Great Australian Bight
The rugged southern coast of Australia offers some of the best and most challenging four-wheel driving in the country
LRM’S ed takes on the rugged southern coast of Australia boasting some of the country’s best off-roading
The strip of soft sand I was travelling on, more a ledge than anything else and just below the first line of low scrub-covered ridges of sand, became narrower and narrower. To my immediate right the jagged twisted spires and clumps of sea-eroded limestone rocks didn’t look particularly inviting, while the wave-tossed sea just a little further out was downright intimidating. Suddenly the sandy ledge I was on gave out completely and the Discovery lurched sideways into a fettuccine-like porridge of sand and weed.
I thumbed the gearshift paddle back to second, the low range box growling in time with the increased rumble from the V6 turbo engine. The only real response though, as forward motion came to a quick end, was a plume of sand thrown through my open door window, covering me, Viv and the cabin in a fine patina of powder and chips of seaweed. Bugger, I said to myself as I quickly hit the window button up.
I clambered out of the partly-opened door and surveyed the situation. It was only then that one of our group noticed the faint exit track through a low gap in the ridge of dunes 200 metres behind me. Around then the second Disco in our group had a tyre sigh its way flat, a victim of the sharp edged limestone that lurked under sand and weed waiting to catch out the unwary or the unlucky.
Neither spot was a great place for a recovery, or a tyre change, but you can’t choose where the situation goes belly up; you just do the best you can. With a couple of Maxtrax and a bit of digging I scrambled backwards onto more level territory out of the way of wind and waves. The tyre change didn’t go so well at first though, with a brand-new air jack blowing at the seam, sending the repair crew scrambling as the Disco lurched sideways, trapping a tyre in
“The tyre change didn't go well, with a air jack blowing, sending the crew scrambling as the Disco lurched sideways”
the wheel well and nearly ensnaring one of the crew, who received a warning smack on the head as a body panel came in contact with frail human flesh.
We were glad to leave the beach behind and slink in behind the low dunes, the track winding this way and that as we pushed east, paralleling the coast for another few kilometres before we could slip back onto the beach and a firmer hard pack of sand.
Our trip had begun over a week earlier when our group had gathered at Esperance on the south coast of Western Australia and turned onto the first of many beaches for the 10 km sandy drive to what is one of the highlights of the trip. From the wave-washed sand at the base of Wylie Head, this dome of granite rears upwards in an unbroken curve of unblemished rock. For first time devotees it can be a daunting experience as you nudge your vehicle up to the rock face and then, in low range, drive up the steep slope with only sky to be seen through the windscreen.
The view from the top, once you attain it, is equally impressive, with crystal-clear light sapphire-coloured water washing up onto startling white sand. Further out from the beach the water goes through varying shades of blue to almost black. Dotted across the surface of the sea, rocky hump-backed islands rear above the water, their flanks alive and rippling to the wave-washed pulse of the sea.
From the dome of granite we dropped down onto the sand of Wylie Beach and travelled the 30 km sweep of coastline to Cape Le Grande, dodging around the rocky headland past delightful Lucky Bay, which was worth a quick stop, and then onto gravel roads to Rossiter Bay.
You can’t travel this section of coast between here and Streaky Bay in South Australia and not be aware of Edward J Eyre, the first European to explore this coast in 1840. His faithful native guide, Wylie, has his name perpetuated in the beach and headland we had just left, and Rossiter Bay takes its name from the captain of the whaling ship, Mississippi, who by sheer luck was anchored in the bay when Eyre and Wylie staggered along this long stretch of sand. It was one of the most fortunate meetings in Australian exploration history and the two tattered and worn explorers stayed on board for 12 days repairing body and soul and equipment before continuing the gruelling trek to Albany, another 500 km west.
We had it a lot easier as we took to the sand and cruised north, but it was no walk in the park with clumps of seaweed and soft sand hindering progress. That evening, after an especially trying steep dune that washed away the hours as we got the first vehicle up and over it using Maxtrax followed by the others we camped just back from the long sweep of sand at Membinup Beach.
