A Voyage Around Port Hedland...

We have just left Port Hedland behind after a couple of most insightful days. We were looking forward to our sojourn there, but even so, we were not entirely prepared for all that transpired.

We arrived at Cooke Point Discovery Park mid-afternoon. The site was easy to reverse into as there was no caravan opposite us and we could take all the room we needed. In fact, we were surprised by the lack of transient residents. On our previous stay, the caravan park had been jammed to capacity.

Our first afternoon was taken up with attending the Hedland Health Campus, located in South Hedland, for Michael to obtain yet more opiates for his troublesome arm. We were in and out of Emergency surprisingly quickly, after a check, a re-dress and an all-clear. Even so, we did not return to the caravan park in time to view the Staircase to the Moon, which was one of the reasons we'd chosen to stop in Port Hedland. However, we did touch base with a group of families travelling together and the bunch of kids were delighted to meet Stella and Pip, invade the swimming pool, ride their scooters, be introduced to flying foxes and generally do anything else apart from look at small screens. Excellent.

The next morning was leisurely. We decided we would treat the day as my "birthday" and do lunch at Dome Cafe, given that we had spent my actual birthday with Michael undergoing surgery at the Mount Hospital. In a former life, part of the Port Hedland Dome had been known as the Green House - hospital accommodation for its workers, including Michael as the solitary mechanical fitter. He has talked about his time at Port Hedland hospital with much affection, and his year in the town was amongst the happiest periods of his life. The Green House had been restored as a significant example of Port Hedland architecture and we had been lucky enough to enjoy a meal there during our 2019 trip.

Alas, not this time. The Port Hedland Dome remained firmly closed as a consequence of COVID 19. So we transferred to the beautifully renovated Esplanade Hotel for lunch in the garden with Pip and Stella. The food was fabulous - pumpkin bruschetta and a very interesting chicken pizza - we both enjoyed two glasses of wine - the surroundings were charming and the staff very attentive. A gold star for the Esplanade.  Upon our return to the caravan park, we retired for a well deserved afternoon nap. We finished the day with leftovers, congratulating ourselves on a rather marvellous day.

Mulling over our choices for the following day led Michael up his own and very personal Memory Lane. He made contact with Keith, his former brother-in-law, who was a long time resident of Port Hedland and his only remaining connection to his second wife Joan, who had died in December 2008. We arranged to meet the following morning at the Silver Star Cafe, located within a beautifully restored railway carriage with an outside deck and alfresco area.

We were both nervous. Michael hadn't seen Keith since Joan's funeral. I wondered how I would be received, given the circumstances. Neither of us needn't have worried. Keith turned out to be a big, casually dressed Nor'westerner with a tanned open face, a ready smile and an easy conversationalist. Amongst the chat, we talked about his passion for flying, his son Nathaniel and grandchildren, his wife Mary, his stepmother Mary (whom Michael had held in high esteem), the changing face of Port Hedland and his older sister Joan, Michael's wife for twenty-two years.

Keith's reminiscences were such a generous gift, particularly for Michael. His forty-seven years of knowing Joan acted like the pieces of a puzzle finally rematerialising, having been misplaced. He cheerfully admitted that he had never particularly liked his sister, but their last visit together had been full of mutual enjoyment, understanding and hope for their futures. Unfortunately, this was not to be.

He also gave us rare glimpses of Michael's children, another bittersweet moment. His straightforward revelation that Michael's daughter shared her mother's personality suddenly made so much sense, allowing Michael to recognise that he had done the best he could as their remaining parent after Joan had died. This matter-of-fact discussion was both powerful and enlightening.

We eventually farewelled Keith after we'd enjoyed both morning coffee and lunch with him. Not ready to return to the confines of Digger, we found ourselves at the Courthouse Gallery just around the corner from the Silver Star Cafe. Three fabulous Gallery attendants - Sam, Elisha and Jane - made us very welcome as we perused the delights of the artists on display. We ended up buying a small and intricate dot painting and a gift for Grandbaby Immy. We also chatted and laughed over shared experiences, staying until closing time at four o'clock. And then we turned Lily out of the town centre and along the rather disorientating north-facing peninsula of tidal flats upon which Port Hedland sits.

