Esperance to Cape LeGrand

 

On the eastern outskirts of Esperance is Whilie Beach, where you can drive the beach all the way to cape Le Grand a distance of about 25k. With tires down we ventured onto the beach. The sand was firm and the going was good. Cruising down the beach, we passed quite a few vehicles coming the other way and some going our way overtook us. We had a wonderful drive all the way to Cape LeGrand.

There was no camping there as the grounds were all full, so we visited all the beaches and points of intrest in the area. On the way to Rossiter Bay, in the east of the park, is Frenchmans Peak, a peak where at the right angle you get a view of the cave at the summit that is amazing.

Stayed all day exploring the park and being quite dark by the time we exited the boundary. 

We continued on till we came to a spot on the main road which was wide enough to get far enough off the road to be safe and crawled into bed for the night. In the morning we awoke to find we had parked in front of someone's house, practically on there front lawn. Had some breakfast and continued on our way.

Up the road was a little place called Wharton, on the coast. Out we went. A beautiful place with spectacular beaches.

A track led to the next bay along, so, went to check it out. Some way down it was apparent we were going to struggle to get all the way, so found a spot to turn around and went back.

Back to the main track and around to the next bay by the gravel road. We camped at that bay for a few days then backtracked to Condinup, a small town with a small shop and fuel point attached to the tavern. We bought lunch there and headed to the local oval where you can camp for free. Stayed there for four days and planned our next move and caught up on stuff needing phone signal, this blog included.

Windy Harbor to Esperance

 

From our adventure on the Windy Harbor track we went back to the main road leading to Albany. Detouring, as usual, to spots as we went. We came to Walpole, the home of valley of the giants, with a tree top walk high in the canopy of the magnificent trees there. We had visited the tree top walk with the kids all those years before, so didn’t see the need to repeat the experience. Though we remembered a small camp we visited next to a river at that time and set out to find it again.

About 20k west of Walpole was a road going to a crossing on Deep River, this was the place we thought. Up the track we went, as we approached the crossing it all came back to us. The river and camp site looked very familiar. We pulled up and walked around and soon were identifying land marks. There is an old photo we have of us at the camp some 24 years ago, tried to get one with same angle. No doubt, this was the place.

Spent four days there and then moved on. Topped up water and a few supplies at Walpole, then on to Denmark, after we looked about, it was time to move on. So to Albany it was, with the old sailing ship, which the kids played on all those years ago.

Around Albany we looked at some beach camp grounds but they were all full.

 The last one we looked at was down a fairly steep hill, and when going out again a loud crunching noise was coming from the back axle area. It didn’t sound good. When driving straight it was fine, but a couple of times when turning, it would do it again. Out on the main road was a rest stop with a gravel pit opposite. We pulled into the gravel pit to be out of the way and thought what to do.

After a day thinking, we decided it could be the rear diff playing up, so it had to be looked at. Ringing around Albany, it was apparent no one could look at it for another two weeks. So Esperance was tried and I found a truck place who could fit me in in the next couple of days. So with fingers crossed we set off on the 400k trip to Esperance.

Arriving in Esperance we camped at a rest area outside town and turned up at the mechanic the next morning.

 After describing the problem, I drove about the compound, but the noise would not appear no matter what I did. After more discussions and it was agreed to remove the diff Centre and inspect it.

 Long story short, no defects were found with the diff, but, after a complete inspection of all driveline parts when putting everything together again, a noise was detected in the rear wheel when adjusting the brakes. After pulling off the Brake drum, scoring of the brake shoes and rubble in the drum indicated there had been a rock or something in there and this was most probably the cause of the noise.

With a day spent at the mechanics. and a good sized bill paid, we were on the road again with the all clear. At least I knew my diff was in good shape.

Exploring the outskirts of Esperance we followed the road to the Pink Lake, which is not pink any more by the way, because of interference of the natural environment through development in the area. The road goes on to follow the coast and you end up back in town. Skirting the coastline you are treated to spectacular views of the beaches.

Found a track at the western end of this road and followed it to a secluded spot and we made our home base for the next week as we looked about Esperance a bit more.

To Windy Harbour

 

With the sporadic phone reception there, we worked out the weather was going to turn toasty to the tune of a couple of 44 degree days in the coming week. So with that in mind, and being behind large sand dunes, with not much chance of a cooling sea breeze, we opted to break camp and go to nearest town, Pemberton.

