Hamelin Pool Stromatolites - Interesting Stuff if you Take a Leap of Faith

A seagull sits on top of a stromatolite


There is more to the rocks than meets the eye in the super salty water of Hamelin Pool; the rocks here are alive. Not only are these seemingly innocuous formations living and breathing, they are also believed to be the oldest life forms on earth. Stromatalite fossils have been found to be at least 3.5 billion years old. So what are these seemingly lifeless yet life giving organisms?



Unspectacular glory - but stromatolites made the earth breathable

Knowing a little about these rocks from reading Bill Brysons Down Under we were eager to see them for ourselves and made the short walk from the campsite to the shore across the shell strewn landscape.



Our crunching footpath had been created by the Hamelin Cockle – a shell species so prolific in the Hamelin Pool area, that the sheer volume of shells has been compacted into a solid mass able to be cut into blocks.



Hamelin cockle beach

We walked past the old quarry, where huge blocks of this material had been cut out of the earth to be used as building blocks in the town of nearby Denham, where the church and a couple of other buildings have been made entirely from this material. At the beach a long jetty has now been constructed for the public to view the stromatalites without damaging them irreparably. It is possible to still see tracks in the rock made by cart wheels, a by product of the wool trade years ago . The carts would pull right up to the waters edge to unload their cargo onto the waiting boats. But back then nobody knew just how significant the rocks were beneath their feet.


Hamelin cockle quarry

A number of information points along the shore and jetty allow you to better interpret the strange formations before your eyes. However the stromatalites are not much to look at. Through a geologists or perhaps even a botanists eyes they are perhaps things of rare beauty. But to the untrained eye they...... well they just look like rocks. However whilst their appearance won't induce your jaw to drop with wonder and veneration, their sheer age and importance to life as we know it should elicit some response.



A live stromatolite which can be seen in the Hamelin Pool museum

There are very few known places where Stromatalites (or Sdromadalydes as they are called in Australia) still live on today. They are formed by cyanobacteria and other forms of algae. These single celled organisms bind sedimentary particles together in successive layers which eventually harden to form rock.




We gaze at the oxygen bubbles, trapped by algae, created by stromatolites


We were given a flagon of wine by our generous hosts and we gladly drank while we listened to stories of the area. Shane, a man with quick wit and the story telling ability of an Aussied up Hans Christian Anderson invited us to tour the museum.



Specimens found at Hamelin Pool museum

Tim got the keys and we all put our drinks down on the table. “No, no. You’re alright, take your drinks in with ya.” Walking around the many valuable objects of long ago, I couldn’t believe the casualness in a place where if it had been in England we would be behind a prohibiting fence, never mind being able to pick things up and walk around with red wine.



I wanted to have a closer look at some of the fossils so I put my wine down on one of the tables, as I did so I noticed that one of the very old museum pieces, a bottle, was full of cigarette butts, it was used as an ashtray. Part of me was astounded by the lack of respect in a place which holds such treasures but another part of me loved the unBritishness of the experience, the laid-back accessibility of everything I would elsewhere never be allowed to touch.




Bullet holes add a sinister touch to the Hamelin Pool sign




The naked guy up a telegraph pole that Bill Brysons talks of in his book



We love Hamelin Pool museum!







So much beauty can be found in Hamelin Pool's surrounding areas










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Coral Bay to Geraldton - Another Meagre Public Holiday

Gareth is full of excitement about the prospect of visiting the town which has is own Welsh town's name

Back on the road after our short beach holiday and we only just had enough fuel to reach Carnarvon. The outback had become all wide open grassy plains, and with no trees or hills anywhere to gauge any perspective the land looked bigger and wider than I can remember. It was late in the day by the time we arrived in Carnarvon and we tried in vain to find somewhere to lay our heads. Everywhere we went to ask for work was met with incredulous looks and tuts of indignation. At one point I was even ushered into the middle of a group of sitting pensioners who forced me to explain what we were doing. After what seemed like an age the Alpha elder gleefully told me I had no chance. It seemed like nobody wanted to help, and we were on our last and final option when Simon and Tiffany at the Wintersun Caravan Park kindly acquiesced. We were given a campsite for the night, however we knew we would be lucky to get any fuel and without this precious resource, we would be stuck. There was no work to be found anywhere in the town and with the recent floods in the area damaging a lot of property most residents had understandably tightened their purse strings. This meant we would have to rely on a charitable donation of fuel and things weren't looking too good.