Right up until we left Port Hedland, we never hesitated if following a thread of Michael's memories. We visited the sites of the old hospital, the infamous Single Men's Quarters (SMQ) and the neglected remains of the Cooke Point Recreation Club. Michael walked the dogs around Pretty Pool and the adjoining creek, with its luscious turquoise waters and beguiling mangroves. We passed both of the properties in which Darryl and Wendy had lived. Lastly, we returned to the port, drawn by our fascination with the enormous iron ore carriers. And after watching one of these ships being guided out to sea with the help of two sturdy tugboats, we left Port Hedland to head further west, lured by eager anticipation for Roebourne, Cossack and Point Samson as our next destinations.

At the Esplanade for my "birthday"...

Staircase to the Moon images 4 August 2020 -

Keith and Michael at the Silver Star Cafe -

Flowers outside the Courthouse Gallery...

The three excellent Fronts-of-House at the Courthouse Gallery...

from left - Sam, Elisha and Jane...

Port Hedland roads at night - 

Behind the fence is the abandoned SMQ building, one of Michael's homes away from home in the late seventies...

Hmmm - wrought iron borders on Port Hedland balconies...

The port -

So long, farewell and good luck.

Humans of Marble Bar

We farewelled Marble Bar two days ago. In my excitement at the bright lights and other attractions of Port Hedland, my final Marble Bar post almost was lost in the ether. However, in a few brief windows today (why is the caravanning life still very busy?!) I will attempt to produce a coherent post regarding Marble Bar and her humans.

"Manners maketh the man" is a reasonably famous quote by some bloke named William Horman whose works were published in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. In Marble Bar, the humans maketh the town. Over an eventful five days, we met a variety of residents, some very colourful but all worth knowing. Marble Bar really is a place that people want to be. Otherwise, they would go elsewhere. Don't misunderstand me, Marble Bar and her surroundings are starkly and stunningly beautiful. And the town's War Memorial park is a haven of soft green and relative cool, somewhere to contemplate one's navel or play on the equipment or throw a ball for our dog. Which we did.

The Marble Bar Holiday Park was busy with travellers who wanted to be there. Some used the caravan park as a handy stopover on their way to elsewhere. Some, like us, just wanted to stop for a while and revel in the warm days and cool nights, with enough time to wander hither and yonder. Others were there on a more semi-permanent basis.

Pat, a familiar chap whom I have also seen in Beverley, is currently frequenting the caravan park. As the companion of a schoolteacher, who spent three years in Marble Bar and now resident (for how long?) in Beverley again, he would prefer her make up her mind where she wants to live before becoming a more permanent part of her life. Wise chap perhaps?

Nick, the local copper who had been head at the Marble Bar police station for two years enjoys regional and remote postings. Son-in-law Shaun was able to fix the puncture on our tyre and then popped up again being a garbo in the caravan park. His wife Kara works at Travellers Rest Roadhouse as required as does Christine, married to Bruce who runs the caravan park.

Local Legend and Volunteer Extraordinaire Margaret still operates the Marble Bar Visitors' Centre. Last year, we shared the excitement of a northwest earthquake together. This year, she bought three of Michael's world-famous redback spider fridge magnets from us. Make sure to pop in and chat to Margaret when coming to Marble Bar.

Nurse and ambo Adrienne is on the council when she is not attending to patients at the Nursing Post or scraping a Beverley Hillbilly off the pavement outside the Community Resource Centre. Other nurse Brian enjoys a spot of pool or snooker (which is which) at the Ironclad of an evening. Cheryl manages the Ironclad with the help of a charming French backpacker (forgotten her name!) whilst Sheryl works at the General Store, bakery and post office.

Isaiah and big brother flashed enormous smiles at the General Store when I asked if I might photograph them. Posing with gusto, I was struck by their easy and confident manner.

