Wheatbelt Rocks and WA Goldfields

I had a 4 day break from work and the weather had been dry, so I decided to leave the trouble and strife + tin lid behind and do a run to the Goldfields. I haven't explored much out there myself - my bad - and its a big one on my bucket list. So I loaded the car and headed off solo for a 4 day cannonball run.
First up was to check some rocks on the way. Turning off at Kelleberin, I made my way up to Marshall Rock. Not that spectacular, but a nice quiet campground is here if required. I picked up a cache and I made my staple hot salami and jarlsberg cheese sandwiches for lunch before heading off to Muckinbudin. Here I had arranged to meet a fella. But alas, by the time I got to town I had missed him by 40 odd minutes. .......So from there I headed off to Baladjie rock.

A  lot more structure here and a much larger campgound. A lot of evidence at the site said that this is a well used camp and probably pretty muddy when wet. Another cache was bagged then it was onto Southern Cross for a fuel top up.

My aim was Jaurdi Station for the night. I wanted to go via Koolyanobbing, but its a restricted access westnet rail maintenance road and I didn't have the courage to go against that. So I went the long way round. I got there under a setting sun. Driving the road with a setting sun in the eyes was a challenge. I even missed the homestead in the failing light, but after a double back, I found ground zero. I had just enough light left to gather some wood for dinner and a campfire.

Being tin, and having a nice cable hole, I was able to stick one of my leds on the side of the shearing shed and feed the cable through the hole in the wall....Nice....

The old shearing shed was awesome....somewhere dry to set up the swag. I loved the old bike seat on the wall

And the view from the window was just superb

I will have to come back to Jaurdi with the family at a later stage.

A pleasant night was had listening to the sounds of freight trains in the distance. Dragging myself out of the swag about 7, I slowly got all my chores sorted and finished off with a bowl of cereal. The plan for today was to find a way via bush tracks to the Northeast and park up at Rowles lagoon for the night. I would head up the Mt Jackson road for a bit and then head East on another track to come into the back of Credo Station.

 Best laid plans always go astray....Traveling along the Mt Jackson Road was awesome. It was in great condition and I just love that spread out Salmon Gum country. I spied what I thought was to be my first diggings so went in to investigate: Fail......it was a dam, damn it. So I headed further North and spied an old abandoned mine on my gps. I took this track and investigated. It consisted of a gravel pit in a natural amphitheater, surrounded by picturesque hills in the distance and this structure:

I guess that’s where its name of Breakaway Mine comes from.





I had a bit of a look around at the place. A small dilapidated sleeping/crib hut in a bad state of disrepair and a small shed in much better condition. Small electric motors on the bench in the shed, in various states of disassembly made it look like there had been a swift departure made from the place. It was like a snapshot in time. The gravel pit was huge and I had a lot to get through today, so I didn't explore the extremities. I did go and look at a couple of the nearby shafts though. After all that's what this trip is about, rocks and gold...

A couple of shafts that obviously met not that far underground:

But of more interest to me was this next one. In my "roaring days", I indulged in a bit of caving, so ropes, cave ladders and small holes tend to get me going....The ladder on this one was a pearler, in great condition and chained to rotting old timber holding the walls up. Common sense prevailed and I didn't do it. I was over 100K's to the nearest main road, here by myself and the risk of a bit of adventure much too great, sadly.

  

So after about 1/2 hour of looking around, I hit the Jackson road again.
















I pushed on, not knowing what may lie ahead. The first navigational challenge came soon afterwards when I got to MT Finnerty. The roads direction and the maps didn't quite seem to correlate. I am running 2 gps's in the vehicle. One is a netbook with external 8" touch screen running Ozi, the other a 7" chinese device running OziCe. I usually just run the 250K topo on the chinese and 100K on the netbook. So I played with the zoom on the netbook for a broader view and selected the correct route. Just goes to show, paper maps are still very valid in this electronic age, not even factoring failing electronics into the equation. I came across what was obviously a haul road. It was marked with no left and no right turn signs. This wasn't on any of my maps. I assumed it was the Mt Walton road. In hindsight, I was wrong. So I continued Eastwards and crossed another larger road with no signage. This one was on my maps. I crossed this and continued on. The further I got, the more the bush encroached. Then it closed right in on me. I gritted the teeth for about 100m listening to the sounds of fingernails on chalkboard , the vegetation against the clearcoat of the Paj. Then I was greeted with a large washout. I parked the Paj where I could get the drivers door opened and had a recce on foot. Whilst negotiating the washout wasn't a problem, if the next 50 or so Km's was going to be like this, not only would it take me an eternity, but what state would my daily drive end up in. Discretion is the better part of valour, so I made the decision to bail out. Reversing out of the enclosed salt bush was a challenge. Almost peeling off the left hand wing mirror. But I got out. Heading back to the last cross road, I spied and took a pic of the 487 meter benchmark as shown on my gps pic below. At the crossroad I zoomed out again and had a bonanza. I had a cache marked further down this road, so that's where I headed.

