11 minute read
Discovering those isolated gems with Jon Love
EsperanceADVENTURE
By Jon Love
There’s something about the night before a big trip, a feeling that can’t quite be shaken. It’s a deep and unparalleled excitement, and when you’re planning on taking off at 4:30am the next morning, it certainly doesn’t help when you’ve been fantasising about the destinations and campsites to come. Now the engine comes to life, the air is chilled with the sun starting to crest the horizon, and our three-car convoy departs from Perth for the big leg. Next stop, Esperance. We had originally planned to begin our offroad adventure east of Esperance at Wylie Bay, where a considerably large slab of rock stands tall above the bay looking out in all directions. Certainly not the worst place to lock the hubs and snap a photo or two. However, prior to our arrival in the south, we had been monitoring a fire warning in the Cape Le Grand region, including the Le Grand beach run that connects from Wylie Head to the start of the national park. With the fire being upgraded to ‘Emergency Warning’ status, we deemed a change in course was necessary, rather than going west to east, we flipped it on its head and went east to west … Duke of Orleans Bay here we come. It wasn’t long before we diverted onto Wharton Beach and began deflating the tyres, not that it felt like it really needed it. One of the first things you’ll notice when driving on the beaches around the Esperance region is that the sand feels like concrete. I’ve done quite a bit of beach driving around Western Australia, but none compare quite like they do down here. For the sake of stretching our fuel economy as far as possible and to spare the ground from being torn up, we dropped to 22psi and ventured on. After slogging almost ten hours of driving on the bitumen it felt pleasantly therapeutic to be cruising next to the crystal blue waters lapping at the bright white sand along the shoreline. The hard work and weeks of planning had finally paid off. We made it, it was truly a heaven on Earth.
Our transition from bitumen to beach. The view from the peak of the rock, overlooking Wharton Beach.
Now this region isn’t exactly what I would describe as ‘off the radar’. If anything it’s far from it, and given we were travelling through in peak season (December to January), it certainly showed. We are always keen to challenge ourselves to find those isolated gems, so turning to the tracks less travelled and away from the many caravans, we set out to journey the extra mile. So there we were, tucked away in a corner with a towering rock face next to us and the ocean right on our doorstep, and the best part about it you ask? There wasn’t a single other car within eye-shot - how good! This gem of a spot provided us a home for the next two nights and kept us busy the whole time we were there. The granite rock provided a fun and reasonably challenging hike to the top, with a handful of almost vertical sections to tackle. It came as no surprise to us that the view from the top was nothing short of breathtaking, being able to see for miles in every direction. With the bays to the east and west, nothing but the expanse of ocean broken up by the scattered islands in the south and the densely green bushland to the north. All the more enjoyed while cracking open a well-earned beer. One thing we were desperate to explore was the plethora of quiet surf breaks and unmanned peaks. It seemed we hit the jackpot, with a beach front to ourselves and a sand-bottom break. In the coming days we took full advantage of this, surfing for hours on end. Sitting in the magical turquoise expanse and enjoying the company of some local wildlife, displaying to us just some of what the amazing Esperance region has to offer. This was a secluded campsite, that would undoubtedly rank as one of my favourites to date. I have always enjoyed a combination of different 4W driving terrains, particularly sand and slow, technical driving challenges, and this region just seemed to keep delivering. Our journey weaved us through bush and sand with the occasional rock formations that required low range and a good line to set you through. Our next adventure was to explore the surrounding areas of the Duke of Orleans Bay, with our end goal being Hammerhead Point.
Our first campsite and surf break for the trip.