Travel Writer to the Stars, Stephen Scourfield and his wife Virginia Ward were kind enough to acknowledge our greetings at "The Bar". Away from the Big Smoke with friends, I am sure that Stephen and his party may not have been thrilled to be bailed up by a starry-eyed Gallery front-of-house, but they engaged in our conversation anyway. Two days running!

Shire staff Chloe and Lisa came running when I attempted to do the Watusi Quickstep in the pike position. These young women were a godsend for an upended Beverley Hillbilly and stayed with Michael and me until the ambos arrived. The following morning the path was being fixed, under Lisa's watchful eye. And they submitted a full incident statement to the letter.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is a summary of just some of the Humans of Marble Bar. A snippet of around six hundred and fifty. We shared brief glimpses of others - a young girl having a baby in another two weeks, the young copper who needed guidance about which Cheryl/Sheryl to deposit the station's money, Bruce and sidekick Geoff roaring around on their quadbike at the caravan park and a happy group of friends who came to camp together on the Port Hedland Race Day long weekend.

Even though the races themselves were cancelled...

Nurse and councillor Adrienne after redressing Michael's arm...

With two of my saviours - Chloe and Lisa...

Isaiah with big brother at the General Store... 

Sheryl at the General Store...

The pub...

Kara at Travellers Rest does NOT like having her photo taken...

Margaret with beaded artwork at the Visitors Centre...

Stephen Scourfield and friends not in Marble Bar ...

Sergeant Nick getting an award for being an all-round good guy...

The magnificent police station...

And on our last morning, a photo of Pat.

Who's Ready For Playtime...

The Marble Bar War Memorial park is a beautiful spot in this remarkable little town. Featuring information panels covering the wars of the twentieth century, plentiful public loos, a dump point, water, grass. big trees, BBQs, swings and a sizable playground under shade sails, we stopped here with the dogs yesterday afternoon after they had waited inside Lily for lengthy periods whilst we'd fossicked out of town.

The expanse of shade and grass was music to their ears. We ate ice cream and sat on one of the play equipment's platforms whilst we launched the tennis ball for Stella to chase in all directions. Pip did his own thing and pottered around, sniffing this, that and the other and piddling on all vertical surfaces.

We began reminiscing about the playgrounds of our childhoods. Nothing like this sturdy and colourful Forpark tunnels and forts and bridges and even a telescope at the Marble Bar playground. Roundabouts constructed of wooden planks with metal handholds that spun very quickly, often placed on asphalt and an excellent cause of injury falling on or off, burning fingers and palms on summer afternoons when the temperature had roasted the metal all day. Not to mention the rampant motion sickness that resulted from the G forces. Seesaws that we would attempt to mount whilst in the air or try to walk up one side and down the other, usually ending in tears. Or metal slippery slides that scorched our bums, particularly for little girls with short dresses and thin knickers. Kicking back with all our might waiting until the swing was at its highest point and launching off into thin air on a wing and a prayer.

By the time we had recalled all these memories, we were both in hysterics. Injury had gone hand in hand with early playgrounds. Surprisingly, neither of us had hurt ourselves badly whilst present in these kiddie death traps. Michael's main claims to fame were falling three metres onto a railway track and returning home with his head covered in blood and thinking he could fly on his bicycle off the end of a railway platform. That only caused a broken wrist.

So, in a split second, we decided to play. Up and down the slide. Through a tunnel. Up a crazy ladder to peer through the telescope. Fortunately, common sense prevented me from a scarper down the fireman's pole. There were limits to our childish fun.

And today, we played again. Clambering over discarded items in an old tip. Exploring the nooks and crannies of old mining centres. A return to the War Memorial park. Playing down at the Bar this evening, with the moon rising and the colours mind-blowing.

May we never become too old that we forget how to play...

Children's playgrounds of the 1960s!

Note the young chap who appears to be falling!

All will end in tears...

Ready for the leap of faith!

Bottom burning devices...

Meanwhile, playtime in Marble Bar...

A great improvement on the Olden Days...

Meanwhile, Michael at play...

And this evening, Saturday 1 August 2020 at the "Bar"...