Pemberton, a sleepy little town perched on a hill, with vineyards scattered about it, about 30k from the coast. With the hot weather coming the next day, we treated ourselves to a motel room, with aircon and unlimited showers, paradise. Spent the day and night in comfort and only ventured out to the supermarket for some little special treats.

With the worst of the hot weather over for now, off we went on our way. Back to the coast and the small settlement of Windy Harbour.

The majority of houses were obviously holiday shacks but scattered amongst them were more substantial homes of the permanent residents. Had a good look around but didn’t stay.

On our way out we spotted a small track leading up the coast, with a ute stopped at the entrance. Stopping for a chat, the driver told us it led to a creek with good fishing and a camp site. Quizzing him about our chances of reaching there, he thought for a minute and said he thought we would, the track was good for the first 4k, then it got a bit soft in the sand for the remaining 4, he said, but he was confident it would be OK. So I moved on a bit and let Ned’s tyres down. We could always turn around if it got too difficult. We always like to check with locals where possible, regards to road conditions before heading into the unknown, then make up our own minds, with our knowledge of Ned’s capabilities and his drawbacks.

Driving the first half was as he had said, a mix of firm clay bits with some sand stretches, nothing Ned couldn’t handle.

 Then we must have passed the half way point, because the sand became deeper and softer. So soft in fact that in low range and having had to go right down to 1^st gear, we were barely moving, until poor old Ned couldn’t go another foot. Getting out, I surveyed the scene. The wheels were burried half way up, it was up to the axles in soft fine sand. The diffs and axles were like grader blades pushing a wall of sand in front of them, which had stopped us. Nothing to do but start digging. Fortunatly only about 15 meters away was some hard ground, so I only had to get that far to be out of the bog.

With a considerable amount of time clearing the sand from around and under Ned and preparing the track ahead, we were ready to try our luck. With a short move backwards, it was into 1^st gear again and Ned threw himself at the remaining stretch of sand. Ever so slowly we crawled out onto the solid ground.

It was getting late by now, so with a thank you kiss to Ned’s headlight and an affectionate pat to his mudguard we set up camp for the night.

With a reconnaissance of the track ahead, it was clear that this was the second half of soft stuff old mate had talked about. Normal 4x4s would struggle, but with our extra weight and the drawback of dual wheels on the rear Ned was at a disadvantage, and we had to come back again on the same track. In the morning, weighing all this up we decided to cut our losses and turn back.

Don’t get me wrong, I have faith in Ned to go anywhere any other 4x4 will go, but it is always good to know your limitations, Touch wood, I have never gotten into a situation where I couldn’t get myself out of. Mainly because I recognise the limit before plunging in deeper.

Another bout of digging to get out of the softest sand on the way out and we were on our way. All a bit of fun really.

To Augusta

 

South of Margaret Rover along the coast road and through the national park you go through the towering forests of Mari and Kari trees. Feeling like dwarfs steeling through some ancient, majestic, wonderland, we glided along. Then came a section where a large fire had recently burned through. Charred trees and scorched ground told of another hot blaze like the one at Canebrake. It will rejuvenate, but will take some time.

Taking some tracks to the coast at odd times, we finally came to Augusta. Taking the scenic rout we hugged the coast out to Cape Leeuwin and the famous lighthouse, which was getting rejuvenated and had scaffold all around it. More beaches and back into Augusta.

After Augusta we saught the clostest road to the coast we could find and proceeded to follow it to see what sights and adventures we could find.

On the map we saw a national parks camp site called Black Point, right on the coast. A sandy 4x4 track of course, but decided to give it a go. About half way down it was getting late, so finding a small pullover spot on the track we camped for the night.

In the morning a local came past and pulled up for a chat. We quizzed him about the condition of the track ahead, and he advised us the sand became very soft and deep further up and didn’t think we would make it all the way to the camp ground, but told us of another spot not too farr up. It was on private property but was accessable to campers as long as it was kept clean and tidy. With a bit more chat and a farewell, he was off.

