The Pilbara - a certain grandeur

The Pilbara coast has a rugged grandeur and an inhospitable remoteness that is both intoxicating and terrifying.

Here hard, jagged red hills meet a pale blue ocean, calm and inviting.

Further inland, there’s a sense of dreadful vulnerability to heat and desolation.

On the North West Coastal Highway in the Pilbara.

One cannot help but be both proud and aghast, as this resource-rich region has brought out the best and worst of humanity, as will be revealed shortly.

This 80-Mile Beach visitor was grateful for a carrot to munch on.

After leaving Broome, we drove 320km including 10km of corrugated red-dirt road to 80-mile Beach, location of one of the biggest and most spacious caravan parks we’ve seen, where we were greeted by a large brown snake and an old, and hungry kangaroo.

We stayed three nights, with TV but no mobile phone and no wireless Internet coverage. Rarely the hunter-gatherer, I managed to catch some salmon for dinner, otherwise we filled our day with reading, or long walks on the broad, white beach.

The salmon were 'on' at 80-Mile Beach.

Next we drove 550km southwest through desolate Pilbara landscape to Pt Samson, a remote and pretty beach hamlet about 60km from Karratha.

Sunrise at Pt Samson - by Carol. Sunrise over the water in the west? Yes, because we're located on a peninsular facing east.

Heads up at Port Hedland

On the way we stopped for a couple hours at Port Hedland, where we felt for the first time how iron ore is bringing wealth to the nation.

Giant Japanese ore carrier receiving its load at Port Hedland.

Port Hedland, a fairly ordinary looking town, is where iron ore from BHP Billiton’s Mt Whaleback mine in the Hamersley Range near Newman is loaded on to trains up to 7km long and railed 275km for export to China, Japan and elsewhere.

Even at a distance, the ships being loaded up looked enormous.

Downtown Port Hedland.

But it was only when we reached Pt Samson and were able to spend a week of day trips exploring Roebourne, Dampier, Burrup Peninsular, Cape Lambert and the ghost town of Cossack, that we could get a close-up look at the region’s history, and huge contribution to the Australian economy.

Rio Tinto salt mine.

At night we played cards and drank beer with some very neighbourly vannies whom we hope to meet up with again.

(For the record, industrial wealth from the Pilbara reaps more than $8 billion in taxes and royalties, of which more than $7 billion goes to Federal coffers).

Rio Tinto uses the ports of Dampier and Cape Lambert to export iron ore from its Mt Tom Price mine in the Robe River Valley.

Comparisons can be odious, but we found Dampier more attractive as far as port towns go than Port Hedland (perhaps because I got dyspepsia eating a greasy sausage and chips snack in a Port Hedland cafe).

We drove in the exhausting heat up the Burrup Peninsula, turned east to gorgeous Hearson’s Cove where we could only be but envious of a number of people swimming.

Hearson's Cove.

Petroglyphs and engineering behemoths

Our real purpose was to locate Aboriginal petroglyphs (rock engravings) in nearby Deep Gorge, a short distance away by dirt road.

Here we were amazed to see paintings and engravings everywhere on boulders to left and right of the little gorge, some dating back thousands of years.

Can you see the petroglyph of a kangaroo on the middle rock? At least I think it's a 'roo.

After that cultural fix, we drove on up the peninsula to the Woodside Visitors Centre, overlooking a natural gas liquefaction and storage complex of such dimensions it beggars the imagination.

Liquified natural gas in huge storage tanks on the Burrup Peninsula.

Woodside operates Australia’s two biggest resource projects, the North West Shelf Venture and the Pluto liquefied natural gas project (under construction and close to completion).

One of five 'trains' liquifying gas for storage. The complex is five times' bigger than the ConocoPhillips plant in Darwin.

Gas to the complex comes by undersea pipeline from the North West Shelf deposit and condensed to one six hundredth of its volume by cooling for use domestically and for export. The project contributes more than $3 billion a year in taxes and royalties to government.

Just to stand and observe one of five giant ‘trains’ (liquifaction plants) in operation, humming that deep hum of industrial might, I found an awesome experience.

Very fashionable, but we had to return the hard hats

As if we could not get enough of industrial activity, for $5 per head we took a Rio Tinto subsidised bus tour of Roebourne, Cossack and Cape Lambert.

This we found incredibly interesting, especially the Cape Lambert visit, as it gave us our first close up look at how iron ore comes in by rail, is graded, stacked and reclaimed for export.

Humungous reclaimer shovels ore on to a conveyor for ship loading.


