Heavenly Beverley : How Will Became Pig-Pen/Pigpen...

We waved goodbye to Mount Augustus seven days ago. Our plan was to drive to Gascoyne Junction for one night and then head north to the Kennedy Ranges for a few days. However, the universe intervened in such a decisive manner that we needed to reconsider our next step...

Time for a sprinkle of interpolation. Who remembers the Peanuts cartoon strip, launched by Charles M Schultz during the protozoan era? Pig-Pen, also known as Pigpen, was a stalwart in Peanuts, mainly for his inability to remain clean for more than a second. Always surrounded by a cloud of dirt, he proudly referred to himself as the custodian of "the dust of ancient civilizations". Charlie Brown, a staunch supporter of his grotty mate, went even further, and suggested the Pigpen "may be carrying the soil trod upon by Solomon or Nebuchadnezzar or Genghis Khan!". Much to our dismay, Will took on the full blown persona of Pigpen during our epic trip to Gascoyne Junction. And just to add insult to injury, the caravan spare wheel bracket cracked for the second time.

The Mount Augustus/Cobra/ Dairy Creek Roads were pretty ordinary. The dust was intense, speed was inadvisable and the 290 kilometre trip took over five hours. Apparently, the road that headed via the Kennedy Ranges to Gascoyne Junction was even worse, according to fellow weary travellers we met at the tourist park, the hub of Gascoyne Junction's permanent population of around 80 people in about 50 homes.

This is not to imply that the road wasn't interesting. The scenery was stunning, with stations dotted along at reasonably regular intervals. We had a late lunch at the quaintly named 33 Rivers rest stop, the tourist panel hazzarding a guess that the site received its name by being 33 miles from Cobra.

By the time we turned west onto the last 70 kilometres or so onto the Mullewa-Carnarvon Road, we were exhausted. Then, lo and behold, as we approached the tiny blip that was Gascoyne Junction, we were negotiating the road with workers (on a Sunday), readying the gravel road for bitumenising. Even better, the road actually became bitumen and we glided into Gascoyne Junction in comfort and style.

When we actually opened Will's door at setup in the excellent Gascoyne Junction Tourist Park (with our own ensuite!), the effects of a particularly rutted, dusty and corrugated road became obvious. His interior was liberally coated with a thick layer of dust. The following morning, we discovered that the dust had permeated every cupboard, every nook and every cranny. I quickly geared up to remove the worst of the external dust and then we retired to dinner at the pub. Over our delicious meal, prepared by Omo the resident chef, I also met a welder and fabricator who assured us he would take a look at Will's cracked spare tyre bracket and attempt a repair the following day.

With that undertaking in mind, we reassessed our situation. Michael, the lover of gravel roads, was wavering. The idea of heading up to the Kennedy Ranges (where we had stayed previously) on a road that had taken out our Anderson plug and holed the connection between our water tanks whilst we had Digger, was suddenly most unattractive. Michael was heartily over lying on his back under Will for any reason. He was loath to engage his legendary MacGyver skills quite so soon after the water heater episode.

So, we hatched a new plan. We were booked into Carnarvon five days on. We decided to have a rest, stay an extra night, clean Will's insides from top to tail, have the bracket fixed and give the Kennedy Ranges a miss. Keen to add another station (and tip) to our itinerary, I suggested we camp at Worramel Station just south of Carnarvon for a few nights. Michael was in agreement, so we visibly relaxed and set about our tasks.

The welding repair never occurred as the bloke never showed. Michael resigned himself to that minor disappointment and tossed the spare tyre into Lily's boot. Having our own loo and shower was absolutely luxurious and we sluiced all the sticky dust off our bodies with great delight.

Plus, we met Melle and Corey, proud owners of Frank the Tank, at the tourist park, who were on their own version of Homer's "Odyssey". Melle was English, Corey from the northwest of the United States. They were breaking their Western adventure in mid July, in order to gather with family neither of them had seen since before Covid. They planned to return to the Wild West come September and carry on with their Loop.

We had a lot of fun with them. Dinner for our second night was rather raucous and we were still nattering with vino after everybody else had left the premises. The Dynamic Duo of twins Erica and Tori bore no ill will towards our tardiness. Being paid by the hour does have its advantages...

We waved them goodbye the following late morning. Promising to get together in spring, we headed off - us towards the south west and Wooramel and Melle and Corey to the Kennedy Ranges. We were a tad surprised that the Young Ones confessed to a bit of a hangover and we were unaffected. Whoops...

Anyway, we arrived uneventfully at Worramel before 3 pm. The station was beautiful, the tip definitely looked promising and our shady site by the "Upsidedown" (the water flows underground) Wooramel River was most inviting. If only the wind would die down...

We enjoyed dinner at the cafe. Pasta night was incredibly well patronised. We were warm in the cafe and enjoyed the country singer. Wandering back to Will, the wind had not abated, the bloody dust was flying once more and we were cold. Having purchased the appropriate wood, we lit a fire, but soon abandoned sitting outside. I filled the hot water bottles and we sank gratefully into bed.

And that's when the trouble began...