History lesson

In 2014, the (relative) isolation of Western Australia's nearly 8000 miles (nearly 13,000km) of coastline is a wonderful and welcome thing. Even today there are hardly more than a few handfuls of coastal communities along this vast stretch, and most of them clustered in southwest corner of the state. But I wonder what it would have been like to be the first and only two Europeans left on this desolate stretch of land in the year 1629.

The stretch of beach where the two young Dutch sailors are thought to have been deserted

Western Australia gives a whole new meaning to the term 'big sky' (sorry Montana). Vast open skies that are so alluring during the daylight hours and positively mesmerising at sunset become oppressive and all-encompassing after nightfall. This is a rare corner of the world where night is still truly pitch black. I would think that the first night  for these first settlers must have been awfully scary, the relentless roar of the surf, the complete darkness and maybe even a visit from some curious local wildlife.

But I get ahead of myself, the story of how two young Dutchmen ended up stranded on a lonely stretch of beach near present day Kalbarri is exactly the kind of bonkers tale that Australia seems to produce at remarkably frequent intervals.

The Western Australia coast is dotted with reefs, rocks and outlying islands which to this day are a hazard for maritime vessels. The coast is literally littered with shipwrecks. In 1629 a Dutch ship, the Batavia, ran aground on some offshore islands and although over half of the passengers were drowned or swept out to sea, there were roughly 200 survivors which included an unsuspecting captain and several crew who had already been planning a mutiny for some weeks.

Captain Francisco Pelsaert along with a handful of loyal crew members hopped in a longboat and set off for Jakarta. Unbelievably, they made it to Jakarta and back again in about five months. That in itself is extraordinary, but what happened in their absence is even more bizarre - and grim. The would-be mutineers led by a religious zealot and all-round nutcase, Jeronimus Cornelisz swiftly began picking off survivors who were not a part of their merry-band, seeing them as a drain on very limited resources. In total they viciously murdered about 125 of the 200 survivors.

Wittecarra Creek

In another seemingly impossible twist of fate, some of the survivors managed to escape to a nearby sandbar and very narrowly managed to hail the captain first upon his return and explain the situation. Cornelisz and his top henchmen were hanged on the spot and others were shackled and transported back to Jakarta for trial and ultimately, hanging.

 For reasons unknown, Pelsaert took pity on two of the younger offenders and delivered them to the mainland, on a stunning but desolate stretch of beach just outside of present day Kalbarri.

Today a small out-of-the-way stone monument commemorates the occasion. It is just a hundred meters or so down a dirt track marked only as Wittecarra Creek. There is a single parking space and the track gives way to sand before it peters out on the beach. You'd be lucky to stumble upon it if you didn't know to look for it.

As most people know, Australia later became a British penal colony (the Dutch lost interest in Australia after a few too many expensive and deadly encounters with the aforementioned coastal hazards) but the irony that the first two permanent white settlers in Australia were of criminal stock did not escape me.

No one knows what happened to our two young sailors. Whether they lived out their days fishing and enjoying the glorious sunsets of Western Australia, died of starvation or thirst or fell in with some friendly or unfriendly Aborigines is unknown.

Australia is full of this kind of stuff. In the words of Roman Mars, Always Read the Plaque.

Kalbarri Redux

We've just spent a few fabulous days in Kalbarri, Western Australia. This trip wasn't breaking new ground for us, we were here about five years ago. But the opportunity to return to far flung places is a real luxury and last time we were here, we didn't have nearly enough time to do it justice.

In Western Australia terms, this place isn't particularly far flung. We are a mere 6.5 hours north of Perth. Western Australia covers an area roughly the same size as the continental United States from the Rocky Mountains to the West Coast, that's a big space.

Even more astounding is that the entire population of Western Australia is only 2.5 million people - and 1.7 million of those people live in Perth, leaving a mere 800,000 people dotted around the rest of state. For a bit of context, that's like if the population of Utah was spread over the entire western 1/3 of the United States. Western Australia makes the American West look and feel crowded.

Back to Kalbarri. Kalbarri is a hokey little town with 2 pubs and about 3 fish and chip shops. You can get a decent cup of coffee and there is a moderately well-stocked supermarket. Everything you need for a few days exploring and not much more.

Like so many other places in Western Australia, I'm sure that if Kalbarri was located anywhere else it would be world famous. Sure, the population of town swells in the summer months and there is a steady trickle of grey nomads the rest of the year, but it's hardly the worldly destination that it would be if it weren't so remote. This suits me just fine.

Kalbarri is planted at the mouth of the Murchison River where it empties into the Indian Ocean. The Murchison River has carved out  a stunning series of gorges that makes up the bulk of the National Park.

