Heavenly Beverley : Going With The Flow In Old Onslow...

Our three-night stay at Three Mile Pool was not without incident...

We continued to endure the shenanigans of our battery system. Neither Michael nor I consider ourselves to fail miserably in the stakes of intelligence and logic (that may be somewhat presumptuous of my occasional flawed decision...), but Digger's electrical workings remain a complete mystery. The fun usually starts when we attempt to use the caravan's water pump and lights in the dark. Instantly, we become transported to the Twilight Zone, complete with flickering lights, clicking lights, no lights or a combination of all three. Another regular annoyance is the total failure of both the water pump and power when we first arrive in a new (unpowered) location. Fresh air treatment, a random flicking of various switches in no particular order, time and most surprisingly, the opening and closing of the shower door all appear to have a role in resuming normal programming. In the absence of any reason, we have resolved to carry our gas lamps with us on future expeditions.

Our second frustration was an entire day of dusty wind or windy dust, depending on one's point of view. The big Easterlies, for which the Pilbara and Kimberley are famous, descended upon us with might, meaning an additional red invasion of Digger's interior, just after I'd removed all semblance of the previous red invasion delivered between the New and Old Onslows.

Fortunately, the wind died to a zephyr by mid-afternoon, so we ignored the dust and set out for a further reconnaissance of Old Onslow, having already engaged in a quick sortie prior to our night at the Ocean View caravan park in New Onslow.

In all, we spent the best part of three afternoons peering intently and poking occasionally, having civil conversations with any snakes who may have been in the vicinity, photographing every interesting discovery from all conceivable angles, querying the location of some of the ruins, revelling in the challenge of staying upright whilst traversing the slippery mangrove mud and watching the amusing dance of the Grey Nomads' Fandango (which could be performed either in single formation or by multiple four-wheel-drive vehicles in circular motion).

The Grey Nomads' Fandango was a fascinating insight into the peculiar habits of the accidental tourist finding themselves in derelict settlements and having to feign interest. A recreational vehicle of some sort would drive alongside any of the myriads of tourist information posts, stop for a minute or so, read the description from inside the vehicle and then move on in an orderly fashion. The three vehicles Fandango was an exquisite display of the ability of a convey of four-wheel drives to approach and pause, then briskly move to the next point, all vehicles precise in their dance moves of circles and U-turns.

Our adventures involved a great deal of footwork outside of Lily, though she proved herself useful in transporting us to far-flung locations, such as Old Onslow's second jetty several kilometres from the townsite. At both jetty ruins, we encountered Mud, resulting in much laughter and the occasional shriek as we struggled to remain standing. "Jap Town" the area of the Asian pearl divers provided us with some serious prodding and pushing with our boots. Opposite the remains of Clark's Store were mountains of bottles and oyster shells, some intact. We imagined the tennis courts in all their glory, with white clothed and respectable players enjoying a match. Next door to the tennis courts were the date palms, an area frequented by the Afghan cameleers and their beasts of burden. And not particularly welcomed.

The remains of the tram depot were difficult to locate, due to the unkindness of salt towards metal. Only crumbling relics remained of the machinery. However, we were able to piece together enough for their story, much to our satisfaction. Behind Clark's Store, somebody had planted the flowers of their childhood, which were still evident amongst the native wildflowers. The hospital site was a puzzle. Eventually, we worked out that the location of the tourist post bore no relation to the hospital itself. The substantial stone building further up a rise was, we believe, the actual hospital. A smaller stone building may have been the morgue. More investigation required.

The original cemetery was a reminder of incredible hardships. We lingered for quite a while, caught in our own thoughts and reactions. The cemetery was also in the early stages of restoration, which was most heartening to see. Old Onslow was going to live on.

At Three Mile Pool, we were rewarded with the glorious Pilbara sunsets, the great grey-green Ashburton River, the surreal calls of the local birdlife, the low mooing of the resident cattle and an almost Jurassic Park feel to the location. The campsite is no longer free, but at five dollars a day is still within the financial reach of anybody who wishes to while away some time in genuine peace.

We are so lucky to live within reach of this amazing country. As we approach the final week of our Northern Jaunt, our heads are loaded with memories and our hearts filled with experiences.

And much to our surprise, we are now staying in Carnarvon for three nights...