Bye Bye Western Australia - Ceduna Quarantine stop
"Holy shit, you better be carefull going over the..watch out as you cross the...have you got enough provisions, spare tyres, clothing, food, limbs for the trip across the...people have died on the... people have been lost, forever, and not seen since on the expanse of the... watch will you while crossing the..."
NULLARBOR!
A statue in the gardens at Eucla
Like the mighty screech of a creature from the sky that devours humans like tiny ants and keeps their skulls as mementos of its terrible fury, we had been warned, repeatedly and without cessation, each time the word was mentioned that we should watch out... along the Nullarbor. It was not good there, and we should be careful, no, more than careful, we should go beyond it, and keep going, beyond being cautious, and speed up past even vigilance, on through good care and prudence too, and career headlong into paranoia and obsessive suspicion and speculation. Only then will you see... the Other Side, they said.
NULLARBOR! the word chilled the air.
Not far to go now to get back to our starting point, Brisbane
Good old Aussies. They love a good yarn, as has been mentioned before. But this Nullarbor of theirs was exciting them all beyond what we had seen or heard before; more vivid than the stories of spider bites, or crocodile attacks, or even spider attacks on crocodiles, were tales of the Nullarbor consuming travellers like some highway Bermuda Triangle. Hushed voices, raised eyebrows, a confidential lean-in, and a clasp of the hand warned us about it, made us promise to be careful, made us honour a sacred oath on a stone plinth while smearing goats blood onto our foreheads that we would exercise extreme care while crossing... the Nullarbor.
Probably the only point of interest alng the Nullarbor, some pagan looking worship tree, nomads have offered pieces of rubbish, the full moon back lights the bottle clad tree
What is this Nullarbor of which they speak? What thing or netherworld creature can this Nullarbor be supposing to represent? Tales of bloodsoaked Backpackers stunned to silence on the South Australian border, their suntans bleached a fearful pale green, and wincing at every mention of the word Nullarbor; that six spare tyres and another engine would be needed if safe passage be made; that those unprepared for it would surely perish and that dying on the Nullarbor be a thousand deaths before the blessed release of eternal darkness.
Australia's longest Straight road, the Nullabor
To dispense with the histrionics for a second we had to, in order to get to Adelaide, cross the (officially so-named) Nullarbor Plain. In the strictly factual topographical sense the Nullarbor Plain is the section of southern land between Norseman in Western Australia and Ceduna in South Australia. Nullarbor means 'no trees' in poor Latin, which is what it is famed for and for which its repute asserts its uniqueness.
Although the land within the Nullarbor is barren, the road is surfaced and mainly coastal. The Trans Australia Railway runs directly through the centre of the Nullarbor where presumably most of The Horror lives. The Eyre Highway along which we were headed, runs along the southern section of the Nullarbor Plain. The Eyre Highway was named after John Eyre, who along with John Baxter (who unfortunately died on the journey), crossed the Nullarbor in 1841. It wasn't until 1912, however, that the first car crossed the Nullarbor.
Thanks to Bruce and Stuart we had three new Jerry cans, to add to the four we already had. They were all full thanks to Henrietta and Donald MacKenzie. Jock 'The Wrecker' Murray filled our tank for us. We were also stocked with enough food supplies. Brian Tolhurst ensured we had enough fresh bread. Warm clothing we had need of and were given too. The Esperance crew had done all they could to make sure we got accross. It was up to us to do it. We could not let them down. Tear gas and a cyanide pill each inserted into our back-left molars we had also - just in case.
Heading out of Esperance we drove 203 kilometres north to Norseman. Topping up there, we headed 193km east to Balladonia. Staying there the night, we continued next morning east along the longest straight stretch of road in Australia, a distance of 145km, until Caiguna. There we stopped for coffee and sandwiches, glad to be alive. East again is Cocklebiddy where we put in 10 litres of fuel from the jerry can supply. Tense.
A further 90km away is Madura, and in order to reach it and to reach Mundrabilla another 116km east, we inserted 20 litres from the Jerry can store. We had by then covered 859 unforgiving kilometres. Staying in Mundrabilla for the night, we drank some/most of the beer Stuart and Bruce insisted (no, no, no, really, no ,no, no. Ok, then) we take with us, sipping entranced under the milky-glare of a bright full-moon. This Nullarbor was out there, we felt it.
