|Summer scenes for you winter soul.|
80 Mile Beach, a few hundred kilometres south of Broome, stretches quite unsurprisingly for 80 miles. At its more southern end is the 80 Mile Beach Caravan Park on Wallal Downs Station where Winter Nomads have created a utopian fort, guarded by immense distance and surly staff. Should you battle passed these obstacles and procure yourself a spot, you must be capable of withstanding great mental torture such as twice weekly nomad markets, oldies belting out the classics with their synthesisers and saxophones, and strangely garbed women breaking into the Macarena and Chicken Dance on seemingly random days (but always during happy hour)... The beach is festooned with hundreds of anglers mostly tightlipped as to the best way to catch the elusive threadfin salmon, but wait for the tide to turn and suddenly you are alone, just you, white sand and blue water for miles and miles... Yes, 80 Mile is a strange kettle of shells.
|Shell and threadfin salmon prospecting.|
|Blending in with the other anglers.|
We drove in and on negotiating the deadpan receptionist got a nice grassy(!) site near the beach access. We had a couple of the Three Months Of The Year crew next door who quite unreservedly cracked open a cold one and watched us set up. The weather was still pretty windy and cool, but the beach was beautiful and Fiela was off immediately, chasing what is supposedly an excellent table fish, threadfin salmon. We stayed five days (two more than I deemed sufficient but who am I, a fishing widow, to stand with gritted teeth in the way of an angler's dream?) and in that time he managed to get three. Promising bites that is (just three). In his defence, of the hundreds of people fishing the high tide, only five threadfin salmon in total were caught over the time we were there.
|Fisherman as far as the eye can see on 80 Mile.|
|Marguerite and Phoebe, giving as much pizzazz to their chicken dance as they can muster.|
|80 Mile Camping.|