A very long wharf

Port Lambert has the highest and at 3.53km, the second longest wharf in Australia (the longest being the sugar loading wharf at Lucinda in North Queensland, which is 5.76km long).

At 3.53km, the second longest loading wharf in Australia, built especially high for the conveyor to avoid big waves waves whipped up during cyclones.

Our visit to Roebourne (established 1866) and Cossack (1872) gave us an insight into the region’s history and the decorative architecture of George Temple Poole, who also designed the original stone jail at Roebourne.

Cossack, a gold mining and pearling industry port, faded and died when the gold and pearl ran out and pearlers headed north to Broome, but Roebourne continues to function, if at a more leisurely pace.

Restored 19th century courthouse at Cossack designed by George Temple Poole.

Its chief claim to fame seems to be a modern prison just out of town.

I mentioned earlier that this region brought out the best and worst of humanity.

The worst of humanity

It has indeed a dark and shameful past, as we discovered on a tour of Roebourne’s old stone jail.

Kidnapping of Aborigines to work as slaves for pearlers and pastoralists was common in the late 1890s. The light in the middle is a reflection from my camera's flash on the picture.

Britain had abolished slavery in 1833, but almost 50 years later the practice of ‘blackbirding’ – rounding up Aborigines including women and children and forcing them to work hundreds of kilometres away in pearling and pastoral industries was routine. When the Aborigines retaliated, many were massacred in punitive raids.

Blackbirding was finally outlawed but the law was heavily weighted on the side of employers under the Master and Servant Act. Aborigines who broke a contract (e.g. leaving the station) could be imprisoned with hard labour in chains. But if the boss broke the contract, all he got was a fine.

Cell at Roebourne's old stone jail for Aborigines, who were chained and clamped at night. Cells for white and Asian prisoners had no chains.

While the pastoralists shot kangaroos – the natives’ food source – out of hand and with impunity, an Aborigine who speared cattle would be incarcerated in Roebourne jail for up to 12 months.

Between 1893 and 1900 there were five hangings at Roebourne Jail – all Aboriginal.

After the Japanese bombed Broome in 1942, Aborigines were encouraged to enlist to help the war effort. But those who did were still not allowed into Port Hedland without a permit.

To redress this, a State Act was introduced setting out conditions under which Aboriginal people of mixed decent could attain citizenship in 1944.

Such people had to show that they had not associated with 'full blood' relatives for at least two years, were free of venereal disease and leprosy, could basically read and write and finally show that having citizenship would be to their advantage. Such was the extent of racist policies of assimilation.

It turns out 3,000 Aboriginal people of mixed decent served in the armed forces.

Back in the 19th century, Aborigines made up the bulk of the prison population at Roebourne’s old stone prison. Now Roebourne has a new modern prison with razor wire but the bulk of the prison population is still Aboriginal.

Old church on the hill at Roebourne. But where was God during the atrocities?

Although many Indigenous Australians are now employed in the mining industry, when you go shopping at Wickham, the nearest town to Pt Samson, you find steel grills and padlocks everywhere, indicating a night time lock-down.

It seems the sores of dispossession will be with us for a long time to come.

Our next port of call will be Onslow, 350 kilometres south-west.

Chichesters hit Broome

The Chichester family swept into Broome like a mini-cyclone, determined to make every minute of their five-day visit count.

Needless to say Nanny and Grandpa were sucked into the vortex.

But we needed to get out of our cozy shell and it was such a joy to see grandkids again.

Lucinda and Amelia about to hit the surf at Cable Beach.

With one vehicle and seven people, getting about to see the local sights meant a bit of ferrying, but given the size of Broome, it wasn’t really a problem.

To make things easier, we transferred our van from the Vacation Village seven kilometres south to the Palm Grove park at Cable Beach, and arranged cabin accommodation for the Chichesters right opposite our van.

To the delight of Lucinda, Thomas and Amelia the park pool was about 15 seconds walk away and the beach with life guards 10 minutes away.

Sunset at Cable Beach.

Broome in the dry season, which is now, has endless blue skies and temperatures averaging 35 degrees, so being close to water is important.

We were able to do long beach walks or swim in the ‘surf’. Reefs prevent any worthwhile waves for board riders, but Thomas, Steven and I did experience a couple of days of excellent body surfing with big, long waves.

Louise and Steven were determined to experience as much as possible of this part of the Kimberley, so they wasted no time in arranging a half-day visit to lonely Cape Leveque 200 kilometres north on the Dampier peninsular.

Beach at Cape Leveque, with Leveque Island at right.

