Australia Day, and what a better way to celebrate it than hitting the Nullarbor. That was always my plan, anyway. I figured it would probably be a bit quieter over a holiday weekend, but as I drove up north from Adelaide to Port Augusta, the traffic sure looked heavier to me. Perhaps it wasn’t an original idea? Fortunately, by the time I got turned in the right direction and out on the start of the Eyre Highway, the crowds seemed to completely dissipate. I think I only passed about three cars and had three others pass me over the entire day, which did seem awfully light.
It is a little frustrating driving from either Adelaide or Alice Springs to Perth because the road networks force you to drive for hundreds of kilometers/miles in the wrong direction before you can get on the main southern highway and drive in the right direction. Occasionally you see a 4wd track that looks like it might be a little more direct, but you never know how rough it might be. In the case of driving from Adelaide to Perth you have this obstacle called the ocean sitting in the way. There is a ferry crossing that can help you make the journey more direct, but it is very expensive and only crossed once a day.
So after driving a few hours northeast from Adelaide, even though Perth is dead west, I stopped by the last major town for a coffee before heading westward. The whole town of Port Augusta seemed boarded up on Australia day, but I did manage to find a bakery open with mediocre coffee and, oddly enough, a hair stylist open a few doors down. I’d been looking for a place to get a cheap buzz-cut for weeks now since I had not been able to shear myself while on the road. Lo’ and behold the hair stylist had a sign in the window “Haircuts $10, enquire within”. That’s about half the cheapest price I found anywhere else. Turns out they had a apprentice who would cut hair and then get it reviewed by her supervisor. Worked for me! Can’t go too wrong with a buzz-cut, so I finally had my trim.
After a long day of driving through forests that were getting shorter and shorter, I started looking for a place to camp that was not along the highway. Most camping along the Nullarbor is a bit too close to the highway for my liking. With roadtrains barreling down the highway with 3-4 trailers in tow, you would think a plane was about to land on your tent from all the noise they generate. Fortunately, I pulled out my trusty camping book and found a recommended site about a 1/2 hours drive south of the highway and next to an amazing beach with huge surf (and a fair few surfer) surrounded by monster sand dunes and saltwater lakes. It was called Point Sinclair and it was really special place I would have liked to have spent more time in, but couldn’t. The swimming was a bit disappointing to to all the sharp and holy limestone rock just under the shallows of the ocean, but I did manage to find a spot for a few dunks, anyway. The place was run by some old aging surfer/hippie who seemed to take great pride in making the place a comfortable and clean as he could.
