Day 6: Great Australian Bight to WA
The star-strewn sky was worth the trip to the Gilgerabbie Hut's drop toilet in the middle of the night. But it was hard to get back to sleep as the wind had built up, and the tent was flapping on my head. Thankfully, the wind died down in the morning, and when I got up at sunrise, it struck me how quiet it was, with only the occasional chirping bird.
We packed up camp and got away earlier than usual, with my son driving back down the gravel road. Although we had lost phone reception for Google Maps, the van's sat nav (reliably!) informed him the Eyre Highway was now running close to the edge of the Great Australian Bight. He turned left down another gravel road, and we soon saw the Southern Ocean on the horizon beyond the approaching cliff edge.
My son has long been into activities that make me nervous, such as cliff jumping, parkour, slacklining and highlining, bouldering and rock climbing, and canyoning. From the moment we floated the idea of the road trip, he'd spoken of his intention to "abseil off the edge of Australia".
"Don't worry, Dad," he said, laying a reassuring arm around my shoulder. "I'll be safe." I tried to walk off my anxiety along the cliffs, taking selfies and photos of my son setting up with a line secured to a rock on the cliff face and a backup tied to his van. But I couldn't watch when he lowered himself down the rocky slope, and I didn't relax again until his helmeted head reappeared over the edge.
Abseiling at the Great Australian Bight (click for larger image)
We drove further along the highway to a more touristy turnoff (a shorter gravel road to the fenced cliff edge), offering a classic postcard view of the Bight, with the sheer cliff faces cutting away to the east. It was also an opportunity to pass on our leftover oranges and unopened honey to tourists travelling east before the WA quarantine station.
Entering WA felt like crossing a "real" border, something I'd last experienced in my backpacking days. But the uniformed officer's quarantine check of the van's fridge was good-natured, and he duly waved us into our fourth state (and one territory) since leaving Sydney.
The terrain became more scrubby towards Eucla, and beyond that, heading on to Balladonia, there were scraggly trees. It felt like we'd passed through the treeless plains of the Nullarbor in the blink of an eye.
My son and I took turns driving and reached the Balladonia roadhouse with plenty of time to set up the van and tent in the adjacent hard-packed, red-earth campground and have a much-appreciated shower (our first in two days) before Chinese dinner at the roadhouse restaurant (I loved the stir-fried veggies!).
Later, my son showed off his skills juggling on a slackline. He tried to teach me juggling tricks, but I wrote in my travel journal: "I was too rusty on the basics to master any tricks."
Juggling on a slackline at Balladonia (click for larger image)
