Here We Go Again - Chapter 95 - Barn Hill Station to 80 Mile Beach

The sunglasses still have managed not to be located. Its starting to be a worry as we are heading off today and if I am unable to find them, the glare of the road will be in full force all the time. When you wear prescription glasses, the options for the shade of sunglasses becomes somewhat restricted.

That aside, its early and I have time, so I head down to the beach with the fishing gear in tow. Its the bottom of the tide and perhaps if I can get as far out as the back of the reefs I can snag a pelagic. Having said that, after yesterdays results, I take only enough bait for each rod and should one be annihilated by a fish, that will be its only chance.

Its crisp and cool this morning and I am happy I have put a jumper on. I am not the only one foolhardy enough to be out chasing something from the briny deep. Again though we suffer the same result. The only animals fed in the hour I spend are the sea gulls as I take the bait from the hooks and discard the pilchards in their direction. From my watching of my compatriots, their results were the same.

By 7.30am I am back at the van and starting the bug out process. Placing the rod against the van I clip one on the awning and break the rod tip – bugger. A repair job. The eyelet is only bent, not broken. Hopefully I will be able to bend it back into place and use the 5 minute Araldite to strengthen the repositioning back into place.

The rods get back into the pipe at the front of the van and the bug out continues.

There is commotion next door. A Tawny Frog Mouth has set up in the tree behind them. The cute bird, not an owl in fact unlike some call them, is not unlike the ones we see in the trees adjacent to our house. Robyn gets a pang of homesickness relating stories of ours to our neighbours 

The conversation with our neighbours goes to activities and things to see in the Pilbara, our next port of call.

Time to hook up. As soon as I start the Cruiser I find my sunglasses. They are right where I left them. Well they are immediately inder where I normally leave them having fallen onto the speedometer. What a relief, and as soon as I find them I remember the incident that had them fall there and the memory of the thought to retrieve them after what I was doing and losing it altogether. Funny how the memory works sometimes.

Heading out, we immediately encounter the fuel tanker, on its way in to replenish the business. The truck has only one tanker, the rest having been uncoupled at the main road, blocking our view in one direction somewhat. It make sense the roadtrain reverted to just a tanker to take on the road into Barn Hill. As it was we had to pull over to let the truck pass. Had we encountered the full road train on the dirt road, although the result would have been the same the blood pressure may well have been increased given the dust just the tanker was able to create.

The highway reached, we settle into cruise control and head towards our destination. The roadside vegetation changes from lots of bush to no bush and back again. Perhaps the salinity of the land or the access to the subterranean water changes and the outcome is a change in what we see as we hurtle down the highway.

Breaking up the trip we pull into Sandfly. Here there is a long queue for fuel. As well as needing the break we need fuel. Our destination does not have a pump and its time for a driver change. Whereas Silver leader choses to do all their driving, Robyn and I like to share the load.

Whilst her experience behind the wheel of the Cruiser and van is not extensive, she is willing to do her share. Getting behind the wheel now potentially means she will be going a stint on a dirt road, as the last of this trip into Eighty Mile Beach is a gravel road, which if it is in the same state as last time we visited, it will be a challenge.

We discuss the differing needs of the gravel road as we approach. The best advice I can give, is take your time and get comfortable with the road. 

The gravel road is in far better condition than I remember. Any nervousness Robyn may have been feeling is dissipated quickly. I take videos of her driving, mocking the difficulty for the family archives. She seemingly truly enjoys the experience, even the times the van “kicks” in the corrugations and dust bowls.

Reception reached, sitting in the jump seat, its up to me to do the registration. Silver Leader and Rose, for all their attention to organisational concerns can be so inept when it comes to things administration. They are holding up the ever growing line of those wanting to book in. Because the are Optus devotees, they have had to purchase a Telstra phone to ensure the best coverage out here. They need to provide the “best” contact phone number as part of the registration. 

They do not remember the number nor do they have the phone on their person. They try everything except racing back to their Cruiser and actually collecting it. Frustratingly simple for everyone to see, they cannot get their head around it, trying all sorts of alternatives, all with the same result. The carnage continues, until I take my phone and search for calls from them.

