9 August 2013 - A1 Cabins & Caravan Park, Ceduna, South Australia

The alarm went off again at 6.30 am; I opened one eye, saw that it was still dark and went back to sleep. I was up and about before the sun low rose over the eastern horizon, the earth as flat for as far as the eye could see.

Three of us had stayed over in this parking area, although the actual purpose of the park was rather baffling. The old building in the centre was all boarded up with no indication of any past use, and the high barrier fence keeping us within the confines of the graded area. Still, it had served us well. At 8 am, the ranger came up the coast access road to unlock the big gates, a signal that we could now go find out for ourselves what the “Head of Bight” was all about.

We were entering the Great Australian Bight Marine Park, which after years of lobbying by the Yalata people and conservation groups, was established in 1998 and covers an area of over two million hectares. It was proclaimed to protect the breeding grounds of the endangered Southern Right Whales, the only mainland breeding sites in Australia for the Australian sea lion and the unique seabed flora and fauna of the Bight.

The park is managed by both the Commonwealth and South Australian governments. Yalata Land Management monitors whale activity and collects marine debris from the beaches, along with supporting researchers, reporting  any unusual activities in the region, and most importantly, collect the gate takings from interested public, although they have subcontracted this onerous task, coupled with the cleaning of the facilities and stocking of the shop, to a couple of ex-farmers.

We paid our entry fee and wandered down the long zigzag boardwalk to the high cliffs from which we had fabulous views along the Bunda Cliffs to the west and the sand dunes to the east. And there below us were dozens of whales, most with their calves, just lolling and lumbering about, turning occasionally, flipping up their tails from time to time, but generally like a whole lot of fat blubbery people at the beach. It was so amazing to see them so very close and to hear their sighs and snorts. Who needs to go out in a whale watching boat when you can stand here for hours on end and watch these great beasts enjoying the refuge of the Australian Bight?

It was interesting to read about the dunes; that the sands have ramped up to cliff height to form the more gentle dunes from sea to land. Here the dunes are moving inland at the phenomenal rate of eleven metres per year!

As we stood on the lookout watching this great play below us, we chatted with the couple who had been in the other caravan beside us last night; they had spent the past five months in Western Australia and not really explored much south of Perth. It made our four months through the entire state seem rather cursory. We all agreed that Western Australia was worth a second look and all hoped that we would be able to do that at some time in the future.

We had at least a couple of holes to play, so bid them farewell and left them in the company of an older couple who had also stayed with us last night, but in a small camper van. They were headed in the opposite direction and would no doubt be able to swap notes with the first couple.

We learned too that fuel at the Nullarbor Roadhouse was $2.07 a litre and the tariff for a powered site there, power but no water or drainage, was $28. We were glad we had filled up yesterday even at the inflated $1.94  at Mundrabilla, and had stayed in our quiet free camp.

Back in the shop, we became absorbed by the numerous interesting interpretative panels about finding some of particular interest. Here we learned that pastoral runs had been established in the Nullarbor in the 1850s, that the area remained very isolated until the Telegraph Line, which follows an ancient Aboriginal trade route, was built across the remote plain between 1874 and 1877 to link the east and west.

The Trans-Australia railway between Port Augusta and Kalgoorlie was opened in 1915, a plus for many but a disaster for others. At Ooldea, to the north of here, which had been a major indigenous trading centre, locomotives used 45,000 litres of water every day. In a few years this destroyed what had been a permanent source of water for indigenous people.

The first crossing by car was made in 1912, mainly across old stock tracks. Fearful that Japan would bomb the Trans-Australia railway, the Commonwealth Government built a road during World War II. It was poorly drained and users were often bogged for days after rain. The present highway was finally sealed in 1976, six years after Chris last came through.

Before leaving we got caught up with the manager, who was holding the fort while his wife had gone to pick up some more merchandise; we could only hope that meant she was picking up some freight from the Nullarbor Roadhouse because anything else might keep her for several days.

He told us how they had been there for four years already and lived on site. He also told us about the camels and dingoes, of which there had been a great number about until very recently. Just a few months ago there had been a great cull; perhaps as many as a thousand camels shot. They had become a menace on the highway, not willing to move when confronted by traffic and would surely cause road death if allowed to remain as they were. We all agreed it was a terrible waste of good meat, to simply shoot and leave the carcases for nature’s rubbish collectors. Surely a pet food processor could have made good use of all that meat? He told us how some mornings he would look out the window and see a dozen camels watching him or find several dingoes just lying about the warm concrete pathways. Now there are none; it seems so empty, he said. However, he did say that things come and go, and so will the camel and dingo population in time.

We could have spent the rest of the morning listening to this very interesting chap, although he should wear a shirt with sleeves when attending to the public; the singlet look on men of certain years just doesn’t cut it.

Soon we were back out past last night’s camp and out on the main road, heading for Nundroo, 134 kilometres east. Amazingly the treeless plain soon gave way to undulating forest, eucalypt woodlands and long hills. The traveller’s experience of the Nullarbor was to be short-lived after only about fifty kilometres. The road was most attractive but quite different to what I had expected and not at all as Chris remembered.

