We've arrived tired but cheerful at Horrocks Beach, which is about 50 km northwest of Geraldton. As usual the caravan park, located just METRES from stunning sandy ocean beach, has arranged the sites so as to prevent anyone from having a view of anything other than the toilet dump, cubicle cabins and also two giant slathering Rottweilers who want to eat Honey.
Internet and phone are patchy but it's a nice enough place to hang out & do some bus painting, swimming and snorkelling (29 Celsius, sunny, perfect). There's a local shop where you can exchange major internal organs for small packets of chips, and I met the resident Crazy Person, a gnarly old lady on a quad bike, next to the jetty.
CP: I'm lookin' fer a whiting.
Me: I hear this is a great fishing spot.
CP: Fella reckons he caught a whiting here this morning and let it go.
Me: Must have been undersize (LOL).
CP: I'm lookin fer it.
Me: Ah...hah...hm.
CP: If it's still here I'm gonna catch it. (We both gaze out at the vast ocean)
Me: Well good luck (edging away)
As I wander off with Honey we can hear her voice on the wind as she searches the water along the jetty. "Still can't see it! Gotta be here somewhere! That whiting...Gonna get it...where the hell...(etc)". We see her later on the quad bike near the shop, perhaps looking for the whiting in the main street.
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