Around Oz the First Time - Chapter 83 - Esperance Day 2

So, here we are, in a place we missed on our last trip to this side of the country. Now, what shall we do, that we did not have the chance to do last time?

Rosalie has not felt well during the night, neither has Silver Leader. Robyn also is not at 100% and wouldn’t mind a little more of a sleep in, after we awoke. You don’t have to tell me more than once, if there is a chance, and there is water near, fishing is on the cards.

Here I can go for a throw of lures for an hour of two and not impinge on anyone’s time. I quickly pack a bag with lures, gobble down some spinach pie and head out. Its freezing outside, so I immediately return for a pull over. Next issue, where to go, I have spied rocks to the right of us, but how to get there. I certainly do not want to go the beach route we went last night, as the entry to the beach is in the middle and a long way from the rocks.

There must be another way across, especially as we have seen people bushwalking on top of the hills overlooking the rocks where I wish to fish. Armed with two rods and my bag I head off, I find a gap at the back of some vans, and surprisingly there are two options I can take. I can go to the beach, or I can head right, along what appears to be a bush track towards the hill. Discretion being the better part of valour, would have suggested the beach, but I have a hunch the bush track might be the way.

Along the front of the camping sites, and up into the bush a little, the track forks, not with a beach versus bush sign, but two different walking tracks. One purports to go over the hill and towards the next beach, while the other to a monument to Matthew Flinders, some sixty metres down and towards the beach. Here again I take the easy option, the sixty metres towards the beach, as logic suggests, that is the correct direction.

I am right, as just past yet another fork (suggesting it is still sixty metres to the monument), there is access to the beach, right where it ends, and the rocks start. Great guessing on my part. There is even a path of sorts towards the spot where I want to engage in the spot of fishing, I am prepared. It’s not even a scramble over the rocks, and they are smooth, sandstone and dry, making traversing easy. I go until I find another fisherman and see he is flicking plastic shads, without luck.

I push on, until I meet a couple, probably as far as I can go, who seem to be well into their style of fishing. They suggest to me, they saw people fishing here last night with a balloon, and are trying their luck, with frozen squid for bait. The girl is having issues getting the balloon and the bait into the very deep water from our perch high above the water. Her partner swaps his rod, with a paternoster rig, accompanied by a very large sinker, and re-rigs the rod for her.

I set my gear down and attach a large slug lure to my 24kg gear and start hurling it into the water. I have only one hit, and that might have been a hunk of seaweed, so I change to a squid lure, not a squid jig, but a lure in the shape of a squid, with even less luck. While I am fishing, the male gets into a fish. His line is bending well and I am expecting something significant.

He is disappointed with the result, and I laugh a little. He has caught a Sergeant Baker, a very bony fish, that unless it is upwards of about 2 kilograms, is really too bony to eat. Being from the Northern Territory, they have not seen a fish like this before, and ask me for an identification, which I am more than happy to provide. With frustration, the fish is thrown back and we all continue.

Knowing I do not have a huge amount of time, and I want to try my hand at squid catching, I bid them farewell from this spot, high above the deep water, and head back to a bald rock where I cam onto the rocks. It has a large weed bed around it and could be a place squid might hide. I reset the rig for squid and give it about half an hour before I give up and head back to camp.

At camp, everyone seems to feel better having breakfast. Ok then, I suggest, if the want to, everyone can pile into the Cruiser shortly and they can come with us on our version of exploration of Esperance.

At the appointed time, everyone is in and we are off. Immediately kangaroos jump across in front of us, but at a safe distance away thankfully. Driving along we see Frenchman’s Peak. This is a huge rock with a hole in the middle, well a cave which goes right through, almost at the top of the rock. From the car park, reasonably well up the rock, it is 237 metres further to climb. Forbsy suggests that is a job for the home stretch. Snaps are taken from the observing platform, then we are back on the trail of adventure.

There are emus and waterfowl, as well as domestic animals all the way into town. We have camped some 68 kilometres out of town, and it is a decent drive back in. First order of business for Silver Leader and Rosalie, is some grocery shopping to tide them over, as we cross the Nullarbor, as well as a visit to the pharmacy.

Robyn and I give them the keys to the Cruiser so they can stash their purchases, once completed, then they can call us to come back. I am feeling a bit peckish, having breakfasted before fishing this morning and I spied a French Bakehouse on the way in. Its not a long walk, and we have a little time, so I drag Robyn kicking and screaming in that direction. Once there she orders a cup of tea and an apple and custard slice, while I indulge in a cheesecake tart.

We take much merriment in messaging some of our friends with the delicacies we are about to devour, even following up (pictures included) with notes suggesting there is no point telling us we should not indulge. We get a couple of bites from the friends as we pass the time waiting for the others to complete their shopping.

The real reason of the walk was to find the Information Centre, so we could perhaps find some brochures on what to do in Esperance. In the meantime, Robyn needs a toilet and she goes looking while I check out the local real estate agent. No sooner have I stuck my nose into the window, looking at the properties for sale, than Robyn rings, the toilets across the street are locked. There is a tooting of a car horn in the background, and Robyn lets fly an expletive. She has run into her cousins Merve and Margaret again, this time as she was about to cross the road, back to me.