Once we have them through registration, it takes me only moments to register, having watched the melee that occurred in front of, not only me but the line of registrants behind me. Outside the consequences of their extended registration period is more than evident with vans and motorhomes lined up.

To our spots and we start the setup process. We are not adjacent to each other, but certainly not far away. The park is not “overflow” full, but is certainly well patronised. I get the initial “important” parts done, but break off for a look at the beach. 

There are what might seem the normal plethora of fishermen working the top of the tide. The tide is ebbing now and by the time it is a “low” the beach will be many hundreds of metres in depth as the water recedes. For now the water is right up to the edge of the sand dune protecting the park from the water.

I wander to a couple of fishermen for a chat as to their success. Other than the odd shark, the fish have been very sparse. There have been stories of the odd decent fish, but according to these guys, they are only rumours. Given the vast numbers of the “hunter/gatherer” set on the beach just in front of the park, it is no wonder the individual catches have been low. There are simply too many hooks to feed.

There is no way I can be rigged and back before the water level is such that all I would be castign to was just a mud bank. Most are packing up now and heading back. I do the same and return to the set up of the van. 

Robyn giggles when she sees me return, knowing exactly where I have been.

The set up done, its time to attack the repair of the rod. Along with the rod tip, there are a couple of cracks in the bench in the van, the results of falling bottles that could do with a touch up.

The rod tip “plays the game” and once we get it set, I am able to place it aside to fully cure. It should be ready to go in the morning. The benches also come up well. Although the benches have slight bumps in them where the repairs have occurred, there are no longer catch parts to be encountered.

Time for a walk. We walked to the edge of the ocean at low tide last time we were here. More than a kilometre we walked that day. On the way back that day, we were followed by the rising tide. Today we follow a couple of fishermen looking to wet a line. 

The tide is beating them. Each time they stop and sit their esky down, by the time they have cast their lines, the esky is way behind them, and their baits take seconds it seems to be exposed. We giggle with them at their predicament, and given the time of day, how much longer (and further) this will continue.

We are in no mood for the entire experience. We turn and head for home, stopping to watch hermit crabs move around in shallow pools. Their movement, captured on video as they move in terms of millimetres as they go about their lives.

Dinner becomes steak from the stash of vacuum packs, along with the last of the parsley converted along with tomatoes and rice into tabouli. Tomorrow will bring fishing and expectations are high given the results achieved when we were last here.

I am better prepared this time. The gear I have packed has been centred specific for our time here. The damage to the rod tip, now fixed, was a worry, but it seems to have come up well. 

Testing it out tomorrow will be the proof in the pudding.

By 7.30am I am back at the van and starting the bug out process. Placing the rod against the van I clip one on the awning and break the rod tip – bugger. A repair job. The eyelet is only bent, not broken. Hopefully I will be able to bend it back into place and use the 5 minute Araldite to strengthen the repositioning back into place.

The rods get back into the pipe at the front of the van and the bug out continues.

There is commotion next door. A Tawny Frog Mouth has set up in the tree behind them. The cute bird, not an owl in fact unlike some call them, is not unlike the ones we see in the trees adjacent to our house. Robyn gets a pang of homesickness relating stories of ours to our neighbours 

The conversation with our neighbours goes to activities and things to see in the Pilbara, our next port of call.

Time to hook up. As soon as I start the Cruiser I find my sunglasses. They are right where I left them. Well they are immediately inder where I normally leave them having fallen onto the speedometer. What a relief, and as soon as I find them I remember the incident that had them fall there and the memory of the thought to retrieve them after what I was doing and losing it altogether. Funny how the memory works sometimes.

Heading out, we immediately encounter the fuel tanker, on its way in to replenish the business. The truck has only one tanker, the rest having been uncoupled at the main road, blocking our view in one direction somewhat. It make sense the roadtrain reverted to just a tanker to take on the road into Barn Hill. As it was we had to pull over to let the truck pass. Had we encountered the full road train on the dirt road, although the result would have been the same the blood pressure may well have been increased given the dust just the tanker was able to create.

The highway reached, we settle into cruise control and head towards our destination. The roadside vegetation changes from lots of bush to no bush and back again. Perhaps the salinity of the land or the access to the subterranean water changes and the outcome is a change in what we see as we hurtle down the highway.

