Wide open spaces

We drove up the Dampier Penisular not sure exactly where we would stay but knowing we had four nights until we were due at the northernmost point at Cape Leveque, where we had booked a beach shack for the first two nights of August. 100km of the road was one of the roughest and most unpleasant to drive that we had encountered so far, even worse than the reputedly worst sections of the Gibb.  It had corrugations combined with an undulating, sandy, uneven road with sections where the sides of the roads sloped inwards making it difficult when passing other vehicles.  Not long after we got off the dirt and back onto a sealed road, we stopped in at the small township of Beagle Bay to check out a church that had been beautifully decorated throughout with thousands of shells from the local area.  It was an amazing sight and the kids had fun looking at all the many different types of shells.

Only another 20km or so along the main road we turned off and were back on an unsealed, sandy road heading towards Smithy’s Seaside Adventures, an indiginous community owned campsite right on the beach, around the corner from the more commercial Middle Lagoon.  Having driven past some controlled burning that was so close to the side of the road that we felt the heat through the windows as well as almost getting bogged in the deep sand on the way to the campsite we were very relieved once we finally arrived. The place was just what the doctor ordered.  Our campsite was right on the beach with plenty of space to spread out and shift tables and chairs as the shade moved, a luxury not afforded to us in the more commercial campgrounds.  As an added bonus, for the first and last nights we had the whole place to ourselves, again a luxury we have rarely enjoyed.

We were joined by a lovely family from Byron Bay for the middle two nights who thankfully provided us with a little bit of company without being intrusive. We really slowed down our pace of life over these four days enjoying lazy mornings spent beachcombing for some of the most amazing and bountiful collections of shells, and playing with hermit crabs on the beach in the afternoons.  The kids were amazed when we told them they had walked about 2-3kms along the beach each day – they had been so distracted by the shells and hermit crabs that the metres had just disappeared effortlessly.  If only the walks back from the gorges had captured their attention so intently. We were also treated to a distant display by some whales one day, slapping their flippers as they passed by.

We were sad to leave Smithy’s but excited to be heading to our beach shack site at Kooljamin Campground at Cape Leveque.  This had been recommended by a fellow travelling mate as a lovely treat after the dirt and dust of the Gibb.  Unfortunately we hit a hiccup as we tried to leave.  We were all packed up and ready to go but Iggy just wouldn’t start.  We had run the car briefly that morning to charge up the second battery, which had been drained by the freezer overnight, and it seemed that the main battery was now dead.  Fortunately the gods were smiling on us.  I’d been singing the praises of our campsite to a couple on the beach the previous day who were not entirely happy with their choice of campground and lo and behold, they had turned up to Smithy’s just as were finishing our packup so were able to give us a jump start!  The family who owned the campsite had been called away for the day due to a family emergency so without these fellow travellers we would have been royally stuck.

We were on our way and after the initial 20 mins or so of sandy road, we were back on the bitumen and it wasn’t long before we got to Cape Leveque.  The beach was as picturesque as promised, with turquoise waters lapping up against white squeaky sand.  We enjoyed an afternoon wander along the beach, an explore around the rocks, a swim and an early evening cheese, biccies and bevvy (slushy poppas for the kids) before lighting the fire and and cooking our bbq dinner over the coals.  What a perfect way to end the day.

Sadly, that was where the perfection ended.  The wind picked up to an unseasonal 40km per hour with 60km gusts and by midnight, Stu and I were both wide awake and worried that the camper trailer’s tent would not survive the night.  Despite being tied down, the awning poles were lifting off the ground and threatening to pop out of their fixtures and the whole tent was being buffeted from side to side so wildly that we were worried it might collapse entirely.  Even the trailer was rocking, not a mean feat given it weighs close to 1,500 kilos.  Em woke up about an hour or so later and came up into our bed after a tent pole escaped its hold and fell onto her bed, narrowly missing her. Oli, the lucky duck, slept through the whole thing.

After a sleepless and worried six hours, morning finally arrived and though the wind hadn’t eased at all (if anything it was getting stronger), at least it was light making it easier to get up and do something about it.  We managed to get the awning down without damage, a massive relief as the thought of something major going wrong with our ‘home’ wasn’t worth thinking about.  After checking the weather forecast and learning that this front was due to last through until the same time the next day, and likely be worse overnight than the one we had just endured, we made the decision to abort our “idyllic paradise” and head back to Broome where even if windy, should at least be more protected than where we currently were, exposed to the elements on the northernmost tip of the peninsular.