12th February 2017

About a month late, but that’s the reality of coming back to work!

Leaving the safety and comfort of our Esperance digs we made for the Fitzgerald River National Park.  It was time to get back to nature again.  Winding our way through the park, we checked out the first campsite but decided to keep moving and opted to stay at Hammersley Bay.  I realise I have been banging on continuously about how stunning the WA beaches are, but we just kept getting bowled over by them – there was never a disappointed moment in the scenery or the campsites.  WA truly have got it together with camping facilities.

Pitching up at Hammersley we opted for an afternoon of chill and reading before embarking on the hike to the beach the next day.  Off we toddled until after about 10 minutes I realise Miss 12 doesn’t have any shoes on.  WHAT ARE YOU DOING CHILD?  “I forgot.”  Obviously.  Well we weren’t going back so she had to suck it up and walk the three kilometres through the bush over blisteringly hot sand.  It was like watching a frog bounce from one bit of shaded sand to the next, then bolt like a Jack Rabbit when the stretches between shade were too long.  Tough love!  But it was worth it – the beach all to ourselves and a chance to meander through the rock pools together and Miss 12 didn’t have to worry about taking her shoes off on the beach.

Being now completely addicted to the glowing white sand and turquoise waters, I decided we should have a bash at camping super remote.  Google had told me there was an isolated beach one could 4WD to so we thought “why not?” We have a 4WD and a growing sense of adventure, let’s do it!

Bash, bash, bash … OK maybe not such a good idea.  Where is the end of the track?  I think we missed a turn …  how do we turn around … shit maybe we were being too adventurous – after all we are middle aged and drive a Suzuki Swift and a Hyundi I20 normally – luckily the car is white as we are scratching the bejesus out of it.  Enter – Google!  Google saved us again and managed to direct us to where we needed to be (by this stage I had lost my nerve and demanded the Husband drive the rest of the way).  It was all worth it.  Sensational camping between two lily white sand dunes with no one else around! Yippee!

More white beach of which to crack an afternoon beer on and gaze out over the wonder that is Western Australia.  With Western Australia comes a wee bit of wind together with a chill factor, however the girls thought this a perfect time to don blankets on their heads and pretend to be Jedi on Hoth as the white sand looked like fine snow.  Perhaps we had been away too long and they are going loopy?

Waking in the middle of the night as I do for my regular “I’ve had two children and can’t last the night” wee, I gazed up into the sky which was so clear, black and twinkling with stars.  Never, have I seen so many stars … I must have sat there for half an hour freezing my tushie off but not wanting to stop staring above me.  It’s an image that will stay with me forever.

The next morning we HAD to have a bush shower as we were gross, however this proved rather difficult given overnight the ants, who had not been there the day before, decided we were not welcome and began a full assault on us.  We looked like female versions of Muhammed Ali, hopping from one foot to the other whilst showering, packing up and eating (the kids ended up eating in the safety of the car) before jumping into the car two torturous hours later!

Full of our own fabulousness we decided another bush bash was in order for the next campsite – a stunning cliff top camp called Banksia.  The camp was allegedly two kilometres from the main camp where those without a sexy 4WD beast like us have to use.  Bashing along for 1.5 kilometres we see a sign indicating only another 500 metres to go.  Well that was rubbish as it was at least another kilometre before we found the place and there was one glorious spot left!  Our luck was awesome and back slaps were in order.

Grabbing a beer we walked down the cliffs for some rock hopping and shark spotting – success on the shark spotting – the girls were stoked!  Having decided I should probably feed my family I ventured back up the cliff only to have Miss 10 frantically run into the camp asking for a pot and to come and help her save a fish.  Huh?  “Pot, mum, the fish is dying, we have to save it!”  Dragging the largest pot I had out of the truck, we took off back down the cliff (great for the butt I must say) where Miss 10 directs me to a rockpool with a stranded mullet desperately trying to escape out of the rockpool the wrong way.  Visualise this – I’m leaning into the rockpool having positioned the pot in the water to catch said fish whilst Miss 10 is getting ready to shoo the fish into the pot with a big stick.  I’m thinking this was never going to work but Miss 10 is determined.  Five minutes later, the bloody fish actually jumps into the pot and with a flourish I pull the pot out of the water, fish intact!  Miss 10 is hysterical with joy, grabs the pot and proceeds to gently release Mr Fish back into the ocean.  Mission accomplished!

Now, back to our egos and the 4WD track.  The seemingly long 500 metre trip had bugged me a bit overnight, so I went walking and discovered another track leading into the camp.  I figured perhaps we had taken a wrong turn so would try the newly discovered track in the morning.  Alas, the Husband over rides me insisting there is no second track and we are going back the way we came.

It’s a bit hairy.  The sand is really dry and in some places Parks have rolled rubber down the dune tracks in places one is likely to get bogged.  About 5 minutes out of the camp, we indeed, become bogged.  No problem, we have recovery treads, we can do this.  It’s all so exciting!  The kids are cheering Dad on, we’re making progress … then suddenly … we’re not.

Two hours later after letting the air out of the tyres, unloading heavy gear, shovelling God knows how many cubic metres of burning hot sand in the blistering sun and we have managed to successfully move ten metres forward, followed by 20 metres back,  and bogged ourselves to oblivion.  Time to admit defeat and get on the emergency channel of the radio.  Some emergency channel – no one was listening despite several attempts on several channels.  Great, we are going to be stuck here until someone finds us.

And like a Hollywood movie, at that moment, two 4WD’s appear over the hill, stop and produce six strapping German blokes.  With a range of hand signals used to determine a plan of action and a laugh over the fact I knew what the word Scheiße meant once the boys had inspected the situation, we proceeded to tie the rear of our car to the rear of theirs in an attempt to drag our car out sideways onto the vegetation where we can execute a three point turn whilst destroying the fauna of the national park in the process.  Husband at the ready behind the wheel, German number one behind his wheel, Germans 2 – 6 ready to push and me ready to direct and cheer everyone one, we punch it.  15 minutes later we have successfully got the truck out of the sand, run over some protected fauna and high fived each other in delight.  The man upstairs was on our side – there were six beers left in our fridge, icy cold and ready for delighted German consumption.

The Germans decided they were going back the way they came – the track on the other side of the camp.  Hahahahahahaha.  So it was a convoy back to the road where we said our goodbyes before heading back to Walpole to put air in the tyres, go to the pub and get cleaned up!  I have never smelled so bad in my life and I was dirty and gross …and after the shot of vodka I necked once we got the truck out of the bog, the beer at the pub was the sweetest ever.

All a bit too much excitement for the small fry …. !