This is after I had reversed out. It closed in much worse just past where this pic was taken:

And the gps shot showing my track in red solid line, the benchmark 487 and how far I got past that:

I'm making great progress down this newly selected road trying to limit my speed around the 80 Km/H mark as it was in truely remarkable condition. I could have hit much more speed if I wasn't careful.  I come to another unmarked cross road. To the West is the entrance to a mine site, boom gates and security camera's to boot in the middle of nowhere. I continue on South noting I really need to head East to make my intended camp. When I get to the turnoff for the cache, there is another mine entrance on the Right. As I zoom out the gps map, I make the discovery I've been on Mt Walton Rd all along. I passed the start of this when I went into Jaurdi. It had big signposts: "no entry, private haul road" at its entrance. Whoops! So I turn East for Walleroo Rock. Magnificent country and boy am I rewarded at the end. A cache, a large water source at the rocks base and a magnificent campground to boot. It was a trifecta

I have come to notice something out here after doing a bit of walking looking for caches. It doesn't take too much distance away from the vehicle to start to loose ones bearings in this thick scrub. I start to gain a feel for the recent spate of lost prospectors we seem to be having of late. After a bit of a look around Walleroo, I head out on the Eastern side of the Walleroo road. The road was open, traversing through low saltbush country in a soft yellow sand. I had about 40 Km's of this and it was just brilliant. Just myself, my paj, the scrub and quite literally, miles from anywhere or anybody.

This stretch of track was my absolute favourite part of the whole trip. I cross another North/South road, but these seem to lead to nowhere special. Anyway I need to keep heading East, as Jaurdi Hills road is about 10 K's away and I need to hit this to get to Rowles Lagoon.






At this cross road, it must have been about 2pm, so it was time for another salami and jarlsberg cheese sandwich lunch. I soak up the cloudless sunshine and cool breeze in the process then continue East. The road changed a bit here, following a fenceline with a few minor water washouts and now I had scrub growing in the middle of the track. Obviously not as well used as the last 40 Km's. so I plug on, clearing the track of scrub with my bashplates. Coming past some old evidence of habitation I am greeted with a gate. All I can think is "oh shit", if this is locked, I'm buggered. As luck would have it, it was not, but once through and closing the gate I notice the BIG sign in the pic below. Another place I shouldn't have been in. But it wasn't signposted from the way I came in. Anyway, as my other half stated when I got back home, I wasn't entering, I was exiting.....lol

There is so much country out here, but so much of it is locked up. I guess that's what the money from gold does. So I'm now on an official gazetted road (the gravel Jaurdi Hills road) and I'm feeling a lot more confident about making Rowles for the night.





I'm making my way to the Coolgardie North road to set up camp at Rowles Lagoon. The remainder of the trip will be following the Golden Quest Discovery Trail, more or less. A quick right turn at Dunnsville and I spy some more potential diggings so I venture in for a look. It wasn't any diggings, but I am greeted with the remnants of a recently burnt out caravan. 2 large LPG cylinders are in the mix, luckily they hadn't let go. It had burnt completely to the ground, even the tires were now just radial strings of steel belts

From there, there is nothing exciting to report on the rest of the journey, until I make my intended overnight destination - Rowles. Its about 4pm now so my first chore is to gather wood. The campsite is obviously well used and there is very little in the way of usable lumber. But just like at Jaurdi, I make do with what is available and scrounge enough both for dinner and a little after dinner drinks warmth. Just before I start the fire, I notice a large full moon rising behind me, so I grab a pic of both it and the campsite.

