Day 57, 27 August 2009, Exmouth

As we're staying another day (wondering what vintage fuel pump would arrive and whether it could be adopted to a 2002 Commodore), I finally got smart and rented a little Hyundai, so we could drive around the area for the day.

It was really cheap: Only $50 per day. (Plus $25 per day for insurance to bring the excess down from from $100,000,000,000. (The GFC wasn't actually caused by shonky real estate deals. It was actualy an under-insured Hyundai renter.) Plus another $30 for fuel. Plus another $25 in excess kilometers. Still less than $135 per day, though.)

Anyway.

We took a drive out to Charles Knife Road despite the rule that the insurance cover reverts to the $100,000,000,000 excess if the car touchs red dirt. The road goes along the top of a range of hills that forms Shothole Canyon.

Really nice views from the car. Straight down into the bottom of the gorge. On both sides.

We then took another drive out to Turquoise Bay, which gets its name from the gigantic turquoise mines there. No, that's not right. Turquoise Bay is actually in a National Park and is absolutely gorgeous, named for the colour of the water. Day visits only, no camping etc. Very pristine and really, really nice.

There were three older Pommie women snorkelling and screaming with delight at the fish they were seeing. Top spot.

The North West Cape is the only place we've been where there are lots and lots of wild emus. Saw dozens on our explorations. I hat to think what the Hyundai would look like after collecting one. It certainly couldn't outrun one.

4:00 PM. Hooray, hooray, the car's ready.

Richard showed me the damaged fuel pump; it was full of red dust. Or rust from the undermaintained fuel storage tanks at some roadhouse.

Finished the day by saying goodbye to Ron and Jan. Top folks and we hope we run into them again.

I also went across to the pub and had a final couple with Black Pete and Paul. I had met both gentlemen earlier in the week. Paul's a mechanic who specialises in marine engines. Pete's a boat owner. Paul rebuilt Pete's motor. Pete couldn't find the keys to try starting it. Paul related the tale (and his disgust) to everyone in the pub, adding his opinion that such actions proved what a f***wit Black Pete was.

As luck would have it, Paul was in the gents when Pete came into the pub a little while later. I asked (innocently, I thought; not meaning to be a smart arse)

"Have you found the keys to your outboard yet?"

"How the f*** do you f***ing know about the f***ing keys, you f***ing Yank f***." exclaimed Pete. (f*** is an Australian term of endearment and respect, at least that's what I've always understood.)

I really enjoyed yarning with Black Pete and Paul (and the other Exmouth locals) and appreciated being admitted into their circle for a few days.

We had to move the caravan for our final night in Exmouth and wound up next to the camp kitchen. A barbecue was clearly in order and I had a nice chat to a Perth surgeon while cooking snags and steaks.

Met Jo and Laurie, ex autoelecs, who are travelling Oz on their Harley. They know all about camp kitchens as they can't carry anything that won't fit in a pannier. Swapped small-business non-payers stories and generally enjoyed their company.

There were two young female backpackers at another table playing a loud card game while sharing a box of wine. We looked over and they asked us to join them. We spent the next hour or so trying to understand the bizzare, complex and constantly changing rules of the game. We never got past the 'open-hand-with-all-cards-showing' stage. Had a great laugh.

I rate Exmouth in the top ten places to be stuck with a crook fuel pump.