The answer to the question we found ourselves asking many Australians, 'Where is your favourite place in Australia?' was often Broome. "You simply must go to Broome." "Make sure you stop at Broome!" so we eagerly headed for the Western coast in expectation of a warm and inviting place.
A snake Phil jogged over on Cable Beach
We landed, we exclaimed our arrival, we held our hands like cups to the back of our our ears waiting for a response..... but nobody replied. Broome was closed. Streets full of luring window displays and posters invited us in to leer, but every door was bolted shut, the cold and cheerless signs shouted the word 'CLOSED'. Our high expectations were shattered as the daily showers showed no signs of submission. The off season meteorological lows kept the shop keeper's income low and the general mood of the place was also pretty low. It seems this tourist town's population is largely here for the trade the holiday goers bring in, many business owners simply shut up shop and live elsewhere during the off season.
With our past week's wages going to the Bush Fire Appeal we were adamant about making up the money for Book Aid to help us get nearer to our £10,000 total but we couldn't find anyone to ask for a job, everywhere we went seemed like a desolate ghost town. Even an interview with the local ABC brought us no replies to our pleas for work of any nature.
Giving up on the look for work we decided to sleep out Valentine's Day in this quiet town and spend a little time on the famed Cable Beach. With such a busy time of year for the few restaurants and cafes that were still open for business we had little chance of speaking to owners to see if they could help with food, so we thought walking off our cravings along the sea front would be our only chance of getting through another day without the use of money.
Phil and I had decided to go and try to find some accommodation for the following evening on the way to the beach so we took the van out with us. 'Meet you at the beach in a short while' Gareth said, as he walked off in the opposite direction to the sea. He must be off to have a look around before meeting us for the sunset, I thought.
Snake prints in the sand
The beach, long and wide, camel trains walking in amongst the rocks, was as beautiful as I had imagined. The heavenly light reflecting off the wet sand was magical, giving the ground beneath our feet a depth of light, simulating a sensation of floating on clouds. At first the wet air soaked in the colours of a moody brewing blue and then as the sun hid behind the horizon a smorgasbord of vibrant fiery hot reds was brushed across the skies.
Phil went off for a barefoot run, (the only time we can go for a run is when we are on the beach due to lack of shoes) Gareth was still nowhere to be seen but I had my camera and stayed on the beach until I could no longer stand the biting of march flies and mosquitoes, taking a multitude of sunset pictures.
Later that evening Gareth was found back at the hostel we were lucky enough to be put up in. It seems his unbelievably bad sense of direction had failed him again and he had thought he was heading toward the beach when we saw him walking off in the wrong direction. At least he is consistent. Whenever you are in doubt just ask Gareth the way, face the direction he is pointing at, then turn around 180 degrees and walk away from his pointing arm, you will undoubtedly end up where you want to be. Left to his own devices, Gareth's internal compass would have us heading back in the direction we just came from every time we pulled into a fuel station for a bathroom break. If it wasn't for Phil's navigation and inability to sleep while I count the zzzzzz's on Gareth's driving shift, then we would probably be carcasses somewhere in the outback by now.
Broome's beauty came to life on the morning we left, the skies were blue and as we trawled the town for fuel we saw the emerald sea cradling sailing boats where men looked relaxed and happy as they fished. With the skies no longer grey, the town took on a new light and life seemed to be blossoming, people were found on the streets and we were wanting for nothing as those around us gave a cheery 'Nice work folks!' and patted us on the back.
As I counted the number of red spots all over my body caused by sand flies and started getting into the fifties I gave up. Checking the first aid book to see if there was anything I could put on the bites I found out that the spots were nothing to worry about but saw a note added to the bottom of the page. 'Did you know that sand flies do not actually bite you, they pee on you? The uric acid burns into your skin leaving you with a red spot'. Puke! Now my legs are a veritable tossed salad of allergic reactions to mosquitoes, spots from sand fly pee and marks from ant bites. It's not pretty.
The Diver's Tavern donated a wonderful meal of gigantic proportions
Broome is a beautiful place but if I were a tourist I would wait until the holiday season starts before I headed out to this far away town.
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