Broome to Port Hedland

South of Broome the coastline is flanked by private farmland. Barnhill Station offers camping sites close to a long stretch of beach. We get a glimpse of the 600km of coastline stretching down to Port Headland. There aren’t many roads in, but the beaches are sandy and calm.We setup for the night and explored the beach.

At sunset we spotted numerous turtles sticking their heads up as they swam by. I picked up an open shell with a couple of fledgling pearls clinging to the hollow. This region once supplied much of the world’s pearl shell with cultured pearl farms now producing the finest pearls.

Leaving Broome the Prado began to lose electrical circuits. First the indicators, then Air conditioning, Speedo and fuel gauge. Fuses were blowing. Hmmm…not good.

Our next overnight stop was 80 mile beach. Fishermen drive up the beach looking for Threadfin Salmon. The wind had started to blow from the East. As Geelong began to lose their quarter final match against the Dockers the wind got stronger and stronger. Gary Abblett wasn’t happy. The canvas walls became sails on the Sydney to Hobart as the winds reached 40 knots. It made for a wild night on the high sea.

Driving further the next day without the electrics proved to be a minor inconvenience until we ground to a halt. No fuel. In fact we had plenty in the second fuel tank but couldn’t switch over. As we attempted to syphon the fuel with an inadequate length of hose, fellow travellers pulled up and offered their spare diesel. As much as I enjoy sucking petrochemicals into my mouth, a jerry can was a much more civilised option. 

Back on the road we rolled past the mine sites and salt piles into Port Hedland. 

Up here, Caravan parks have become mine compounds with shift workers coming and going in utes wearing flouro yellow. Our patch of dirt overlooks the railway line of South Hedland through a barbed wire fence. Geriatric caravans have become long term homes for those here to grab earn some quick bucks then make a hasty exit. The van park staff are grumpy turds. She is as rough as iron ore old Hedland.

After exhausting my car fixing abilities with broken battery wires, solenoids and bash plate under the car, I called a local mechanic whose brother had offered me some fuses at one of our stops. Tim set to work looking for the short circuit and soon enough discovered a mess of burnt out wiring down the side of the car. At one point we were dropping the 50L tank down to reach a fuel pump and then replacing all the wires to the back of the vehicle. Tim’s skill was evident in the diagnosis and the slow repair work. People could go bankrupt breaking down in this town and this repair isn’t cheap but I still feel we are being looked after. I believe in a God who cares about breakdowns.

Despite our modest surrounds Lissa has managed to get stuck into some school work and Eva is playing with some odds and ends salvaged from a nearby skip bin. After 3 nights in Hedland we are back in business and ready to hit Karijini NP. What better way to celebrate than a bag full of frozen meat pies from our neighbour. Kael helped him punch the code in to enter the bathroom and next thing we know he is back bearing gifts. He seems to have a secret supply of pies and also fruit. The pies were welcome but the bananas were like mother’s milk. Another bloke called me over to help myself to his ute load of chips. 

I take it all back. This place is the promised land, even if the chips are out of date.