Tag Archives: Denham

Spies Everywhere?

Milniya is a roadhouse on the Milniya River. It is a rest stop for most travellers on the long journey between Carnavon and Exmouth. That is where we chose to pass the night. The trip from Denham to Exmouth is a 7 hrs straight drive but having stopped at Carnavon,  there was no way we could make it to Exmouth in daylight hours, hence the reason we stopped at Milniya.

It was here that we met two attendants – they are partners, teenagers or just in their early twenties.  On our request, the lady took us round the property to show us the room available for us for the night and thereafter we followed her back to the counter. It was there she started  conversing with the young lad in a language other than English. I asked her what language she was speaking. Jewish, she said. That didn’t come as a surprise but the answer kept me worried for Australia.

Everywhere you look, across the continent, there are hundreds of working holiday makers in jobs that many Australians are unwilling to do or are in remote areas from the major cities. Australia needs these people but ,then, there is the ever present danger that these tourists may be spies working for their home government.  We’ve come across these folks in tourism and farming. Our hotel manager in Denham, the attendant at Badgingarra are some of these. They also live with affluent families in major cities as au-pairs. There is a growing debate in parliament about striking a balance between the needs of Australia and the influx of working holiday makers. There are good arguments on both sides of the divide.

Our day had started at Denham about 8hrs earlier.  We really have fallen in love with Denham that leaving it was painful. It is a little coastal city, thinly populated and naturally beautiful. The surrounding mountains interacting beautifully with the raging waves of the ocean while sheltering the bay`s calm waters was a sight to behold. Add to this the fact that life is really laid back here, which says a lot given that Australia itself as a whole is considered a laid back country. Some have said that WA, Western Australia,  means Wait Awhile then one can say that Denham is Wait Awhile Longer. The people here are oblivious to the presence of humanity elsewhere, why should they bother? After all, in this little town, they have all they need for existence. Life survives on the bare necessities, the very bare necessities. Luxury is not a word that features frequently in the vocabulary here.

My wife has told me that the city ranks top in her choice of places to live and we will take this into consideration in our future move. There is a greater sense of security here. The doors to our hotel room was unlocked and as Clinton will explain to us later, he has never taken his car key out of his ignition! With a one road in and out of the town, it is easy to apprehend any criminal and being far away from everywhere, the population is small enough for every resident to know each other.

As we set to put our stuffs back in the Explorer we crossed paths with the lodge manager. He is one smooth talker. He told us that he is South African and had moved to Australia in 2012 calling the Bay Area home. He is nice and friendly and persuasive,  he almost got us to change our itinerary and visit the Dirk Harturg Island. When that failed, he sold us an idea to go fishing in the bay waters for $150 and assurance of catching at least two giant red snappers to take home as souvenirs, we didn’t buy that either. Out of the generosity of his heart, he gave us a piece of fish to cook.

Well, setting out of Denham was not without its challenges.  First, we’ve not booked a place to sleep for the night. I pulled the Explorer to a side off Knight Terrace, the main road that runs parallel to the coast, and got on the internet searching for an affordable space in Exmouth,  nothing was available.  This is very surprising for the nation isn’t out of Covid19 lockdown and the state borders are still closed to others. So who are the folks that have booked up all accommodation in Exmouth?

Gasoline price was steep in Denham and I took a gamble to refill the thirsty Explorer only on getting to Carnavon, being a bigger city I surmise that the price will be lower.  With this we pulled out and headed towards Hamelin Pool.  Just as we passed the turning to Eagle Buff on our right, the heavens opened again and it started raining but this was not for long. Once again, we crossed the marker for the 26th parallel but unfortunately I didn’t see it on time to make a stop for a picture opportunity. The 26th parallel is important in Western Australia as it provides for some tax concession, for example stamp duty is cheaper. On a different note, it also marks the point where the animals get more dangerous (snakes, cane toads, crocodiles, stingers etc) and cost of living becomes generally expensive arising from limited social infrastructure.