The French surveyor Nicolas Baudin named Cape Leveque after his hydrographer Pierre Leveque during a scientific expedition to ‘New Holland’ in 1801-03 (the local Bardi Aboriginal people call it Kooljaman).

(By way of interest Baudin ran into the English navigator Matthew Flinders on his visit. Both exchanged cordialities even though Napoleon was at war with England.)

As the road trip includes 80 kilometres of dreadful corrugated red dirt, trafficable only by 4WD, Louise decided to charter a 4-seat light plane.

On her insistence, I made up the fourth person, with Carol very happy to babysit.

Louise prior to take-off, masking her terror with a smile.

We flew, hot and sweaty, in a Piper Warrior II that had seen better days. Louise likened the cabin to the inside of a 1950s Volkswagen sedan, only smaller. She was scared, but the pilot, very young and slightly built, put us at ease with his good humour.

Steven clearly has inherited the traits of his distant relation Sir Francis Chichester, renowned aviator and solo yachtsman, and couldn’t get enough of the experience.

Coastline just before landing.

The plane cruised at 90 knots (144kmh) so it took a little over an hour to make it to the Cape Leveque airstrip, which was nothing more than a graded piece of red dirt.

Once there we encountered a café, some ramshackle huts making up an eco village of sorts and a tiny camping area, run by the Bardi people.

Relieved Louise after landing at Cape Leveque.

But the view was spectacular, with white sandy beach interspersed with black rock and set against red cliffs. As we had more than an hour of free time, we found ourselves splashing about in the warm and clear sea.


From left: Grandpa Nigel, Steve and pilot Bard (pronounced Bord).

The flight back was spectacular, with the pilot following the coastline at about 500 feet, affording views of Lombadina Point, Beagle Bay and Quondong Point, where illegal Indonesia fishing vessels are beached and burned by maritime authorities.




Rugged coastline viewed on the return to Broome.

Other high points of the Chichester visit were dinner at the Cable Beach Club Resort, a visit to Malcolm Douglas’ crocodile farm and the kids’ sunset camel ride on Cable Beach, all just a short walk from our holiday park.

Dinner at the Club Resort was an opulent affair with cocktails, all-you-can-eat prawn entrees and an a la carte main course.

Cocktails time at the Cable Beach Club Resort.

The Chichesters were determined to do things in style! Steven also created a local record in prawn consumption.

As for the crocodile farm, the kids (us too!) were mesmerised by the numbers of giant crocodiles, weighing up to 600kg, stirred into action at feeding time.

Croc at feeding time.

Our guide gave us a very interesting and informative commentary. He also introduced us to some alligators from Florida, even walking among them and touching them (you can’t do that with crocs).


We were introduced to baby crocs, their jaws held shut with elastic bands. Naturally Thomas volunteered to hold one.

Thomas and friend.







The camel ride, taken by Lucinda and Amelia, was an extraordinary event. Imagine three groups of around 20 camels, one with blue covers, one with red and one brown walking Cable Beach at sunset – very spectacular.

Lucinda and Amelia: we have lift-off.

The whole operation, including briefing of riders, mounting and walking was a precision affair with due consideration to occupational health and safety.

We were introduced to the camels’ owner, a women who it turned out had spent seven years with camels in the Australian outback. She only had to say a word and the camels obeyed.

She had round eyes and a pleasant, contented expression, lending support to the theory that some humans acquire the facial characteristics of their pets.

A great way to experience sunset at Cable Beach.

We were very happy to babysit while Louise and Steven had a romantic night out at Matsuo’s, one of Broome’s most famous restaurants, which brews its own beer.

Speaking of which, Nanny managed to demolish a whole bottle of white wine ON HER OWN and still managed to beat the kids and me at scrabble.

We were sad to say goodbye to the Chichesters but will treasure their visit forever.



With temperatures nudging 40 degrees, we left Broome and the Kimberley for the Pilbara, skirting a bushfire with lots of smoke threatening the highway, the flames only metres from our rig. We heard later on the news that the fire had closed the highway to traffic and was menacing Broome.


Image from the 'West Australian' showing smoke billowing across Cable Beach.

More news soon.

After a riot of red, Broome sweeps into view

Motoring through the Kimberleys gives a whole new meaning to 'seeing red'.

The hills can change from orange to a deep red; the earth is red; your socks and feet are a dusty red; as is your car and caravan.

A hill typical of what is seen on the Savannah Way in the Kimberleys.

Even your eyes turn red – but that’s from driving too much into the late afternoon sun.