Next day saw us take Poison Creek Road to where you can join the Old Overland Telegraph Line (OTL) Track that strikes east through the Cape Arid National Park. Once again the history of the OTL built in the 1870s is never far away when you drive this route across the Great Australian Bight. In fact, in places the lone wire that once carried the telegraphic signals of a nation across it lies along the track, acting something like a bread crumb trail in your GPS and letting you know you are on the correct route, east or west. At other times solitary poles from
those bygone days (this OTL line closed in 1926 to be rerouted along what is now the Trans Australian Railway line further inland) can be seen, as well as the ruins of old telegraph stations.
After camping that evening at Israelite Bay with its nearby OTL station ruins, 200 km east of Esperance, we opted to follow the OTL track for the first 30 km or so before cutting onto the beach for the run north. Choosing such an option allowed us to drive the 50 km or more of northern beach without one of us getting bogged or caught out by soft sand or deep seaweed. It was the only day of beach driving that good fortune smiled on all of us!
Our camp was reached quite early that afternoon as we pulled off the beach and wound our way amongst small hummocks of sand to stop at the base of the magnificent range of sand mountains known as the Bilbunya Dunes. They may not be the highest sand hills in Australia but, at around 180-200 metres tall from base to razor-cut crest, they are still pretty impressive. Their sinuous ridges of almost sensuous curves, sweeping upwards to a sharp-edged peak are mind blowing and so hypnotic that your eyes are always drawn back to them. You just cannot drive past!
Suddenly the weather changed. We had pulled up in the early afternoon, but within an hour dark clouds surrounded us and we were amongst thunder and lightning and then the rain began to fall; first in solitary big, hard hitting drops, then in sheets. Our campsite became a lake as we huddled under awnings and lean-tos while the rain poured down and some of us took the opportunity to have a fresh water shower. Just 15 minutes later a rainbow coloured the sky, the rain departed and the sun came out... weakly, as it began to settle towards the western horizon. It was a magical performance in an unbelievable setting.
The cliffs of the Great Australian Bight start just east of here at Point Culver and a 4WD track climbs the Wylie Escarpment to begin its slow and tortuous way east either across harsh limestone outcrops or through mallee scrub that only changes in density and the amount of scratches it can deliver to a passing vehicle. Along the cliffs, this stretch known as the Baxter Cliffs, you pass miniscule Toolinna Cove and further east, just inland from the cliff-lined sea edge, the monument to Eyre’s friend, William Baxter, who was killed near here by natives.
After two near full days of, ‘the horror of the limestone’, as I call it, we began to wind through low scrub-covered white sand dunes that took us down onto the beach. It had been a big day of 125 km when we stopped for camp amongst some low scattered dunes at the base of the 70 metre high cliffs of Twilight Cove. This is a truly exquisite spot – in my opinion the most remote and dramatic beach you can reach by vehicle in southern Australia. We spent a couple of nights here it was so good and everybody had worked so hard to get there for a day’s respite from the constant jarring of the tracks.
A few days later saw our convoy, and me in particular, slide off the lip of sand and become bogged, before creeping back behind the first line of dunes to continue our way eastward. We left the beach again at the Eyre Bird Observatory – once an OTL station and the only one in anywhere near its former glory – stopping for a short time to talk to the volunteer caretakers who look after the place for three months at a time and to check out the small but interesting collection in the museum.
We picked up the OTL track again after leaving Eyre for an easy and enjoyable run east below the scarp that parallels the coast but inland a few kilometres here. We climbed the scarp at Madura and with permission from the local stations (a mere one million acre farm) used the Old Coach Road and camped that evening on a salt bush plain west of Mundrabilla. Next morning we descended the scarp once more and headed out onto the Roe Plain, just behind the dunes, heading to Eucla, the tides being way too high to tackle the beach east of Red Rock Point.
The first day out from the small hamlet of civilisation that is Eucla, where we had taken
on fuel and supplies, was a big one. The main highway hugs the cliff on the SA side of the border for quite some way and while the cliffs – the Bunda Cliffs along this section – are spectacular, the bitumen is at most a kilometre or so inland. We wanted nothing to do with the blacktop, so our track had first taken us through the small Eucla National Park to cross the SA/ WA border at the cliffs above the Merdayerrah Sandpatch. We then swung inland, and picked up the old highway which strikes arrow straight across the Nullarbor Plain, through the rather unsurprisingly named, Nullarbor National Park.