This private camp was called White Point, and we gladly headed to it. The camp area was in toward the coastline but to get to the beach you had to negotiate a large, gouged out sand dune where others had obviously struggled to conquer, and as good as Ned is he was never going to climb that devil. Not to worry, we were happy at the clearing with no one around for miles.

Spent the next week there, with only a couple of other 4x4s going past to another clearing up the track for the weekend.

I went for a couple of hikes, exploring the area, and Din relaxed among the coastal gums and soaked up the solitude.

From Collie

 

As the map shows, we had covered a fair bit of the South West between Collie and Margaret River by meandering about.

Leaving the Christmas camp, first stop, Grimwade, a camp we had visited before, next to a billabong and in the shade of gum trees, a lovely spot. This time it was somewhat crowded, as most places this time of year. Also there were road works up the road and the water truck would come and fill up his tank every couple of hours, so we only spent the night there this time. In the morning an old vintage car drove down the road, out for a leisurely drive.

Continuing on, we passed through Nannup, a small pretty town, with small tourist shops which were bustling with travellers and locals. We would have liked to wander about but in these times thought better of mixing with the crowds. So on to Canebrake Rd. , where we had found a clearing in the pine forest next to a small dam last time we passed through the area. Camped up there for a few days and did some washing.

While there, a local goanna strolled past and dug a hole in a mound of dirt, looking for lunch, then continued on his merry way.

A fire had gone through the national park just up the road since we had been there only a few weeks before. We drove through the area on our way out and the devastation was heartbreaking, once pristine forest was now ashes, all because a camper had used a Weber BBQ on a fire ban day.

Now we were heading to Margaret River to continue our explorations of the coast south to Augusta.

Back to Collie for Christmas

 

From the grass tree camp we went south to Margaret River and were amazed again at the changes since last we were there. Christmas was fast approaching and we had not found an appropriate camp site. My sister was also travelling WA and wanted to meet up over xmassandd an old friend who lived in Perth was also coming to meet up, so we decided to head back to a private spot we had found on the river outside Collie. It was only a few hours from Perth and both our guests were coming from that direction.

It was just right for our meet up. So we meandered back. As always taking a different route, might as well see as much different country as you can as you travel.

We spent the two weeks leading up to Christmas at the river campsite with only one other camper coming in to check the place out, just the type of spot we like.

My Sister and her husband and their dog arrived and we erected a tarp for shade with a fly screen tent for a food prep area as the flys can get very friendly in the heat of the day. Our friends from Perth came a few days later and we had a couple of days catching up and an enjoyable time.

Christmas day was low key, but a pork roast with all the trimmings and a fair bit of Christmas cheer made for a great day.

The weather was fine and hot, but the cool waters of the creek and a light breeze made it bearable. Although, as we found, you could not stay still for too long in the creek as leeches would attach themselves to any exposed body part. After discovering this, we just kept moving when in the water and all was fine.

After New year it was time for us to move on, so with fond farewells we packed up camp and went our separate ways. For us, it was South West, back to Margaret River and continue our way South along the coastline.

On one of the roads out of  Collie, an unusal overpass we came across.

Also visited the dam close to the town. Mural on the dam wall was amazing.

South West Coast

 

After a couple of days on the river we headed to the coast again. Starting at Bunbury we found roads that hugged the coast where we could. Down to Busselton and around and up to Cape Naturaliste. We had been here 23 years ago and the change is remarkable, coastal development and new suburbs everywhere. Progress has stretched it’s arms and enveloped the whole coastline. Inevitable, but in our mind a shame.

Nothing held us too long but it was interesting to see the changes. At the tip of Cape Naturaliste we turned South, still following the coast on the main road till we came to a 4wd track that followed the coastline further over towards the sea. This was our sort of road. It was called the Three Bears Track, don’t know why, but off we went.

The track weaved it’s way along the ruggard coastline, not a difficult drive, but somewhat slow, with some large holes and rocks to negotiate. After camping at a small clearing on the track we set off again in the morning.

Around lunchtime we were nearly at the point where the track meets the main road again. There was an area we drove through with a stand of grass trees with very thick trunks, looking at them they resembled little African huts.

It was interesting enough to spend a bit of time there, so that was our camp for another couple of days.