What I notice when I get home is that all my camp shots have about 4 empty cans on the ground and an enamel mug full of red. I think they were stalking me.....lol.

Another pleasant night in the swag and in the morning, I go for a 400m hike to pick up another cache for the trip. The lagoon is bone dry. Probably just as well as the cows that are now grazing on it cant swim. During the night the clouds rolled in. In the morning it was completely overcast and I never saw the sun all day. It remained this way for the remainder of the trip and threatened my security of a dry camp. I again go through the routine of packing up my gear, finish off with a bowl of cereal and hit the road. Next stop, Niagra Dam via leonora (or so I thought when I departed)





Heading up the Coolgardie North road I have a bit of a look around when I get to the ghost town of Callion. There are a couple of graves to look at, (not taking away from the hardships endured of days gone by, but I sort of get over looking at graves after a while). But on the other side is the abandoned pit of the old mine. This was the first major hole in the ground I had come across. And it makes me wonder........Mankind as a whole is such a funny race. We put so much effort and resource into digging up huge tracts of land to find a piddly amount of soft yellow metal. Then we base our world economies on this piece of metal.......pity we cant put the same efforts into solving some of the worlds problems hey!

Anyway, a bit off track there......I go and have a look at the pit. It is quite big and I wonder how many man hours it has taken to get to this. I would have loved to explore the area more, but time was pressing, so a couple of pics and I'm on the road again. I cant help but thinking that this mine rehabilitation business is a modern concept. So much land has been permanently destroyed by over more than a century of mining operations and I cant see any reason why this would be corrected in the future. I suppose, apart from the area's natural beauty (and mineral resource), there is probably not a lot going for it...If that's any justification???





I continue on and stop off at the remnants of the former township of Davyhurst. There is some caution to be exercised on these gravel roads, particularly in the lower lying regions and dips as water has eroded the subsoil leaving some big trenches in places in the road. Granite, one of the toughest rock known to man, and dumped as tailings from mining operations is crushed and rolled into the road in a lot of places. This gives the road surface some strength to endure water erosion and traffic, but its rough on the vehicle and I cant help but thinking I'd hate to be reincarnated as a cooper’s tire .

All that's left of Davyhurst is a bit of brick rubble from the former Grand Hotel and some associated bits of rusting metals and broken bottles floating about from occupation of days gone by. The bush has all but reclaimed the lot. Its a shame about these sites really, because there is nothing left now. Whilst I'm here I suppose I better bag myself another cache.

I can hear the whirr of an operating mine in the not to far distance, so there is obviously plenty of fortunes still to be found here. I again spy what looks like tailings and a pit in the distance, so I point the Paj in the general direction as far as I can and then walk over the granite tailings and discover a pit at least twice the size of the one at Callion, the abandoned Golden Eagle pit. But a word of note, its all relative. I haven't seen the super pit in Kal for years. It would make these look like potholes.

From there I head up to Ularring Soak. "First" discovered by one of this nations most adventurous men, Ernest Giles. Following up a lead when I returned home, I now have a paperback copy of his journal "Australia Twice Traversed" published in 1889. This is a Journal of Giles's 5 expeditions into WA and Central South Australia. I'm hoping I can glean some good information from this to go exploring into this area myself. He didn't have to deal with native title though, only spears....... I climbed the rock, grabed a pic of the cairn erected in his memory and go the staple salami and jarlsberg for lunch. I completely forgot about the cache here...D'oh!

I find the well at Ularring pictured here of interest:

I push on to Snake Hill overlooking Lake Ballard. I've had to avoid 2 big reds on the way, but apart from that its been devoid of both wildlife and human interaction for the last 3 days. I haven't passed a single vehicle or seen another person since I left the Great Eastern Highway. Not that I'm anti human or anything, but I find this experience to be bloody fantastic.

I'm also starting to think there is no way I'm going to Niagra Dam for the last nights stop if I go via Leonora due to time and distance. I look at the nice covered picnic benches, then the dark grey clouds that have been around since Dawn. I'm thinking it would make nice protection should those clouds burst. But its only about 2.30pm and collecting timber may be a mission, having to drag it up the hill. So I decide to modify my plans. I'll head direct to Menzies then push on direct to Niagra. I turn into the Lake Ballard campsite (Gormley's inside Australia project)http://www.google.com.au/search?q=gormley+inside+australia&sa=X&tbm=isch&tbo=u&source=univ&ei=XC7OUeesGouCkwXV74DIBg&ved=0CDkQsAQ&biw=1013&bih=652)
Here I see my first people in 3 days. A couple of grey nomads in a small camp site. There is also no wood around. So, whilst I would have loved to have spent a day here, there is only so much you can fit into 4 days and the beckoning weather and firewood situation makes me stick with my recently modified plan.

