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…via Coober Pedy
Port Augusta was already many kilometres behind us. We were excited to see what awaited us in Coober Pedy – in the middle of the Australian outback – where people dig for opal stones and hope for a certain amount of success. For us, this detour into the outback meant a detour of almost 1,000 kilometres on the Stuart Highway. There were no other, less travelled roads or paths that would have taken us away from the huge road trains (lorries with up to 5 trailers and a length of 65 metres).
During the almost monotonous drive along this tarred ribbon through the outback, where many plants defy the inhospitable conditions, the numerous salt lakes provided little variety. On the way to Coober Pedy, we stopped at the two roadhouses and were amazed at how the price of fuel rose with the distance from the sea. Apart from fuel, unhealthy food and beer, there wasn’t much else to buy. Presumably, the prices out here are so overpriced that travellers stock up generously beforehand and don’t take advantage of the offers.
After two days, we finally made it, and the town sign caused a certain amount of tension. The many mounds of earth and mining areas announced the opal mining area from afar. What would we experience here? My travel guide (Tom) describes this place somewhat contradictorily as a godforsaken settlement in the middle of nowhere, where there is only heat and dust, but which is always worth a visit because of its underground houses and churches. It was dusty and there was a certain amount of disorder everywhere. To our annoyance, the opal museum was closed. So we concentrated on the underground churches, which were built in rock caves and offer pleasant coolness in this hot region. And indeed, in addition to the small Catholic chapel, the Serbian Orthodox churches made a wonderful impression on us. This must have been, or still is, a place of retreat for the miners, where they presumably pray to a higher power for their great fortune.
The miners had to stay, but we were allowed to move on and left this place, where every step triggered a small dusty whirlwind, on the same day. Until shortly before the Glendambo Roadhouse, we had to drive the same route again on the Stuart Highway. There are a few other routes, but they are either prohibited or can only be used with permission from the indigenous people, which can be applied for online.
We were glad to finally leave the two-lane road on the way back, just before Glendambo, and soon bumped our way out into the vast bush landscape. The road had few turnoffs to the ‘outstations’, as the huge farms in the Australian outback are called. But we didn’t see any settlements or even any human activity. We slowly made our way along the sandy track to Kingoonya. Only a few houses line the road, the hotel looked run-down and we searched in vain for a petrol station. Although we still had enough petrol, in Australia you should fill up your tank at every opportunity; you never know!
At some point, we left Gawler Range Road and ventured along the Skull Camp Tanks track to Lake Gairdner, a huge salt lake that is a nature reserve.
Even with nature conservation, the old tradition is still upheld here; every year there is a big race on the salt lake with all kinds of vehicles. We were spared the noise of engines and had the campsite on the salt lake all to ourselves. In the evening, kangaroos hopped across the site and soon thousands upon thousands of stars lit up the sky. We enjoyed the absolute silence in this vast and dark bush landscape.
The Gawler Range was soon behind us and, after a long detour inland, we reached civilisation again, which stretches along the Great Australian Bight (Southern Ocean). We still had various options for leaving the Eyre Highway and heading west on countless side roads. Again and again, we sought out places by the sea, where it was a little more pleasant than a few kilometres away. However, what usually remained were the annoying flies that faithfully accompanied us from morning to night. At nightfall, they disappeared, but were usually replaced by mosquitoes or sandflies.
The holiday season often turned our evening search for a suitable campsite into a gauntlet. Australians also love camping in the great outdoors and generously occupy the available spaces with their caravans and vehicles, so that the few permitted sites were often already full by the afternoon. At the commercial campsites, the prices were usually above our pain threshold due to the holiday season; they wanted a lot of money for nothing.
The Nullarbor Plain was to be our home for the next few days; an area that stretches for almost 1400 kilometres along the Great Australian Bight and actually has nothing to offer except nature and roads; there are no alternatives! So, like all the other tourists, we drove obediently westwards along the seemingly endless strip of tarmac. Although there was beautiful bushland to admire on both the left and right, we had ‘seen’ it all before. Unfortunately, we hadn’t done enough research before setting off on this long journey: there was an 18-hole golf course along this route. There is a hole at every town along the route; clubs are usually provided, but you have to bring your own golf balls.
Sometime in the middle of nowhere, we crossed the border from South Australia to Western Australia. A roadhouse and a checkpoint mark the border between the two states. The food inspection was meticulous, and the official really wanted to look everywhere; fresh fruit and vegetables, seeds and all kinds of seedlings are absolutely taboo. We were prepared for this border and had got rid of everything. The cool box hadn’t been this empty in a long time and we hoped that we would soon be able to shop somewhere again. No such luck; there were no decent shopping facilities until Norseman, which was over 700 kilometres west of us!
Food was rationed and the evening meals became a bit monotonous. But to be honest, it did us good and you don’t have to have a seven-course meal on the table every day. Spaghetti with a simple sauce did the trick. Simply nourished, we continued our journey through Western Australia and experienced the longest straight stretch of road on the continent: a full 146 kilometres without a single bend or curve. An autopilot would have been desirable there.
At some point, we had had enough of the Eyre Highway, the endless Nullarbor Plain and the huge trucks, which I (Tom) perceived as an oncoming danger every time. At the Balladonia roadhouse, I inquired about the condition of the Balladonia Road to Cape Arid National Park. On old maps, this connection is still marked as an unpaved road, but on newer maps it is only marked as an unmaintained track. The person I called at the relevant office was a little surprised by my call, but her subsequent questions were precise and she wanted to find out more about us. Our vehicle and the necessary equipment met the requirements and we were wished a safe journey.
We filled up the petrol tank and water supplies again. Chantal checked the remaining food supplies and gave the all-clear – we would neither starve nor die of thirst. We left the roadhouse, which was bustling with activity that afternoon; during the holiday season, this area is probably very busy with tourist traffic.
No sooner had we left the Eyre Highway and the roadhouse behind us than we were back in complete solitude. Our route also became increasingly difficult, with sandy passages, deep potholes and deadly corrugations alternating with each other. We didn’t encounter a single soul until we reached Cape Arid National Park, and when we camped for the night by a dried-up lake, only the many birds accompanied us into the night. The starry sky soon lulled us into deep sleep. The fresh horse droppings in the morning indicated that larger animals had been next to our car during the night, but despite the absolute silence, we had not noticed their visit.
The next day, I (Tom) wanted to climb the 594-metre-high Tower Peak. But I soon abandoned this plan. It would have taken a lot of time and the lower part of the trail led through dense bushland, which I ruled out immediately for safety reasons; I was travelling alone and I’m not particularly fond of creepy-crawlies (snakes). So we continued our bumpy journey. After passing through an area of intensive agriculture, we reached the Recherche Archipelago in the evening. There are said to be 105 small and larger islands and over 1,800 cliffs by the sea. In addition to the rich wildlife, the sea with its countless bays attracts many people who spend their holidays here, filling the available and permitted parking spaces to bursting point.
Long ago, the French ships ‘La Recherche’ and ‘L’Ésperance’ sailed along the south coast and founded, among other things, the settlement of Esperance. With this hope in mind, we headed for this place, hoping to find a place to stay for a few days.
However, reality soon caught up with our hopes; if you don’t make a reservation in advance during the holiday season, you often miss out. And on the coast west of Esperance, free standing is punishable by a fine of up to $2,000. Long live Australian freedom!
Chantal and Tom/February 2026
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