Dean Rowe donates fuel and helps us get out of Canarvon

It has most often been the case when turning up at the Roadhouses and Servo's of Australia, that even when we offer to work in exchange for fuel the owners insist on giving it as a donation. Without this generosity it may not have been possible and certainly would have taken us a lot longer to get around the country. This kindness never goes unappreciated and we never dare take it for granted that this astounding generosity will continue.



The proprieters of the S Bend Caravan Park fuel us up and give us what would turn out to be one of the most important contacts on the journey so far

We set out in the morning ever hopeful that somebody may be interested enough in what we are trying to achieve. That is, interested enough to donate some fuel. The process followed a similar pattern to the previous day and we arrived at the last servo in town with all our digits crossed. The saviour here was Dean Rowe, who came to our aid with a full tank of fuel. We have found ourselves in situations like these a few times in the last few months, and the sense of relief when we avoid getting completely stuck is palpable. We could now keep heading south.



During the first few weeks of the trip we had all keenly studied Bill Bryson’s laugh-out-loud account of his time in Australia, 'Down Under'. This had given us a few ideas of places in Australia that we wanted to visit, and it just so happened that one of these was only a short distance off the highway on which we were currently travelling.



Clare and Tim, who work at Hamelin Pool camp ground and museum show us around and feed us cream teas

Hamelin Pool is located in the Shark Bay World Heritage Site and is home to the earliest examples of life on earth, a form of cyanobacteria termed Stromatalites. There is a campsite and museum next to the former Hamlin Pool Telegraph Station and the engaging Shane, Clare and Tim who run the place agreed that we should stay with them for the night. They were more than accommodating, sorting us out with food, wine and a place to pull up for the night making sure that we wanted for nothing.



We sat and talked together for hours and we were shown round the museum. All three of our hosts had travelled widely and they had interesting tales to tell about the rest of Australia as well as stories of the local area. Apparently it is mainly us foreigners who are interested in the Stromatalites. Most Aussie's who turn up asking ''where are those bloody rocks mate?''.



It's Februrary 26th and we finally get a piece of Christmas Cake! Long live longlife cakes!

It was a great night and we also had the pleasure to meet Dafi and Gili, two Israeli girls who were on their way to Perth. We had to tear ourselves away the next day and we agreed that Dafi and Gili would come with us to Hutt River Province. Shane called up the Prince and as a knight of the realm himself, secured us somewhere to stay and a free tour of the principality. We were very sad to leave, but needing to keep up our momentum. Intrigued at the prospect of visiting a little known country within a country, we departed.



Stromatolites, 3.5 billion year old fossilised examples have been found, not much to look at but impressive nontheless

We journeyed towards The Hutt River Province (See next post) curious as to what and who we would find there. It was good to have fresh company, as we three had been with each other non-stop for way too long and knew all too well each others' stories. We stopped only to refuel at the Billabong Roadhouse (thanks to Shane who had phoned ahead and arranged it with a friend). Arriving at the principality we were given somewhere to camp and free use of the showers. We heated up the contents of a few tins of food and tried to mix it in proportions that might look or taste appealing. Dafi and Gili looked on nauseously, vehemently refusing all our attempts to share the concoction and insisting that we have some of their salad. We drank the dregs of the previous nights wine and talked about life outside 'the trip'- a pleasant and refreshing change. We were up early for the guided tour and then parted ways shortly after as the girls were in a rush to get down to Perth. Our next port of call was only a short drive away at Geraldton, but with it being Labour Day weekend arriving early would work in our favour; or so we thought.



The industrial skyline of Geraldton

Public holidays often result in harder times for us. They are a good time for fundraising, as people are more laid back and approachable, but nationwide during the holidays there seems to be a complete absence of people who have the power to make any decisions. This makes it exceptionally difficult to find work, fuel, accomodation, food or anything else we may be in need of. We should have learned by now not land somewhere new over a holiday periods, but we had no idea what Labour Day was let alone that it was that particular weekend.



We were not exactly given the warm welcome we had hoped for in Geraldton, the pictures taken during our first few days summed up our mood well.



Labour Day (originally called 8 hour day) is an Australian public holiday that celebrates the achievements of organised labour on behalf of the worker to bring about the 8-hour day. As this was achieved at different times in different states each state celebrates on a different day of the year. Many of the union buildings across Australia have 888 inscribed on their fronts in support of British socialist Robert Owen who believed that people should have 8 hours to work, 8 hours for recreation and 8 hours to sleep. It was this philosophy helped foster The Eight Hours Movement. Marked by various parades and festivities it is a notoriously difficult time to find accommodation in any town or city.