The Nullarbor was illuminated by a full moon as we passed through the nothingness
The final town before crossing the South Australia border is Eucla. But 15 kilometres before that is the aptly named Border Village. While there Paul at the BP Roadhouse filled our tank for us and fed us and caffeinated us too. Leaving then crossing the border, we left behind the comfort and confidence gained while in Western Australia, and entered a new world, that of South Australia, and who knew if this was where the dreaded Nullarbor might strike and force us to sing Cliff Richard Christmas Carols before eating our heads.
That night we stayed at the Nullarbor Roadhouse over 1,000 kilometres from safety in Esperance and still 1,200 from Adelaide, but almost half way across the Nullarbor Plain. We saw the treeless expanse now. Now, we have seen a lot of nothing, if such can be seen and not experienced, and this was a whole lot of it. The wind sailed across the land uninterrupted and not a single natural undulation blocked the perfectly flat scenery all around us. This Nullarbor was so terrible because it was a void.
The moon-glare illuminated for us the starry sky after the sun not so much set as dropped down like a coin into a slot, and the pinkish sunset spread across the huge western sky. Wild Dingoes mooched around, hoping for scraps, but not wanting to offend The Nullarbor with indiscreet offerings to feral creatures (really, that's why, honest) they got none but a good old shoo-ing.
The night was brisk and cold. The sallying wind seemed be moving parralell to the ground, in a straight line hurrying accross the landscape. The silence was deafening. Looking out into the expanse it seemed entirely barren. Nothing moved, or swayed. At least the ocean is constantly in flux. Not so the Nullarbor Plain. It exists as a vacuum into which all living things must yield movement eventually and merge into the stillness. Nullarbor.
A Dingo puppy, quietly come over to wait for scraps of which we had none to give
It claimed a host of caravans and mobile homes and campervans, if our very eyes are to be believed!! The caravan park was full of passers-through when we went to bed. Full and teeming with campers, winnebagoers, campervaners, and sturdy swaggers. When we awoke, only one remained. An elderly couple were packing away their camp chair after a morning cuppa, probably amazed, like us, in a state of amazement, that the Nullarbor had claimed yet more people. That we were the only ones spared, we have Divine Providence and not being morning people to thank for that I'm sure.
Look how straight and featureless the road is in all directions
It was 297 kilometres to Ceduna, and we drove along the Eyre Highway passing close enough to the Great Australian Bight to make it easy to go see. It is a large bight (it looks like a large bite if you look at the map, as though a huge chunk has been chewed off) or open bay located off the coast extending from central west to the south. The coast line of the Great Australian Bight is characterised by stunning cliff faces of up to 60 metres high and it was a relief to see the ocean, after the Nullarbor almost clamied us the night before (the siren call of lost backpackers wandering in the night looking for rolling tobacco and cheap boxes of goon).
Sand dunes in the distance at the ege of the Nullarbor
Stopping along the way at Penang Roadhouse to fill the tank up yet again, we had clocked 1358 kilometres, with only 785 to Adelaide. Quickly feeding at Ceduna, we made it to Smoky Bay before dark, managing to find people good enough at the Caravan Park there to squeeze us in at an unofficial site beside the womens toilet, as it was Easter weekend, and they were full. Moving on next morning we topped up the fuel yet again at Wundera and Windarie Roadhouses before arriving, yet again, just before dark in Port Augusta, and finding, thanks to some more goodly folk, a plot at Shoreline Caravan Park.
Not wanting to hesitate in case the Nullarbor folowed us out and tried to eat our livers with some fava beans and a nice Chianti we made headway to Adelaide next day. Arriving in Paralowie, not far from the city, just before (ahem) dark we parked up in the Caravan Park. We had driven 2,266 kilometres in six days, survived the dreaded Nullarbor and broken new records for the amount of times we said but did not act on the mantra "early bird catches the worm". We may not have caught any worms, but we survived the Nullarbor and that's fine by me.
Quarantine searches our van at Ceduna
Look very carefully at the lonely building in the distance on the Nullabor Plain
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