Forest Road To Collie

 

From the river road we went westward to the coast and Bunbury, where we replenished our food and water supplies. Not hanging about we soon headed bush again, taking a forestry road heading east again. After a few hours, and deep into the state forrest we came to a bridge over a small but deep creek. At the side of the bridge was a small clearing which looked inviting as a camp. Without delay we drove down and parked up, another magic campsite in a beautiful setting with a creek bubbling by.

Another five days spent relaxing and enjoying our surroundings. While there I tried my luck with the little yabby pot we carry and caught a nice sized marron from the crystal clear water.

On the way out we came across a huge Marri tree just on the side of the track. These trees are the giants of the forest, stretching to the heavens, with trunks many meters in diameter. It was awesome to walk around this lone monster of the forest.

We followed the road out till it brought us to the small coal mining town of Collie. Had a look around town then headed off to find a camp on the river outside town.

The River Road

 

After some time we found ourselves at Dwelingup, a small town Southeast of Perth. As always we sought out the road less travelled out of town, and followed a track winding beside the Murray river.

It had rained recently and there were some bog holes in the track filled with water, but the majority of it was a bit rough, but dry. Meandering along the river bank, passing some clear spots in the vegetation, giving us a glimpse of the river surging over rocks and gliding past the muddy banks, it was an enjoyable drive.

Enjoyable, that is, until, we came to a stretch in the track, covered in water. With a false sense of security, I ploughed straight in and got half way across then came to an abrupt halt.

The wheel ruts of previous vehicles had dug deep into the mud and I had slipped into these ruts with the diffs dragging on the centre hump. Not to mention, poor old Ned wasn’t even in 4wd.

Nothing for it but to get out and start digging. I could back up enough to start digging where the front diff had dug itself in deep enough to stop Ned in his tracks, so I dug a trench from there to the point where the ruts got shallow, throwing the mud into the deepest rut. After some time, and Ned now in 4wd, we were able to drive out.

Continuing up the track, it was getting late in the day, so when we came to a clearing beside the river we pulled in and camped up.

Just as well, a bit further up the track were two more bog holes, these ones much deeper and no way around. I walked these and discovered the wheel ruts were up to my thighs and full of muddy water. It was doable, if I stayed on the high points between the ruts and didn’t slip off and dig the diffs in as before.

We stayed there for a few days and I spent my time walking the bogs and picking my line through as well as throwing what rocks I could find into the deepest spots. I also took the front hubs apart on Ned as I had been hearing a loud squeak when braking. I cleaned all break parts and repacked the wheel bearings with fresh grease and put it all back together.

After a few days of nervous thoughts of worst case scenarios, we were ready to head off again. Crawling up to the first bog hole, we lined ourselves up and with Din holding tight and screaming COME ON NED, we dove in. With water spraying out the sides from the tyres we managed to stick to the high bits and cruised through. Hooting and laughing we pulled up to the next and last hole.

This was the deepest and most worrying one. Studding the best line to take, we again plunged into the mire. All was well, till a meter or so from the end, when Ned slipped into the deep ruts. Fortunately we had enough momentum to claw our way to dry ground. Another burst of sequels and laughter and we were on our way.

The Central Wheat Belt

 

The months have passed so quickly since we left the Holland Track and continued on to Hyden. I have had a blog break and now it is time to catch up and get back into the saddle.

After exploring Hyden, the home of Wave Rock, we made a short visit to the famous wave shaped rock. A large resort type caravan park and fenced off rock with pay to enter machines and tourist gift shop greeted us. While we are not against this kind of development, it just is not us, besides we have come across smaller but similar type monoliths elsewhere, so we soon left and continued our travels.

Just outside Hyden, heading north, is a salty lake where we found a waterside camp spot and spent a few days parked up. A flying mishap on the Holland Track rendered the drone unusable, just as I was getting the hang of flying it properly. I was bitten by the bug. So after some thought, we decided an early Christmas present of a new one was in order. After searching on line I found the right one in Perth and ordered it to be sent to the post office in Narembeen, northwest from where we were.

Spent the next week or so wandering about the area until it was time to pick up the package. From Narembeen we headed west toward the coast, looking for potential camp sites for Christmas. The holidays were on there way, and with them the holiday makers coming to crowd out the secluded spots we love so much.

As I said before, I have had a break from blogging and, it would seem from taking photos and videos as well, there are none to add to this that I can find.