Half of the 130 or so Km's from Lake Ballard to Niagra is dirt. Then at Menzies I hit the first load of tarmac in 3 days. So it's up the highway and into Niagra to be greeted with about 6 vans all camped up top. Great....NOT!. Oh dear, I've been enjoying the peace and solitude to date, but it looks like its all about to stop. So I drive past the nomads and find there is a dirt track to a lower campground. There is not a soul around down here....Perfect...... So I select a spot under some trees to provide me with some protection should the heaven's open during the night.

 I do my usual task of gathering wood for the nights fire. Investigating some of the other fire pits, I find a bit of timber left from previous travellers. But I don't have enough, so I venture further afield, checking out what may lie underneath the scattered salmon gums. I bring back a few assorted "sticks" but its not looking great (that said, it's no different to the other two stops I had). I venture further out and have a Eureka gold strike all of my own.....Someone has left me some split jarrah sleepers. This is the best fire I will have all trip. But these sleepers will have to be used last as they have been soaked in diesel and they pretty well stunk and billowed smoke for a bit when they finally hit the fire. I bag another cache before dinner.

As it was to be my last supper, I thought I had better prove I didn't go hungry. Satay Chicken kebab's, mushrooms and corn on the cob. Slow cooked over an open fire on a Hilbilly hotplate. Top off with some coleslaw and pasta salad........Perfect bush tucker!

My best campfire to date was also my best night. After dinner and clean up was done, I sat back with the moshi bass barrel cranking out some tunes, listening to the genny and cackling female nomads camped above, the occasional rumble of a loco in the distance, singeing the hairs off my legs by the warn, cosy fire and quenching the dusty throat with some after dinner red. Light drizzle was falling on and off throughout the night. In the morning I am faced with the prospect of a 1000Km trek home. 

So I pack up, have breakfast and hit the road for the long journey home. On the highway I'm amazed how wet the bitumen is and the small pools of water lying on the soil on the sides of the road. I was lucky it seems, the showers passed around me. I'm thinking to myself on the way back to Menzies, I really don't want to spend all my time home on the blacktop, but I'm torn between gravel and time. In the end I think stuff it, I don't want to go through Kalgoorlie and I'm out here for a reason, so bugger the time, I'll go to Coolgardie via Serbia and Ora Banda.

I turn off the highway back onto the dirt and travelling conditions are far removed from the day's before. In between showers, the road surface has turned to typical goldfields slush when wet. The paj is a bit skatey and I reduce my speed accordingly. Every time I hit a wet spot, I hear the road surface being flung under the guards and up the sides of the car.



I rock up to Serbia and have a look at about the only thing left here. A cemetery. However the "Danger, numerous mines in the area" sign is too much of a lure, so I go for a 1/2 hour explore in the forbidden area. I cant believe the number of diggings here and pardon the pun, but I haven't even scratched the surface. Also what amazed me was the number of rusty old bully beef cans scattered around the area. Can you imagine living on that stuff - And here is me with my car, fridge, fresh steak, peri-peri chicken halves and satay kebabs, cold drinks, fresh salads and vege's. Boy, how times change hey. And not a barrow or a camel in sight. So I grab another cache and continue on.

 Hell or Siberia??? I think in the day it was one and the same.

Anyway, time to finish up this epic....... So from Siberia, I make my way to Ora Banda but only pass through. I have to stop for a pic of the old hotel ruins in Kunanalling. 

Then its off to Coolgardie to check in with the trouble and strife and back onto the blacktop for home.

Stopping at Southern Cross for fuel, re-aired tires and a well earned burger, I hit the road and get home 5 hours or so later.

So all in all, I travelled 1900Km's (800 of that dirt) over 4 days, burnt $300 worth of diesel and had one of my most enjoyable trips ever. I'm not sure why I enjoyed it so much - It could have been that I was solo, I travelled some lonely bush tracks, I saw no people for 3 days or I took in a lot of history. Maybe it was because I had left the city behind. In reflection, I think it was just simply all the above.

