Late yesterday afternoon, we sat contentedly outside Will in the coolness of the Onslow dusk. Olly, a a geologist from Perth (accompanied by his lovely lady Beth), is here in town to supervise the foundations for a new public jetty. We enjoyed an amiable chat with him about his day and the trials and tribulations of working with wind and waves in a submersive operation. Even in this beautiful place, nature has caused havoc with the most organised of plans.
The last couple of days were all about cleaning out the back of our ute, Lily, making room for more rusty metal once we reach Marble Bar. Unfortunately, we discovered a cesspit of flies had taken up residence underneath a bag of dog kibble that had broken and then become wet. Louis and his mates were there in force and we worked in unison to clear up a most unpleasant mess. Deciding that we needed to continue our rationisation, we moved tools, soft drink, water and all the dog supplies. Michael descended into a few minor tanties, whilst I was the epitome of calm reason. Not quite true, but Michael did apologise that he had called me a poor organiser!
If you all haven't fallen asleep by now reading this meandering post, I shall attempt to explain my thoughts regarding the title. We have fallen into Onslow time, a wonderful routine of beachcombing at least twice a day. We enjoy our morning cuppas and breakfast, then usually saddle up the hounds, heading for the beach. Lexi and Stella blast across the sand at full throttle, barking at each other for sheer joy. Sometimes we bring the ball thrower; other times, we just give them the chance to explore and sniff, wade through the shallow pools, engage with other furry friends or dig furiously in the soft sand at the top of the beach.
Whilst the dogs are engaged in their rowdy activities, we walk slowly and deliberately, checking out the rock pools, the shallow ponds and the tide lines. We have found a smorgasbord of shells and coral, revelling in the discovery of exquisite colours, interesting shapes and intriguing lines carved on the exteriors. These lines have fascinated me; they must tell the story of the lives of these marine creatures. I have begun thinking of them at the marine version of First Nation Storylines - a dreaming track of these sea creatures, their challenges, their paths and their destinies.
I have observed and collected some just amazing shells. I can feel the echoes of their existence and marvel at their resilience. They are pounded by the tides every single day, yet they continue to survive and reproduce for the next generation. Every now and then, a tiny set of eyes and minute claws will emerge from a shell I have picked up. I have made a habit of returning these citizens of the shore back to the beach, always farewelling them with a mixture of awe and affection.
Then there are the sunsets. Photographs can't capture their sheer radiance. Their range of colours are breathtaking. Another addition to this evening spectacle is the phenomenon called "Staircase to the Moon". Low tides caused by the full moon phase expose the mud flats, creating the illusion of moonlit steps climbing into the sky. Our sleeping satellite displays this light show every month between March and September across the Pilbara and Kimberley coasts. Tonight is the first of the July shows and I am always thrilled by this experience. My task today will be to set up night mode on my trusty camera so I can hopefully capture this glorious event.
One of the highlights of this Great Escape has been the absolutely wonderful people we have met along the way. From Luna, the beautiful Italian barmaid in Yalgoo, kindred spirits Brenna and Abby, our neighbours at the Yalgoo Caravan park, the stallholders at the Carnarvon markets, the pleasant and very helpful Valentine at the Carnarvon library, the (very tall) young man named Sam who helped Michael pack the crate at the Carnarvon Discovery Park, Ben and Kirsty who assisted us after the tyre blowout, managers Ross and Tanya at the Ocean View caravan park who deliver dog treats personally most afternoons and last bur not least, Olly and Beth, that charming young couple, temporarily resident in Onslow for Olly's work and whose company we have thoroughly treasured.
Special mention must go the venues here in Onslow. The whole town is dog-friendly, meaning that Stella and Lexi can join us at the Beadon Bay pub, the Onslow Resort, the Onslow Visitors' Centre and of course the beach.
In Carnarvon, the dogs were welcome at our long and lazy lunch at the Carnarvon Hotel, at the Markets and on the fabulous town oval.
And in Yalgoo, on a cool winter's evening, Stella and Lexi joined us with all the locals in the warmth of the public bar.
Serendipity is alive and well on our Great Escape.
What stories they could tell...
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