26  Coastal Camping,  Four Wheel Driving and more Down the West Australian Coast.

Warroora Station was so different to so many stations in that we were very isolated from other campers with little sign of other life.  We camped between large sand dunes butting the Indian Ocean.
The road in was daunting, getting narrower and steeper with no chance of turning around.

Not sure what the bones were but they seemed far bigger than anything alive today. 

Driving into the site and getting worried towing the van as the road kept getting narrower, steeper and sandier. 

Over the big dipper and down the other side. 

Camp sites, sand-hills, our own reef lagoon and the Indian Ocean. 

4WD is a necessity.
So too are sand shoes. 

Taking in our reef lagoon.

A walk and a snork in our private reef lagoon.
Face lifts by face masks. 

Our Warroora Campsite
No issues with neigbours or trees here. 

What are those grey fluffy things in the sky?
Clouds....indicating we are heading south and the weather pattern is changing. 

Beethoven's Ninth Symphony.
(The Choral Symphony)
The blend of the waves breaking on the reef and waves washing up on the beach as the orchestra; joined by sea gulls as the voices, was akin to the B9.
The feel was more like the first movement of the Pastoral Symphony, the B6. 

When the going gets tough the tough get going!

Waiting expectantly. 

Quobba was a detour to see the famous blowholes and possibly do some more snorkelling.
We, however, moved straight on down to Carnarvon in order to try and get out of the wind.  There had been just one too many bad hair days.

Salt pans bordered the road towards Quobba. 

Algae giving a different hue. 

Quobba Blowhole
Like a fossilised whale.  

Warning signs told of loss of life here and hence suggested not going too close and never turning your back.
These folk are trying to win a Darwin Award by removing themselves from the gene pool. 

Crows Nest
Most of the poles in the area had wheel rims attached for bird nesting.
Crows had taken up most of them.
Osprey came home to roost in other rims on other poles.  

Carnarvon gave us respite from the wind after being buffeted for what seems like weeks.
It was also a time to reflect on the battle between the HMAS Sydney(II) and the Kormoran which occurred on 19th November 1941, resulting in the greatest loss of life in the history of the RAN, as well as being the loss of the largest allied ship with all hands during WW2.

Carnarvon is also known as the Fruit Bowl of Western Australia. We enjoyed touring through the orchards and stocking the pantry.

Memorial to the Sydney(II)  form WW2 which went down with loss of all 645 sailors on board off the WA coast near here.  

Kormoran Memorial. 318 of the 399 on board made it to shore or were recovered at sea. 

Beautifully prepared memorial plaques in alphabetical order, one for each lost soul from the HMAS Sydney(II). 

Kormoran life boat at Carnarvon.
This boat made it to shore north of Carnarvon.

Carnarvon had so many other standout features.

Hardy locals growing out of very infertile soil. 

We were enchanted to see some of our indigenous cousins spear fishing in the shallows of Carnarvon.

Aid to Japanese Whale research. 

What could be better than seeing a Rainbow Bee-eater in the wild?

Seeing two Rainbow Bee-eaters; and being seen by one. 

The train was late!!
WA for Western Australia also means Windy Always and Wait Awhile.

Francois Peron National Park bordering Shark Bay is unique in that no tour buses enter the area, with only high clearance four wheel drive vehicles allowed, provided that tyres are deflated to 20psi at the start. We later deflated to 16psi, as did many others to avoid the embarrassment of becoming bogged.
Perched on top of the cape, we sat for morning tea and watched life pass us by in the ocean. Sharks, rays, dolphins, a Dugong (sea cow) and calf.  All in crystal clear water.

The track seemed endless, 140kms round-trip, much of it in soft sand. 

Thorny Devil rescued from the track.
Thorny Devils can live for 15 - 20 years provided they don't sunbake on tracks frequented by vehicles. 

Skipjack Point at the NE extremity of the Francois Peron National Park. 

Volunteers checking the foundations of the viewing platform seemingly built on a sand cliff. 

There is always someone waiting to photo bomb a shot. 

Zoomed out through necessity. 

Red and white somehow segregated. 

A Dugong and calf photographed from the cliff top.
At least the bird stayed out of the water to make photographing easier. 

Dolphins formed part of the parade. 

If a large red starfish could be imagined on the centre of the beach, this image would be the same as the flag of Yugoslavia from 1918 to 1992

Falling away from the cliff edge to live another day. 

The colours were so different and completely unmixed.

The long and winding road disappearing over the horizon.
The sand is soft to walk on, however it still forms corrugations which at 40kph are as hard to drive on as a hard gravel road. 

The WA government is investing incredible amounts of money on infrastructure for tourism.
This again is in an area only accessible by 4WD. 

In 1922, a bore was struck to the depth of 540m at the Peron Homestead to provide water for livestock, domestic uses (but not drinking due to the saltiness) and recreation.
When uncapped, it flowed at the rate of 170,000 litres per day at a constant 40C.
We left the National Park and entered the old station to soak away the sand from between the toes.

A 40C tub to conclude the day at the Peron Station.

After sitting in a 40C tub following 140kms of sand driving, it was time to call it a day.
The same applies to this blog.
Wishing all well as we continue south.

Cheers, Don and Carrol.