Heavenly Beverley : Yonder To Yalgoo!

We actually left Shark Bay rather gratefully. Tourist season was in full swing, so
Denham was jumping for the entirety of our stay. We appreciated the location, the permanent residents and the facilities but found the wind, the sand and the crowded venues rather difficult. Methinks that the Beverley Hillbillies are definitely becoming Grumpy Old Farts.

We headed out the Shark Bay World Heritage Area and turned south on the North West Coastal Highway. We had bought excellent sandwiches and cakes at the Denham Bakery and stopped for great coffee at the Billabong Roadhouse. The wind dropped, the country was changing and the sandiness was being replaced by the more familiar terracotta hues.

We drove on into the afternoon, stopping at Galena Bridge free camp for the night. The landscape was supporting eucalyptus and open ground with tantalising snippets of wildflowers. On the banks of the flowing and picturesque Murchison River, we parked Digger and Lily away from other vans in a secluded spot. We enjoyed a lazy walk along the river and sat in the late afternoon sun.

With the onset of darkness, the last piece of the jigsaw concerning our caravan's dodgy power issues was revealed. The rooftop solar panels work beautifully during the day when the sun is shining. But the batteries which are supposed to store all that yummy sunny energy... don't. Come night, all turns black, including the inside of our caravan. Which we can accommodate with the addition of a few more portable lights and a biggish water container for plein air dishwashing. We just didn't quite have these items whilst camping at Galena Bridge. That will have to wait for Jamie and Cora's excellent Murchison Hardware in Mt Magnet.

Come the morning, we continued south to Northhampton, before finally turning eastwards. The northeastern Wheatbelt consisted of mammoth open pastures of canola, wheat and other grains. Thanks to some decent rains, these more marginal parts were looking forward to decent returns on their yearly gamble. And then, quite suddenly, we left the monoculture of the Wheatbelt into the Northern Goldfields.

Our destination was Yalgoo, which was a tiny blip of a settlement I'd never visited. We sailed through Mullewa without stopping for fuel. I was driving and was confident we had enough diesel to make Yalgoo. Unfortunately, that was not quite the case, with the fuel light making its presence felt about thirty kilometres out of our goal.

We used our precious twenty-five-litre jerrycan to continue onwards. We arrived at the very pretty Yalgoo Caravan Park in the late afternoon. Michael's memories of Yalgoo from a very long time ago had not been complimentary and I'd almost had to bully him to come back. Upon turning into Gibbons Street, and then into the caravan park, his bad attitude immediately somersaulted. We had arrived at an absolute gem.

Helen and Ray, who run the caravan park are hosts of sparkling rammed earth bathrooms, a comprehensive and sheltered campers' kitchen, beautiful shade trees, reticulated gardens, a central grassed washing line, boundary fencing, a sizable firepit and extensive tourism information and excursions to local historic sites.

As pensioners, the tariff was twenty-two dollars for a powered site. We initially booked for two nights, as we needed to catch up on clothes washing and general tidying of Digger. We enjoyed a relaxed pace on our first day tackling three loads of washing, shaking out our bedding and cleaning the caravan from head to toe.

On our second day, we decided to cruise around the town, visited the lookout and engaged in a touch of fossicking on the slope opposite the original canvas hospital. As a low-key Friday afternoon wore on, we headed for the self-service fuel station on the main road. We needed diesel before we left. A couple were already there attempting to follow the instructions to fill their vehicle. The automated system was refusing to play ball. The helpline assured us a technician was on the way.

We were suspicious. Where was the technician coming from? How long until the technician arrived? In our unease, we drove up to the Shire office to ask for assistance. The Shire was aware of the problem and awaiting a call from the fuel distributor. We asked if we could get some fuel from the Shire. Reception pointed us in the direction of Shire worker Trevor. He tried to contact the CEO for classification if we could have some fuel from the Shire Depot. With no success.

Meanwhile, Yalgoo was becoming a bit less attractive. The pub was closed due to COVID19, the General Store was closed as their owners had gone to Perth and we had no idea if or where or when we could get fuel to travel on to Mt Magnet.

Trevor, bless his cotton socks, was the Shire gardener, but was doing all he could to solve the fuel issue. He promised he'd come to the caravan park with a solution before evening. He was as good as his word, pointing us in the direction of Ray, in his other role of Shire Depot Supervisor.

An hour later, Ray had pumped an extra twenty-five litres of diesel into Lily. Our faith in Yalgoo was restored back to five stars. And then Ray mentioned the location of the old Yalgoo tip to Michael.

There was suddenly no way we were leaving the following morning...