9 May 2013 - Galena Bridge – Murchison River, Brand Highway, Western Australia

We woke to a fine day although scattered showers were forecasted. The news was dominated by that of the three women and child freed from their sicko kidnapper in Cleveland, Ohio. It is an intriguing story and distracts us from the depressing reports of the Syrian War which just goes on and on and the build-up, or rather gentle let down, in the preliminary to the Australian Federal budget due any day.

Chris popped down to the garage before we hitched on to check the air pressure in the tyres again. While there, he noticed the tents along the waterfront being erected in readiness for the Fishing Competition taking place this weekend. We were leaving just in time to avoid the worst of the fishing crowds.

As we left, we remarked on the four wind turbines, only three noted in the tourist brochures, generating power for Denham. They were installed over the years 1997 through to 2007, which accounts for the error in the out of date pamphlets, and together with three low-load diesel generators, manage to keep the town operating. The one thing you do not see travelling along these very long desolate highways, is rows of power poles. All of the remote towns are self-sufficient in electricity and nearly all of that power is generated by diesel, except for Tom Price and the two nearby mining settlements I referred to in an earlier post.

We passed the entrance to Shell Bay without taking the opportunity to swim as we had suggested on the way in. I suspect it may have been a little like swimming in the Dead Sea, given the high levels of salinity. Chris looked askance at me as we sped toward the entrance, however I was already wondering what to do with our sodden clothes, still wet from the other night in the rain, without having to deal with very wet salty togs.

We crossed over the predator fence just south of Shell Bay, a fence that stretches 3.4 kilometres across the narrowest section of the peninsula. Efforts have been made over the past years to eradicate, or at least control, the population of foxes and feral cats. There are now few, if any, foxes however the cats are too canny to take the trap baits and will remain an on-going battle. This is all part of Project Eden.

Ahead we nearly cleaned up an emu, one with a death wish, just ambling along without a thought for the traffic, wandering out to cross the road when, at the last moment, he suddenly saw us. We braked and swerved slightly however Chris was not prepared to spare the emu for the rig, or our own lives for that matter. With that and some rather fancy footwork by the emu, disaster was narrowly averted, but it was close!

Paddy melons strung on withering vines lay along the road edge. I had missed them a few days ago although they must have been there. We checked our latitude and we found ourselves close to that of the road to Uluru, where we first saw them.

Outside the Heritage Area but before we reached the Brand Highway, we turned into Hamelin Pool, famous for its stromatolites and the now defunct Telegraph Station

Stromatolites in shallow  water

Hamelin Pool Marine Reserve is situated in the eastern part of the Shark Bay area. The Pool is hyper-saline, having about double the salinity of normal seawater, which provides an ideal environment for the stromatolites to grow. They are a bit like coral, as in being the skeletons of living creatures, and in this case, living microbes called cyanobacteria. These are similar to the earliest forms of life on earth, photosynthesising to produce a chemical reaction which in turn produced oxygen in both the sea and the air to allow life to evolve into that which we know today. They are our ancestors, a fact that is hard to believe as you peer over the rail of the boardwalk waiting for them to breathe. Chris caught sight of one lone bubble, however the sea, even in this well sheltered bay, was still a little storm shocked and made detection of this exciting activity difficult.  The stromatolites, only about 2,000 to 3,000 years old, are a variety of shapes and sizes, all very fragile as is witnessed by the camel cart tracks made well over a hundred years ago, still visible to us today. Personally I found the swifts darting about the elevated boardwalk much more appealing. I was also rather excited about seeing a sea eagle successfully dive for a fish and fly off to his nest with his catch. Stromatolites do not turn me on, however I can say I have seen the oldest creatures in the world.

We took a walk along the shore toward the Telegraph Station, passing a block works; a small quarry where blocks of compressed shell have been hewn from the ground. Nowadays they are used only for repair of historic buildings in Denham and the public are requested to keep to the track to prevent damage.

Old broken Stromatolites

Sandalwood, acacias and other scrubby plants dominated the landscape. It had been interesting to learn of the sandalwood industry here in Shark Bay. This variety of sandalwood is unique to Shark Bay, regenerating as no other does. It is coppiced for harvest or at least has been in the past, generating significant income for the area.

The Telegraph Station is now a caravan park, souvenir shop and museum, although the latter spends most of its time shut. The caravan park was most unappealing however the site is important to the area’s history, and that alone may attract campers.

It was built in 1884s as a repeater station for the overland line that ran from Perth to Broome, and from there through to Indonesia and on to the world. That line was single strand and was subjected to all manner of disaster; cyclones, fires, sabotage by man and more often parrots who delighted in using it as a swing, and insects that built their nests in the insulators, to name but a few. Being a linesman must have been a frustrating job. By the 1970s the station became obsolete with the arrival of the coaxial cable. Many travel guides wax lyrical about the Station; we were not highly impressed with the whole set up, probably something to do with the fact we were unable to locate a toilet there.

Soon we were back on the main highway, bouncing along on the poor surface, through an uninspiring landscape passing vehicles pulling caravans and fishing boats in equal numbers, the latter most likely heading for Shark Bay for the big competition.

After about sixty kilometres, the landscape changed; trees replaced much of the scrub, gentle hills the flats. Then after about another forty as we neared the Murchison River, we came over a rise and there in front of us, for as far as the eye could see, were recently harvested croplands, red arid land covered in sparse stubble; such a contrast to anything we have seen for months and months, even a year.

We reached the Galena Bridge rest area and pulled off the road on the northern bank of the Murchison River. There were a number of dirt tracks going off into the scrub however the camping spaces were not flat enough for our liking. We were a little undecided whether we should free camp for the night or travel on through to Kalbarri. I said I was happy to stay on here but at the same time was cognoscente of the fact that Chris might prefer to be within communication range as a family situation unfolds in Britain.

We crossed on the low concrete bridge, now superseded with the higher more modern structure, and found ourselves in a very large camping area already busy with at least another two dozen fellow travellers.  We soon found an acceptable spot, side on to the river, and once set up, a quick matter when remaining hitched, took a walk up river. The muddy surface showed that the river levels had been higher with the rain over the last couple of days. Back at camp we found even more travellers still pouring in. This is a popular spot.

Interestingly the West Australian included a special travel supplement today, about “Living the Dream” directed at the 40,000 grey nomads who are in the process of heading north from the southern part of the state. A good number are here tonight and several have been gathering firewood which is specifically banned, in readiness for their evening camp fires. The flies are numerous; we will remain indoors and perhaps watch a video.