Around Oz the First Time - Chapter 84 - Esperance to Frazer Station

The grey of yesterday is gone, but it is not warm, at least here in the morning. We want to hit the road early, head into Esperance, fuel up and fill the water tanks for the run across the Nullarbor. Forbsy and I head off first as Silver Leader and Rosalie are not quite ready, this won’t be a problem as we won’t all be able to do everything at the same time in Esperance in any event.

With the day being clearer, many of the vista shots from yesterday could be updated, if we set our mind to it. There are a couple of kangaroos early, some emus in the distance and invariably lots of other fauna along the roads into Esperance.

Where shall we fill. There is a Puma just at the start of town and a Caltex deeper in, and adjacent to the a water stop at the Information Centre. The Puma is full of customers so the Caltex it is, although I am going to start on the water first. It’s a tricky exercise, not really made for caravans, and the first attempt sees me with the water inlets on the wrong side. I put the caravan back on the road, chuck a U-turn and position the van correctly beside the tap. Once I get the hose out and attach my patented inlet tube, I fill the front two tanks with ease.

The drinking water tank is cantankerous to say the least. It fills easily enough, but when you extract the tubing, the air pressure that has not released through the overflow valve, vomits the water back out the inlet, drenching the unsuspecting. I am ready for it, having the cover ready in one hand and pulling the tube out with the other, I suffer only mild wetness and trap the majority of the water where it should be, in the tank.

This is another on the list of defects to be dealt with when we return, because no matter how slowly you attempt to fill the drinking water tank, you will get drenched. Perhaps it has something to do with the positioning of the inlet, much lower than the other two inlets.

That done, I back out and head across the street to the fuel station, fill up and am back out on the road and parked waiting for the others. Silver Leader pulled in behind us as we were filling the water tanks, and Forbsy fuelled earlier, so we are all reasonably ready together. Because now we have phone coverage, I return some calls and messages while waiting.

The most important is a message from our daughter, who when we call is bouncing off the walls with news of her provisionally winning a prestigious PHD scholarship. We are so proud of her; she will be the first doctor in the family. The scholarship will cover not only living but travelling expenses for her time working on the doctorate. That with the money her boyfriend makes should allow them to get a reasonably priced living space on their own, rather than the share rental both are presently enduring.

Buoyed by the news we head north, towards Norseman. Now we are on roads Robyn and I have travelled previously. The first place of interest is Gibson. When we were here last time, we lunched under a huge fig tree, in the rain, and did not get wet. As we pull in, Robyn’s cousins, Margaret and Merve go past and honk.

Unfortunately, there has been a fire in the town recently and some of the shop is damaged and not operational. Fortunately, the tree has not been touched, it must be hundreds of years old. Looking across to the motel, I see a corvette stingray and a limousine parked outside rooms, most interesting. I take numerous pictures and send them to our daughter to see if she remembered the place. Her message back suggests she remembers it well.

We are in the wheat belt, and the crops stretch behind the trees of the verge or are replaced with bushland where the soil is unfertile. There are lots of salt pans as we travel north, many white with salt, but grey, green with clay-soaked water (but most are empty). Other empty lakes are simply red with the dirt.

Silos dot the course of our travels, all linked by a railway line. Village after village, historical school sites and roadhouses are the order of the day. A train goes past in the opposite direction, it’s an ore carrier, long and full of red soil, heading south for loading onto the freighters at the Esperance port I suspect.

We hit Norseman late morning, Silver Leader calls lunch. We top up our fuel for the first leg of the Nullarbor and pull into some shade. There is discussion about tonight’s destination. Given the early hour, we could quite easily make Balladonia or even Caiguna tonight, and take some of the time out of very long days we have planned to get us into Streaky Bay in two days instead of three. But there was the promise of Chicken Schnitzel at Fraser Ranger Station.

On a different trip, the one we played the Nullarbor Golf Course, we had visited Fraser Ranger Station and played the “On the Sheep’s Back” hole. That time we romped in, played the hole and continued onto Norseman. Today though we are camping. Like I said we could have made it much further but settle on this 100-kilometre trip out of Norseman.

Just out of Norseman, there are two dead camels on the side of the road. It has taken a long time but Forbsy’s call in Katherine that we will see camels has been vindicated. A bit further on Silver Leader is having an altercation with some emus. He breaks, but the emus stay in the road refusing to move. They watch him crawl past and then mosey off into the bush.

The heat has been increasing all day. Its 35 degrees here when we arrive. Sitting in the Cruiser waiting for Robyn and the others to sort out our camping site, I start to wither with the heat. I notice them all walking to check out the sites, so I fire up the Cruiser and head on over. Here each site has its own ambience. Ours has a hedge, which will not only shield us from some sun and offer seclusion from Silver leader next door, it will also act as a nice backdrop for beer o’clock festivities.

We get settled, remaining hooked up to the vehicles, and I go for a walk to see if the Nullarbor Golf Course is still in the condition it was when we were last here. Its about a 500-metre walk to the hole and the flies are ridiculously sticky. The wind is gusting a little, and as it does there is relief from the flies, but as soon as the gust drops they attempt to carry me away.

At the site of the golf hole, I am pleased to see it is just as pristine as it was all those years ago. As I walk to the tee and the shelter provided, my phone starts making noises as if I am receiving messages. This is not supposed to happen on the Nullarbor, there is not supposed to be any reception. By a quirk of the wind, or some other means, I have reception, only weak, but it is reception. I take a walk along the hole, which is only 140-metres long and reminisce, undoubtedly with rose coloured glasses, of my magnificent tee shot and putt when I was here playing the course. I actually think I had about 6 or 7 shots here on my way to well over a century for the entire course, including a par at the first and last holes, so somewhere along the line there was some bogey plus scores.

At the green, there is no reception, even back at the tee, reception has gone, so I traverse up a hill to a cairn or perhaps a trig station and there again, reception. I send photos to my daughter to remind her of our time here. I think she has all but settled down now, as she answers my texts sanely. She too is amazed she is talking to me, where there is supposed to be no reception.

Walking back, I run into a family of emus. Dad and seven chicks are feeding beside the road. My presence does not initially warrant any movement from them, but as I get closer the patriarch deems discretion is the better part of valour and takes the chicks off away from me. The run, not very far, and they are still fully exposed, there is no bush coverage here.

When I return to the van, beer o’clock festivities are well underway. Its only 3.30pm and the schnitzel dinner does not start until 6.30pm. Robyn was able to download some work at Esperance and is working on it while the rest of us snack on salami, cheese and crackers provided by Forbsy or antipasto provided by Rosalie. When the sundried tomatoes in the antipasto run out, I top them up from our stores.

Finally, its time for schnitzels, but now the wind has picked up appreciably and it has turned cold. Each of us go looking for a pullover before heading to the chow hall. The drinks are reasonably priced and the meals large, there will be no room for dessert. At the table the phone works at full strength, and I send our daughter more shots and suggest to her it might be a good night for star pictures.

But the wind is howling, and the temperature has dropped significantly. Will I or wont I brave the wind and the cold from some milky way shots – why not. I find a suitable resting spot for the camera, input the required settings and away I go. Checking each one shows I have captured not only stars, but clusters etc. I take about a dozen shots, using a, what looks like a dog kennel or perhaps a weather station, as a rigid support, because the lens of the camera will be open for a long time and any movement will spoil the shots.

In the dark, as I check each shot, I am happy with the result. When I get back to the van and show Robyn, in the light, the results are mere dots here and there. Turning off the light reveals the true nature of the shots. In the van I have absolutely no reception, so she will have to wait until morning to view them. For now we have an early start and I need a good nights sleep.