We had pulled out the old Readers Digest geographic atlas we are still carrying about, last night and compared the roads in 1968 with those on our modern maps. It was quite evident that they had been re-routed over the years, and it would seem that the greater part of the famous treeless plain lies to the north of today’s road, toward the land the rail runs through.

The aboriginal settlement of the Yalata Community lies about halfway to Nundroo, but most well away from the highway. The buildings visible from the road which looked very much like a roadhouse had been long boarded up. Two houses were just visible, one with a police vehicle outside, no doubt the policeman’s residence and another unidentifiable.

The bare-chested chap we had spoken with at Eucla had told us hideous stories of child abuse and ridiculously short jail sentences, all coming out of this settlement. We were not keen to explore this den of iniquity at all, and even if we had been, we probably would have needed a special permit to do so. What hope is there for these places?

At the Nundroo Roadhouse, we had our Links card stamped by a rather jolly Irishman who prattled so quickly we were left to smile and nod and hope we had half understood what he said. We checked the pump price out, and saw it had dropped to a more acceptable $1.66 a litre, checked the loos out and found obscene graffiti on the back of the doors; we were back in civilization.

The Wombat Hole  has long fairway at 520 metres across relatively cleared land although there were stones and litter to add to the excitement. After yesterday’s tantrums with the flies, I shrouded my head with my fly veil, over the top of my tweed cap; a very smart new look that might well catch on, for those playing the Nullarbor Links. As a result I could not blame the flies for my appalling score, nor the wombats, because there was no evidence of them at all, despite the name of the hole and the information board that explained that Nundroo has the largest population of the Southern Hairy Nose Wombats in Australia. Their isolation has shielded them from many diseases threatening the species in many other parts of Australia. Regular surveys are done around Nundroo and it is estimated over 2.5 million wombats inhabit this area! Even though these wombats pose a threat to farmland, are regularly hunted by the indigenous population and are fair game to the road traffic, their numbers appear to be unthreatened.

After a long winded hacking up the course, we retired to the caravan for lunch, consuming nearly every last scrap of fruit and vegetables in the van, reserving a lettuce to offer the quarantine man for his dinner table.

As we sat there, a beat up landcruiser went past full of very black men, and I realised that the track we were parked beside probably led to another aboriginal community. As we emerged ready to head off once more, another vehicle came flying past, packed again with a wild looking crew, windows all broken, the chassis rattling and not looking road worthy at all. I gave them a cheery wave which they reciprocated in kind, big smiles of white teeth. When we emerged out onto the highway beside the roadhouse, I could see they were filling with fuel, and were likely to disappear back up the dusty road to the interior, with no fear of encountering any traffic police.

Our next stop was a mere forty five kilometres away. The landscape changed almost immediately after leaving Nundroo, giving way to sheep and grain cropping. Grain silos and long abandoned old homesteads caught our attention. The small flock of sheep first sighted were the first livestock, wild or domestic, we had seen since well north of Esperance, despite the many warnings signs along the road to watch out for kangaroos, cattle, camels, or wombats. We did now see several road killed wombats and a couple of dead roos, but the roadside had been strangely devoid of the dead one would normally find, especially given the number of road trains driving through this long highway.

As we neared Penong, we saw the many windmills the town is known for. This was the first township of any substance we had encountered since leaving Norseman, however it was still very tiny, with a population of just over two hundred. There is a school here, again something not seen for over a thousand kilometres.

Every resident has their own windmill to pump water from the Anjutabie water basin, but it would seem that power is reticulated from an outside source; we saw the poles. At the golf course, we did read that water is also trucked in from Ceduna to top up local supplies at a cost to consumers and subsidised by the South Australian Government. We have since learned that Ceduna’s water in turn, is piped through from the Murray River, this being the end of the line, or at least this line.

The golf course here seems to have a couple of holes, one part of our course. This one was more regular, with just a few trees strategically placed to put the amateur golfer off. Still we managed to play this last hole for the day, having lost only six balls in all over the sixteen holes played so far; five by Chris and one by me. Still there is tomorrow and only thirty balls left.

One thing I did see on this fairway which made me think I should have played with an entirely different tactic; someone had left a tee halfway up to the green. Now, playing every shot using a tee, given the lumpy and irregular surface of most of the courses so far, would have given me a much fairer chance. It is probably a bit late now to lament such choices.

Seventy five kilometres on we came to Ceduna, pulled up at the quarantine barrier and offered the officer the lettuce. Sadly he told us that it would be destined to the rubbish bin and then a very deep hole; such waste, I thought. 

Our next stop was the Information Centre where we picked up a sheet with caravan park details and tariffs. We had seen this one listed in Camps 6 and it was indeed the cheapest, advertising powered sites from $22. On arrival we were asked for $20; we have decided to stay for two nights . The park is very basic, the manager or owner chatty and delightful. There is a laundry, we have power, water, internet and television reception. Chris is happily watching the Ashes test and I am catching up with all matters computer. What more could we wish for?