It wasn’t too much longer before we came across an unsuspecting washout in the track, with the Troopy slipping down a bank that had crumbled away while we traversed the terrain, leaving us on an angle that would make the hairs on your arm stand up. With loose gear free falling from one side of the cabin to the other, and a tense grip on the steering wheel to prevent myself from following suit, I negotiated my way up and out of the driver’s window to assess the situation. With soft sand below and the two right hand tyres barely touching the ground, we worked on a recovery. With an unsuccessful attempt to winch forward, we moved the Maxtrax to the rear of the wheels and hooked up a snatch strap for a gentle pull backward. Fortunately, this gave the Troopy the traction it needed and was able to pull out with minor damage caused, just a handful more pinstripes to add to its character! That wasn’t the only close call we had that day, after reaching the final off ramp up a soft sand dune to get to the lookout over Hammerhead Point, the Troopy lost too much momentum trying to make the sharp turn up the hill, requiring a re-run. Worse off were our travelling companions in a 120 series Prado, who had to stop behind us in considerably softer sand and close to the water line. It wasn't long before the larger sets of waves began to flirt with the body of the car, and considering salt water and metal don’t get along too well, we didn’t plan on staying long. So out came the tyre deflators, shovels and Maxtrax boards to help persuade the car to move along. We had sat on the hill prior to attempting this run only to see a car get bogged down and have its belly washed by the waves as they began their recovery. Something we weren’t particularly keen to go through ourselves, and yet here we were. With the stretch of beach being as narrow as it was, and a slight off camber angle, it certainly didn’t make for an easy drive. With the Prado mobile again, it was time to get it away from the water line and up the dune. I jumped in the Troopy and much to our disappointment, it got bogged down as well. A few more psi out of the tyres and some shovelling work, combined with a generous amount of right boot did the trick and brought it home; crisis averted. With the day drawing to an end we set up camp just north of the point, and once again, we had the entire stretch of beach to ourselves. The following day called for a well-earned game of beach cricket, which was shortly joined by a seal, likely attracted by the sounds of HAZZAH and a walking batsman every couple of minutes! With the seal's departure it was time to pack up and leave, and what a sight it was. The top of the rocks at the entrance of the cove exhibits a spectacular view across several bays with glistening blue and green water.
Fast track several hours and the next hazard of the trip began to rear its head. Driving to our next destination we spotted some smoke brewing in the distance. Now this wasn’t an unusual sight with all the fires that were burning in the area, but now we were on a fairly isolated track with noone around. As we came closer to the fire, which had only recently started to burn, it had gotten too big for our convoy to put out, all our fire extinguishers combined wouldn’t have been enough. Instead I jumped on the UHF to see if anyone was around to lend a hand or to make a call to the emergency department, but with no response and the fire increasing in size, we pushed on to a small hill nearby to try and gain a bar of signal. Fortunately, standing on top of the rooftop tent I was able to be connected to the fire department and gave them the details and location. With nothing else that could be done on our part, we pressed on. After traversing the dunes and negotiating the maze of turns required to get through to the beach, we found a large rocky outcrop, where from the top we sat and looked back toward the fire. By this time, it was well and truly ablaze. It wasn’t far from there that we found camp for the night and continued to watch the smoke as plumes continued to rise into the air. It wasn’t until later that night, with the red glow of the fire illuminating the horizon, that it finally disappeared. The fire department, after hours of battling, had extinguished the flames. Awesome work fellas.
Watching the smoke rise in the distance from camp. Prime ocean front views.
The next morning called for the surfboards to be unstrapped and set free into the waves. We truly were spoiled for our surfs across the trip. Duck diving under the rolling swell you could see everything below, with the hollowing out of the wave as it curled and broke over the top of you. Post surf we retraced our path over more of the granite rocks that are dispersed around the region, put behind us a number of kilometres and set up camp, ready to enjoy the final sunset of 2019. And what a sight it was, the big yellow ball in the sky went out with one final hurrah, lighting the sky in various shades of red, pink and beige before disappearing into the blue below. With 2020 upon us, we set out that morning with a hike in mind - Frenchman’s Peak, here we come. The hike up Frenchman’s is a 262-metre ascent that puts on a mesmerising display of the Cape Le Grand region and its many bays. The hike up is a fun challenge, with the occasional steep section that’ll require a fair bit of leaning forward while walking, all the while having the national park on your doorstep. The markers to the top also make it easy to navigate your way through without fear of going the wrong way. As spectacular as the sight was from the top, it was also bittersweet. The charred remains of the same bushfire that detoured our trip in reverse, lay scattered across what was once a densely green bushland. Fortunately, it was extinguished, saving much of the remaining national park’s scrub. With Frenchman’s behind us, that signalled the drawing to an end for the trip. We had a quick visit to Lucky Bay, snapped a couple of photos of the local roos, because have you really been to Lucky Bay if you didn’t get a photo with them? We then headed toward our final beach run, Le Grand Beach, which is a twenty-two kilometre stretch that connects Cape Le Grand to Wylie Bay. We enjoyed our final night on that stretch, tucked away in the protection of the dunes from a howling southerly that had decided
Crystal clear waters like this one across the trip.
to come knocking on our doorstep that evening. We enjoyed the surf one last time that following morning, then shot off toward Wylie Head. This large rock formation provides a fun, slow-going technical 4WD circuit that stretches right over the top of it, all the while providing more fantastic views of the numerous islands dotted across the coast. And that was the end of it - the tyre pressures went back up, the fuel tanks were filled and some pies were bought at a local bakery in town. Time for the longhaul home.
The view from Frenchman's Peak with the charred bush in the distance.
The final sunset for 2019.
