Long Roads and Laughter | Road Tripping South Western Australia (part two)

The rest of the road trip continued with the same intensity as it had begun.

Day Six

We headed to Albany. We had a long drive to the town, so when we arrived, we parked up and ate leftovers from the previous night’s dinner for lunch on the pavement. An elderly man walked passed and wished us a pleasant day in the sun. 

After a brief explore of the town – mainly of a nearby coffee shop under the shade of an umbrella – we packed ourselves back into the van and went to explore some of the natural local sights in Torndirrup National Park. First, we walked along a precarious rocky surface to see the blowholes: gaps in the rock where water from the sea below blasts upwards. We saw the sign that indicated them and heard the rumble of the ocean beneath us, but they didn’t show off for us. Instead we stared at the waters beyond that danced in the sunshine, which wasn’t a disappointment. Next, it was The Gap and Natural Bridge, two more rock formations defined by their relationship with water. 

We spent the evening at our favourite campsite of the trip: King River Palms Caravan Park. Before cooking dinner, we went to sit by the river and discovered there were canoes and pedalos that were free for us to use. Several of us took a cruise down the river, enjoying the peace of the water and the relief of the light breeze.

Day Seven

In the passenger seat, honoured with the title of ‘navigator’, I turned to our morning’s first driver and instructed her to take a left out of the campsite. We turned, and I read out the following step.

“Drive straight for 280km.”

My title then altered between DJ, chief phone charger, and (hopefully) entertainer. The driver didn’t fall asleep, so I’ll take that as a win. 

After arriving at our campsite for that night, we were frustrated to see that for the second time, we had been suggested a site that was for self-contained RVs only. Our tents were not allowed. So we continued on, until we came across an area of dirt on the side of the road where we could later pitch ourselves for the night. There was one toilet, sparse trees, and the map of a bushwalk nearby. We decided to save putting up the tents until later, and kept the trailer attached. 

We spent the afternoon lazing on two different beaches. The first had hard, smooth sand that broke into tile-like pieces under our feet. There, we read and dozed and swam. The second was very windy, and we didn’t stay as long. We had a camp to set up. 

Despite the underlying feeling of uncertainty, and the flashing memories of scenes of Wolf Creek striking whenever my brain got too quiet, we actually enjoyed our night at the slightly dodgy free camp. When a couple of other cars turned up and set up tents, we were more assured about what we were doing. We cooked pasta for dinner and ate whilst trying to translate the French name of a vegetable that one of the girls was talking about. Our group had several French speakers, but none were sure what the vegetable was called in English. In an area of no service (I told you it was unsettling), we were determined to figure out the vegetable before we were reconnected. One of the French speakers remembered the name in Dutch, but none of the Dutch speaking knew the translation into English either. After various descriptions – how it looks, tastes, how it is used – I felt the name on the tip of my tongue, memories of my fortnightly Oddbox coming to the door when I lived in London. Through a mouthful of pasta, I shrieked: “Chicory!” 

We were very pleased with ourselves and spent the rest of the evening dancing under the stars.

Day Eight

We had another long drive this morning and saw our first glimpse of rain: light spatters on the windscreen. The day was overcast, which was perfect for our first activity. We were climbing Frenchman’s Peak (Aboriginal name: Mandooboornup) in Cape Le Grand National Park. The walk was a precarious climb, especially when the wind blew past us. I found it easier to walk quickly to power up the steep slopes, slotting my feet into the curves of the rock. We probably would have found it even easier if we’d stuck to the trail, indicated by small green signs along the rock. 

At the top, we rested awhile, peering over the edges and making the most of a space to lounge and take in a very different view to the ones we’d had so far. 

We also had a brief trip to Cape Le Grand beach, and Twilight Beach, but by these times the day had gotten grey and cool, so it wasn’t the experience we expected. Both were gorgeous, though: smooth white sand, classic clear and turquoise waters. It was obvious why Esperance beaches are often called some of the most beautiful in the world.

Our initial plan for that evening had been a takeaway on the beach whilst the sun set, but by the time we’d gotten our pizzas it was dark, and it had been too cloudy to see much anyway. Instead, we ate in the van, and spent most of the evening in there, too, even when we reached the campsite, laughing and chatting until we decided to shower and go to sleep. 

Day Nine

Now this was the Esperance we’d been expecting. Lucky Bay, a gorgeous beach of Esperance’s iconic white sands, and again, the clear water that trembled into turquoise, and then a deep, but bright, blue. We walked along the water’s edge, shoes in hand, and admired the view. We had hoped to see some kangaroos here, as Lucky Bay is known for them, but we were unlucky – although that was difficult to say when we were otherwise in paradise.

We checked out several more sights: the Whistling Rocks, Thistle Cove, and Hellfire Bay. In the last, we sunbathed and swam. The waves crept up on us and dragged us further out than we realised at first, and then we rode them back to shore. 

We had the longest drive of the trip next. Esperance to Hyden is a significant drive, an estimated four hours, but in our speed-limited van facing traffic-lit roadworks, with ample breaks for stretching and using facilities, it took us closer to seven. By the time we reached our camp that evening, we were more than ready to arrive. We set up our tents for the final time and cooked dinner. After eating, we marked the final night with something two of us had prepared. First, a game of ‘guess the quote’ where I read out things people had said over the past nine days and we had to remember who had said it and why. This game showed us how much we’d gotten to know of each other so quickly, and was a laugh as we remembered some of the silly things we had said. Next, we presented ‘awards’ we’d made up for everyone in the group. They had titles such as ‘best backseat driver’, ‘award for making molehills out of mountains’, and ‘most accomplished girl scout’ and were a nice way to mark the last evening.

Day Ten

On the morning of our final day, I took a walk around our campsite, keen to stretch my legs before another afternoon in the van. I love walking, and it was great conditions for it: mild temperature, quiet (it was 6am), clear skies, an unfamiliar landscape to discover. Our campsite was a red dirt plain, crawling with ants, trees sparse around the edges. I didn’t walk long, though, as my solo time was interrupted by hordes of flies who were keen to cling to my back and shoulders to catch a ride. I know I’d been camping for the past ten days, but I couldn’t have smelled that bad! I batted them away and returned to my tent, listening to my friends’ snores until their alarms sounded and we began our usual routine.

Before we embarked on the journey back to Perth, we swung via Wave Rock. Wave Rock is a natural rock (shock) formation that resembles an ocean wave. It's fifteen metres tall and over a hundred long. Erosion, by natural and chemical forces, created the colourful structure we can see, which gives the impression of a running surface. 

Exhausted by the past few days, I slept for some of the journey back to Perth. Once we arrived, we had the task of cleaning the van and trailer inside and out, ready to be returned. Two of our team had volunteered to return the van after making several drop offs of us throughout the city, so our goodbyes took place on random pavements and street corners. 

Each one wasn’t really a goodbye – but a see you soon. This is the nature of travel friendships. Some people I already had plans to see again, others I just had confidence I will somewhere down the line. The parting can be hard, but it’s hopeful too. And it was a testament to the past ten days and the bonds we made, that we could feel this way.