5 August 2013 - Gateway Caravan Park, Norseman, Western Australia

Kambalda Golf Course

It was only 9 am or thereabouts as we drove south out of Kalgoorlie, the route that would complete the triangle back to the Norseman - Coolgardie Road. We passed more mine entrances and at least one other roaster, and joined the mining traffic and the caravanners out on the road even earlier than ourselves. Forty kilometres out of Kalgoorlie, we arrived at Kambalda, the next of our Golf Links holes. We were greeted by a charming old chap who belongs to the club but has never played a game; he does however enjoy the 19^th hole and would have been delighted to share a pint with us there, had we had the inclination. Instead we teed off up the dirt fairway; the rough so sparse that errant balls were easily found, completed our third round of our game, signed the visitors’ book and stamped our card before entering our healthy looking scores.

Back on the road we continued south, soon joining the road travelled just days ago, and then about twelve kilometres before Widgiemoothla, we spotted the small sign directing interested parties into the Lake Lefroy Land Sailing Club. Our rendez-vous with Bryan was not until 1 pm and we were nearly two hours early. We settled at the lake side adjacent to the ruins of some industrial works which we later discovered to be an old salt works. Coffee, the newspaper full of election campaigning burble and then an early lunch; we were unperturbed by our isolation.

Bryan pulled up soon after 12.30 pm, introduced himself and came in for a coffee. All credit to the chap; he managed to consume his coffee with “milk and one sugar” without grimacing. The sugar which resides quietly in the back of a cupboard, brought out for an airing three times a year if that often and powdered milk can be a challenge to the uninitiated. Needless to say both Chris and I drink our coffee neat, with no additives but the stimulant itself.

After learning that Bryan was one of the 15% New Zealanders living in Kalgoorlie, we listened avidly while he spoke about land yachting, before taking us out onto the lake along a causeway. The lake is about 510 square metres and is considered one of the best places in the world to land yacht because of its size and its flat smooth dry salt surface. Australian land speed record attempts and the 2006 Pacrim Land Sailing Event were held here, and the club meets here regularly, most coming down from ”Kal”, as they fondly call Kalgoorlie.

We watched him assemble his yacht, taken out of the back of his vehicle, assisting where possible and then he gave us a demonstration of how everything worked, and a few safety instructions. Chris donned a helmet, and headed off across the lake at speed, back and forth, faster each time, sometimes reaching 56 kph, up on two wheels once or twice and loving every moment.

Soon it was time for my turn, something I had thought I might give a miss, especially when I ventured earlier out onto the lake edge and felt the stiff breeze. However both Bryan and Chris had looked like they were having so much fun; I decided I didn’t want to miss out after all. And so with helmet on, tucked down into the yacht, with directions on how to operate it with the most important “First – Release the main sheet, Second - Release the main sheet, Third - Release the main sheet” I headed off. I know I reached speeds of over thirty kph however when I was going even faster, my attention was strictly on the lake surface ahead, not the electronic GPS unit. I know too that I was flying on two wheels at least twice, and finally, I ended up-ended. Chris and Bryan came running to my rescue; I was absolutely fine and just concerned I hadn’t wrecked the machine. I was also trapped in the seatbelt.

We had both ventured out some distance from the shore where the surface was a little damp and the salt had sprayed up onto our faces, covered our glasses and our shirts. Although we changed our shirts on returning to the caravan, we both continued to feel salty for the rest of the day.

Lake Lefroy

It was all very exhilarating and we really must buy ourselves a Blokart. Mind you, that is something we have been saying to each other for over ten years, ever since we first saw one of the first in a Boat Show in New Zealand.

We had not even spent an hour upon the lake, but were well satisfied with the experience. We had been quoted a variety of prices, starting with the $100 deposit and $27.50 per hour thereafter spelled out on the sheet picked up at Kalgoorlie’s Information Centre. Bryan had quoted $60 an hour on the phone and in the end was happy with $50 to go toward the Club.

He said we were most welcome to stay on overnight at the clubrooms which were tucked back behind the salt works ruins, however we were keen to go on to Norseman for another couple of holes of golf. As we walked back along the causeway to the rig, Bryan showed off his considerable skills, in the nicest possible way, just reinforcing our desire to have a machine for ourselves, or even two; one each.

 

After another one hundred kilometres, we pulled into Norseman’s Information Centre to find the same excellent assistant, a lady well on in years who seems to work so tirelessly helping those many travellers that pass through this busy junction. We confirmed that there was just the one caravan park in town, that we could drive to the lookouts, that we have our Links cards stamped there at the Centre and the time the daily newspapers arrived in town. 

 
With our cards stamped, we headed back out to the Norseman Golf Club, situated between Lake Cowan and the town, occupied only by the birds and us. We teed off once more, hitting our balls into the ankle deep wilderness on the fairways. Chris lost his first ball, which now makes that two, and I struggled amongst the prickles, the same as those encountered at Fitzroy Crossing which destroyed one set of shoelaces, to recover my own. Chris cheated by hand weeding the fairway to ease his shots but I did not, instead whipping my ball through the vegetation as skilfully as if it were a scythe. Here the greens were carpet, as opposed to the bare dirt at Kambalda this morning. We trundled our set of clubs from one hole to the other, cunningly loaded and strapped onto the shopping trundle we had purchased in Kings Cross, Sydney on our way back from the opera a couple of years ago, to facilitate the transport of the full loo cassette from caravan to dump site. Chris is glad to have an array of club sizes, one for this, another for that; I just use a No.9 to whack and a Putter to putt, really quite simple.

As we loaded our paraphernalia back into the landcruiser, I admired the late sun over Lake Cowan, a lake that nearly always dry and from which gypsum is mined. On the map it looks bigger than Lake Lefroy, but then I guess it all depends what time of year it was mapped. We drove back into Norseman, to this camping ground which has a monopoly on this style of accommodation and must be creaming it. The camp is full and the normal tariff is $38 for a site, although we picked up a loyalty card from the Acclaim Park we had stayed in at Kalgoorlie and received 12% discount.

Chris is enjoying the television reception and the opportunity to see the last of the third Ashes Test, and truth be told, I like having internet and endless electricity. By preference I think I would always prefer to stay in caravan parks, although it does pull on the pocket.

Lake Cowan

Travellers cross the Nullarbor back and forth every day or every week, and nowadays with it sealed all the way, it is no longer the big adventure it was when Chris came across it over forty years ago, when it was all unsealed and there were warnings of possible hi-jacking by locals. I have heard those stories more recently, and some are pretty terrible. We are also concerned about our fresh provisions and the two quarantine check points, how long it might take us to cross the Plains given that the 18^th hole is 1,365 kilometres from the first hole we played in Kalgoorlie. And in a few days when we reach Ceduna in South Australia we will chuckle at our naivety and silly concerns as you may well be doing as you read this. But then, that is what this is all about, doing new things and seeing new places, racing across salt lakes on a three wheel frame and planning for fuel and water as one crosses sparsely populated areas on great continents. It is all so very wonderful.