To mention the words ‘adventure’ and ‘Australia’ to people who have yet to experience this vast continent can unwittingly have them conjure up images of rugged, desolate landscapes where laconic folk brew billytea over open fires, and deadly arachnids, poisonous snakes and fauna thrive.
And if there isn’t enough of Australia’s creatures and plants to deal with, contemporary horror films such as Wolf Creek and Open Water can only add to the melee. Can this country be so demanding, or are they yarns spun around the campfire?
Three intrepid friends and I have nursed our clutch-weary car to Cactus Beach. A winding 12-mile dirt track leads us south from the Nullabor Plains to reveal windswept sand dunes and bushland. It’s in this area that basic camping facilities can be found, but that’s not the main reason we are here.
People have been drawn to these foreboding southern waters since the 1960s when Cactus encapsulated the whole ideology of surfing. Nowadays, it still retains that air to it, even with the smoothly run campsite. Firewood is supplied by Ron, who does his rounds each evening in an old truck that looks as weathered as he does. Emerging from the cab, Ron drags us out a sizeable lump of ‘mallee root’. We’re not sure what will be easier, carving a dinner table out of it or getting it lit.
Sparking up a conversation before the fire, we pry Ron about the area. With a foam bodyboard strapped to the car-roof, we are already looking out of our depth. Ron, spying the board, seems to sense this and nodding to a deep channel of water replies, ‘Sharks mate…’
Whilst legendary amongst surfers around the world for boasting three of the best breaks in Australia, Cactus Beach is also legendary for other reasons. This is shark country. Great whites inhabit these waters and although rare, fatal attacks have occurred in this area. Spending the night nestled amongst the dunes in the possible vicinity of these creatures has us in awe, although the prospect of joining them sees the bodyboard remain on the roof.
With dusk nearing, we set up camp and get the night’s speciality dish cooking over the fire, a loose routine which we have slipped into over the past few weeks by travelling the outback by car. Australia can be an empty place, and the feeling of self-sufficiency that comes with taking a vehicle across such terrain becomes gratifying. Planning is the key. Dr Bruce Sanderson from The Royal Flying Doctor Service of Australia gives the advice ‘It is hard to imagine how vast the Outback is, and how easily emergencies can happen, until it’s too late’.
Tonight, cracking open the beers to sit back and watch the setting sun transform this vast land into our very own outback planetarium, it’s not sharks, spiders or murderous bush-folk we’re worrying about, it’s whether tomorrow we’ll find a town with a Mr Clutch…