Our journey to Shark Bay was done in several stages. Our first stop was at Dongara, which is 386 kilometres north of our home in Perth, Western Australia. Our intention to set off early went the way of all good intentions, so we were faced with cutting down on rest breaks to avoid arriving at dusk.

Dongara
Dongara, which we had never visited before, is a picturesque little fishing town. Its main industry, rock lobster (cray) fishing, was in its 'closed' season until November. Everybody we spoke to was friendly and helpful, making our four days most enjoyable. Dongara is built on the mouth of the Irwin River. We took a walk along the river banks to its estuary. Surprise! There was a small sandbank separating the river from the ocean - no water was flowing out at all. We saw many birds fishing in the river including cormorants, egrets and pelicans.

The "Dongara Denison Beach Holiday Park" was practically on the beach. Lying in bed at night, all we could hear was the breakers thundering onto the beach and the wind in the palm trees. We were very impressed with everything about this caravan park and gave it a score of 9.5 out of 10.

The toilet facilities were five star - large, airy, and spotlessly clean. Soap and a hot-air hand dryer were provided and there was even music playing. The whole park was clean and well cared for. We cooked our meals on one of the free gas barbecues provided. During our stay we did plenty of walking, visiting many sites of heritage interest - and some of less historical value, such as the excellent hostelries where cold beer was served. One old building, the Priory Lodge, had heritage value and beer.

A place of particular interest to me was the shell of what had been the Royal Steam Roller Flour Mill designed by Henry Simon of Manchester. When I first left school, back when the earth was still cooling, I served a five-year apprenticeship at the Henry Simon Engineering Works in Stockport, England, which specialised in the manufacture of flour milling machinery.

Kalbarri
A pleasant, uneventful journey in sunny weather took us from Dongara to Kalbarri. On our arrival, however, the weather took a turn for the worse and on the second night gale force winds rocked the caravan and rain lashed down. On the third day it cleared and the sun shone again.

Kalbarri has much in common with Dongara. Both are small, remote coastal towns on the mouth of a river and both rely on fishing and tourism. Both names, Dongara and Kalbarri, are derived from the Aborigine. The rivers by which they are built, the Irwin and the Murchison, are both named after early explorers. One marked difference is that the Murchison opens onto the ocean and the returning fishing fleet zig-zags between a reef covered in breakers and a sandbank to gain the sanctuary of the river.

The Murchison Caravan Park is very big and rated at 3.5 stars - not quite the excellent standard of the park at Dongara but perfectly adequate. Having been to Kalbarri previously we had already done most of the 'touristy' things. However, Kalbarri is such an unspoiled, picturesque little place that returning was no hardship at all!

The beach is right across the road from the caravan park and we watched pelicans being fed in the morning, went for walks along the river and drank a leisurely coffee in a cafe. Later we watched the sun set over the ocean before popping into the pub to confirm that the beer was still up to scratch. This retirement thing is tough! It's hard to accept that we are not on a holiday which will soon be over.

One day we took a tour to the Kalbarri National Park - what spectacular scenery! We'd been there on our previous visit to Kalbarri and on that occasion we took the photograph (below left), seated in "Nature's Window". One reason for returning now, two years later, was to take another picture in the same place.The old bugger looks like he's wearing the same clothes that he wore two years ago.

Probably haven't been washed since either. But never mind him. Just look at the young chick next to him! That's right folks, it's the new-look Pam. A shadow of her former self and looking and feeling a hundred times better already. But she's far from finished yet and determined to lose a lot more.

We thoroughly enjoyed our trip to the national park and John, our tour guide, was able to answer just about every question that was thrown at him. His knowledge of the thousands of wild flowers was encyclopaedic; he even knew the Latin names! He was an excellent guide with a quick wit that kept us all laughing.

From our vantage point at the top of the towering rocks we spotted kangaroos, an emu, and many feral goats far below in the gorge - and even one goat on a rock above us. Just as we were leaving the park, a large wedge-tailed eagle flew in front of the bus and alighted in a tree ahead. It cleverly waited as everyone scrambled for their cameras, then lazily flew away before anyone could get a picture.

Kalbarri has a population of about 1,500 permanent residents. However, due to its popularity as a tourist destination, that number can probably be doubled. As we walked around Kalbarri - and that doesn't take long - we were surprised by all the foreign accents we heard and the high percentage of out-of-state registration plates on the cars.