Geraldton looks brighter and friendlier once the holiday weekend passes

We needed fuel to move on and knew we would have to wait till Tuesday, a normal working day, to get some - we were stuck. By the skin of our teeth we managed just to find somewhere to stay each day whilst subsisting on a diet of dried noodles and donated junk food. When Tuesday came round, people returned our phone calls and within half a day we had the means with which we could leave for Perth. In what would turn out to be one of our most useful and rewarding chance encounters, we stopped at the S-Bend Caravan Park and Roadhouse on our way out of town. Here we met Phil, Kathy and Kelly who, very enthusiastic about what we were doing, donated some more fuel and fresh fruit and veg to us. They also told us about an organisation called Apex, giving us the contact name and number for one of the club presidents in Perth. They themselves were also in Apex. Little did we know it then but very soon we would need the information they gave us. Apex would play a huge part in trip from here on end.



Geraldton beach



A seagull enjoying the kid's water play area along the shore front, Geraldton




A part of the wonderful play area for children complete with water area and climbing jungle funded by Variety Club



Francis Xavier Church, Geraldton











Thanks to Batavia, the Christian hostel which donated a room and laundry facilities to us



The girls at Adam's takeaway happily donate food to three very hungry and grateful people



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Broome to Coral Bay - A Brucie Bonus

Phil walks toward the pristine 80 Mile Beach

We were leaving Broome with three full bellies and a tank full of fuel, the next stop would be Port Hedland over 600kms away. Rising early for a local radio interview we managed to leave town before 2pm, so with only a few hours of daylight left we stopped overnight at Eighty Mile Beach. The campsite here is the only way to access this vast expanse of sand for miles in each direction, we arrived just in time to watch the fading light in the most peaceful of settings. We just had time before the light disappeared to discover that the beach was covered in little white Sand Dollars. Sand Dollars are a type of sea urchin specially adapted to burrowing in sand. After the urchin dies the rigid skeleton often washes up on the beach and with five rows of paired pores arranged like petals the shells make beautiful souvenirs.


An 80 Mile Beach sand dollar
In the morning we ventured down to the beach again and were met by the local customs officer whose job it was to patrol the 110km beach every day, a task that he has been performing for decades as a volunteer. He was in his sixties and we got a surprise when he opened his mouth and sounded exactly like George Formby. He informed us that somebody had been stung by a bluebottle jellyfish only a few minutes ago but said we should still be alright to go swimming as he swims there everyday and only gets stung a few times a year. Apparently the pain from the sting goes away after a couple of days and once the affected skin has died and fallen off new skin grows back leaving no scar. Before leaving we waded in heroically, at least up to our knees, before convincing each other that it was time to press on in the direction of Port Headland. We were now leaving the Kimberly region and entering the Pilbara.

80 Mile Beach Volunteer Coast Guard



A washed up jelly fish and sand dollar

Known as the engine room of Australia the Pilbara area is home to a massive mining industry in crude oil, salt, natural gas and iron ore. To cater for the huge workforce the mining companies themselves run accommodation facilities. Huge numbers of workers fly in to work and then fly out again going back to their families whenever possible. The Fortescue Metals Group is one such company and is one of the world leaders in iron ore production. FMG run a huge operation in the Pilbara area and whilst in Port Hedland we were lucky enough to stay in one of their motels.



A huge salt mound in Port Hedland

It was getting late and we had had no luck at any of the other motels in the town. We pulled up outside a featureless building we were hoping might be a hotel, after asking a few questions
things were starting to look up. It was in fact the Hamilton Motel, however, it was owned by a huge mining company and they weren't quite sure who we should explain our cause to. After a brief conference it was decided Kathy would be the most helpful and we were taken out the back to another separate office. A very busy woman, Kathy Barrett-Lennard made some time to listen to us explain what we were doing. Her response was unbelievable. She not only offered us a Motel room each with ensuite bathroom and 394 channel gogglebox to unwind in, she also offered dinner that evening, breakfast the next morning and a packed lunch for the next day.



Phil and Gareth stand at the office of the Port Headland Mitchell Fuel Group

Thankful, we retired to our respective rooms for a cup of tea and a shower returning later to the canteen for what was to be our most amazing meal to date. We were spoiled for choice. There was an endless selection of meat, fish and vegetables cooked in every conceivable way. There were salads, cheeses, fruit and deserts, and you could have as much as you could possibly eat. We did, and after eating enough food for ten people we rolled back to our rooms considering a possible career in the mining industry and looking forward to breakfast at five the next morning. Work around here starts early and the canteen closes before seven. Like early birds we got up and whilst still digesting last night’s meal, ate breakfast. I guess the novelty wears off if you are allowed to eat like that all the time but we put away breakfast like three people who didn't know where there next meal was coming from, and after packing our lunch went back to bed to sleep it off. Whilst we were asleep Kathy had contacted their fuel suppliers and arranged for us to fill our fuel tank and jerry cans before leaving. We enquired about the possibility of work in or around the mines but sadly it was not possible due to the never ending amount of health and safety training which would be needed. Humbled by the time and effort she had gone to on our behalf we went in search of more accommodation.



