4^th January 2017

Now, being in the Tourism game, one would have thought I’d have considered an accommodation booking over the New Year period in a place like Esperance.  Alas, I had had a brain fart and thought we could just wing it and get a spot at one of the National Park campgrounds in Cape Le Grande – insert howling laughter here.

Driving into Esperance we made the call to National Parks who informed us the two Cape Le Grande campsites were absolutely CHOCKAS, and maybe, just maybe, if we came in tomorrow about 10.00am we MIGHT have a chance and securing one if someone was departing.  In reality, what they should have said was “There is no fucking chance in hell you are going to get a spot at this time of year,” but I figure decorum dictates they had to be a wee more polite – secretly though, they were rolling around the floor in stitches after the call ended thinking “stupid tourists.” KARMA

So we got on the phone thinking surely one of the six caravan parks in the area would have a patch of grass in the unpowered area for us.  Think again stupid tourists – everything is booked out almost 12 months in advance.  Oh crap – epic fail on the event management front.

Lucky for us someone felt so sorry for the dopey tourists and advised the local Council opened up the Showgrounds during peak times for dummies like ourselves who didn’t book.  So off we toddled as it was getting dark to book in to the delightful Esperance Showgrounds.

It was all rather ominous when the Husband returned from the little caravan that belonged to the “Camp Host” in a flurry needing cash to pay (this is after being told by the guy in front of him “Good luck mate” when he had finished his check in).  Event Management fail number two – we didn’t have any cash – everyone has card facilities don’t they?  Well no, not at the Esperance Showgrounds – Camooweal and Coober Pedy yes, but not the Esperance Showgrounds.  So the Husband advised we would come back shortly with cash only to be met with a tirade of expletives advising we had “fucked up his day and to fuck off.”  Hmmm, I am convinced his daughter works at Kings Canyon.

So of course I had to go in to the lion’s den with the cash as the Husband refused to go back in there.  So putting on my saccharin smile I let him know who I was, “you’re the ones who messed me up,” and handed over $40.00.  Well, grumpy pants has to give me change so as he stands up and turns around to get it, his ill fitting blue trackies and undies without elastic drop his pants and I am met with a face full of sixty five year old, lily white, hairy arse.  Like a train wreck I couldn’t look away – it’s permanently tattooed into the visual files inside my brain – and not in a good way.  This sparkly Christmas tree on the Esplanade is a much better memory.

Throughout all this trauma, the Husband has been in touch with friends who live in Esperance asking if they know about any sneaky, local’s only camping spots as the Showgrounds suck (except for the camp kitchen that has a warm, homey feel to it with every nationality babbling away in peace and harmony) and he had almost had to intervene in an argument between Mr Grumpy hairy arsed no pants and another tourist – seriously!

Enter – the most generous act of kindness and our New Year saviour.  Miss B and Mr T were in Sydney over the holidays which was a bummer because we couldn’t catch up, however, insisted we use their house.  Huh?  No we can’t do that, such an imposition as their friend Miss G had to drop off the spare key and lived 20 minutes out of town, this is their intimate, private space and I’m so embarrassed I didn’t get it together enough to book something.  So now, thanks to the incredible generosity of giving friends, after our icky night at the Showgrounds we spent a wonderful two nights in a cosy home two streets back from the main street.

All this kindness was then topped off when Miss G’s husband Mr N popped round to pick something up and we chattered away.  A couple of hours later, a text popped in from Miss G asking if we would like to join them and their two kids for dinner at a local fish restaurant for New Year’s Eve then watch the 9.30pm fireworks on the Esplanade.

We had a wonderful night – great food, fantastic company, wine out of a paper cup watching the fireworks and two new friends.  All that was missing was Miss B and Mr T, but they were there in spirit in our minds and thanks for an incredible NYE memory.

Being an East Coast girl, I have always loved our coastline and beaches.  As of this trip, I am now utterly besotted by the West Australian coastline.

Pitching up to Lucky Bay in the Cape Le Grande National Park (and swinging by the campgrounds only to laugh at how full they were – what had I been thinking?) we were met by a sand so white it rivaled Snow White and water so clear and blue we thought we were in another country.  Those in 4WD’s could drive directly on to the beach, park, put up the awning and crack a beer.  “What?” I hear you squeak – yes we are still in Australia, the nanny country – but it’s true!  We spent the entire day on the sand reading, the girls braved the cold water and delighted in the waves and Miss 12 and I walked the entire length of the beach to the lookout whilst Miss 10 and the Husband jumped in to a game of beach cricket with a local gent Mr K after which they cracked a beer and reveled in some man time.

The sand was powder, the water crystal and I thought this was the most beautiful beach I had ever been to – well I was wrong.  These beaches are the entire coastline of WA.  There is nothing else like it – I’m in love.

Something common about small Australian towns is the local Chinese restaurant.  We love going to them to see if they still have carnations on the tables and napkins folded into funny hats.  So we decided an Esperance Chinese meal was in order.  First however, the search began for some jackets or jumpers as all each of us had was a single flannie and one pair of trackies which were all becoming slightly stinky.

Google, being my best bud this trip, let me know there was indeed a Target to save us.  Apparently though, Target Esperance doesn’t believe in stocking a minimum of one cold weather scrap of clothing in summer.  Not a thermal, a spencer, a long t-shirt or anything that covered over the elbows.  Arrrghhh!  The gent at the front of the store directed us to the main street and the local Sportspower, but being a Saturday in a country town it closes at 1.00pm.  I should know this, but no, I am still in stupid tourist mode.

Thankfully the camping and disposal store was hanging out until 3.00pm so I set upon it ravenously.  There was one rack – polar fleeces in hot pink and bright blue and two daughters throwing a hissy because “I don’t like it.”  Stiff bickies – CHOOSE ONE or BE COLD.  Damn me and my stubbornness because they have inherited it on steroids.  Forty five minutes later and some seriously quizzical looks, me about to strangle them at the same time as trying to shoosh them as they were so loud about their displeasure regarding the attire on offer I thought the store owners would hear, and I need a vodka.  Finally I spy a rack of flannies and within two minutes we have three new flannies and I’m apologising for being such a pain with snot faced tweens whilst trying to laugh off the fact the Husband and I don’t provide enough warm clothing for our children over a seven week camping trip.

So warm and toasty looking like a pack of freshly flanneled bogans we set off and whoo hoo – they have paper napkin hats, scallop edged paper place mats, a mirrored ceiling, lanterns and more gold lame than Zsa Zsa Gabor.   The place was packed, the food was awesome and we finished it off with a Maccas dessert on the walk back to our saviour house.

Bring on 2017!