Out on the Nullarbor

Today's journey.

I'm staying at the Yangie Bay campground, and in the morning I witness a wonderful sunrise, where the colours of the clouds and the sky literally change every minute. That is a feature (or a bug, some might say) of all Australian sunrises and sunsets; our home star get up and down so quickly in our latitudes that you have to be very careful in your composition, because that perfect light, or configuration of clouds, is going to totally change the next minute, and in just half an hour or so your sunrise (or sunset) is gone completely.

The sky is about to get interesting.

Here we go!

Light is changing rapidly.

Ten minutes make so much difference.

It is time for me to leave the Eyre Peninsula now and travel further west. On my way along the western coast of the Eyre I stop by a peculiar place called Murphy's Haystacks. Situated on a private property, which allows you access for an honesty box donation, there's a small collection of giant boulders, eroded into very intricate shapes by all kinds of elements. They look very bizarre amongst the scorched yellow grass and slowly undulating rural plains. And by then I feel very scorched myself, because the sun is already turning the whole place into a furnace (yet another 40+ degree day, looks like!), and my arms are still sunburned, even if aloe-vera'd since yesterday. I spend very little time at the Haystacks, is what I'm trying to say.

Farewell, Coffin Bay!

Murphy's Haystacks.

They look very striking.

A bit like a selection of giant mittens, maybe?

Or maybe like a collection of holy shrines.

Or maybe like some kind of a weird modern sculpture.

At noon I arrive at Ceduna, where I buy some aloe vera of my own, along with a few other road necessities, including fuel. I like this little town; if only because it's the last real town on my way west, until I reach Norseman in Western Australia some 1,000 km down the line. I also have a great portion of fish and chips at the same joint that I visited two years ago, and I also take a shower and refill my drinking water jugs, and I also clean my car at the automatic wash. Gotta enjoy the civilisation while it lasts! I end up paying twice as much for the car wash, though, because my first payment somehow disappears; but when it's all done, my car is cleaner than ever. Definitely the best automatic car wash I've ever been to so far!

A couple of hours later I finally leave Ceduna and head out into the great Nullarbor. Vast flat plains stretch out in front of me and behind as far as the eye can see. True enough to its name (“null arbor” means “no trees” in Latin), it's quite treeless here, and there's little to no protection from the wind when I finally stop at my selected camping spot on the coast, slightly off the highway. A few sand dunes, covered by wiry thicket, is my only barrier from the elements. Thankfully, it's not too windy right now, and I even get some mobile coverage as well. This is where I have a chance to test yet another new bit of my touring equipment: a cellular signal booster by Cel-Fi, which does an excellent job and sucks very little electricity from my batteries while pumping my signal up to solid five bars. Winning! And it also looks like I have this entire place to myself, with most of my creature comforts and none of the crowds.

The Nullarbor mallee.

Here we goooooo!

And here we are.

Looks very cosy to me.

And I have all this all to myself!

Very cool rocky formations.

The famous Bunda Cliffs.

The sky is beginning to look interesting.

And it pays off handsomely in the evening, because I get to witness by far the most spectacular sunset I've ever seen. Clouds of all shapes and sizes are scattered all over the sky, not obstructed by anything, and the limestone cliffs look like they're made out of gold, and the setting sun throws all kinds of crazy colours at absolutely everything. The view is genuinely awe-inspiring, and I don't say that easily. This is why I go through all the trouble of buying all this gear, to drive out in these desolate regions, to burn all that fuel and spend all those hours at the steering wheel. This is the answer. Sunsets like these are certainly worth living for. And if I have my camera around to do them even if a tiniest bit of justice, it makes it all the better.

Ready for the show?