Leonora to Westonia

Tracy decided to go explore the sites of Leonora at 5.00am as she was awake, Joe on the other hand waited for light to arrive and fell out of bed at the late hour of 6.00am. Once coffee was provide to Tracy all was good in the world, and after packing up and getting some water we headed west to explore the Mount Ida road.

The route was through bush and scrub, and the land was amazingly empty. The road surface was good, but we saw no evidence of traffic and even after 71 km came across no cars or humans. We did see cows, emus and came across some derelict and abandoned mine

sites. Even after we got past the Sandstone-Menzies road there was no traffic and it was only after 124 km that we passed a car, a new record for us.

Our main destination was Lake Ballard. Its a salt flat lake that is famous for the metal statues that are art sculptures. We parked up and due to recent rains the surface of the lake had a layer of mud instead of dust. Sensible Joe decided to go bare foot and so had an amazing foot massage of silty mud and the ability to wash his feet at the end, so no mud got into the car. Tracy decided that her really good hiking shoes would love the mud and proceeded to grow taller as the mud stuck to her feet resulting in sods of slimly mud covering her shoes and ensuring an odd walk out along the lake bed. At the same time we could hear a father shout at his kids "I told you not to get in the mud, look the bike is covered in mud etc.". Tracy Ann!

The location of the Lake Ballard car park is impressive with its vista overlooking the lakeside, but the flies had already decided they liked it as well, so we decided to move on and make a mental note not to be here in the summer as the flies would be a real issue.

We took the road to the town of Menzies to see what it held and were

suitable underwhelmed. A lot of vacant sites, poor housing and a small shire office was all that was there. The caravan and camp site were on the main road and looked tidy, but very sterile and open. Without large trees the camp sites can be very hot in summer and many of these campsites are new so lack historical growth. They were funded by a royalty for regions scheme that pumped millions into tourist attractions like caravan parks and swimming pools in the regions, to try and get people to stay in the small towns and tourists to visit them. However, the change of government and the mining bust has meant no more money, and without care these facilities will be crumbling in a few years.

We hit the road and traveled south to cane grass junction and then took an old mining road inland to Coolgardie. After a long trip in the middle of nowhere we passed "Siberia" an old mine town and suddenly there on the side of the road was a pub/inn. It was full of people and it was like an oasis in the middle of a desert. The patrons were miners and they were drinking pints and eating plates of greasy chips with cream and added chicken fat. No tofu and yoga here.

Stunned we looked around and the pictures on the pub wall showed cricket teams and a thriving community in the 1930's before the mines closed. People wore formal clothes as they posed for their

pictures even in 40 degree heat. The pub is now a tourist spot famous for its out of the way location. Its like finding a McDonalds as you walk around the back of a hill in the middle of Antarctica.

The road to Coolgardie had some great little historical sites to see on the way and we also came across some steel shapes such as a fishing boat or shark fins in a small salt lake that would look amazing with a covering of water. Someone had too much time and imagination in the mine workshop!

Coolgardie has been made famous by a recent domumentary/film on the "Hotel Coolagardie" but now they have changed to pubs' name to the Hotel Denver. The main theme of the movie was the use of backpackers (mainly girls) to work for a few months in the local bar to earn money to continue their travels across Australia. The bar treated them in outback style and the documentary covered their time there. There were good moments and funny ones, and the usual leering that comes with two pretty backpackers and a mainly male mining group who may not be quite as chivalrous as one would like. We had been here before and it really had a rough crowd drinking there, and now a silly American name, so we passed on having lunch there and instead we stocked up with a really nice ice cream from the road house and we moved on.

We took the road to Perth and travelled along real scrub lands till we suddenly got to the wheat fields just outside Southern Cross. One minute its gold fields scrub and the next its fields of corn. However, its clear to see that there was not much rain in the soil. The corn looked stunted and low, and I imagine each year its a gamble if you get a crop or not. By the time we got to the Carrabin roadhouse, the wheat was looking better and clearly the rain clouds had made it this far.

We took a chance and decided to make for the campsite in Westonia. This was a real treat and surprise. Its a small town off the main road and we initially expected very little, but a lovely new beautifully kept camp site awaited us, and the town is a delight. It has well restored buildings and where there are gaps they have put lovely historical

facades. The place is spotless and well cared for and you can walk the street and feel part of a community. Even the local shop is a cooperative.

We had dinner in the only hotel in town and its a well run joint. The clientele is mainly famers, locals from the town and then a few blow ins from the caravan park like us. Back at the camp site we got into conversation with some other travelers and they were a delight with stories of their travels. They clearly enjoyed a few glasses of wine and merriment was all around. The place had space heaters, a nice TV and great dining area, so clearly a camper had been involved in designing and building it. The shire of Westonia is to be commended.

Tracy was getting used to her big warm sleeping bag, and once safely ensconced inside looked as snug as a bug in a rug, and soon all were asleep and the only sound was Joe snoring in sync to the distance rumble of mining trucks.