Whereas we had had a definite plan for the first week, now we were just following our noses, seeing if that track on the map worked out, checking out places we may or may not have half heard of. Some false starts at the beginning, then we made our way to Davenport Creek. This is one that we had both had recommendations for before coming. Tyres down for they sand, I grabbed the first hat that came to hand once I realised how windy it was. This, apparently, was amusing.
Then down again when we got to the properly soft sand. 12/16psi saw us right.
This was a good spot, but obviously well visited by the locals. I was interested in a track that potentially wound along the coast, the bright white sand hills in the distance begging for closer inspection. Again a couple of false starts, including a ‘Breaking Bad’ type caravan hidden down in the bush, then, this looks like it has potential.
It should be noted that all this area is privately owned, including Davenport Creek. I was curious as to whom owns it, but internet research since has yielded nothing, no matter, they seem to have the right attitude.
Interesting (very faded) sign at the start – Private property, trespassers MAYBE prosecuted.
Very different wording to the signs when they obviously don’t want you on their property. N still thought we were breaking some law and were probably going to end up in jail, but she always thinks that! (I just interpreted it as don’t be a dick)
The first part of this track reminded me very much of the Adelaide Plains, I was certainly glad it was dry. The one minor wet patch we went through instantly reminded my of just how much this surface changes with water, as the truck slewed gently through it.
Anyway, so far so good. It was great to be exploring again, and despite our relative proximity to human habitation. I was confident we would see less others out here than we did in our remote area travels in the previous week. We got to the base of the dunes, these natural sand structures never cease to amaze me with their other worldly environment.
A quick stop for a tailgate lunch of smoked fish sandwiches, before the mosquitoes got wind of us and invaded. We’re out!
Despite all my day dreaming about other rigs. The reality is that for many tracks we find ourselves down, the Hundo is the limit in terms of size, still then you can’t be too precious.
Saying goodbye to the dunes for a while we wound our way up onto the cliff tops. We were breaking fresh tracks, always a good feeling.
This little coastal trail that must also see some water come flowing down at times as some sections were quite washed out with some interesting side angles for the laden Cruiser.
We took a side detour to check out the view from the cliff top.
We popped back out onto council roads, still the views were spectacular. We ran along another set of dunes before finally hitting some farm trails. What a great few hours that track was. Because it didn’t have a name or any publicity….
However, it was early afternoon and I hadn’t really given much thought as to where to stay tonight. Nothing suitable had presented itself in the last few hours so it was time to have a look at the map and make a plan. Cactus Beach, let’s head for that.
I had heard of it beforehand but for the life of me couldn’t remember where. Anyway it seemed the best located camping around according to the map, so that is where we went.
A area of private land behind the dunes, with the beach the other side directly facing the majesty of the Southern Ocean. It wasn’t quite what I was expecting but it was none the worse for that. When the chap came round that night to collect the camping fee’s I quizzed him a bit it. For 20 years the toilets were dunny lids bolted to garbage cans with plastic bags for liners and the property owner would empty them every day. Now, flushing toilets, hand basins, soap dispensers. Back in the day it was just surfers, now also 4×4 explorers, backpackers, grey nomads, all sorts.