Australia is one of the least inviting countries in the world. Every last animal can kill you – forget about snakes, sharks and scorpions, even the birds are evil (don’t believe me? Check here). And when poor, unsuspecting tourists are not being harassed by local wildlife, they are being harassed by immigration officials. Filling out visa applications is a more heinous process than trying to sort out your tax declaration form. Add to that a vast outback to get lost in, and Australia essentially screams “GO HOME, WE DON’T WANT YOU HERE” before you even enter the country. So with all of this in mind, I still decided to give this the good old go and set off.
After two weeks, I have seen no snakes, no scorpions, I’ve passed all the immigration checks, but Australia has not yet given up. So in a desperate attempt to still convince me to leave their precious land, it threw its latest weapon at me: a cyclone.
Yes, a cyclone, because why not? The past week was spent first traveling towards, and then running like hell from a cyclone. From the beginning of our trip, the idea was the head up north to Coral Bay. As the name suggests, the bay is home to gorgeous coral reefs, numerous dolphins and the gigantic whale sharks. It’s both biologists’ and tourists’ heaven. But Australia had other plans.
So first we travelled, via a terribly small and somewhat dead town called Cervantes, up to Kalbarri. Kalbarri National Park is home to the Pinnacle desert and it is probably one of the most alien-looking places I have visited. Tim and I took a one-hour walk around the desert – there are no trails, just a few signposts scattered to keep you on track. I’ve never knowingly taken any kind of drugs, but this is what I imagine being on shrooms must be like. Weird, Dalí-like landscapes where the heatwaves make it seem like everything is moving. I was glad to find the visitors’ center again after an hour.
The village of Kalbarri is lovely. Even during the low-season, there is a warm atmosphere and the locals are welcoming. On a boat tour of the coastal cliffs I chatted to a local guy. He’s been in Kalbarri his whole life and had no desire to leave. This struck me as unimaginable – I’ve always wanted to leave my hometown. But I guess Kalbarri would be an all right place to grow up and live (well, as long as you like the water and water sport. Otherwise you’re in for one boring ride).
As we left Kalbarri, shit hit the metaphorical fan. After a 4.5hr drive, Carnarvon loomed in front, along with dark, black clouds. Upon arrival I spoke to the clerk at the hotel. As I was about to ask to check in, she was joined by a local ranger. “Check-in? I don’t think so. We’re evacuating this place. Go. Go now, go south, and don’t stop till you get to Geraldton at least. Then keep going in the morning.”
Looking back now, I didn’t think him very seriously. How bad could it possibly be? A bit of wind and rain, come on. But we drove south nonetheless and went straight for Geraldton for the night. After this we went to York, further inland to avoid the cyclonic weather. While I was sat in York, I opened the paper. The headline was the following:
“Carnarvon declared natural disaster zone.”
Turns out Olwyn had had no mercy on Carnarvon. The roads were flooded, fresh water cut off, food destroyed, and electricity gone. Now, three days later, the town is only just getting back its water supply and emergency electricity. So I’d like to thank the park ranger who told us to go, because I am now sat on a chalet by the beach rather than in a shared evacuation center, thanks to his advice.
So after heading towards a cyclone, then running away from a cyclone, we also passed through the oldest inland village of York (where the little corellas are louder than the people).York is like going back in time – oldtimers drive through the city, Ye Olde Sweet Shoppe wafts the smell of fresh caramel into the streets, and the buildings look like the set of a 60s spaghetti western. It was truly a lovely village to unwind for a day or so.
But alas, Olwyn had decided to become my new BFF and refused to leave my side. So the next day we needed to head even further south as the bad weather started to catch up on us. But on the way, I came across one of the most touching things I have seen on my travels so far: a dog cemetery in the absolute middle of nowhere. The small cemetery was filled with maybe fifty graves, from over thirty years ago up until last year. The messages of love on the little headstones were touching to read and there were flowers on almost all graves. It was a beautiful place.
Continuing our travels after a heartfelt memory to my own first dog, we stopped by Hyden. This village is home to no more than 400 people, and it seems every last one of them came out to celebrate St. Patrick’s day in the motel on Saturday night. Tim and I had some drinks and observed. It was a fascinating look into rural Australian life. But the real reason to stop in Hyden is Wave Rock. This granite rock formation is beautiful and by being early, there was no one else there yet. Walking around there were so many birds and lizards, I easily spent an hour just taking photos and relaxing. It’s an absolute must.
After visiting the rock, we drove even further south until we hit the coast and could go no further. So here we are, in Albany, in a chalet by the beach. Even though the weather is still temperamental, it is truly stunning here. I look forward to relaxing here for a while accompanied by the countless gulls. I haven’t quite figured out how they are lethal yet, but they must be. This is Australia after all.
Faye Vogely 