Breaking up the trip we pull into Sandfly. Here there is a long queue for fuel. As well as needing the break we need fuel. Our destination does not have a pump and its time for a driver change. Whereas Silver leader choses to do all their driving, Robyn and I like to share the load.

Whilst her experience behind the wheel of the Cruiser and van is not extensive, she is willing to do her share. Getting behind the wheel now potentially means she will be going a stint on a dirt road, as the last of this trip into Eighty Mile Beach is a gravel road, which if it is in the same state as last time we visited, it will be a challenge.

We discuss the differing needs of the gravel road as we approach. The best advice I can give, is take your time and get comfortable with the road. 

The gravel road is in far better condition than I remember. Any nervousness Robyn may have been feeling is dissipated quickly. I take videos of her driving, mocking the difficulty for the family archives. She seemingly truly enjoys the experience, even the times the van “kicks” in the corrugations and dust bowls.

Reception reached, sitting in the jump seat, its up to me to do the registration. Silver Leader and Rose, for all their attention to organisational concerns can be so inept when it comes to things administration. They are holding up the ever growing line of those wanting to book in. Because the are Optus devotees, they have had to purchase a Telstra phone to ensure the best coverage out here. They need to provide the “best” contact phone number as part of the registration. 

They do not remember the number nor do they have the phone on their person. They try everything except racing back to their Cruiser and actually collecting it. Frustratingly simple for everyone to see, they cannot get their head around it, trying all sorts of alternatives, all with the same result. The carnage continues, until I take my phone and search for calls from them.

Once we have them through registration, it takes me only moments to register, having watched the melee that occurred in front of, not only me but the line of registrants behind me. Outside the consequences of their extended registration period is more than evident with vans and motorhomes lined up.

To our spots and we start the setup process. We are not adjacent to each other, but certainly not far away. The park is not “overflow” full, but is certainly well patronised. I get the initial “important” parts done, but break off for a look at the beach. 

There are what might seem the normal plethora of fishermen working the top of the tide. The tide is ebbing now and by the time it is a “low” the beach will be many hundreds of metres in depth as the water recedes. For now the water is right up to the edge of the sand dune protecting the park from the water.

I wander to a couple of fishermen for a chat as to their success. Other than the odd shark, the fish have been very sparse. There have been stories of the odd decent fish, but according to these guys, they are only rumours. Given the vast numbers of the “hunter/gatherer” set on the beach just in front of the park, it is no wonder the individual catches have been low. There are simply too many hooks to feed.

There is no way I can be rigged and back before the water level is such that all I would be castign to was just a mud bank. Most are packing up now and heading back. I do the same and return to the set up of the van. 

Robyn giggles when she sees me return, knowing exactly where I have been.

The set up done, its time to attack the repair of the rod. Along with the rod tip, there are a couple of cracks in the bench in the van, the results of falling bottles that could do with a touch up.

The rod tip “plays the game” and once we get it set, I am able to place it aside to fully cure. It should be ready to go in the morning. The benches also come up well. Although the benches have slight bumps in them where the repairs have occurred, there are no longer catch parts to be encountered.

Time for a walk. We walked to the edge of the ocean at low tide last time we were here. More than a kilometre we walked that day. On the way back that day, we were followed by the rising tide. Today we follow a couple of fishermen looking to wet a line. 

The tide is beating them. Each time they stop and sit their esky down, by the time they have cast their lines, the esky is way behind them, and their baits take seconds it seems to be exposed. We giggle with them at their predicament, and given the time of day, how much longer (and further) this will continue.

We are in no mood for the entire experience. We turn and head for home, stopping to watch hermit crabs move around in shallow pools. Their movement, captured on video as they move in terms of millimetres as they go about their lives.

Dinner becomes steak from the stash of vacuum packs, along with the last of the parsley converted along with tomatoes and rice into tabouli. Tomorrow will bring fishing and expectations are high given the results achieved when we were last here.

I am better prepared this time. The gear I have packed has been centred specific for our time here. The damage to the rod tip, now fixed, was a worry, but it seems to have come up well. 

Testing it out tomorrow will be the proof in the pudding.