There were enough tempting attractions on the road for us to take a detour, hills from where one can take a look at the surrounding landscape,  different bays with clean turquoise blue waters and similar but time was a precious commodity to us.  We kept on and a hour and a half later, we arrived at the diversion point on the N.W. Coastal Highway or the World Heritage Drive and took the turn left. Our trip to Carnavon has started.

As we crossed the 26th parallel once again, we stopped to take some pictures. It was a little from here that we started seeing goats, stray goats in groups of three and more chewing cuds near the roads. It seemed they were there every few kilometres we travel, yet as far as we looked we did not see any farm settlement or homestead. There was nothing preventing any vehicle from stopping and picking one or two of them. Nothing, except conscience and such an act being a deviant behaviour not widely accepted in the Australian fair dinkum way of life. Then, we started seeing cows, fat cows. Unlike the sheep, these were well contained behind dividing wires so they could not get to the roads. The road signs still warned us to beware of cows crossing the road and I think it was an appropriate warning.

Mr Bako, remember him? This was the gentleman who instilled a sense of adventure in folks of my generation. It was him that took his two children, Biola and Alade on a visit to all states of Nigeria. As we continue our trip northwards and the odometer continues to increase xcfgits count, I could only think of how the story of that family as told in the New Oxford English Course for Primary Years 5 and 6 had shaped my life. I also thought of how such a trip will look like in today’s Nigeria or any other African country for that matter. Here we are, covering hundreds of Kilometres with no fear of attack or any untoward incident happening to us. In fact, since leaving Perth, we have not come across any policeman for that matter nor check point on the road. I concluded that the modern day Mr. Bako will not dare to go on a similar journey as, in the words of the late Oliver de-Coque, he will “be committing suicide”.

We eventually arrived at the turning into Carnavon. The sign says we had only 5kms to go and at the end of this short drive, we came to a T junction. The Airport was on our right while the city centre, well situated at the banks of the Gascoyne River was on the left. As we turned left, we soon came across the office of the Aboriginal Legal Service, it was the earliest indicator that we are now in areas with some population of first nation people. I pulled the Explorer into a parking spot, from here we could see that this is a thriving city, nearly all the major banks are here. To our left was the Visitors’ Centre and there are a host of other businesses clustered near the round about, a few yards away from us. Just in front of us, we could see an Indigenous Elder crossing the street and behind our car was another indigenous woman seated in her car, exchanging pleasantries with another person. All the way here, we’ve not come across the Indigenous population. Even in Denham where the flags were flown at half-mast to commiserate the death of an Indigenous Elder, the first nation people were not seen.

The main street that runs through the town is Robinson Street and at the intersection of the street with Olivia Street is Carnavon’s Fascine, a great place to take in the sight of the Gascoyne River as it flows sea ward into the Indian Ocean. The Fascine is lined up with Palm Trees and ,as if to announce our arrivals, the numerous white galahs there were in a state of frenzy and making loud noises. At 865 kilometres (537 mi), it is the longest river in Western Australia. Unlike with the Murchison River in Kalbarri where we could not notice a visible delta , the delta of the Gascoyne has created the Babbage and Whitlock Islands.

We found a spot, next to a children playground, and settled to have our lunch. Looking at the playground, it was visible that there is still no real mixture of the races in Australia. The playground was full of Indigenous kids having fun but there was a marked absence of Caucasian kids. Why is this so in a city that has great Caucasian population? One inquisitive kid came to us and wanted to know what we were eating, we explained to him and offered him a piece which he declined.

Following lunch, we split into two – Saf to take a walk on the foot bridge while I went to refuel the Explorer. Pulling right behind me, at the Shell Station, was a lad whose appearance was that of a Texas Cowboy. His boot were steel toed, a cowboy hat  and a big buckled belt. He was a little scary too. His Landcruiser ute had seen better days and surely will do with a little clean up but I guess he doesn’t care a hoot. At the back were two fearsome dogs, they look all bit ferocious, constantly barking. I kept the Explorer door open with the plan to jump into it at the slightest movement from any of the two dogs. Anything and all things are possible in these “Black Lives Matter” days.

