Before we leave Shark Bay to drive south to Kalbarri we stop at Hamelin Pool, the easterly of the two main bays that make up the area that is known as Shark Bay and home to colonies of marine stromatolites.. This is a sublimely serene place; crystal clear water, not a breath of wind or a whisper of sound other than the crunching of our feet on the shells compacted into ridge formations along the foreshore. Small cumulus and wispy clouds sitting on the horizon are reflected in the mirror like surface of the sea making it impossible to tell where the sea and sky meet. The absence of the horizon combined with the stillness gives this place an dream-like, other-worldly quality – as though time stood still, which in another way it has.
A 47-mile sandbar spans the bay, controlling the influence of the tides and making this area one of the few places in the world where the conditions still exist to support colonies of stromatolites. Single cell cyanobacteria which are similar to the earliest forms of life dating back 3.5bn years thrive in the highly saline waters of Hamelin Pool. Microbes such as these played a crucial role in the evolutionary process by releasing oxygen from the oceans to create an atmosphere that could support life on land. A boardwalk provides access to the three main stramatolite rock formations: discs – remnants of earlier growths before the sea level receded, mats in the shallows and stacks in the deeper waters. The water is so clear that it is almost invisible and the fish at weave their way around the stromatolites look as though they are gliding unsupported.
The old telegraph station built in 18884 is the focal point of the camp site which lies back from the beach. Decommissioned as recently as the 1970s this was originally the connecting station between Perth and Roebourne further up the coast. Now it is a rather charming, incongruous, shop selling clothes, knick knacks and souvenirs, visitors centre and tea rooms with some interesting old photographs adorning the walls.
Onward to Kalbarri through mostly low-growing shrubland with the occasional tree here and there. Until somewhere north of the Murchison River the landscape changes dramatically as we come upon an area of what must be the start of the wheat belt – and the rolling topography is covered in ploughed fields and stubble.
Tonight we are camping at the Galena Bridge Rest Area which straddles both sides of the Murchison River just off what must have been the original highway, now superseded by the National Coastal Highway and a newer and taller bridge. This is a lovely spot just back from the wooded banks of the river. It’s also very popular – there must be at least 20 vans of varying sizes from our little transit to huge caravans and Winibagos. A chat with a man from Manchester travelling with an enormous Alsatian who, after 35 years in Australia, had managed to retain a thick Manchunian accent, delays dinner briefly.