It Takes All Sorts To Make The World Go Round...

We have enjoyed a wonderful slob day, reminiscent of Mondays in Beverley. We dawdled in the caravan all morning. Part of our lack of pace was caused by the indecision of cyberspace to remain connected. Or not. There was absolutely no point in becoming frustrated. There was nothing we could do. So the task of my post writing and a mutual sharing of photos took much longer than anticipated. There was nowhere we needed to be, nothing we had to do.

Eventually, we decided to take a picnic lunch to the Beasley River free camp and rest area just down the road. We had stayed there a year ago. The toilets had been pretty disgusting, the bins overflowing and the river dry. 2019 was much the same. However, this jaunt had also opened our eyes to the beauty of Pilbara rocks. Beasley River's dry river bed surface was coated with them.

So we walked, stopped and gathered. A new type of fossicking and just as entertaining. We arrived back at Lily's parking spot with our pockets bulging and our hands full.

When we had arrived at the Beasley River, the site held only another four-wheel-drive and caravan. Mum and Dad and four boys, three of whom were having lessons at a picnic table. The fourth was supposed to be having a rest. Instead, he had peered over the top of the caravan's flyscreen and waved at us. We waved back.

A short time later, a four-wheel drive and camper trailer pulled in. The vehicle was rather striking, its sides featuring a scene from "Mad Max", featuring Max, an improvised machine gun and his dog. Then the driver climbed out of the vehicle. He was a short and stocky Swiss chap with a long and limp Mohawk, unfortunate tattoos, ghastly Australian flag boxers, an unpleasant singlet and...Crocs on his feet.

His portrait was unflattering in the extreme. Yet, he was full of himself, describing his adventures in Australia and Europe. He boasted of his travelling prowess. He did complain, bitterly, of the lack of water available freely in the Northwest. We wondered whether the terms "low rainfall" or "arid country" rang any bells with him.

After badmouthing the Beasley River free camp, he then chose to...camp. Proud of the fact he was thoroughly self-sufficient, he pulled out a blower-vac and proceeded to blower-vac his trailer. By this point, we were nearly hysterical with laughter. What was the point of blower-vacuuming in the Northwest?!

Swiss Army Max was definitely somebody a woman would not like to take home to Mother. We felt vaguely sorry for him. The free camp was filling, mostly with caravanners who wanted more from their free camps than Beasley River offered. I approached a couple of groups to recommend Cheela Plains. As soon as money was mentioned, they all turned into Scrooge.

We left soon afterwards, somewhat relieved. We joined the crowd around the communal firepit at Cheela for drinks and chatting. A German couple who were coming to check out Western Australia with their son, who was keen to spend his gap year here. A couple from Paraburdoo who had sold everything and were now on the road for an undetermined period. Another couple from Perth on a road trip for five weeks. Some rugby league fans from New South Wales. More kindred spirits gathered together in a place called Cheela Plains.

We have retired into Digger for the night. The internet is still elusive. However, outside the door is a night sky that is mesmerising. I think I may well sit there for a while and finish my vino.

Images of the Beasley River dry bed -

This is Mad Max and Dog

This is how short and round chaps could look...

This is not a good hairstyle for anybody...

Neither is this...

A pleasant evening around this was able to negate the images of the unfortunate Max we had encountered at Beasley River.