Tag Archives: Afghan Well Rest Area

We finally prise ourselves away from Broome to continue our journey south.  The highway between  Broome and Port Headland, some 800 kilometres further down the west coast, traverses the edge of the Great Sandy Desert.  This is not a desert in the commonly understood sense of arid sand dunes and no vegetation.  Along the coast it is an endless plain of scrub;  sometimes only grasses, sometimes interspersed with a few shrubs and trees.  Many of the latter looking like up-turned besoms;  all intertwined twigs converging in a point and no leaves.  The Great Northern Highway follows the coast running straight and monotonous.  There is nothing along this stretch apart from a couple of roadhouses (petrol stations, usually with caravan parks attached, which provide meals and some supplies).  The horizon seems very close and the extent of the vistas limited giving a peculiar sense of  being hemmed in despite the vastness of this desert – on the map a white featureless expanse stretching east from the coast and devoid of any other roads apart from the odd track here and there leading to the sea.

We drive all day, covering about 450 km with aim of stopping overnight at the Afghan Well Roadside Site just past Pardoo Roadhouse.  According to the book there is an old, shady and secluded camping ground back  from the highway marked only by a palm tree.  In the days when the Afghans travelled with their camel caravans, they would plant a date seed wherever they camped.  Most died apparently, some came to nothing, but some flourished.  (Later we discover that  these ancient camel trains were manned by drivers from Northern India and not Afghanistan, but the story is still rather romantic nonetheless.)  It sounds ideal, but can we find it?  After all a palm in this landscape should stick out like a sore thumb.  We realise we have gone too far and turn back, but still can’t locate the spot.  Only by clocking the distance exactly from the Cape Keraudren turn off, do we find the small track leading well back off the highway to several date palms surrounded by paperpark trees; a delightful little hidden spot  providing the only shady for miles.  In it’s midst, the marker  palm sans fronds – no wonder we couldn’t spot it from the road!  And, at last, we have found a place which, not surprisingly, we have all to ourselves.  

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