited but also hesitant Sham, we headed across the Nullarbor Plain.
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| Fascinated with the trucks in the distance at the border |
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| At the Border roadhouse |
Endless hours of driving allowed me to dream about the indigenous people of Yalata. Would they hunt us down if we stopped there? Would we get in trouble for not having a permit, or worse - would the aborigines be furious at us for trespassing on their land? Were they still traditional people with spears and a culture alive and connected to the earth? Or had they become a lost people, influenced by alcohol, living crammed up in poor houses like many other indigenous communities in Australia? I was curious to see what awaited us.
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| 30km of vermin proof fence |
After three days of Sham's dedicated driving, we arrived at Yalata at 6pm, and the encounter I anticipated was a non-event. Not a soul was in sight. We turned off the Eyre Hwy and drove towards the coast, along the longest vermin proof fence I have ever seen, hoping to make camp before the sun set. As I gazed across the vast landscape, I wondered how the Yalata Anangu people had survived such harsh conditions. Yet, this place had been a comfortable home for them. They had formed trade partnerships with the coastal Wirangu people to the east, and the Mirning people to the west. Flint, spears, and string made from wombat hair had been amongst their many exchanges. I am forever in awe of the wisdom and instinctive intelligence these people hold, and in that moment I was left feeling somewhat ignorant and inferior, and grateful for my luxurious camper trailer loaded with food and water.
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Finally the view at the end of the fence
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| Arriving at Yalata beach just in time to set up camp |
Sham found us a place to set up camp that night and the next day started beautifully when I woke up to 6 big sloppy kisses from Tulley! Sham only got 3 kisses (whoever gets the most kisses is the better parent!). After three days of sitting in the car I was itching to move, so I went for my mid-morning stroll up the coast. As I was walking I began to make out some dark shadows in the distance, maybe 10 figures, all on the beach, carrying long sticks. Could this be the aborigines with the spears I was fantasising about? Was it safe to proceed further? My body froze as I assessed my situation, which told me that: a) I am alone b) I am a woman who is alone c) I am a partially dressed woman who is alone d) I am a partially dressed woman alone in the middle of nowhere. The adrenalin kicked in and I scuttled off into the sand dunes so I couldn't be seen. I wasn't ready to retreat and keen to resolve the mysterious shadows, so I pushed on, getting closer and closer hiding behind the dunes, until it became evident that the imaginary aborigines carrying spears were merely fishermen, loads of them with their families, fathers and sons, living it up on the beach, hunting for mulloway like Sham. Satisfied with my discovery, I headed back to camp for lunch, only to discover our fridge was not working and Sham couldn't fix it. The hundreds of dollars we spent on meat, eggs, cheese, yogurt, sorbet and beer was going to go to waste if we didn't gobble it up over the next few days.
In the afternoon we cruised along the coast in the patrol searching for gutters that might hold Sham's mulloway, and I waved to the fishermen from the security of my car, with my big cave man husband by my side! That evening fishing attempts for Sham were unsuccessful. After getting snagged too many times, losing 4 hooks and 2 sinkers and then fighting against strong easterlies, we decided to go back to camp for warm EB, and try to put a dent in our meat stash!
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The unrelenting scrub that aborigines made home...
can you spot out camper? |
The next day Sham scored 6 kisses from Tulley and I got a smack in the head (who's the better parent now?!) Roxy slept in the car overnight, and by morning the starting-to-go-off garlic sausages we gave her the night before had had their impact. As Sham opened the car door, she bolted straight for the bushes, and we were horrified to see poo everywhere. Yes, stinky smelly dog crap all over the car, all over our bags, up on the windows, smeared on the car seats. We were now starting to feel a little jinxed, maybe we weren't meant to be here? Perhaps the aboriginal ancestors didnt want us here? We couldnt help but think unseen forces were at play, and the thought of leaving crossed Sham's mind......
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| Tulley Tuckerman loves the dirt (no that's not poo) |
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| At home |
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| Hmmm i wonder if dad will ever catch that mulloway fish? |
The next day it rained in the morning so we huddled in the camper and had a great rough and tumble tickle session on the bed, before working up an appetite for triple choc cookies and sausages. By the afternoon the rain cleared, so Sham headed out for another fishing session only to get snagged again! Still no mulloway!
Tulley's morning kisses have now become a ritual as we wake up to another day in Yalata, and from now on Roxy sleeps outside. The skies are clear and the winds gently blow offshore. Perfect conditions for fishing, but the seed to leave has been planted and Sham is keen to head off to Fowlers Bay, so we pack up the camper and travel another 90km east across the Nullarbor.