This trip we managed to complete the 9km Loop Trail that plunges down into the gorge and follows the sandy banks of the river before it turns into a (at times poorly) marked trail that leaves you scrambling along precarious weathered red rocks hanging over the river. Eventually you make the steep climb out of the gorge and follow the relatively narrow ridge of the gorge wall (about a 150 meter drop down to the river) back to where you started. It's a brilliant class 4 (out of 6) hike and suggests 3.5-5 hours to complete it. We did it in 3 hours with a lunch break. It would be a punishing trip in the summer when temperatures can soar to 50C/120F. We did it in a mild 16C/60F.

The other big attraction at Kalbarri is the stunning, and I do mean stunning, coast line. A dramatic stretch of bright red cliffs follow the coast south of the town and to the north 200km of sandy dunes stretch all the way to the World Heritage area of Shark Bay. There are numerous paths and lookout points along the coast, or you can do as we did and ditch the trails and (cautiously) climb along the cliffs.

The surf along this stretch of coast is relentless and provides a steady stream of brilliant turquoise waves. Year-round it is pretty easy to spot dolphins, whales and seals (we've seen all of the above this trip) but if you miss out on the local wildlife, the local surfers make a pretty good consolation prize as they gather in the late afternoon to show off their skills as the brilliant sun slips into the sea.

On the Road Again

Badly needing a break from the city and taking advantage of a holiday weekend (the Queen's birthday, although not actually the Queen's birthday . . .) Anyway, we left Catface in the capable hands of the teenager upstairs (who was only too happy to binge on Netflix and try to woo Catface all weekend) and hopped a flight up to Brisbane.

Fully embracing his wannabe inner-Aussie, Ian has been dying to hit the road in campervan. Second only to surfing and consuming alcoholic beverages outdoors, road-tripping in a beat up VW Microbus or campervan is about the most quintessentially Australian activity in which one can participate.

Unfortunately for us, we don't own a VW Microbus and renting campervans is not as cheap as it should be.  By time you factor in the extra fuel consumption, campsite fees and rental costs you break even with cheap flights and basic motels. However, given the long distances that people frequently cover in Oz, there are a lot of one-way rentals which means they need to get back to their place of origin.

Hello campervan relocation schemes! If you've got a bit of flexibility and can plan at the last minute, you can get a one-way relocation deal which usually means you get the campervan for $1 a day so long as you get it back to the home city by the required date - the best deals even include a fuel allowance.

Anyway, Ian managed to get a Brisbane to Sydney relocation on the Tuesday morning and by Friday morning we were headed for the airport. We had a fab night out in Brisbane where everyone is super fit and falls into one of two categories - hipster or homeless chic.

Early the next morning we collected our wobbly wheels and knocking barely 2 hours and 200 kilometres off the 11 hour/1000km journey home we nipped out of Queensland just back over the border into New South Wales and parked ourselves at the Brokenhead Holiday Park at Byron Bay for the next two nights. (*No one availed themselves of the Chemical Dump Point during out stay. Phew.)

In this fairly populous corner of Oz, beach camping and sleeping in laybys etc. is strictly prohibited and even more strictly enforced. So we joined dozens of other holidaymakers who also had the brilliant idea to live outdoors less conveniently and practically on top of each other in what some countries would probably be considered a well-organised refugee camp. This desire to camp in such close quarters with complete strangers has always slightly baffled me, but Australians are so good-natured that within about 10 minutes you're best friends with your new neighbour as you stand outside with a beer admiring each others wheels and swapping traffic notes.

Byron Bay is a big destination in Australia - and rightfully so. The scenery isn't as dramatic as some spots along the West Coast, nor does it feel particularly remote (because it isn't), but it is still undeniably beautiful.

Given Byron Bay's huge popularity two things struck me immediately:

1. There are virtually no permanent structures on any of the beaches in the area. A few have tasteful holiday cottages owned by the Park Service, but even they are set back into the treeline enough that they are barely visible. No concrete monstrosities here. Amazing.
2. We did not see (and I do not exaggerate) a single piece of garbage or litter the entire time. If Switzerland had a coast, this is what it would be like.

To be honest those two factors alone were more than enough to win me over, but the hikes and beaches are pretty stunning too.
After two surprisingly comfortable nights in our van and far too much red wine and red meat we began our journey back south. Our plan was to do the rest of the journey in a single blitz, but we did want to make a quick detour just south of Coff's Harbor to check out the fabled Waterfall Way.

Considered a top scenic drive in NSW, this route is more Ferngully than Baywatch and makes for a pleasant if abrupt change of scenery. Turning away from the coast you head into the hills of Australia's Great Dividing Range (it's not as dramatic as it sounds, more Appalachian than Rocky) but the route shoots you into the Gondwana Rainforest - a World Heritage Site and the most extensive subtropical rainforest in the world. Unfortunately our exploration time was pretty limited, but we did head into Dorrigo National Park to check out the Rainforest Centre and even squeezed in a quick 3km hike to one of the Park's prize waterfalls (we'll be back for more in the future).

All too soon we were back on the road and headed south as clouds gathered over the distant Pacific and the sun set behind the hills of the Great Dividing Range.