Anyway, hope you enjoyed the read as much as I enjoyed the sharing.

   

Steep Point 2013, a mixed bag

Friday 12^th April at 4am the alarm starts screaming. It’s up, out of bed, get the coffee brewing and hitch the trailer. I head over to Big John’s by 0430 to pick him and his gear up. Tossing the stuff in the car we head to the rendezvous point to catch up with the others for the start of the Steep trip for 2013. When we get to the meeting place, the others are not to be seen. Giving them a call, they are about ½ hour behind. As I am towing the Ulti, Ron and Mary their Jayco and Garry, Chuck and Fran towing Garry’s Seaquest 6.5M, we wait till they arrive so we can safely travel in convoy.

A couple of hours up the road, we stop at Jurien for breakfast. There is not a lot of choice in this fishing town at that hour of the morn so the bakery it is. What’s wrong with pies for breakfast I ask??? After munching a pretty ordinary pie, a couple of us go for seconds. Garry gets a smokie, I get a quiche. We both regret the decision.

Then we on the road again to Geraldton for a fuel top up. I don’t really need it, but decide it might save me a couple of bucks from the unknown price of Overlander Roadhouse’s diesel. I take the lead this time as I’m struggling to tow at Ron and Garry’s speed. We decide to meet up at Overlander.

We arrive at 1430, top up the fuel again, I have a pre made sandwich, John being a Geordie, has a cup of tea. Then we wait for the others to arrive. The first drama of the trip comes to light. I planned on having dinner here. Dinner at 1430 is just a wee bit early. Nothing on the menu looks suitable for bush cooking. So we have a dilemma. Then John hits the jackpot.....get them to make us a burger, less cooked beef pattie and onions. We can cook this up our self at camp. Brilliant Idea John.  About an hour later, we hit the road to Denham. At the useless loop turn off, the adventurous Ron and I head the inland route. Garry, Chuck and Fran take the luxury of sleeping in accommodation in Denham, the plan being to launch the boat and come in by sea. We should be in before them and can set up their sleeping quarters........Wrong!

Ron/Mary, John/I find a nice secluded campsite well off the road some 50K’s from Overlander. We set up for the night. Ron empties his Jayco to set it up, I get soft and roll out a swag, forcing John to set up his tent. So much for having a 40K camper! 

We cook the burgers and I have to say, it was just the best roadhouse burger to be had in the bush. It was pretty warm and after dinner when the rain fell, none retreated to keep dry, we just sipped our red.

In the morn, John being a relatively new Aussie citizen, was coaxed into his first foray of vegemite on toast. Suffice to say, he won’t be venturing down that road again in a hurry.

We packed up about 9am for the road trip to Steep. Then the dramas begin. Ron took the lead.  I had to stop occasionally, as I kept catching up with Ron’s dust. Then, bang, flap, flap, flap.....I look in the wing mirror and see flapping from the left hand rear. I call Ron on the radio and tell him I think I’ve done a sidewall. I will update him when I know more. As luck would have it (or not) I’ve picked up a rubber bungee. The “S”  hook is embedded in the tread and the bungee is flapping round trying to wreck everything underneath. I remove the bungee, call Ron to say all’s ok, and continue.

10 Minutes or so later, Ron calls up to say he has lost a wheel. Insert expletitive here. When we catch up, it’s worse than losing a wheel.  I tell Ron he needs a good wheel aligner. He chuckles and fobs off the seriousness of the situation. Upon investigation, it’s a serious concern, a trip breaker indeed. The Steep point road lives up to its trailer killer reputation.



We assess the situation. There is nothing we can do on our own. Ron heads off for the nearest local station, Tamala. He is in luck. The boss Cocky was about to leave for bore maintenance, but a bit of monetary persuasion and he rocks up onsite with welder, trolley jacks, stands etc.

The view was awesome whilst we waited for the cocky to arrive.

We need to fully lift the Jayco off the ground, to remove the wheels and jack the suspension back into place before any welding can take place. The station owner is a trouper;  we all work together as a group and finally get Ron’s van back on the road. Fingers crossed it will handle the rigours of the Steep Pt road. We haven’t hit the rough yet. Disappointingly, cars just fly past with the Jayco precariously hung up in the air with both myself and the station owner underneath welding her up. What is it with some people??