What are the chances, twice in the time of the trip? They have spent 3 weeks in Broome with their daughter, and now are tootling around. They suggest we go to the Information Centre and grab a magazine, entitled simply Esperance, it comes with a map, and a historic drive we can do around the countryside looking at all things this town is noted for. This sounds a brilliant idea, so we head back to the car to wait for the others (we now know where the Information Centre is, having asked a Council worker). As we are almost back to the Cruiser, Silver Leader rings and confirms they are awaiting our arrival.

The Information Centre is not far further up the street than we had already been. We pull in and Silver Leader spies a sign “Ugg Boots for Sale” and spears off in that direction, closely followed by the others, while I go to the Information Centre to obtain a copy of the magazine. The reception person at the Information Centre happily give me the magazine, but suggests there is a better brochure with a much more detailed map to follow, and she hands me it as well. Now off to find the others, before they spend the inheritances.

The Ugg Boot Shop is in the middle of an “old town” display. There are old buildings, all with signs designating what they used to be, as well as the present use. As well as the sale of Ugg Boots, there is a coffee shop, a massage shop, a physiotherapist and a doctor’s surgery, in what used to be matron’s quarters, hospitals and quartermaster lodgings. We haven’t even started the historic drive and we are getting a short history of Esperance right here.

Back to the Ugg Boot Shop, Robyn has found some slippers to replace her “wearing” ones, Forbsy has found a very elegantly cut piece of glass moulded into a ball and Rosalie a painted picture of the beach at which we are camped. The Ugg Boot shop does well from us.

Finally, I get them all into the Cruiser and we are off. The first point of interest is a whale tail statue, not far from our starting point. All piling out, there are snaps to take, vantage points to be shared, and “buns” to be frozen off. The wind has become very biting. We left the van park, all hoping some sun would shine to replenish our batteries, but it is overcast, and looking more ominous as we travel further, not to mention the temperature is not rising at all.

Taking in the port from three separate locations, then to a Rotary sponsored lookout, an impressive structure allowing an uninterrupted view of the port from above, the surrounding beaches and the town. On a clear day, which today is not, the views to the ocean and the islands surrounding Esperance would be stunning, but today there is a haze, brought on by the cloud and wind whipping spray off the lifeless sea. Add the wind to the equation and the lookout is not a place you need to be for very long.

There are now a number of beaches to investigate along the road. Each one has its own aura about it. The sand here is powdery bleached white, almost flour like in texture. The beaches starkness against the azure of the ocean above them, the ominous darkness of the rocks guarding them, and backed  by trees, green on top, but looking like they sit on rocks, but rather have almost dead looking trucks and branches, giving them the look of the foliage sitting on rocks rather than as part of trees, makes for a spectacle, that no matter which beach you are on, is different yet similar.

Towards the end of the beaches portion of the drive there are two lagoons, places where the reefs are exposed, yet the water runs around them, through them and over them, creating pockets of water, captured by the tides. One of these lagoons stretches probably a kilometre in both directions from the break in the reef that created it. These lagoons seem to create the perfect place for the younger swimmer, yet clothes are optional, much to the funny bone sense of humour.

There is a wind farm here, and it is part of the tour, but we are not interested, it is getting close to lunch time, and we have been all over a wind farm in a previous tour. Lunch is slated for a brewery which according tot the map is towards the end of the tour, although there are rumours of it having been relocated. Forbsy pipes in that according to Google, the establishment is a bring your own snacks, which does not augur well for lunch type repasts.

Before then is the pink lake. We are expecting what we encountered at Port Gregory, but we are sadly disappointed. There is no colour to the lake at all. We pull up at the observation point and Robyn jumps out to investigate why we are not seeing a phenomenon like at Port Gregory. She returns with the news that the issue is man caused. A railway has separated two lakes, meaning salinity levels have dropped and the redness has disappeared. We muse this should be called “Used to be Pink Lake”.

All jokes aside, where is the brewery? It is not in the spot as designated on the map. The rumours musty have been correct. Shock, horror, what are we going to do – consult Google again by crikey, by jingoes. The answer is right in front of us, well its on the road we are on, down towards town a little, at the port, in fact its called the Port Hotel. It was almost where we started this jaunt.

As we park, Forbsy is off and into the pub. Evidently, he could eat the crotch out of a low flying crow, but really, he needs the amenities. This is a large establishment with plenty of places to sit. The specials are on the white board and look appetising, so we order them and buy drinks. Robyn checks her phone, she has service just here, and to her regret, she has some work in. I also remember I need to do a small bit of work too, given the date.

We tell the others they will have to order another round of drinks while we deal with the issues. Big ask, but they accede to our request, their thumbs screwed down with such force, they may have actually felt it ?.