Once the lad was done with filling up his ute with diesel, I picked up the nozzle and gave the Explorer’s all that it needed to quench her thirst. Thereafter I headed into the station to pay for my fuel. I had a group of indigenous teenage mothers and their kids ahead of me, making payment for some small chops they had purchased. They didn’t have enough money to pay for their purchase and were in the process of returning a few with a dejected look on their faces. I offered to pay the difference and they were glad and thankful for this little gesture. The same was acknowledged by the attendant as a good one, thereafter. As I got back into the Explorer, I wrestled with understanding why the indigenous mothers could not go into Woollies and buy packed frozen chicken and cook, they obviously will get better value for their money. I also wondered why the attendant knowing what was right refused to oblige the mothers such courtesy? Now I am sure that when I get to heaven, I will be seated on the right hand of the father for this simple act of human kindness that anyone could have offered but no one else did.

When I returned to pick my wife, it was then I remembered our planned to visit to the Carnavon Space and Technology Museum. By that time, the museum had closed for the day and will reopen the next morning by 10 am. We had to decide whether to sleep in Carnavon or continue our journey further north up to Milniya. We chose the latter and drove out of Carnavon, destination Milniya. As we depart, we met the first set of policemen on this trip so far. They were on the other side of the road, testing drivers for alcohol. I thought what an easy life that Australian Policed Officers have. Their folks in other climes have bigger societal problems to contend but in Australia, binge drinking is the social problem that continues to be on the top of their radar.

As we move out of Carnavon township area, we started seeing different plantations on the roadside. Bananas, Papaya (Pawpaw), cabbage and other vegetable. There are a few greenhouses as well. Not very far from this, we came to the left turn to visit the blowholes, a diversion that will take us 40 kms to get there. We had seen blow holes before at Caiguna on an earlier journey on the Eyre Highway so these were not of interest to us.

We trudged on and now we needed to make haste, Milniya is almost an hour ahead of us and the sun has gone down. The fear of the Kangaroo, I must say, is the beginning of wisdom. A Nigerian Doctor based in Geraldton had told me of our his car was wrecked by an encounter with a Kangaroo that jumped across the road while he was travelling at night time. I don’t want to tell a similar story so we needed a balance between haste and safety. We finally crossed the Milniya River, or what seems to be it and immediately right after the bridge is the roadhouse. The river bed was dry and sandy and it looked more like an unpaved sandy road than a river bed, not a single drop of water anywhere in it.

We were shown our room for the night, a portacabin shack costing $90 for the night. Well, our beggar had no choice , we happily took it. There were a couple of Aussie bloke who had arrived earlier and they were engrossed in the Aussie past time, beer drinking to stupor. They were extremely noisy but on seeing us settling to our room they, on their own volition, promised to tone it down. And they did.  Saf went into the bathroom and took her shower and reported it to be one of the most refreshing she has had in ages. I followed suit and thereafter settled to mark our sojourn with a bottle of Vanilla flavoured Irish Rum.  I bet we were becoming Aussie too, just a little with the drink.

Tired but with a mission to accomplish 10,000 steps a day, Saf pulled me out of the room for a walk in the neighbourhood. I was grumpy all through but this didn’t bother my Margaret Thatcher of a wife, she remained firm and I followed. Out in the open, we quickly agreed that this was an exercise in futility as the whole area was dark, except the frontage of the roadhouse. Yet, we walked to the road and thought to continue thereon. Just to put some fright in her, I reminded her that Australian snakes are venomous and they are known to seek the warmth of the roads at night and as such we shouldn’t be walking on the road this night. She bought it, hook, line and sinker and we made it quickly back to our shack. The TV flickered and she made for the downloaded films from Netflix to keep her occupied.

Me? I fell on the bed and slept off.

Blood at the gregories

The trip to see the Monkey Mia Dolphins was the main attraction for the day. And what a let down it turned to be, because of our inability to wake up from bed timely. The feeding of the dolphins takes place early and we had planned to leave Denham by 7am to make the 30mins trip to Monkey Mia. It was not in the planning that we were deficient, it was in executing it. When the alarms rang, we just slept on, not to be bothered.