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| The lagoon |
An excited Sham finds us a perfect spot to camp by sun set, about 40km along the coast, west of Fowlers. There is a gutter for fishing and a long stretch of white sand for walking and a lagoon for Tulley and I to swim in. The camper is protected behind the dunes, and an old rusty windmill stands hauntingly next to our camp. I wonder about the early settlers and pastoralists and the harshness they also would have endured out here. Who had used that windmill and who had sought water from the once flowing well? How many people and animals had died of dehydration out here? I imagined over the years that many a man and his horse and cattle had visited this spot with an eager need to satisfy an intense thirst. Sham was happier here, with a renewed sense of peace and inspiration. Full of energy he is quick out of bed the next morning, so eager to catch that mulloway that he misses his kisses from Tulley! By the time Tulley and I join him on the beach, we discover he has had 3 rig set ups eaten by something big. In an attempt to discover what is out there chomping at his line, he grabs his spear gun and swims out into the surf. There he sees them. Two of them. Just hanging out in the water. Two giant mulloway. Swishing around him. Teasing him. They come closer and closer to suss him out. Enticing him to shoot. Sham gains position, loads his gun, then whooooooooooosh...... they are gone.
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| The haunting windmill |
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Sham fishing. Roxy waiting for action
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| Tulley darling we dont drink sea water!! |
That afternoon, I become desperate for some respite from a non-stop Tulley, who has decided to drop his nap. A beautiful snorkel in the lagoon relieves some tension, and I feel my heart bubbling up with joy as little schools of angelfish playfully dance around me. That evening Sham finally catches some fish - 3 big salmon that he uses as fresh bait to lure in the elusive mulloway. As the sun begins to fade, Sham's line is on again. Something big has taken bite and it's off, dragging the line out to sea, then as it pauses from exhaustion Sham reels it in, a good 10 minute battle, and he gets it almost to shore. We can see the tail flapping in the shallows, so close, it looks like it could be that mulloway, then PING... the line snaps and the fish breaks free. A defeated Sham goes back to dreaming about catching that damn mulloway! Later that night, whilst Tulley and I sleep, Sham has another attempt at fishing. He is onto something very big again, this time he suspects a shark. After battling the beast for 45 minutes, war is declared over when his rod snaps in half.
The next few days bring in more salmon and allow for lots of rest, relaxation and swimming, but no closer is Sham to catching his mulloway. Sham's thoughts begin to return to all the things that need fixing on the patrol, and we decide we better head back towards home soon so we can get the car sorted before he returns to work.
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| Helping with the dishes |
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| Now where is the track? |
On our last day the wind comes in straight from the north, and the heat intensifies fast. We pack up the camper and swiftly try to make our way out of the maze of sand tracks only to get bogged and lost (which wouldn't have been such a drama if we weren't in a scorching desert). We all get more and more agitated as temperatures start to soar up to 45 degrees! Roxy scratches at the floor of the car trying to escape the heat and Tulley permanently attaches himself to my breast for comfort and hydration. Upon Sham's suggestion, we pause briefly for one last dip in the ocean to relieve us all physcially and emotionally.
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| Quick dip here for respite as temperatures reach 45 degrees C |
We finally find the main track out, but the poor patrol struggles pulling the camper in the heat, and we pull over many times to let her cool down. We eventually reach Eyre Hwy and drive west towards Nullarbor roadhouse at a slow speed of 60km/hr. Its not until the seabreeze comes in that afternoon, that the temperature drops immediately and our sanity is restored.
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| Roxy takes in one last view of the coastline |
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| Playing with Aliya |
Afew days later we arrive back in Perth. We return our camper again to have the fridge repaired, and spend the remainder of Sham's time home socialising with friends and family. We celebrated Godfather Wilko's 30th birthday and Aliya's 5th birthday. Tulley adores his cousin Aliya so much!
The patrol is currently getting a makeover, or you could say she is having a detox and some major surgery to restore her to health.
After $2000 spent on petrol, a broken fridge, broken and lost fishing gear (and no mulloway), a poo-smelling car that got pushed to her limit, and alot of driving, Sham and I were even more exhausted than before we left. Sometimes it seems you just gotta cut your losses. But we are safe and healthy and blessed to have had the opportunity to venture so far in such a short space of time. I rediscovered that no matter how far away from everything you are, freedom is a state of mind. You can be in the most beautiful place but still feel trapped if you don't master your thoughts. Sham also learnt his lesson too - listen to your instincts, not your wife!!!!!
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| Hanging in his hole |
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| Cutest butt around |
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| A little person walked here |
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| Pea and Pod |
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| Exhausted Poo and Pea |
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