Work done, it’s time to head back, but there is still a couple of things to deal with. Bait is required in the event I get home early enough, and Forbsy needs to get a look at a piece of equipment for the caravan. Both are close to each other on the way out. I deal with my purchase quickly and we are waiting in the Cruiser when I get a text from Forbsy – “item purchased, you can come and get me”. Must be big and he cannot carry it back across the road.

We find the errant camper, across the road, muscling a large box, a new jack for the front of his van, and pull up and he deposits it in the boot, and jumps in. Still two things from the end of the day’s trip, we head on out to the “important wetland region”. We find lakes of swans, ducks, pelicans and other water birds, as well as flora to go with them. Driving along a bit further we see Mallee fowl and other water birds.

The lakes now cleared, I put pedal to the metal, cruising right up to the 110kph speed limit, having turned the Cruiser for “home”.

The last “planned” stop was to visit Hellfire Bay, not far from the camping ground. Here there are toilets, thankfully, and more of the flour like sand, pristine waters and rocks. Forbsy goes looking for fisherman locking points, as suggested in the information signs. He finds them and beckons me to the point. Once there he shows me the contrast between the azure water of the water on the beach and the dark blue of the much deeper water of the rocky outcrops. No wonder there are fisherman lock down points, falling in here, not only would mean a long fall to the water, but a long way potentially you could be under before you knew it, especially if you were dazed by the fall.

The striations on the rocks deserve their own photographs, which I oblige – Forbsy’s phone is flat from all the snaps he has made during the day so far. Back on the sand I suggest to Forbsy, that it is time for some idiocy. I ask him to run and jump from a rock onto the sand. He suggests he will do it, and face me for effect, and we will do it in Super Slow Motion. That sounds like an easy plan, until, because he is looking at me, the landing becomes an explosion of sand and Forbsy. Unfortunately I only capture the flight and not the fall, but it still gets a good laugh from the others.

Everything we wanted to, we have done, EXCEPT, Forbsy did suggest this morning that the last thing he wanted to do was climb Frenchman’s Rock. As we approach it, two kangaroos hop across in front of us. We stop as there are some banksias and other bushes, we have not photographed, not sure how we could have missed them, but we apparently have. The time is getting away and Forbsy suggests he really does not feel like a 237-metre vertical climb at 5.00pm, besides he has a new apparatus to install on the front of his van.

Driving up to Frenchman’s Rock, the cave we looked through this morning, with the light from behind, is even more spectacular, and we stop and take even more photos of this landmark. The cloud is starting to clear, but will be useless in the powering of solar batteries, given the angle of the sun this late in the afternoon.

Its been a long day, but it is still light, and I have bait. I talk Robyn in coming with me for a fish, and she grabs a book, and a coat, and we head off. After this morning’s trial and error trek, this evening, getting to the spot is easy. Well that’s my story, as Robyn struggles firstly to keep up and then when we get to the rocks, to keep an even footing, not trusting herself, especially where there are reasonable ups and downs. Here she reverts to bum sliding for more traction.,

Finally we make it to the desired location, a bit further than this morning as the couple are no longer here and I can get to their spot. I rig and bait, much lighter than the couple this morning, and with the wind behind, am able to get the bait well out form the rocks. Knowing the water is deep and I am using very light weighting, I let the bait have much extra line. Retrieving the bait shows me just how deep the water is, given the number of turns of the handle of my reel is disconcertingly long.

The first bait was gone and I felt nothing. It was the head of the squid and I had tied it on for better attachment, but the fish are quick here evidently. I rebait and recoil another into the water. This time I keep a little tension on the line and feel very feeble taps. I retrieve it and there is no damage. I continue this process for about half an hour, losing more baits. Robyn calls to me, she is starting to get cold and in any event is being eaten by the mozzies.

I tell her another 15 minutes, but as soon as I recast, I feel a bite and as I tighten up, I snag on the reef and lose the rig. Rather than re-rig, I will take my wife home and start dinner. Although she is happy with the early finish, there is still the trek back to negotiate. Much easier, with a little more confidence, we get back quickly.

As we come into the vision of our friends they are motioning to us. We think they want a pose and we give them one, but when we get right up to them, they were motioning for us to see the kangaroo which was no more than 2 metres from us, where we popped out of the bush.

I check the batteries, and I think we are at a level where we won’t make it through the night, which will mean a broken night’s sleep for me without the C-Pap machine working. We have the solution, we will just crank up the generator and that will fix the problem. Once started, it looks to top up the batteries, until I hit the inverter. The generator almost dies with the increased load, but still keeps chugging along. Perhaps we wont get full charge, but we will have enough for the night.

Forbsy drops in for a beer o’clock drink, Silver Leader and Rosalie have bid us good night already, so we sit around the table inside and talk about the exploits of the day. Tomorrow will be an early start, with a trip into Esperance for refuelling, and water, then onto Frazer Range Station, where Tuesday is “Parma Night”, we have been told, and we are looking forward to that.

I have a stew on the stove. Robyn is still full from lunch, so I am the only imbiber, then its off to bed for the early start.