Now seriously, how could I pass up an opportunity to have a heading like that? Starvation Bay could have been nothing more than a rusted signpost and a fly blown dunny and I would still be writing from here. But before we get to there, we spent a night in Hopetoun. Luckily the Friday night crowd is not the same as the Saturday night crowd, so no-one recognised us from the week before.
The official free-camp site was chokkas, so we spent the night at the local caravan park (as we are now in the off season, rates are very attractive). Hopetoun is no Point Ann. I guess we’ll just have to get over that comparison…..eventually. Still, you don’t have to drive an hour to get to the pub or café and the next day we watched our Swannies ALMOST not lose to the Giants.
I spied a coastal road that found its way back to the highway, but wasn’t sure what we would find along the way. Luckily the local hairdresser was indeed a local and steered us to Starvation Bay, just a 40klm run. Another national parks campground, but the rules seem to change regularly. This one required an online site reservation, but it wasn’t until Lenny, a wizened 89 year old van veteran alerted us, that Tamika jumped on the net and found the spot we were in, and it was indeed booked for the following three nights. Luckily the site next door was available so it required only a metaphorical shuffle to become ‘legit’.
Sure enough, the usurpers arrived the next day but Brian and Chris were lovely folk and we spent more than a few hours around the campfire along with Len. They were all Fremantle Dockers tragics, so we drew some solace from our team’s recent poor form. On their last night, we all decided on a team effort for a roast pork dinner. Tasks were delegated and all started with the best of intentions. However, as the shadows lengthened, what started as an entrée and main became more of a culinary improv. The slow cooking pork was not a team player so we ended up eating all the accompaniments in a slow moving degustation. The pork was worth the wait however. After the clean-up, we kicked the fire into gear, the night air filling with laughter and the sound of waves collapsing onto the sand.
The further along the coast we have travelled, the more the Great Southern Ocean has intruded towards the protected shoreline. The ripples on the horizon are now crashing giants onto the rock shelves and beaches. We had to become a little more judicious in our fishing spots, but even the protected bay was riven with beds of seaweed and what we thought was dinner on our lines was ALWAYS so much more a sushi wrap, than sushi. So THAT’S why they call it Starvation Bay?
Anyway, it’s location, location, location and with a wind protected site overlooking the bay, we went for walks and sits in the sunshine. The internet again wafted in, but we found 2 bars a five minute walk up the hill. What we also found was a rock pool about 50 metres long, protected from the boiling seas but fed either end by the tides. The water temperature was, shall we say, challenging, but once you lost feeling in your lower limbs it was just lolling about with that fierce smile fools wear in icy waters. Still, another tick off the bucket list and a quick sprint back to the towels.
It seems that cabin fever is beginning to take hold. After three weeks in relative isolation, the ‘big smoke’, Esperance is only 130klms away. We’re due to arrive in a couple of days and I suspect some retail therapy at Dan Murphy’s is high on the agenda, although we have been really fortunate to have made some good friends during our time here.
Faux Tan & The Coconut
