We stopped last night in a large rest area just off the coastal highway which backs onto the Lyndon River. This morning we notice a 4wd which appears to be stuck in the river bed. It turns out that three French people decided to take a short cut off the site by crossing the salt flats of the dry river bed, only to find soft clay under the salt crust. There is not much we can do to help them, but Andy suggests that letting some air out of the tyres might help traction. They’re not having any of that, after all they have to drive on the road afterwards! They seem to have little idea about 4wds and don’t seem to know whether they have 4wd engaged. But given that only one wheel is spinning, probably not. Nor do they have a tow rope, and neither does a 4wd that stops to assist. They manage to flag down another 4wd and we leave them scratching their heads over what seems to be a pretty tricky situation.
Verdant Carnarvon is a pleasant and attractive town at the mouth of the Gascoyne River. A little oasis of fruit and vegetable farms in the otherwise flat and dry Gascoyne region. Banana plantations are much in evidence on the way into town. Fishing is also an important industry here. Large enough to warrant a local bus service, it has a small shopping mall and a few shops and cafes along the main street as well as the usual amenities: Post Office, library and visitors centre. Robinson Street which runs through the shopping area has palm and eucalypt-shaded parking down the centre and palms line the small harbour which is home to a few boats including a yacht and a catamaran. Palms also line Memorial Avenue, a long road stretching between town and the coastal highway, each with a plaque dedicated to those who lost their lives on HMS Sydney II.
It’s windy and, like most of the town we have been through, very quiet. Our first port of call is the visitors centre to find out where we can get the photos for our Indian visa applications. Thus starts what turns out to be a rather prolonged saga.. We’re directed to the Post Office which does photos for passports. It’s not a booth but an arrangement similar to that used for taking security photos for company passes and at airports. But this facility produces photos to meet the requirements of the Australian passport office and can’t accommodate the rather unusual specifications set by the Indian embassy. The Post Office counter clerk sends us the the local chemist, who apparently is a bit of a whizz on the computer and might be able to manipulate our photos to the correct dimensions. By this time we have established that there isn’t a photographer in Carnarvon. The man at the chemist is on a day off, but the sales assistant is very helpful and if we can return tomorrow before 3.30pm she will let him know we are coming. At this point we’re not very confident that this is leading anywhere, but hey we’re here and we might as well exhaust all possibilities.
We camp at Quobba Point a 70km drive to the north of Carnarvon where there is a number of shacks and a camping area behind the sand dunes. Its very windy and the sea is rough and dramatic. It’s the kind of spot that attracts the grey nomads and Australian families who have taken time out to travel. A pitch costs $5.50 a night and the only facilities is a pit toilet. For everything else campers need to be self sufficient, including bringing water supplies. Many have generators or solar panels and even satellite dishes as well as solar showers.
On the way we stop to watch the blow holes which shoot fountains of spray probably 20 feet into the air. The swell of the ocean give rise to huge waves which crashing against the cliffs along this stretch of desolate, windswept coast sending spray soaring into the air. The sheer raw power of the ocean is mesmerising. This is a dangerous spot and signs warn ‘King waves kill’ while a plaque commemorates at least one person swept away by the waves.
Today we crossed the Tropic of Capricorn. A sign marks the spot on the road between Coral Bay and Carnarvon.