Adventure with Jon Love from Cape Arid to Cape Le Grand

Turning off Fisheries Road, our journey was well underway and with both tanks fuelled and ready to go we rolled our way towards Kennedy Beach, sitting on the western-most edge of the Cape Arid National Park. With bitumen turning to gravel, and gravel turning to sand, excitement quickly began to fill the cab of the Troopy, but accompanying it was an air of concern. Having filled the tanks no more than ninety kilometres ago, the needle was already pointing toward the bottom quarter of the gauge. I know that the old girl isn’t the most economic bus on the road, but even this didn’t seem right. Having pulled over to identify the issue, it didn’t take long to diagnose the loss of fuel. Stepping out of the cab I could hear a steady stream of fluid pooling below the car, knowing all too well what this meant. The evidence of fuel spray was also pretty evident, with the back of the car being covered in a fine layer of diesel and dust. It was far from the ideal way to start the trip, yet fortunately we managed to isolate the leak to the secondary tank, leaving us with eighty litres in the primary. Leaving our troubles behind us we slowly wound our way through the dunes and wash outs, placing us on a peak overlooking

Kennedy Beach. With a long day of driving behind us it was a welcome sight, and it wasn’t long before we pinpointed our campsite. Sitting comfortably above the swell and dunes sat one of the many large granite slabs that scatter the Esperance region, and as it so happened, made for the perfect place to cosy into and set up for the night. About half way up the rock, with its own mini dune and vegetation surrounding it, the camp chairs were thrown out and a few well-earned drinks cracked and fizzed with life. Exploring the area revealed a number of hidden features, with large valleys of eroded granite that flowed down the face of the structure, making for a very impressive sight during a heavy rain. At low tide a mini beach sat just below our campsite, with large elephantlike rocks scattering the waterline, made all the more impressive by the granite finger that stretched out across the beach, absorbing the impact of the swell with rushing water pouring over the top and into the bay beneath it. Needless to say it was an evening well-entertained, and a perfect way to wrap up the day. Well-rested and eager to continue the journey, we stowed the gear and prepped for the day ahead. On paper the plan was simple enough, but the reality was far from it. We intended to move slowly westward over the next three to four days and explore the coastline between the Cape Arid and Cape Le Grand region. Prior to leaving Perth the weather in the region was looking favourable for camping, but when we arrived a severe wind warning had worked its way into the mix. With the engine coming to life and the full force of the wind sweeping its way across the beach, another day was underway. Heading west down Kennedy Beach brought us to another rocky outcrop, negotiating the boulders to follow a faint pathway that would, with any luck, guide us over and onto the adjacent beach. And for a time it did, but it wasn’t long before the gaps between the rocks lengthened and the distance to the rolling swell shortened. Sourcing another track that ran off the beach we decided to double back and seek another way around. As it turned out, much to our dismay, there were no tracks leading back to those beaches, so we decided to press on toward the eastern side of Alexander Beach to find some mercy from the wind, and with any luck a place to call home for the night. With a few more kilometres on the clock the Troopy

Set-up on our first day overlooking Kennedy Beach.

made its way through winding dunes sloping down towards the waterline. A hidden track caught our eye as we scoured our way toward any semblance of a tuckedaway gem. Unfortunately, with the severe wind warning well and truly upon us, this left little in the way of suitable sites to pitch up for the night. In most circumstances the only possible places to camp were the spots tucked in below the protection of the granite rocks that scattered the beaches, but naturally these places were quickly scooped up by others who had come through earlier. Once more this left us travelling with the wind, heading back toward the dunes with the hope of a swift exit. The snaking left and right coupled with the incline made for a challenging escape, and with the added weight of the Troopy leaning around the corners it made for a hair-raising ride. It wasn’t long before the almost-fluorescent white sand of Alexander Beach was squeaking below the tyres, and with a rocky outcrop spotted in the distance we had hope for a sheltered place to stay. It didn’t take long for the shape of cars to form through the windscreen - another kick in the guts to a day that was starting to drag on. This happened more times than I cared to remember on this trip, every rock housed a handful of 4WDs, so we would push on a little further west, exploring more with the hope of a vacant spot. Eventually we had travelled the entire distance we planned to do over the coming three days. This brought us slightly north of the Duke of Orleans Bay, and as we approached, an inlet too deep to risk crossing stopped us in our tracks. Retracing our steps a short distance brought us to an exit that required a generous amount of shovel work. The impact of the wind had carved out the righthand side of the track and dumped it to the left, leaving a slant too big for the Troopy to risk going over. A bit of reshaping with the shovel and the tyres let down even further, coupled with a bit of right boot was enough to get the job done. So there we were, about to make our way toward the Duke, an area with generous amounts of protected sites to kick our feet up and call it a day, but the world had other plans for us. Cresting the dune bought us to a simple enough creek crossing only a couple of metres wide and barely half a metre deep. All was looking well through the crossing when out of nowhere a thud rocked the Troopy, quickly followed by the sound of high-pressure air exiting the rear passenger tyre, causing the car to sag as we limped out of the creek to assess the damage. Looking on the inside of the tyre made it pretty clear it wasn’t going to be salvageable with a few plugs, and retracing our track through the creek I couldn’t pinpoint where exactly it all went wrong. Nevertheless, the damage was done, and all that was needed was a quick tyre change; easy enough, right? Turns out it wasn’t so simple. The exit to the creek placed the Troopy on an incline, and with a tyre completely deflated the rear end sat even lower. This meant that the bottle jack was unable to lift the body of the car high enough to be able to comfortably remove the dishevelled tyre and replace