The manager of the All Seasons Hotel, Port Hedland takes time to sign our book

We managed to find somewhere to stop for one more night and as we could find nobody in need of three willing workers we did some fundraising for the charity. The next day we headed further down the coast and spent the night in Karratha before moving on the next day. Similar to Port Hedland, Karratha was developed in the 1960's to serve the needs of the mining industry and in the 1980's was expanded to deal with the North West Shelf Venture concerning natural Gas. Feeling the need to press on and with flooding likely in the area we spent little time here. We were however well looked after and before leaving managed to raise some money for Book Aid. After eating lunch we left for Carnarvon along what would be one of the most barren stretches of road that we had travelled so far.

With very little to break up the monotony of the journey and with the need for some fuel we stopped at the Nanutarra Roadhouse. We had been warned by a couple of people that the fella who owned the roadhouse ''wouldn't give you the steam off his shit'' but needs must as the three idiots ride. Our spirits were lifted upon discovering that his name was Bruce Forsyth, however he certainly didn't think it was 'nice to see us, to see us nice'. Obviously not entirely understanding our challenge of working and handing over our wages to Book Aid, he gave us a lecture on the value of an honest days work and told us to come back when we had done one. However his lovely assistant behind the counter, presumably Miss Ford, told us we should head for Coral Bay as we could camp there and there were less flies. Sounding like a much better option than spending the night with Bruce we followed her advice.



Coral Bay



Coral Bay exists purely for tourism but that takes very little away from its charm. It is largely undeveloped and the Ningaloo Reef is right on the beach. It is a very quiet relaxed place and when we arrived on a Saturday evening there was very little going on. Within an hour of being there we had been offered a room at the local hotel and a meal of the freshest fish and chips at a local cafe. Heath who worked at the hotel also offered us a couple of jugs of beer and after inhaling our food this is where we headed. After lovingly and slowly sipping our cold frosty beer in fear that we would soon have to stop drinking, salvation reared its glorious head in the forms of Scott and Blake.



A long long time ago in a Queensland now increasingly far away we had visited a town on the coast there called 1770. We had gone to meet a man called Don Growcott who was one of two people to have heard our pre trip cries for help. He had offered a bed for the night and a free scuba dive but had also given us some t-shirts advertising his dive company in the town. As divine inspiration would have it one of us chose to wear this particular t-shirt to the hotel bar on the very night that 1770 residents Scott and Blake would walk into the bar. What ensued can only be described as a hazy memory; within half an hour of meeting them we were invited to get into 'a carton of piss' with them back at their campsite. You couldn't wish to meet two more archetypal and generous aussies than these fellas anywhere in this vast and wonderful country. When not slating each other and telling stories they would heckle anybody who would listen.



The coral bay fish swim through your legs unafraid, there are fishing laws prohibiting fishing. Hungry as we are, and to date yet to catch a fish on the trip, this cheeky fellow couldn't resist rubbing it in by mouthing 'ner nerr ner ner nerrrrrr'



A sea cucumber in the shallows at Coral Bay

''Hey Mate, get into it''
‘‘Pardon?''
''Go on - get into it.''
''Get into what?''
''Whatever you're into, just get into it.''
''Alright.''
''That’s it. Good on yer mate, get on it.''

We had a brilliant night and they invited us to go with them on a three day fishing trip up the coast. We drunkenly agreed but arose the next day with sore heads and reluctantly decided that we couldn't really go, Anne and Gareth had come down with infections and had to be seen by the resident nurse, who helped them with some free medicine and advice. We couldn't help but feel that we had missed out on an amazing aussie experience, especially with those two for company. To console ourselves we went snorkelling for the day with some snorkels and flippers also donated by Heath. We swam with Sting Rays, huge Coral Trout and a giant unidentified shadow that swept past only metres from us (most probably a Tiger Shark). I guess we have to thank Bruce Forsyth and the lovely Rosemary Ford for inadvertently sending us to a wonderful place that otherwise we would have missed out on. Thanks also to Scott and Blake for the good time. Get into it!


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