West Coast Mission: Day 9

Of course I have a spare tyre, I even checked it in Perth to make sure it was round and would remain so when stuck to the vehicle. I neglected to mention that I haven't got a fucking clue how to change it but I figured that with two blokes in the convoy one of them would at least pretend to know what they were doing.

First stop up the road is the blowholes, its just where the ocean forces itself through holes in the rocks causing a whole load of spray and a photo opportunity.

The Blowholes

We decided that the car park here was where we were gonna camp tonight as there were none of those irritating signs that said we couldn't and with that we headed up the 70km unsealed road to Red Bluff that I'd heard about from a man called Mark who I had a beer with at Rainbow Lodge once. Its a cunt of a road, seriously, its probably the worst road I've ever tried to get the Falcon up and with Loody's Nissan following behind at snail's pace we started to wonder if it was going to be worth the damage to the underside of the cars and the abject boredom endured when you have to negotiate an unsealed road without the aid of goon or power ballads.

Then we rounded the last corner and fuck yes, it was very much worth it.

Red Bluff

It's a fucking awesome place to spend an afternoon and a great way to get at least 94% of your RDA of salt as you get repeatedly dumped by the huge waves. They warn you that later on it gets sucky in the sea and you have to keep an eye on the peninsula in the distance; If you see a wave clearing that then get the fuck out as fast as you can.

Ok then. No worries. Watch for killer waves and your mates being carried out to sea to their doom. Got it.
Red Bluff was one of those perfect moments, just the five of us on a deserted beach miles from anywhere, hurling ourselves into the waves, body surfing and experimenting with different ways of potentially drowning. A classic I Love My Life moment.

Burying Bexster

Waves At Red Bluff

We made it back for sunset, set up camp and started drinking before a man on a quad bike rocked up and asked us what we were doing here. Becky jumped to the rescue responding quickly, "Eating...?"

Chillin' At The Blowholes At Sunset

Oh. Nice one Becky. Sticky situation averted!

He asked us if we were intending to stay the night, I asked if we were allowed, he said technically no but he didn't give a fuck, he was just going to charge us the going rate of $5.50 per site and we could stay where we were. Oh ok, so it wasn't going to break the bank so we opened our wallets and after fending off the moths we handed over the cash for two sites and he advised us to check out the beach and the snorkeling at the nearby official campsite in the morning.

In hindsight the official campsite would probably have been a better idea than camping near huge jets of sea water that sent a fine spray over everything nearby every time they shot into the air.

Drenched

Ah well, live and learn.

Dry out. Live. Learn.

written by  Koala Bear on May 10, 2007 from Carnarvon, Australia
from the travel blog: Sod Off Great Big Mission Round Oz
tagged RoadTrip, LovinIt and WestCoast
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