Waggin' Trail: A Brief Detour

Today's leg was from just outside of Gascoyne Junction to Landor Creek, a simple 150 km stretch if you don't accidentally miss the turnoff the way I did because a certain other driver assumed I knew which turnoff to take and didn't wait which meant a scenic detour of about 250 km towards Mullewa ("Where Dirt Meets Nothing in the Middle of Nowhere"). Anyway apart from some extremely unpleasant slithery bulldust sections I backtracked & found Ian on his way out to find me ("Babe where are you?" "Um. Near a tree and some rocks?" "Can you see a big white rock?" "No. There's a cow." Etc) Thank god I did the paranoid over-organising thing and brought twice as much spare diesel fuel as I thought I'd need.

I saw lots of BIG bungarras (goannas). They have very poor eyesight, I had to keep stopping so as not to run them over and they would sit there three feet away looking around going "Hmm. What's that noise? Oh! A bus!" So, not the most alert lizard in the handbag shop if you know what I mean. The only other vehicles I saw all day were some road crew who cheerfully waved & laughed at Waggin' Trail's cow skull. Honey travelled with Ian while Smokey patiently put up with the rattling and the dust in the bus (dust is just a permanent thing here, it gets in everywhere), his paws grimly clutching the corners of the desk.

We camped up at Landor Creek and Ian made stew while we watched birds coming & going from the pool - white cockatoos, galahs, finches, swallows, bush quail and a huge flock of shags from the coast coming in to nest and fish. We found some remains of bungarra that aboriginal people had cooked at the firepit recently, also a turtle-cooking drum (I made Ian promise not to go boiling up any poor old turtles from the creek). Smokey came with us for a walk along the creek as the sun set.

We have abandoned any attempt at staying clean, it's hopeless with the dust, insects and wind. I am now so blase about insects that whenever one of those giant uber-grasshoppers gets in my hair I just casually pick it out & toss it away. They are longer than the palm of your hand. I try not to draw attention to them in case Ian decides to toast them up for afternoon tea (he is really enjoying the call of the wild; nothing is safe from the cookpot).

The track to Meekatharra is over 600 km with no supplies en route so water is for drinking & emergencies only. We're carrying tons of water but you never know what could happen or how long it might be to wait for help. The dirt track isn't too bad but you don't know what's around the corner or whether there's a washout in the creek dips, and big dustbowl holes can appear suddenly in front of you, so you have to take it slowly. Not to mention cows and bungarras on the road, or big trucks whose dust obliterates everything in sight.

Apart from the stunning scenery the most common sights are abandoned broken down cars, dozens of shredded blown out tires and dead cows which swell up to ridiculous sizes in the heat until they explode. I am aware that the lack of exploding cow footage on this blog is a serious let down for readers and promise to rectify the situation as soon as possible. After all, when it comes down to a choice between seeing pretty wildflowers and an enormously bloated exploding cow, I know that deep down all of us would go with the cow every time.

Amazingly, Ian's trailer is still sort of in one piece although I am still favouring the odds of it being nothing more than a steel frame with bits of shredded matchstick wood & terrified mice clinging to the remains by the time we get to Meeka. No matter how well you stash everything away, the corrugated road shakes everything to hell.