Heavenly Beverley : The Mediocre And The Magical

We left Point Samson feeling as if we'd only just started a journey. The location of the Cove Caravan Park was stunning. We were welcomed like family. The Point Samson Tavern rocked. However, Roebourne and her determined latest breed of Aboriginal social and justice warriors just blew us away. Michael and Lorraine were looking forwards. The past was the past and should be treated as such. They were all about Roebourne's future. Along with Lesley of the Roebourne Arts Group, they were all searching for ways to include and unify the community, so that Roebourne became the town she should be. And we will definitely be returning.

We had chosen to travel to Harding Dam en route to Millstream. The road was awful. We also were given the heads up that a train had broken down and would not be moving for an hour. Or so. No problem. The road was so dreadful that we accepted any excuse to stop and photograph. We bounced our way to the railway crossing where the unfortunate train had blocked the tracks. Five minutes later, somebody worked a miracle and the train slowly moved on and the vehicle queue could disperse.

We arrived at Harding Dam soon afterwards. Opened in May 1985 to supply water to the towns of Dampier, Karratha, Wickham, Point Samson and Roebourne, we had no previous knowledge of the scale of this structure. Words and photographs cannot do Harding Dam justice. Despite every jolting kilometre, we were thrilled we'd made the journey.

After reinstating our dropped jaws into their correct positions, we drove onto the Rio Tinto railway access maintenance road. We had hoped that with all their grandiose publicity and the need to sit through a mind-numbing video featuring an Anthony Albanese lookalike for a permit to drive on their road, that we would enjoy a gravel road that was graded now and then. We were wrong...

Fortunately, a bit further along, comic relief was provided by Ben, part of the White Springs team. He was engaged in road management and we were entertained by him for a good fifteen minutes whilst waiting for our turn to move on. Born in Tom Price, Ben's country included Karijini and his family took their responsibilities seriously. He had us in stitches with his imitations of delighted relations turning up with a meal of goanna (not bloody goanna again!) or bush turkey and describing that he had about fifteen members of his family who were all called Pop.

The bone-crunching ride bestowed upon us seemed endless. We eventually made a shattered arrival into Millstream mid-afternoon. The afternoon was bleak and the Miliyanha campsite was fire-scarred and black. The wetlands trail was closed due to damage from Cyclone Veronica back in March. The Millstream homestead had just been painted so all the displays had been removed. The long drop toilets smelt. The camp hosts may have only just arrived as they were unaware of some of the trails' closures.

In spite of all these negatives, I still enjoyed a pleasant and cool walk around the homestead. The lawn and trees were comforting and green in the midst of other shortcomings. A couple of kangaroos/euros stopped to peer at me. One had a joey in her pouch. Little tidbits of joy to ease the disappointments.

The rain fell, gentle and steady throughout the night. Miliyanha camp was clean and refreshed by morning. We were not enticed to stay. Tom Price was calling us and we were pleased to depart.

The road improved in places where grading had recently occurred. The rest of the Rio Tinto access road should be ashamed of itself. I understand that we use the road due to a mining company's indulgence of tourists and workers. But honestly, guys, lift your act.

Our arrival in Tom Price didn't disappoint. The highest town in Western Australia is green and inviting. Great facilities and all the services. There appeared to be families everywhere. School had just finished and the town centre with its statues of kangaroos, emus and goannas was bopping. We checked into the Tom Price tourist park with a sigh of relief.

The following morning saw us leave for Karijini. This was an easy drive. Just over a hundred kilometres, all bitumen. The Visitors' Centre was most impressive and the reception staff were informative and pleasant. Naturally, they knew Ben from White Springs and Michael and Lorraine from Roebourne. We bought another two books to add to our burgeoning pile.

Our site at Dales camping ground was private and quiet. The long drop loos were sweet-smelling. Whilst Michael nanna-napped, I walked to the Circular Pool and Three Gorges lookouts. Absolutely stunning in the late afternoon light.

Later, we discovered the extent of our caravan's shuddering two-day ride. The microwave packed its bat and ball and refused to play. The extractor fan above the stove was at a decidedly wonky angle. The flip mix in the kitchen sink had gone floppy and wriggly.

The good news was that the fridge, the stove and the grill were all working swimmingly. However, the television antenna handle had discombobulated for the umpteenth time and the TV itself had gone out in sympathy and refused to function. Along with the caravan reversing camera, the telly's antenna appeared to be another useless white elephant.

We stayed at Dales for a wonderful two nights. Our second day involved a marathon expedition of Fortescue Falls, Fern Pool, the trek to Circular Pool, a near-vertical climb upwards and a long tramp back to pick up Lily from the Fortescue carpark. We were pathetically relieved to climb into Lily and return to our Dales campsite.

Needless to say, we were both horizontal very early last night.