It was a little after 9 am when we finally got up from bed and made for the Shark Bay Visitors Centre, an imposing building on Knight Terrace. The lady that attended to us was amazing, her smiles were welcoming and she was full of knowledge of what to do and see in the Bay Area. She told us she had left Denham five times but she keeps on coming back. Her husband could find no other place on the face of the Earth surface that provides such natural attractions and people as this town.

We had to make a decision of whether to visit Monkey Mia (Mia is Aboriginal word for home, the Monkey part is any ones guess) or head straight to Francois Peron. With Dolphin feeding occurring at 7:45am, we were already late but decided to take a gamble and headed out there. At the entrance to the reserve, we were asked to pay a gate fee of $15 per occupant. Having bought an expensive “All Parks” ticket, this did not sit down well with me and I felt the young attendant was trying to be funny. That was until she showed me the small prints on my ticket that states that Monkey Mia was excluded from the parks that we could visit with it. We weren’t comfortable with paying $30 to enter the park, especially when the feeding of the Dolphins had been done. More so, we’ve had experiences with dolphins before and feel that we should skip over this.

With this we turned back and headed for the Fracois Peron National Park, a 52,500 hectare park that got its named after a French zoologist who accompanied an expedition here in 1801and made some of the earliest recordings of Shirk Bay’s wildlife and first people. There is an entry fee of $15 per vehicle as well as a cost for overnight stay. For our day visit, our park ticket covers this and we headed straight for Cape Peron point – 51kms drive on some of the worst sandy and corrugated road.

After a gruesome hour of driving, with the Explorer being shaken and tested of all its nuts, we eventually arrived at Cape Peron. There were a few points to turn off from the long road to Cape Peron to see the coast, each offering a different perspective. Right after the point , 7kms into the park where we lowered our tyres to 20psi. 2kms thereafter, the novice 4wd enthusiast has an opportunity to test his skills with a 10km drive to Big Lagoon by turning left. The next turning is a right one 20kms ahead which leads to Herald Bright after another 5kms. Thereafter, one encounters the mud flats and the water mark on the track suggests that the track will certainly be unpassable when it raids as the whole area will be flooded. From Cattle Well on the left, one will have to drive 22kms to reach Cape Peron. One can take the little detour on the right to Skipjack Point. The reality is that each of these places will provide the tourist a different level of appreciation of the red dust, its spinifex bushes and their interaction with the calm waters of the bay.

There is no arguing that what we see on the surface is surpassed by the marine lives that lie much below the waters and these are great sights for the avid divers and snorkellers. In fact, one is encouraged at the Gregories to do so and will be rewarded with a lovely view of the reef system.

The drive is well signposted and nearly all the detours offer great opportunity to camp, boat on the water as well as fish. At Cape Peron, we met a couple returning from their fishing expedition with no catch. We asked for the fishes and it was a tale of lamentations and sorrows. The lady told us that now, there would be no dinner for them because of their “no catch” and we all laughed over it.

As they drove away, we were left with the whole Cape to ourselves and I actually considered sticking a Nigerian Flag on the soil and claiming it as an overseas territory for Nigeria. The walk down to the beach was a little steep but the sights of the cormorant birds near the shore and the white beach was alluring and we took our chances at probably rolling off the cliff in red dust all the way down, if we lose a footing. We did not. I got the drone in the air and captured the amazing scenery.

Looking out into the horizon, all one can see is pristine clear waters, everywhere one looks is blue. Behind you, the red hills provide an amazing contrast to the natural blue of the Indian Ocean. The low lying spinifex grasses add a touch of green and the diversity in these natural colours are best seen than described. There is a 3km return walk from the cape to Skipjack Point and this was what Saf found of interest. She followed the trail, known as Wanamalu Trail, a bit and took some very amazing pictures.

After satisfying ourselves with the sight of the ocean and bay waters, we went back up the hill, panting. It was here we notice that we are not alone and the number of vehicles had increased to 7. We met a group, hugging a crate of Corona Beer and we exchanged pleasantries with them. I informed that prior to their arrival, I thought I owned the Cape to myself and they jokingly replied that I should look at the good side as well – at least for a short while I had the pleasure of owning it.