A good 4 or so hours after failure, we are back on the road. Then we pass the windmill and get into the corrugations. Radio com’s between vehicles became difficult over the noise of the rattles. We  get to the air down point – Dune country. I note to Ron water pouring out the rear seam of the van. He says it’s his overfull water tank. I respectfully keep my thoughts to myself. We get over the first hill, but I only get ¾ of the way up the second, and after a couple of attempts, let another 5Psi out the tyres. I climb the hill without issue. The hardest part of dragging nearly 5T of vehicle and trailer up the dunes is momentum. You can’t get a lot due to the uneven holes in the ruts, which throws both vehicle and trailer violently side to side and up/down.  After the second hill I notice the water leak is now a milky substance. I subtlety forget to mention this to Ron, he has endured enough so far. We eventually make base camp at 1530. The boat crew has been there for hours but knew of our troubles as the cocky had called the ranger to let him know we would be late.

Hats off to you,  Barry (the cocky from Tamala). You are the epitome of the Aussie spirit. You saved our trip with your selfless help (and earned a decent pay packet at Ron’s expense)

Ron discovers more damage when the jayco is opened. Collapsed shelving and burst food containers. UHT milk, Casks of red, jam jars and biscuits are amongst some of the casualties. Our thoughts go to both Ron and Mary who over the coming days clean up the mess created. So two days down, it can’t get any worse can it?

Or can it?



Sunday morning and we are up for breakfast. Looks like a beautiful day. The boys decide to go for a dive. I decline as I have too much stuff to do to get camp set up for the week. Now I know why the fella’s bring their spouses!  Some hours later, I’m trying to diagnose a low output issue from my solar. Back to the water and Garry’s boat rocks up.  John shouts against the wind in his best accent something about boiling the kettle. So you can imagine my best two fingered reply. Then above the breeze I hear something about a sting. I drop the solar and get straight to getting the billy on gas.

It turns out Garry had an unfortunate and somewhat unlucky encounter with a stone fish. In lots of pain and swelling in his hand and arm, I leave Garry with the others to administer some first aid and head for the Rangers quarters. The ranger is out so I leave a note saying where we are and are in need of assistance. When I return Garry seems a little better, but still needs medical attention. I head up the beach and ask the next camp if they have VHF. They do and I ask they call Shark Bay Sea rescue. The guy puts out a few calls on a few channels. I tell him to call on VHF16. He does and the Ranger responds immediately. He tells us to get Garry to Denham by boat.

John and Chuck take the boat and Fran goes along in case CPR is needed. They arrive in Denham, met by Sea Rescue and the local Nurse. Garry is dosed with Morphine, antihistamines and anti-biotics. The Nurse is in contact with RPH. They are trying to decide if they airlift him back to Perth. The Ranger drives to our camp a few times throughout the day to to inform us of what is happening. Later in the afternoon he tells us they won’t be home tonight. He is known as a cranky old bugger, but he has been remarkable during this incident.

Back at Camp, Ron, Mary and I have a quiet afternoon and night. Not much is done the next morning either.  The Ranger swings by again to keep us informed. He tells us Garry stayed in Denham over night and they will all be back at camp sometime during the day.  Ron checks his battery status and finds his batteries are depleted. His solar can’t cope with the demand of two older generation Engels being run as a freezer. So we fire up the genny and monitor the battery status occasionally. An hour or so later and there is no change in the batteries. So I do some investigating. His Ctek appears to be working, so I trace the loom into a junction box full of spaghetti.  I have no way of checking the output of the charger in this bundle of wires. I tell him I think his Ctek is buggered. After all the good spirits Ron has shown to date, my news is the last straw. Ron has what could be considered a mild dummy spit – something along the line of spending coin on the best equipment only to let him down when he most needs it.  He has endured so much so far, and copt it on the chin. I think about it some more....then the penny drops. I tell him to unplug the freezers for ½ hour. The battery charge goes up. The two Engels will be drawing 10 amps, but the Ctek only puts in 7. Therein lies the problem.  Ron switches to a 16A charger and the batteries are now going up with both freezers running. Phew, about time we had some luck.

