In case there's anyone out there who actually likes the place,we had best not dwell too long on the 48 hours we suffered through in the hellho... er... lovely town of Port Hedland... (and if indeed you do exist, I'd like to ask you a couple of questions along the lines of "Give me one good reason why!")
Suffice to say that we spent about 47 hours, 59 minutes too long there. We hightailed it outta there at nightfall on Tuesday. With temperatures hovering in the mid-40's, we figured we'd give the ol' girl a break from the heat, and go roo-spotting on the way to Broome. Interestingly, we didn't see any kangaroos. In fact, we didn't see anything. And not just because it was dark. We later read in the Lonely Planet that that particular stretch of highway ranks among the most unspectacular, dare we say mind-numbingly boring drives in Australia. And that, my friends, is saying something more than you could ever imagine.
That being said, we got to about 20 km away from Broome, when Al's forehead went "clunk" on the steering wheel. The sound roused Michelle, who decided it would probably be prudent not to "push through" (as you do) to Broome.
We awoke the next morning feeling a little disoriented, drenched in sweat, and feeling like we'd been coated in pine tar. Sleeping in the car, all windows closed to keep out those bugs, in tropical conditions, with minimal clearance from the roof to breathe etc., is not the ideal place. After peeling back the lid of the sardine can that we call our truck, and slithering out in a most undignified fashion as passing motorists gawked in horror, we gathered ourselves together and made a beeline for ocean. Sweet, sweet ocean. Aaaaaahgh (Homer sounds, drooling from side of mouth, head tilted slightly back and to the left)
We were not disappointed. Cable Beach is what dreams are made of. Pure white sand, crystal clear turquoise water that is at such a temperature as to feel warm to the touch, yet coolly refreshing to the soul. Aaaaaaaaghghthadkjfa again. Jumped in, jumped out. Grabbed boards, jumped in again. The waves, though not huge by anyone's standards, were ideal for beginners such as ourselves. And, I'm proud to report that Alan actually stood up and surfed! Yes, stood on the board and rode a wave. No turns, mind you; nothing too fancy but manohman it was cool.
The decision was made within minutes of arriving in Broome: since we have to work somewhere along the road on this trip, it shall be Broome. Everything we need is here. Surf. Ocean. Other things that we can't seem to think of right now....
Next stop: the Telecentre (Alan's note: the Aussies have this really quaint way of saying words; take this word, for example. Tel-ee-centre. I'd say Tel-uh-centre, but they say tel-ee-centre. Makes it sound like such fun, doesn't it? Like it's a ride or something. See our Aussie slang page for other amusing little Aussie-isms.) The Telecentre is the local version of a Internet Cafe-cum-place that attracts computer nerds. Hence, we found ourselves there. In any case, there we met Terry. We can't say anything bad about Terry, because he knows the URL for this web page. And further, we're staying at his place while in Broome. Actually he's a really good bloke, and he's organized all sorts of stuff for us and told us some good things to do around here. Anyway, we got to talking with Terry, who is the coordinator of the Telecentre (remember to say it right in your mind, boys and girls. La-la-la-la-la we're off to the Telecentre), and somehow ended up being invited to stay with him and Nigel at Coconut Wells, the place they are housesitting. The only catch was that we had to give him a ride out there, cause his truck was a little crook (that means bung (that means sick)). No worries, mate. We piled into the truck, came out to Coconut Wells for the night, and we're still here one week later.
Terry lazing around in Coconut Wells
Apparently this is not unusual behaviour here in Broome. Terry came out from Sydney on holiday for two weeks a few years ago. Many people came here on holiday. And stayed. There is no escape. Broome has some sort of special power that traps you here. Time has no meaning. Broome-time takes hold, and the days go like this: Sun goes up. Sun goes down. Sun goes up. Sun goes down. Things happen in between. You might, if you concentrate, be able to say, go shopping one day. Or even do the laundry -- washer and dryer on the same day, sometimes!! Yes, life is... slow here. Yet filled with meaning and joy.
So, what have we done here? Tried (halfheartedly, we must admit) to get jobs here. Surfed every day. Discovered the nude beach. Tried to see some dinosaur tracks at low tide. Went up to Cape Leveque, which is a couple hundred k's north of here, but not on the way North to Derby (our next stop). Came back. Alan taught a course on Web Design, his first as a Freelance Computer Consultant. And met Nigel. Now, Nigel gets his own paragraph.
Nigel is very difficult to explain. Here's a photo.
Nigel dressed up for the trip into town Nigel is very close to nature. He knows the English, Latin and Aboriginal name for every tree and plant in the area. He remembers every tree he has ever planted. He, more or less, collects shells for a living. At least for a pastime. Actually, the first night we were here, he dragged himself home from a hard day of picking mangoes. Seems that one of the local owners here had cajoled him into picking fruit for him for a couple of days. It was Nigel's description of his days that really decided us on never, ever picking mangoes.
Anyway, over the next few days we got to know him a little better. He generally walks around the house starkers... this seems to be his most relaxed state, and seems very natural. In fact, seems quite natural to us now as well. Not that WE'RE doing it, mind you. Yet....
Here's a few facts about Broome, in case you're interested. It's the pearling capital of the world, producing eighty percent of the world's pearls. It's a very popular escape in the winter for people down in Perth and all over Australia. Now it's pretty dead, but that suits us just fine.
Back in the 1800's Broome was filled with Japanese and Chinese pearl divers, diving without equipment for pearls in very hazardous conditions. There is a special Japanese cemetery for the many that died.
An interesting story that appeared in the local paper the other day: there was a fishing village in the west of Japan, and one day an enormous whale off the coast was giving birth to a calf. All the men from the village raced out to catch the calf. They succeeded, and when the mother realized that her baby had been captured, in desperatio and perhaps anger (who knows with these whales) she started butting and thwacking the boats with her head and tail. All the men drowned, and the town was left with only young boys and old men, along with the womenfolk. The village, obviously, was devasted. What were they to do? They heard from incoming boats that great money could be made in Broome, so all the really young boys took off. Said sayonara to the womenfolk, left them to starve, I s'pose. The article didn't say. Anyway, that's where alot of the Japanese came from.
So, we're probably taking off tomorrow or Saturday for Derby, and see if we can get through the Gibb River Road. Once the rains come, the road's impassable/impossible.