All too soon it was our last evening. We walked up to a headland to look at the ocean and were lucky enough to see a school of dolphins riding the breakers in towards the beach. Anglers were dotted along the rocky shore, patiently throwing in their lines and never seeming to catch anything. But it didn't seem to matter to them, just being there was sufficient.

On the walk back we stopped for a final drink at the hotel. When the barmaid no longer needs to ask what we want, perhaps it's time to move on! We strolled back along the river bank as the sun set and took a last picture of the pelicans fishing. This place is as close to paradise as it gets.

Tomorrow morning we'll hitch up the caravan and make tracks for Hamelin Pool and more adventures. Goodbye Kalbarri; we'll be back one day.

Hamelin Pool
In days gone by, Hamelin Pool had been a telegraph station. Today it's a small caravan park centred around the old telegraph station which is now a museum. It's a hundred kilometres from anywhere at the end of a spur road leading off the road from the Overlander Roadhouse to Denham. When we first approached it we were a little put off, there seemed to be nothing worth seeing. But we were wrong.

The people who run the place and the caravan dwellers who had arrived before us were as friendly as always. Hamelin Pool itself is a lagoon which forms the southern part of Shark Bay. A reef isolates it from any tidal flow that might refresh the water so that, as the sun has evaporated moisture from the water's surface, the salinity in the lagoon has increased to about double that normally found in sea water. This has resulted in two phenomena.

The unique environment created was ideal for a small shellfish called a Cardiid Cockle which lived and died here for 6,000 years (give or take a day or two). The shells were washed up on the beach to a depth of two or three metres. Rainwater, which dissolved a little calcium carbonate out of the shells, formed a glue which bonded the shells together into matter solid enough to be cut into blocks and used for building. And that's what happened - a small quarry, just behind the beach, produced the blocks until this material was finally banned in all new construction.

The blocks of shells ready to be cut and (right) a close up of a block face.

The quarry is still there as the photo shows. The close-up of one of the blocks shows how it is constructed entirely of shells. The quarry is now of heritage value and visitors are asked to respect it by not climbing over it or taking samples for souvenirs.

The whole beach, which stretches for miles, is made up of billions of near-white shells and fragments of shells. It is quite dazzling in the sunshine. There is no sand as such. A few days later, when we visited Denham, we came across a church and a restaurant (right) constructed from cockle shell blocks.

The other phenomenon at Hamelin, practically unique in the world, is an abundance of rock-like formations called Stromatolites. They are, as the Hamelin Pool brochure explains, a still-living legacy from the dawn of life on earth. How they are formed is too involved to go into here - and I'd get it wrong anyway. Sufficient to say that, to us, they looked like boring lumps of rock in the shallow water. To 300 French geology teachers who arrived on a fleet of buses, however, they were of immense interest. They stood in a big crowd on a jetty for at least an hour and stared into the water as a lecturer bellowed to them in French.

Initially we didn't know that all these people were from France, but we were puzzled by their attitude. Normally, when we came across people in such a location they would smile and pass the time of day - it's the Australian way. However, these people would not even make eye contact and (with the exception of one lady), nobody smiled or spoke to us. If that's France, we'll take Australia any day!

But back to Hamelin Pool. Being so remote there is no connection to the main electricity and water systems. Neither is there any television reception, though we did pick up one weak radio station. Limited power is provided by a very noisy three cylinder diesel generator which roars away from 7 a.m. until 11 p.m. after which peace - and absolute darkness - enveloped us. During the day the power was adequate for most things, but if Pam wanted to dry her hair she'd have to turn off everything else first and set the hair drier to low heat. There were two sources of water - very salty water from a bore for washing, and rainwater collected from the roofs of the few buildings (together with any bird droppings) for drinking. Fortunately we carry 180 litres of fresh water in our on-board tanks so we had no problems making coffee, etc. There was no mobile phone coverage but there was a public telephone box which connected to the rest of the world via a radio link from an antenna on a nearby hill.

Back in the late 1800s the only outside communication was by Morse code via the telegraph. (Not so different, perhaps?) That was the purpose of the Hamelin Pool Telegraph Station, to relay messages from the Swan River Colony (now Perth) to settlements further north - and vice versa. Occasionally a boat would call with supplies for the telegraph station and load up with wool from any farms in the area for the return trip. Getting the wool to the boat was quite an operation as the water in the lagoon was so shallow. Carts were loaded with wool and pushed out through the shallow water to rowing boats. The rowing boats ferried the wool out to a lighter in deeper water. The lighter then transported it out to the ocean-going sailing ship moored in Shark Bay beyond the reef.