About 3pm the boat arrives back from Denham. Everyone seems in good spirits, but Garry’s swelling hasn’t got any better and now he is sporting enormous blisters on his fingers and palm. Garry’s diving for the week is over.

Tuesday and we are blown out from diving. We all laze about the camp. John grabs his Ipad and walks up a dune for coverage. He brings back a screen clip from Seabreeze.  Looks like it will only get worse throughout the day, peaking about 9PM. I had to double peg and rope my annex as during the day, the gusts were bending my 500mm sand pegs and poles kept falling over. This turned out to be a wise decision. Ron attempts to fire up the genny again but to no avail. Will our luck ever get better???

I pull it apart and determine it’s due to crud in the jet from running the tank dry. So we pull it apart, clean the bowl, blow out the jet and reassemble. Success. The genny fires and both freezers are kept running. The genny had to be field serviced about 3 times over the duration of our stay.

After a blustery day 9pm comes along. Not much different to the last few hours really. So we retire about 10pm for bed. At 1115pm, I’m being thrown all around the bed on the Ulti like I’m riding a rodeo. The peak has come late and it’s wild to say the least. I keep a vigilant ear open for any issues I may have to deal with, or anyone outside requiring assistance. The wind storm continues throughout the night and we all get little sleep.

Wednesday morning comes around and we assess the damage. I feel we were very lucky, the only damage was to John’s tent. One of his poles collapsed at the knuckle and folded in on itself. Unfortunately for John, the pole ended up on his chest. So for the rest of the night, he had to hang onto the pole to prevent a total tent collapse. Unfortunately for him, with the blustery nature of the wind, the pole spent the night thumping on his chest, he described it as having had CPR performed for hours. With a bit of duct tape and clever rope work, he was back in business.

A slow breakfast was had and lots of sand was swept away from our respective living quarters. This included the inside of tents. Its amazing how fine sand can get everywhere with bit of wind. Chuck even complained of sand in his eyes when he woke, he was in a closed tent all night.....Mid morning and the breeze was dropping off a little, so we decided it was time for a dive. Garry was kind enough to let us use his boat, he would stay on land with the girls. A bit of ginning around in the bay off Dirk Hartog, and we dropped the pick. I was freediving and was first in the water. There were a few fish around, but nothing out of the ordinary. I saw a couple of blacktips cruise through. Eventually I spied a Baldchin of decent calibre, and placed him on the float. More time swimming around, watching the others on scuba below ping a few specimens, I took another. 1/2 hour or so later, I decided to come back to the boat and wait for the others. We made a decent haul between us all, a number of species now in the kill tank.



When John returned to the boat, he told us he had yet another challenge with a wobbie. It had stolen his catch bag and retreated with it under a ledge. It took some persuasion from Big John to get it back, but he wasn’t coming back without it!

So we head back to camp. We had fish to clean and process. Afterwards the afternoon was spent doing what one does.....chewing the fat over a few ales and nibbles in preparation for dinner. We decided collectively that Big John required a name change. Owing to his recent wobbie encounter on his knee in Perth, and yet another here, it was unanimous. Big John was now to be formally called Wobbie John.....

Another relatively milder windy night and it was goodnight all......

Thursday dawns to a much lighter wind. We are all on holidays, so we don’t rush. But we have Breakfast and do what ever one does at camp for a bit (like Wobbie John performing some more Dodgy Bros. Engineering, this time on his chair that broke the previous night)

Then we head out in the boat for the day. Garry skippers the boat today. Not that his swelling or blistering has changed, but he feels confident he can handle it and the weather is calmer.

A little bit of a breeze is blowing, but we find some ground in about 8 meters. Again, as I didn’t have the encumbrance of scuba gear, I was first in the water. Talk about fish in a barrel. Lots of fish life on this dive. I ping 2 Baldchin in quick succession. Then I get very selective in what I was to take. The others are now in the water and you can hear a multitude of shots going off. But not long after and the fish life is disappearing. I think 4 divers on the one spot firing off shots left, right and centre is spooking the remaining residents. I spied a 6ft shark on the bottom. I still have two fish on the float so I head over to the boat to offload the feast and head back out. Not long after, I take another fish then I spy 2 sharks about the same size as the first cruising the bottom. I decide I have enough fish and head back to the boat. On the way back I spot Chuck on the bottom....I try to grab his attention to no avail to let him know about the cruisers.

