So the day started out well. We packed up the camper and Craig only said 'fuck' once. Which was a HUGE improvement from the previous pack up. Good times. I could feel the positive vibes surrounding us.
We had an uneventful 4 hour drive to Carnarvon, stopping for lunch at the overlander road house. By lunch I mean we stopped at the road house and I got out a BBQ chicken, bread and mayo from the fridge and made sandwiches on my lap as we drove, a process I like to call 'avoiding the trillion fucking flies when eating at a picnic bench'. Oh I love the wilderness.
We arrived in Carnarvon about 2.30pm and headed straight to Woolworths to do a big shop. Everyone got a 99 cent chocolate bar because, well that's what you do when you go to Carnarvon.
We filled up with fuel, grabbed some ice, and with kitkat melting on our fingers we hit the road to head to the blow holes camp area.
And then we arrived.
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| Blow holes, Carnarvon western australia |
Blow Holes? I would like to call them shit holes.
Let me explain my negativity.
First of all the actual site for the blow holes is scary. The sign as we enter says that king waves kill. Apparently they need a three metre sign to let us know that the sea is dangerous.
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We then come across a memorial plaque for poor old Leslie James who drowned in 2005. A life ring had been erected in his honour. a bit fucking late. but anyway.
As for the camping ground well, I was living on the false belief of the lying fucker of a travel book. It said that the camp area was WONDERFUL and it was by a BEAUTIFUL lagoon. blah blah.
Anyway it turns out the camp area was actually more like the municipal tip. We pulled in and tried to find a spot to see up amongst broken glass, bits of tin and the occasional tyre. Trying to remain positive Craig said 'lets walk over the sand dunes and look at the beach before we set up'. So he and I got out of the car and were met by not a trillion but ten trillion flies. They fast got under our fly nets and into our eyes. Trying to get up our nose and even between our toes. We take a look at the beach and it is a swamp of seaweed. To our left is a sand hole dug by a fellow camper full of toilet paper and SHIT.
I look at Craig and Craig looks at me. And we telepathically say "GET US THE FUCK OUTTA HERE'.
We run to the car. We get in and we hoon off. Well as honing as we can while towing 1.6 tonnes.
We then realise it is getting late in the afternoon, Coral bay to our north is at least two hours away. Or we could turn and make our way the 45 minutes back to Carnarvon. We opt for the latter.
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| Road tripping across the universe |
So at 5pm we rolled back into Carnarvon town. And it started to fucking rain, Of course.
We hit the caravan park and we get a powered site. We then do a basic set up then hike it to the campers kitchen to avoid the flies and rain, and cook a simple dinner of chicken on the BBQ and a bag of pre cut salad (I am on holidays).
By this stage it is dark. The flies have gone and we have a lovely chat to a man who tells us he is in an arranged marriage, he is travelling with his dog, a whippet called Penny, while his 'arranged' wife is back in Italy working for her father. He hopes to meet up with her in nine months. he is eating a huge frypan full of curried rice and sausages and my kids spend the dinner staring at him.
The toilet blocks close to our camp, a bonus, and has speakers in the roof playing hits from the 70s and 80s. I take a 2am wee and listen to a john Farnham track 'it seemed like a good idea at the time'.
And I laugh.
Then I go and crawl back into my bed and go fast asleep.
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