Heavenly Beverley : And So To Onslow...

We packed quite a few activities into our three days in and around Point Samson. We hoped that our next stop in Onslow would be quieter and less hectic. But first of all, we had to travel there...a distance of nearly three hundred and fifty kilometres on a blustery and dusty day.

We farewelled Point Samson and instead of turning Lily and Digger left to go to Roebourne, we headed right still in a mostly westerly direction towards Karratha and beyond. Dampier and the Red Dog trail would have to wait.

The weather deteriorated as the day wore on. We watched dust storms in the distance coming closer and closer until we passed through two of them. The surroundings became an eerie grey/pink ash rose from the raised dust in the windy conditions. The last eighty kilometres heading straight into the wind were both unforgettable and fuel sapping.

Our relief was abundant as we pulled into the Ocean View caravan park, located right on the north-facing beach and impressive memorial park. The sites are split into new and old sections, and we were split between these areas as well, due to a minor foul-up in our booking. Even so, we thoroughly enjoyed our stay, particularly the immaculate bathroom facilities, the location, the other residents and the atmosphere. Ocean View comes highly recommended by us, offering a pensioner rate for stays longer than seven days, with managers Rob and Lorraine working extremely hard in this COVID year. We have already booked for next year, as travelling beyond Western Australia's borders is looking more and more unlikely for my sixtieth birthday celebrations.

Three glorious days in Point Samson were just the ticket. The days were unseasonably cloudy, with even a spot of overnight rain to dampen the dust. We walked along the beach on numerous occasions, paid the excellent Beadon Bay pub a couple of visits, perused the volunteer-run visitors' centre (which bore a remarkable resemblance to a train or tram station), patronised the bottle shop and photographed the magnificent "Lest We Forget" steel arch overlooking the ocean - suitably bolted down, of course.

At the beach, we met numerous other dogs and their owners, watched the few tugs and other boats bopping in the gentle bay, a salt carrier dock at the new port facilities and was slightly unnerved by a passenger jet landing at the airport after flying low over the water.

And Onslow was where Stella really fell in love with paddling in the calm waters. Following another enthusiastic dog into the ocean, she completely forgot she was supposed to be a trifle hesitant. Before she knew better, her legs were submerged and her belly was wet. Since then, she has been delighted to run amok through the water.

Pip's age slowed him down. He engaged in more dignified play, involving a great deal of sniffing and a little prancing, his Pilbara coloured ears erect with anticipation. Even so, he adored by beach walks and snuffling his way along the foreshore with his more boisterous sister tending to leave him alone.

We didn't get to Old Onslow at all, or the Beadon Creek end of town or for a snoop around the port. There was a myriad of tracks that we didn't explore either. What we did have was a wonderfully relaxing time, even though Michael's pain continued to cast a shadow over our enjoyment.

On the last evening in Onslow, we decided to bite the bullet and drive the nearly five hundred kilometres down to Carnarvon the following day, instead of breaking the journey in two. Michael's anxiety about the plates, pins and pain would not be resolved until then. We could have visited Onslow's new health campus but the thought, unfortunately, didn't occur to us until later.

Until next time, Onslow!