Baby Shark, Daddy Shark, Mummy Shark
Swimming with the largest fish in the world, narrowly avoiding becoming shark food, and meeting a friendly turtle - this week was all about the ocean. We were introduced to such spectacular underwater scenes, it’s hard to do it justice here. Nevertheless, I will do my best. Let’s dive in.
We ended the last entry cooking a batch of sticky, delicious smores we’d enjoyed by the campfire under the stars. These same smores had their revenge on Alessandra the following morning, as her stomach rebelled against the richness of the night’s fare. We gathered together an armful of battery packs and fans and headed for the communal area, plugging in and charging what we could; and sheltering in the shade from the intense heat of the sun, which was oppressive even in the early hours of the morning. It was a day of relaxed creativity - Alessandra, in reviewing notes and maps to chart the next portion of our journey; me, in journalling, sketching and writing. In the cooling late afternoon, we decided to go for a walk, taking Sabre on a track that wound across bushland scrub until it reached rolling sand dunes of a deep red ochre. The dunes, backed by the bluish-purple of the evening sky, was begging to be photographed; but the sun was setting, the communal dinner began at 6:00pm, and it was a 20 minute walk each way. We decided to take our chances, rushing back to the bus, loading up on camera equipment, and striding out along the path for a second time. This time, the walk seemed endless, and we arrived at the very end of sunset, when the sun had already descended below the hills and cast the scene in pastel hues of blue and orange. We snapped some pictures regardless, swallowed our disappointment at missing the magic hour, and hurried back for the dinner. The dinner was delicious, and we passed it with some miners and a sweet old lady, discussing the challenges faced by the outying towns of rural Australia; however, as is often the case with repeat experiences, this communal dinner did not quite live up to the first.
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The next day was spent in travel and in rest. We said goodbye to Bullara Station and made for Exmouth, pulling up in RAC campground and counting down the hours until we would be side-by-side with the majestic whale shark.
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We awoke bright and early the following morning; and dropped Sabre off with a local dogsitter before hopping on the bus that would take us on our marine adventure. The bus trundled off toward the coast, as the day’s photographer told us all about the creature we would be swimming with. We were transferred to our boat, and sailed out to sea, testing our snorkel gear as the spotter plane searched for a shark. In no time, one had been sighted, and we prepared to leap into the water. Alessandra and I were part of the second group to go in. We followed our instructor, forming a line, shoulder to shoulder. Then, we were told to put our heads below water, and the whale shark swam across our path. It was beautiful. At around five meters long, she - for we were told it was a she - glided through the water, sleek and graceful, with subtle movements which belied her speed and power. The white dots and lines streaking across her sides and back were reminiscent of Australian Aboriginal dot paintings; rough, white markings across a smooth grey body. The end of her left fin was missing. As she passed, the whale shark regarded us with small, beady eyes, entirely unperturbed as we swam alongside her.
Over the next hour, we had six opportunities to swim with this particular creature, and I refused to miss a dive. There was something magical about it: swimming alongside her head as she swam serenely through an infinite expanse of blue.
The final dive was done, and we made for a snorkelling spot to see out the remainder of the day. Along the way, we were greeted by three humpback whales, which pulled up within a stone’s throw of the boat. One of their number raised its fin and slapped it down against the water over and over, as though in greeting. Back in the water, we swam through unending coral passages, bursting with life. Alessandra spied a manta ray as long as a person; I found a one-meter-long leopard shark, resting in the sand. We drifted with the current until the boat came to collect us once more.
A glass of champagne, and it was time to say our goodbyes to boat and crew. As we made our way to shore, we were treated with a final splendour - a huge turtle, popping his head out of the water for a gulp of air before diving down once more.
I dozed through much of the bus ride home. When we arrived, we rested our weary bodies for a short while, then went for a walk to pick Sabre up. My legs were so heavy, but it was a heaviness resigned to seeing out the rest of the day. Famished, we bundled Sabre back into the bus and had dinner at an American-country-music-themed bar & grill. We cleaned our plates and returned, finally, to rest.
