I woke up freezing outside the Cocklebiddy roadhouse, my breath visible in the light of the full moon and the dull glow of the digital clock reading 1:35am. Advanced male survival instincts surfaced as I considered my options: go to the trunk for a few more layers of clothing or adjust my situation in hopes that the temperature wouldn't drop much lower. The same logic that keeps a man from stopping to ask for directions kept me from going to my suitcase. By dawn I was in the back seat in the foetal position with floor mats draped over my body in a last stitch effort to maintain any remaining body heat.
This was only the second night of my trip across Australia's outback, a trip that would take at least three or more days and traverse a total of almost 3000 miles. I wasn't sure which was worse between the extreme cold, the cramped conditions of the car, or the collage-like dream of the various Western Australians looking at me like I was crazy when I told them I was driving to Sydney to catch the Olympics. In any event, it was damn cold and I was questioning my decision to drive across the great Nullarbor Plain. Were the adventure, the story, the freedom, and the accomplishment, worth the effort and the time? I was actually quite fortunate to have made Cocklebiddy without further incident.
 Road Hazards |
I left Norseman, the last major town of Western Australia (population 1,500) and the beginning of the Eyre Highway, at around 6:00pm. It was dark, drizzling and barren within a few kilometres of the edge of town. As I focused on the sign that read "Next Services - Balladonia - 193 km", I suddenly caught a glimpse of a man walking along the side of the road. No thumb out, no sign of a vehicle, no sign of trouble, apparently just walking the 120 miles to Balladonia. I chalked this up as my first wildlife sighting, and decided not to stop and ask any questions. Outside of Balladonia, at 85mph flashed a sign with something to the effect of "Longest Stretch of Highway in…" I was focusing on the horizon to kill my lights for the oncoming car and didn't get a clear view of the sign. Just as I lowered the beams two kangaroos bolted in front of me. Not only had they waited for less light, but they've also chosen to cross between cars travelling towards each other at high speeds. My camera, the expensive stale coffee, CDs and the portable CD player smashed to the floor as I hammered on the brakes. I decelerated past the last 'roo as they stopped on the edge and proceeded to nonchalantly groom themselves. Their tendency to rub their mouths with their front paws makes it look as though they're hiding a smirk.
You may have heard of the Balladonia Roadhouse from its 15 minutes of fame in 1979 when Skylab plummeted to earth and nearly took it off the map. There are some bits and pieces of debris from Skylab in the makeshift museum along with some great historical pieces about the Nullarbor and the Eyre Highway. As with most roadhouses, Balladonia is the bare minimum in services for vehicles crossing the Nullarbor. There's a restaurant and pub, fuel and mechanical services, a motel, public restrooms and showers. The basic economics of supply, demand and distribution makes these oases less than reasonable. A tiny room with a light and a bed will cost you around $70. A simple breakfast of bacon and eggs around $10 and fuel costs almost twice what it costs in main Australian cities. Car trouble out here would be a very memorable experience.
 Head of the Bight with Whales |
The Eyre Highway runs from Norseman to Ceduna and is some 700 miles. It crosses the infamous Nullarbor Plain and 12 degrees of latitude. The highway is known as the world's longest and straightest stretch of road and is the only option unless you have a four-wheel drive, along with lots of extra fuel and time. Even then you're faced with the largest and flattest lump of limestone on the globe at some 100,000 square miles. The Nullarbor, meaning no tree, is such a vast and barren space that it creates a unique natural barrier between South and Western Australia. A quarantine station is located at the border to control the spread of any destructive plant and animal diseases that might be passed between the east and west coasts.
To some it may sound dreadfully boring, but there are many that consider this one of the world's greatest road trips. The unbroken 360-degree horizon is a mesmerizing wonder where the true outback meets the wide-open sky. This is a place on dry land where you can literally see the curvature of the earth. In daylight you can appreciate the vastness of Australia and witness some of the unusual creatures and the plant life offered by the Nullarbor. At night you can experience the biggest and brightest southern night sky of your life.
There are a wide variety of natural and unnatural features to keep things interesting on the vast Plain. Various road signs indicate you might see wombats, kangaroos and the occasional wild camel, a remnant from pre-railroad times. In addition, there is also the possibility that one of Australia's Royal Flying Doctors may need to land their plane on the Highway.
 Bunda Cliffs |
Then of course are the series of geological features that truly reveal the history of the oldest continent. The uplift of an ancient ocean floor has created massive underground limestone caves. The uplift also provides a great perspective of the former and current coastlines as you cross over Madura Pass. From the top of the pass you can look over the Roe Plains out to the Great Southern Ocean. There are also numerous remnants from early explorers and settlers, as well as Australia's famous Indian Pacific Railway. The sites are well sign posted and worth the time to stretch the legs and experience the raw Nullarbor Plain. By far the most impressive sight though is the Great Australian Bight as seen from the Bunda Cliffs. This section of the highway skirts the edge of the continent and the Great Southern Ocean so you can easily stop at any number of viewing points to take in the vista. The cliffs range from 150 to 200 feet in height and the fragile limestone makes for a very precarious viewing platform. Signs even warn of a phenomenon of winds curling up and over and suddenly pushing you from behind. Nonetheless, it is a spectacular view of the coastline, the glowing ocean and several millions of years of Australia's history in the layered cliffs.
Continuing east I came to the Head of the Bight and the Yalata Indigenous Protected Area, an Aboriginal Reserve where whale sightings are almost guaranteed from May to October. It seems the Southern Right Whale likes these waters for the relaxed currents that allow them to more easily court mate and bear their young, and of course rest. The activities result in some of the best behaviours for whale watching like blowing, breaching, tail lobbing and tail dancing. The day that I stopped I saw at least a dozen adult whales playing in the calmer waters. There were several small groups escorting calves through the surf and generally just floating and resting. I ended up staying at the viewing area for several hours to watch the antics
 Ancient Coastline |
As I headed east from the Head of the Bight there was a change in the terrain and plant life. It was the end of the Nullarbor Plain and the end of one more section of the greatest road trip of my life. I became a bit saddened as fuel stops, shops and cars became more plentiful. I had felt like an explorer for that past few days and didn't want it to end. It was another 200 miles to Ceduna and the end of the Eyre Highway and the beginning of the more civilized parts of Australia. In just a couple of days I would be in the big city of Sydney, back to modern civilization and my next adventure - the 2000 Olympic Games. In the meantime, though, I had to decide on my next route - coast road, the mountains or farm country.
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