Day 417 | To Beaufort Inlet: what? another campsite right on the water?
57 km | Heading west total: 14,891 km
It’s a tough job. Someone’s gotta do it.
Actually, sleeping has been an issue recently. The full moon always makes it hard if the clouds stay away.
Last night I had a terrible dream. My life was in turmoil. I tossed and turned all night.
Very unlike me, my usual condition is asleep in 30 seconds and waking up at 4 55am no matter what. I felt like I’d spent the night in a giant washing machine.
I realised what the issue was when unzipping the tent in the morning. Directly in front, on a hill not more than 400m away, the blades of the local wind turbine were rotating, making the noise of a, umm, washing machine.
Was it that or the grey sky, (or not having my usual coffee first thing) that made me fail to warm to the little town. The inlet is pretty enough and there’s a brand new, ie, unvandalised, informative walk along the water’s edge. You learn the types of breeding birds and fish, about the Old Telegraph Line, (Perth to Adelaide), the attempts to start fishing, (a very successful dried fish industry in the early days of the goldfields).
But the town has no centre, no heart. One shop selling all that the 240 inhabitants might need, except that Albany, population 30,000, is less than 2 hours drive away and I suspect a lot of shopping is done there. The Telecentre and small library. A pub I failed to seek out. Not a lot.
The town is built on old sand dunes and despite that I know that the piggy’s house was actually quite sound with the foundations on sand I still feel it’s all a bit temporary.
Ok, Hopetoun’s bigger but it has a couple of cafes and some life.
Unchanged since the 1970s Bremer Bay lacks zing and so do I as I pedal out after my sleepless night.
I trust my affliction is temporary.