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Saturday was equally eventful, as we were headed back for the beaches of Cape Range National Park. Sabre returned to his sitter, and we made our way out for a day of sand, sun and snorkelling. We began at Turquoise Beach, which boasted a stunning stretch of coast; white sand meeting turquoise surf. I left Alessandra to warm up on the beach, and headed into the water without a moment’s delay. I was paddling away happily, perhaps 50 meters out, when I heard whistles and calls from the shore. Initially, I ignored them, presuming some parent was telling their child to come ashore; but they persisted, and I turned to look. There was no-one else in the water. Groups of people all stood on the shore, each indicating, in their own particular way, that there was a shark in the water. They were calling to me. Having no bearing on where or how close the shark might be, I kept my mind clear whilst kicking hard for shore. The tide sucked and pulled at me as I swam, and the shore seemed a long way off. At last, I made it back to terra firma, and spied a 1.5m tiger shark finning and carving through the shallows that I had occuplied not a minute beforehand.
We decided to stay out of the water until the shark had moved on, walking down a sandbank and around a bend where two tides met; setting ourselves up near a dense reef. We plunged into the water, and, immediately, an entire world opened up beneath us. Coral of all different shapes and hues; tall, orange, funnel-shaped stacks and small, bright purple spines. Tiny electric-blue fish darted shyly in and out of delicate red towers. Mixed schools of rainbow; yellow-black-striped; and large, deep black fish darted and swam around us. At one point, a small turtle darted past quickly; then, perceiving we were not a threat, lazily showed us around for a time. We spotted three reef sharks, each slim and less than an arm’s length with short, flat heads, all snuggled together in a hollow. Giant clams, sea urchins and spiky, black sea slugs littered the sea floor. We snorkelled far out before fighting the current back and pulling ourselves, breathless and exhausted, to shore. Having first warmed ourselves to a crisp in the midday sun, we hopped back into the bus, scoffed some cold tacos, and drove off to a place called Oyster Stacks.
Oyster stacks was a snorkel site not far down the road. It was formed of a long, rocky coast, peppered with smooth, oval pebbles of red, pink, green and white; and swarming with crabs, green-striped of body and orange-striped of claw. The moment our faces were underwater, we were confronted with every conceivable species of fish. Stacks of oyster coral were piled up around us, reaching so close to the surface that we had to follow a labyrinthine path to avoid touching or damaging any of the remarkable structures. It was like a dream - and even better than the morning’s swim. Every turn held some new and unique structure; some fish or creature of unlikely shape and colour darting this way and that. At one point, I followed a stingray as it traced its way through the maze, but it was quickly lost to view.
When we had taken our fill, we dried off by walking along the rocky coast, saving starfish drying up on the bank created by the lowering tide; chasing crabs as they clicked across the spiky stone.
It was getting late, so we reluctantly bundled up our beach bags and headed for Pumbaa. I released the drone on the drive back, capturing our drive along that singular road that divided a scene of rugged Australian outback, set against an endless tropical coast.
We picked up a very happy Sabre and returned to the campground, setting out towels and clothes stiff with saltwater to dry in the breeze.
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The following three days saw us on the road again, as we charted a course for Tom Price. There was little enough to distinguish the way there, outside of the slow change from yellow scrub and white trees to great hills and cliffs and piles of red stone. Our muscles were weary with full days of adventure, and welcomed the lull. One evening, a hawk drifted down to hover just a foot away from our bus window, gazing impassively through at us before it swooped up and away. With three full days of travel and rest, we are ready at last for the wonders of Karijini.
Three weeks down, and there is always more to learn. Here’s what we took away from this week:
Always bring a camera, just in case
Each experience should be considered independent, as an amazing first experience can diminish the second by comparison alone
The ocean will always be mysterious and magical to us, and holds many treasures
When you hear a whole lot of yelling while you’re out snorkelling, have a look, just in case