Growing up, my mother used to carry about a lovely bag with the inscription Sun and Sea Acalpuco. I had to check the Encyclopedia, our own version of Google then, to understand that Acalpulco was in Mexico. As we met an elderly couple I shared this story with them and concluded that the sight here should be aptly marketed as Sun and Sea, Cape Peron. They laughed and agreed. The man, Jim, told us that this was his second time here, the first, according to him was before I was born, 52 years earlier. I laughed and asked how did he know that I was younger than 52 years, as I was just 51 years? He laughed and said he guessed. I asked Jerry whether what he was seeing now was far better than what he saw 52 years ago and he said absolutely. He talked about the presence of a sheep station on the land then and with that now gone, the plants have been able to grow naturally as the sheep were wandering around and destroying the beauty of the cape. As we part ways, I asked if we can make a pact, to jointly return here in another 52 years and share experiences. He and his wife were full of laughter, knowing fully well that in 52 years, we all would most likely be history to the world then.

On the return journey, chose to visit the as it offers the shortest distance of the other points from the main track. This was a worthy detour. A family was at the beach with the man taking a swim in the lovely waters. We took a walk to the corner and there was another young couple preparing to go snorkeling in the water. As I approached the young man, I could see that he was full of apprehension and the attention of the lady was diverted towards me as well, I guess that in this world of “Black Lives Matter”, everyone is treading with caution.  I told him that we had traveled all the way from Nigeria to look for him and the task was for him to take my lovely wife and I some pictures with the backdrop of the ocean and the rocks at Gregories. He loosened up, smiled and provided help. Around us were small, jagged, rocks scattered all over. They were in two dominant colours, brown and blackish grey. I loved the way they are gently breaking the low waves of the ocean. I sat on one, very carefully, and asked Saf to take me some pictures. Despite the care, it collapsed under my weight. The sharp points scratched my leg and hands and soon I had blood flowing form these areas. My wife gave me a look that said it all, “Did I not warn you not to?” As I picked myself up, she told me that my knicker was torn as well. I did treasure this short pant and was unhappy that I got it torn here at the Gregories. I headed to the water and washed my injury hoping that the salt will stop the bleeding, it did. As we walked back to the car, we dipped our legs in the waters as they roll to the shore, it was a great feeling having the sand move below our feet and the waters slowly bathing our legs and receding. 

On the return trip, we saw an Emu walk majestically, slowly crossing the track, ahead of us. The return journey wasn’t easier than the one that brought us all the way here. The sands were out to take a pound of flesh but the Explorer held its ground. I must warn that any pregnant woman that comes this way will be forced into an early labour. We finally made it back to the Peron Heritage Precinct, the point where we inflated our tyres and continued on the drive to Denham. 

Right on exiting the park is Little Lagoon, the sight of this from the Monkey Mia Road was irresistible and we branched to have a view. The waters in this lagoon was totally enclosed as far as one can see and it offers a great picnic point There is a short drive for 4wd and we took this and picked a spot off from it where we parked the Explorer. I brought out the drone and filmed the amazing scenery from the sky while Saf took a walk down the track. It was simply calm and peaceful here and it is a place where one can spend a full day just watching the clean waters of the lagoon.

After what was a long while, we drove into Denham and it was only then that we knew we were hungry and had not taken a bite since we woke up. We contemplated on what food choices we could get and agreed to pick up some fresh meat and salad from the local IGA shop for barbecue. There are a couple of sheltered spots with freely provided barbecue grills on the Knight Terrace and we picked a spot from where we can also watch the boats on the jetty and appreciate the beauty of this quaint little town.

The traffic was very light and the majority of the vehicles are 4WD going up and down the terrace. There is a playground next to us and a couple of kids were having fun there. We had a great meal at a fraction of what it would have cost us if we have gone to a restaurant.

By the time we were done with dinner, the sun had gone down on the horizon and it was time to rest our heads and sleep. We went back to the Bay Lodge where we had passed the night previously and got a room for the night. Tomorrow, a long trip awaits.