Originally we booked to stay three nights at Hamelin Pool, but at that time we had no idea that it was so small. We subsequently decided to stay only two nights and move on for one night to a tiny resort called Nanga Bay which is exactly midway between Hamelin and our next destination, Denham.

Nanga Bay
We arrived at Nanga at about 11 a.m., set up the caravan, had lunch, then went to explore. First we went to the beach; it was a lovely beach, deserted except for three other people who left when we did. But that's all Nanga has to offer except for miles of scrub in one direction and the sea in the other. So we returned to the caravan, meeting a snake on the path back from the beach, and updated this website. The water and electricity set-up at Nanga is similar to Hamelin Pool, other than that the diesel generator is a V6 and very much louder. It runs 24-7 (as the Yanks say), but our caravan was sufficiently distant to reduce its roar to a murmur.

Denham
It was only a hop of 58 km from Nanga to our next stop, Denham, the westernmost town in Australia. Named after Captain Henry Denham who chartered the whole Shark Bay area in 1858, the town is situated on the west side of the Peron Peninsula and is the focal centre of the Shark Bay area. Notwithstanding that, Denham is a very small place, its main street having the beach and marina on one side and the usual hotels, restaurants and shops on the other - and there were three camels strolling beside the main street when we drove in! Monkey Mia, famous for its dolphins, is only a twenty minute drive away.

Contrary to what many believe, you can't just wade into the water and stroke the dolphins. In fact, you mustn't touch them at all. At set feeding times a ranger (see picture left) comes out and explains all about the dolphins. He was extremely knowledgeable and could identify each by name. Three buckets of fish were produced and the ranger, with two assistants, showed how the dolphins are fed. They selected a few spectators to go into the water, one at a time, and feed a fish to a dolphin. And guess who got chosen? Yes, good old Pam! There I was, camera at the ready, thinking "What a picture for the website!" But what did Pam present me with? Her bottom as she bent over, totally obscuring the view of the dolphin. 'Spose we could have put that picture here, but hey, one bottom's much like another, isn't it?

Even between feeding times, dolphins were never far away. Only a few come to the beach for feeding but the bay seems full of them. We took a two-hour cruise on a beautiful catamaran which sailed out to the horizon to give its passengers a look at the many forms of marine life in the bay. However, dolphins aside, all we saw was water. And we absolutely froze! Who said Australia is a hot country?

The catamaran was called Shotover - don't know why. Funny name for a beautiful boat. And talking of names, Monkey Mia is an odd sort of name too. I asked Pam if she knew its origin and she gave me chapter and verse. The Monkey was a schooner which visited Shark Bay in 1834. Mia is an Aboriginal word meaning 'home'. Thus Monkey Mia means the home of the Monkey. Just thought I'd share that with you.

We had a good position in the 'Denham Seaside Caravan Park' which is on a hillside and we were at the top with a great outlook. The facilities scored a ten; the toilets were excellent, the staff really friendly and helpful, and our fellow campers were nice and friendly too. At Denham we were introduced to the great Australian 'sundowner'. Sundowners occur in caravan parks everywhere, as the name implies, at or around sundown. On arriving at the park we were greeted by a dynamo of a lady (also called Pam) who wanted to look round our caravan as it was the first of the fibreglass models she'd seen. She invited us to a sundowner at her caravan. This involves a bunch of campers gathering together to watch the sun set, swap tall stories and imbibe alcohol until it's too cold to continue. It's a great way to meet like-minded people and spend a relaxed evening. We later knew these interludes as "Happy Hours".

Pam (hostess) adopted us and introduced us to a lovely group of people. Believe it or not, Pam (wife) is about three inches taller than the other Pam. Is this a first? Pam (hostess) showed us round her caravan which she has made into a home-from-home with lots of pictures and ornaments. It really is nice and she gave us a lot of ideas. We never seem to stop learning.

While in Denham we again came across the camels and Pam (wife) was persuaded, with some trepidation - and after a deal of soul searching - to take a camel ride. Those who know Pam well may doubt this but we have the pictures to prove it. The camel was called Madison and she was a beautiful, gentle beast. After half a minute Pam was totally relaxed and thoroughly enjoyed the ride.

Madison and, (lower right), Little Madison.

