We just overnighted there - and enjoyed a bargain seafood platter at the local bowling club thanks to a voucher from the caravan park. Honestly, where would this country be without its bowling clubs?
From there Paul and I made a quick trip into a mad little pocket of coastal land called The Pinnacles. It's a funny little mini-desert, virtually right on the coast, and completely dotted with small rock formations rising out of the ground. Quite intriguing. And as I was feeling very lazy-bonesy that morning, I was delighted to learn you could drive through it, instead of having to walk. Hurrah! (You can walk through it too, if you're feeling even remotely energetic.)
Various shots of the Pinnacles. See, I didn't just sit in the car the whole way. |
At one point we advised a gent on his camera, who wanted to know whether megabytes or gigabytes were bigger.
The road from there took us north, toward Geraldton and through beautiful lush farmland. Until, just south of Geraldton, we found a gorgeous stretch of beach and decided to make it home for the following few days.
We were happy with it, anyway. I can't say the same for the fish that ended up in our bellies. Other campers who came along and discovered we'd nabbed the best spot may not have been quite as impressed, either.
We'd been on the move almost every day since leaving home and it was finally time to kick back in one spot for a while. And kick back we did. There were walks along the beach, a brief, ankle-deep paddle in the wintry Indian Ocean, drinks as the sun went down over the water, fishing expeditions and morning sleep-ins.
I made a dent in the stack of magazines that had been building up at home and I'd bought along. I baked a cake. And, with the smidge of network coverage available, I even caught up on a couple of emails.
The most arduous part was trudging through the thick sand to get anywhere. Well, it was until our final night there. Then circumstances became decidedly more arduous...
Beautiful Flat Rock beach. Photos courtesy of my mother. Thanks Mum. The orange tent is ours. No idea who the surfer is - quite a few turned up during the weekend we were there. |
To be continued...