Big blowout: Our fortunes at the end of the day starting to run out.

it with the spare, and the fact that they were 33s with decent tread remaining didn’t help the cause. The light was now well and truly starting to fade from the sky and with no stable place to jack the car up from, our options were looking thin. We tried a variety of different options to boost the jack up off the floor, including stacking the Maxtrax and using them as a base, but even four stacked together didn’t give us the height we needed. Our fortunes started to look up as we carved away the rock-hard dirt below the rear spring, giving us the inch we needed to get a comfortable height off the ground. With great relief we were finally able to pull off the tyre and throw on the spare, and with the night well and truly upon us, it was a welcome feeling to pack the tools away and hop back in the cab. Having burned the wick from both ends toward the end of that day, needless to say we were both pretty spent and ready to call it a night. We had an unsuccessful attempt to snag a spot in the nearby caravan park, so the journey continued on, but it wasn’t long before we threw in the towel and pulled up on a nearby beach. It was a long day behind the wheel, and a welcome feel to lay our heads down on the pillows for the remainder of the night. The following morning was an early rise and a trip back into the town of Esperance. With a few more days ahead of us and eventually the journey home, we played it safe and picked up a spare tyre to cover our previous night's losses. Before long the tyres were back on sand, ready to explore the final areas before the Cape Le Grand region. With keen interest we would spend our time exploring the areas around the Duke of Orleans caravan park. By midday the Troopy was crawling over rocks and zigzagging through dunes in the hunt for another camp, but given the relatively small size of the area, that didn’t take long; not that we were complaining. Much to our amazement we managed to secure a location that felt like our own private beach, with rocks hugging the bay on either side and a protected slice of coast out the front, it felt like our luck had begun to turn. Despite the severe wind warning being extended for a few more days, the rocks around us provided enough protection to make it a pleasant enough stay. Needless to say the pup was happy enough with the area, having her own private section of the beach to bathe in and an ample amount of room to chase the ball in. A quick dip was on the cards for us. After the last day on the road it was nice to finally go for a swim in the crystal-clear waters of the bay, even if it was in the company of a chilly breeze. A few gins were enjoyed that night looking out beyond the coast, unbeknown to us the true gem of the trip was yet to come.

There are few better ways to start the day than with a coffee on the brew and the sound of sizzling bacon filling your own private bay, the kind of morning we were in dire need of after being snubbed the previous day. With a coffee in hand and a keen interest in viewing what else surrounded us, the drone buzzed and beeped to life before zipping its way into the air, with the views being nothing short of breathtaking. The combination of turquoise waters and scattered islands never ceases to amaze me when exploring this region. Inspecting the screen a little more closely I could see another, more protected spot a little further up. We quickly packed up the car and set off for what would turn out to be one of the best locations I’ve ever set up camp. In no time the Troopy rolled into its home for the next three days, with the awning and tent following suit shortly after. This gem sat at the end of a beach, almost completely shut off to the rest with large elephant-like boulders scattered on the sand and in the water. The orientation of the bay meant that we were completely sheltered from the strong gusts and rolling swell, making it a picturesque landscape to spend the next few days. Over this period we spent our time exploring the area around us, with Hammerhead Bay only a stone’s throw away. Plenty of down-time was enjoyed to

A bay to ourselves was a welcome sight after the previous night’s events.

Taking full advantage of a quiet beach and some rolling swell to have some fun.

take in the beauty of our little bay, relaxing in our camp chairs and playing with the dog. Plenty of time was spent below the surface, watching the abundance of fish life dart in and around the lumps of coral. At one point I pulled out the spear-gun, after days of building excitement to catch and cook a fish for lunch. Donning the free diving gear and heading out into the water, a target was spotted and the bungee was prepped to fire. It only lasted a second before it snapped and rendered the gun useless, with a bit of heartbreak I headed back to shore empty-handed. Bad things always happen in threes, first the fuel tank, then the tyre, and now the spear gun! Three days quickly went by and before long we were packing up the gear in prep for our final night in the region, even being farewelled with the company of a dugite that, as it turned out, was residing next to our campsite. On the road again and feeling revitalised, our final destination was Wharton Beach. With a keen eye on the lines of swell rolling into the bay, and a lonely surfboard still strapped to the car, it was time to get out for a morning paddle. Although a very popular spot, we managed

Bird's eye-view of our three-day campsite, tucked away from the weather and swell.

Golden hour in our isolated little gem.

INFORMATION BAY

DISTANCE

800km from Perth.

TERRAIN

4WD only. Off-roading with few maintained roads. Mostly sand tracks and dunes with the occasional granite rock crossing. BEST TIME TO VISIT

November to April. ACCOMMODATION

Self-sufficient camping. ACTIVITIES

Plenty of fishing and swimming on offer, particularly in the sheltered bays. Lots of hills and rock faces to hike.

Now that’s living! Some well-earned R&R for a few days. to find a quiet area away from the crowds to enjoy a surf from. With no shortage of swell, an empty line-up and no one around, there were no complaints from me. The remainder of our final day passed in a heartbeat, with a little more time exploring the beach we finally pulled up for the evening in the company of a few other campers around us, and enjoyed one final gin watching the big red ball in the sky dip below the distant white caps.

Excerpt from Hema’s WA state map.