At last we’re in Broome, after a 1,120-kilometre journey from Kununurra through savannah, Kimberley hills and over lots of dry creek beds.

Kimberley landscape.

On the first leg we had intended an overnight stay at Hall’s Creek, a tiny Aboriginal township with a gold mining history.

However, we found ourselves making good time and decided to stop at Fitzroy Crossing, 650 kilometres from Kununurra.

Lunch under a boab tree.

Fitzroy Crossing is on the Fitzroy River that flows nearly 800 kilometres from the West Kimberley into King Sound just south of Derby.

Derby dance

We resisted the urge to go sightseeing and next day, with a strong tail wind drove 250 kilometres to Derby, which was once a cattle port.

Derby (pronounced Dirby) is a bland little town with enormous tidal flats and some of the biggest tides in the world.

In the bad old days Aborigines were paid with clothing, biscuits and lollies (but never money), for the arduous and dangerous task of loading cattle into ships at low tide.

This albino peacock made lots of friends at our van park in Derby.

Today Derby is a port for exporting nickel and lead.

Our stay was enlivened by the appearance of a beautiful albino peacock belonging to the park, which entertained us for several minutes by parading and dancing.

The dance kept us spellbound.

But Broome, 220 kilometres west, beckoned and next morning we departed early, eager to discover what makes the town so popular.

Broome airport at your door

The first thing that hits you on arrival is the proximity of the airport. The runway looks like another road out of the town centre.

The upside is that visitors can be in town and downing their first cold beer within a few minutes of stepping off the plane.

Downtown Broome.

The downside is that when a big jet comes in to land you feel you can almost reach up and touch its wheels, which is a bit scary.

Broome (pop. 14,000) is one of the most remote towns of its size in the world. As the crow it’s flies 1,107 kilometres from Darwin; 1,682 kilometres from Perth; 3,380 kilometres from Sydney; and 2,117 kilometres from Bali.

Two views of Cable Beach, above and below.

It has an interesting shopping and restaurant precinct, a China Town and cosmopolitan population that reflects the Malay, Chinese, Japanese and Koepang participation in pearling industry of early last century.

Glitzy would probably be too strong a word, but Broome has a newness about it that reflects a big investment in town planning and tourism.

Cable Beach with its long, clean, white sandscape reminiscent of Stockton Beach between Newcastle and Port Stephens, lives up to its reputation.

A small banded sea snake washed up on Cable Beach, awaiting the next tide. We found another, much larger sea snake in a similar situation.

We were surprised to find a roaring trade in hire gear -- beach umbrella $4 an hour or $12 for the day, or a deck chair for $2 an hour ($6 for the day). But it makes sense given that most people travel light.

In World War II Japanese Zeros strafed Broome, then an important refuelling depot, destroying 22 aircraft including 15 flying boats at anchorage. Ground fire downed two Zeros.

The number of northern Australian towns encountered on this trip that were attacked by the Japanese during that war continues to amaze us.

Collyn Rivers still going strong

It was a delight to be able to call on an old journalist friend Collyn Rivers who has built a solar-powered, cyclone-proof home on 10 acres facing the ocean just north of Broome near the road to Cape Leveque.

A huge array of solar panels feeds power to 16 large batteries that provide all the power he and his wife Maarit need on their property.

The system also pumps a constant supply of spring water into his swimming pool obviating the need for chemicals.

Collyn on his unicycle. Note the beach view in the background.

Collyn, who is approaching 80 years of age, is a technical journalist of note.

For many years he was editor of Electronics Today International and has written several books including The Campervan and Motorhome Book, Solar that Really Works and Motorhome Electrics. Needless to say he’s an off-road camping guru.

Beachfront of Collyn's cyclone-proof home. Note the steel staunchions that are embedded in large concrete blocks. Solar array provides all the power the Rivers need.

We had a long and stimulating conversation on topics ranging from our days in journalism to the future of Aboriginal communities – three years ago he completed a program in Aboriginal Studies at Notre Dame University (Broome campus). Maarit meanwhile is doing a Masters in Psychology.

During the conversation he took a call from the ABC for an interview on rust proofing cars!

A gymnast in his youth and long-time yoga practitioner, Collyn rides a unicycle for exercise.

How about this pool!

He’s an inspiration for those of us who think we are ‘past it’.

More about Broome later – daughter Louise and her family will join us for a few days next week when the real fun will begin.

Postscript: What a delight to run into vannies Kathy Farren-Price and her partner Russell Bitcon in Broome. We last saw them in Cardwell, Queensland. He was the guy who kindly broke into our caravan when we lost our keys.