And so, as a memento, we purchased Little Madison to keep our recent acquisition, Denham, company. Ho-hum.

If you jumped here from page 87, click here to go back there.

Horrocks Beach.
Shark Bay was fabulous but all good things, etc. The trip south to Horrocks Beach was a long one - nearly 400 kilometres - but we got an early start and it passed without incident. Horrocks is a hamlet on the edge of the Indian Ocean. It's stable population can't be more than two hundred; it only has one shop and not even a pub (groan). However, the sole shop sells beer and wine (cheer). To reach Horrocks we turned west off the Northwest Coastal Highway at a small place called Northampton (town population 850). The countryside was very pretty - soft rolling hills in many shades of green punctuated by fields of bright yellow canola (known as 'rape' in England)

The caravan park was again right on the beach so we looked forward to going to sleep to the sound of the breakers. However, storm clouds rolled in and on the first night the rain pelted down, drumming so loudly on the caravan roof that it drowned all other sounds and kept us awake. The next day dawned fine and we drove back to Northampton to explore. There was supposed to be much of heritage significance but we were a bit disappointed. However, nothing daunted we found alternative interests in the Miners Arms. The barmaid was from England and she knew our old home town well. Then it turned out that a man with whom Pam once worked had stayed at the Miners Arms just the previous week; what a small world!

Our last day at Horrocks was spent quietly reading, talking to our neighbours and going for a walk. As we hitched up and rolled out of the caravan park early the next morning we got big smiles and cheery waves from many people, some of whom we'd never even met. Either they were very nice, friendly people . . . or they were glad to see the back of us.

Greenough.
The run to Greenough (pronounced Gren-uff) was only 88 kilometres and we arrived still fresh and set up the caravan. Later we went for a walk to the beach and discovered that the Greenough River, large enough to be navigable for its final six and a half kilometres, ended at a sandbar which separated it from the ocean. What is it with Western Australian rivers? Why are they so shy of making contact with the ocean? On the way back to the caravan we called in at the park store for some beer. They didn't sell it! Hey, what sort of a shop is this? However, just up the road (they told us) is the Greenough Resort where they do sell beer. Thank God! Up the road we found a very civilised hostelry which satisfied our requirements and accepted a booking for dinner on the Tuesday evening, which was to be our final night before heading home.

On the Monday morning we decided to take a boat cruise up the Greenough River but we were unsure where to go. We could see the boat moored on the river but there was nobody around. After a while a man approached and asked us if we were waiting for the cruise. It transpired that he was the captain but he needed at least four passengers to make the cruise economically viable. Then, Hey Presto, a car pulled up with a couple from London wanting to go with us. The captain said, "Hold on a minute" and walked off, to return a moment later pushing a wheelbarrow on which there was an upturned rowing boat and some oars. In no time he had rowed out to the cruise boat (picture right), started the engines, brought it to the shore and dropped a ramp for us to board.

The captain, who doubled as our tour guide, was very knowledgeable about the flora and fauna around the river. The scenery was peaceful and unspoiled; we saw a lot of bird life, learned about the area, and were given a cup of coffee and a yummy chocolate slice.

With only four passengers aboard we had plenty of room to wander around, could sit anywhere we liked, and were able to ask questions freely. We considered that at $19 per head for a two hour cruise, it was excellent value. Moreover it was warm and the water was calm. Later the same day we visited a little museum in the country and viewed lots of kitchen utensils and tools very similar to those used by our parents when we were kids. Hmmm!

The next day we did some more exploring and visited an old railway station museum in a small hamlet called Walkaway. A lot of work had gone into the museum which was very interesting - especially so the lady attendant who told us she was approaching her ninetieth birthday. In the old days, steam passenger trains used the station but now the only trains are huge diesel freight trains that shake the building as they thunder through.

On the way to the railway station we noticed a lot of trees that were very bent, some even lying along the ground (see pic below). These "leaning trees" abound in the Greenough area. The lean is caused by constant strong, salty winds off the ocean which 'burn off' all the new growth on the windward side of the tree, creating an imbalance.

The morning of August 11 dawned clear and sunny, however our 'shake down' tour with the caravan was over. We packed, hitched up, and set off for home.

So What’s Next? In December 2004, after some unanticipated delays, we finally set off on the big trip around Australia. You can find that story starting on Page 1 in the General Index. Follow Pam's diary from the Pam's Perspective Index starting at Dec 2004.