After camping just back from the Bunda Cliffs and the roar of the sea on their base we headed for the Head of Bight. We had gained special permission from the Aboriginal Traditional Owners to enter this normally closed area and to run the beach south from the Head to Hiltons. Hiltons, along with a few other selected sites further east are popular fishing camps for those keen anglers trying their luck along this wild, surf-smashed coast and access and camping is strictly controlled by the Yalata Aboriginal Land Management rangers and a permit is required to camp and fish this remote deserted coast.
We dropped down the rocky shaly cliff and poked our way between some prickly scrub and drove onto the seaweed strewn beach. For the next 15 km we were plagued by soft sand, deep sea weed and so many boggings we lost count. Four hours later we got to Hilton’s and everyone in our party was glad to drive off that beach. Our camp that evening was a beauty, tucked high up on the edge of the Ocock Sandhills overlooking a surf-lined coast, while the setting sun tinged the sky a glorious shade of pink.
Behind the sweep of beaches, coves and cliffs the Ocock Sandhills run into the Wonginya Sandhills which transforms imperceptibly into the Chalgomnippi Sandpatch, making for one impressive mass of bare white dunes. The next day our route passed through, this snow-white labyrinth, the ever shifting sand meaning that often no tracks were discernible as we crossed low but steep wind-blown sand ridges.
Time was slipping away as we continued east, stopping at spectacular Cape Adieu, like many places named along this stretch of coast by the great French navigator, Nicolas Baudin, when he passed by in 1802. We stuck close to the coast as we came to Wandilla Bay and then the protected Mexican Hat, before climbing Scott Point for a great view of the coast both to the east and west. Dropping off the headland we hit the sand at Scott Bay and cruised around the arc of beach until we found a track that cut inland over some very tall steep dunes into the small village of Fowlers Bay.
Eyre had camped here in 1840 and after being resupplied by his support ship, set out to try and cross the Bight. He commented on the whale bones scattered along the bay, the result of this protected bay being used by the whaling ships of the day as a base for their operations. Today the bay’s main attraction is the nearby beaches and the town’s jetty which offers great fishing, whether by day or by night, and whale watching during the winter months.
A day’s travel further east, found us cruising along a relatively easy beach and cutting inland over some low dunes to a protected strip of sand on the southern side of Tourville Bay. In the southern half of the bay, tidal channels wind through forests of mangroves, the most substantial of which is Davenport Creek, which just happens to have a strip of white sand along its southern edge. This is a popular spot for locals as the protected waters offer good fishing for whiting and flathead while the calm waters is good for paddling a canoe or even for water skiing. You can camp nearby, but the mozzies can be thick, as we discovered. You've been warned!
From here we were back in civilisation, relatively speaking, and after a bush camp above the rocky shores of Point Brown, south of Ceduna, we cruised along back roads into the diminutive township of Baird Bay where we met up with Alan and Trish from Baird Bay Ocean Eco Experience. This was our final swan song for the trip with the couple offering one of the best, if not the best, wildlife experiences you can have in Australia.
Just offshore is Johns Island, now home to approximately 100 totally wild and free Australian sea lions, but most people call them seals. Under Alan’s direction the boat was anchored just offshore from the island and within a minute a couple of young sea lions were around the boat enticing us to play. It’s around about then that you realise that humans are ungainly and awkward in the sea when compared to these delightful animals as they barrel roll around you, swoop down to the sand just below you, look up encouraging you to follow, then zoom up to your face mask before starting the routine all over again. If you don’t pay them any attention they’ll more than likely nibble on your feet or pull your hair. It is absolutely fantastic!
It was a fine ending and a fitting celebration to our journey across The Big Bight – surely one of the best, maybe the best, coastal 4WD trips in Australia!
“Our route passed through this snow-white labyrinth, the ever-shifting sand meaning that often no tracks were discernible”