On the boat, Chuck comes up. He saw the two sharks not long after I tried to get his attention. Then Ron returns. So we wait for Wobbie john.....and wait. We fire up the boats engine (our signal for divers to return to the boat) and wait some more. Eventually Wobbie John comes up the boarding ladder. He was stuck on the bottom below the boat. Ron had a catch bag of fish clipped off to the hull about 3 meters below water line. Unfortunately Wobbie John couldn’t get off the bottom until a 9 footer had finished munching on Ron’s bag...... I don’t freedive a lot myself, so trying to identify a species from above (rather than side on) was a bit of a different concept for me. But referring to some images off the net from above and below, I believe these were probably Tigers????

We do a second dive back at the site we dived the previous day. Fish were taken, Wobbie John met his counterpart once again, but all in all, it was pretty plain. We do a bit of sounding around on the way home for tomorrow then head in to clean yet more fish, eat more nibbles, drink more beer and wine and have dinner......Its a tough life, but you know what they say! It should probably be mentioned that evening meals was a novel concept this time around thanks to Ron’s planning and inventiveness. We planned on 7 nights at Steep. Each unit (there was five units in the group) would supply one meal for the 7 participants. That meant we only had cook one meal for 7 people and fend for ourselves for the remaining 2 nights. Certainly novel for me and I think it worked quite well.

Back to camp to clean the days proceeds, nibbles and dinner before retiring for our (what was to be) last full day at Steep.

Another lazy morning on Friday having breakfast and contemplating the dive plans for the day. A couple of fella’s drive into our camp and come up for a chat. “Are you clearing out by 10am?”.....well no we’re not, we are here till tomorrow. The ranger had told them our camp would be free today. So we send them back to the Ranger, he obviously made a mistake. 1/2 hour or so goes by and the Ranger comes to camp. Now we get to see his reputation come to life........

He tells us we are due to leave at 10am today. We argue we are not, We paid for seven days and are due out tomorrow. Ron offers to pull out his paperwork. He tells him not to bother, he has it here....He shows us the exit date. Ron makes a comment about the exit date not being very clear, his wife used to manage holiday homes and they never used this system. The Ranger didn’t appreciate or want Ron’s wife’s experience in managing holiday homes. Then Wobbie John offers him the use of his glasses.....That went down well.

I tell him to do the math on his hand and eventually he does. When he gets the 7^th night, he clearly sees we are due to depart on Saturday, mumbles under his breath, offers no apology and takes off without a word......

I’d hate to be in his wife’s shoes when he gets back to the house!

So Ron discusses the prospect of leaving a day early. Garry doesn’t have issue with it and I state I will be travelling out with Ron whatever day we leave. The decision is made to leave a day early. I state we need to get on the road as early as possible, considering all that happened on the way in. Chuck and Wobbie John go for a dive. I am all but packed when they return. John still has to pack his gear and the guys are modifying plugs in Ron’s cruiser so he can take chuck’s Engel back home. We don’t depart till 3.30 pm....Sadly, even with all the misadventure this trip has brought us, we are now on the way home.

At the air down point after we passed the Dunes, we reinflate our tyres for the 100Km’s of corrugated limestone track to get back to the overnight camp we used on the way in. Arriving very near dark, I start to pull out dinner and cooking gear, John sets up his tent and Ron/Mary set up the jayco for the night. Our bush weld repair has held up to the vigours of both going into and out of Steep. All I can hear is Wobbie John swearing and cursing...His tent has now completely failed and looks like he will be having a rough night. I lend a hand. We remove screws from here, place them there, use lots of rope and duct tape and get some semblance of an upright tent for him for the night.

Phew, now I can get on with dinner. I had enough to feed all 4 of us. It wasn’t flash, just steak, sausages and lettuce (thank goodness I left the spring onion in the camper fridge John!) but it was a feed for the night. Afterwards, we finished off the last of the red and Wobbie John brought out a nicely concealed flask of whisky he had hidden all this time. In the morning I remembered why I don’t drink the stuff!

We passed up on breakfast in favour of a roadhouse meal. We bid Ron and Mary farewell (they were going onto Denham for a few days) and hightailed it back to Perth.

And thus, Steep Point 2013, a trip of drama and personal challenges was over. Now I’m back home, I wouldn’t change a thing...except for broken trailers and personal injury.