Saturday, May 10th

So we wake up early(ish), and look out over a perfectly still harbor just across the road. The fishing boats are in, catching the morning light in spectacular fashion. I have to paint a word picture, as the photos that I took on the old film camera of this are not yet back, but will be posted if they turned out. We did go for a short run, but didn't want to ruin the day by being too sore! After a quick tour through the Shark Bay interpretive centre to get our physical and historical perspective, we jumped in the car to head out to Francois Peron National Park.
Now, when an Australian road is closed to even 4WD, you know that something dramatic has happened. That, unfortunately for us, described the road that we intended to travel. Instead, we went out to one of the more remote beaches where we marvelled at the turqoise water, the backwards-seeming kangaroo tracks where the impression from the front feet is behind the rear feet and tail, and a stone that looked to be a dog-headed scepter left over from previous civilizations. Knowing that it was a remote beach, though, we should maybe have been a little more circumspect when approaching some of the campers.
You see, they had a very impressive tow-behind camper, here in the rugged outback where some 4WD vehicles were unable to get to, and it unfolded in an ingenious demonstration of live-aboard oragami. It was only after we waved and started talking to them that we realised that they were naked. They were very polite. Just...nude. Kind of offputting. We strolled off casually to show that we were relaxed and cool people, but did not, even once, look back.
We explored the limits of the russet dirt road, ending up at a lagoon where we promised ourselves we would return -- someday -- with a kayak. Cleverly named Big Lagoon was big, and lagoony, but had the feature of being protected enough to entice big sea turtles (which we saw) and dugongs (which remain mythical, as far as I'm concerned).
From here, it was a long, bumpy ride back to the main road, and down to where we had registered for a free camp site at a place called Eagle Bluff. This was easily the highlight of the day, arriving about an hour before sunset at a completely deserted stretch of coast where we watched the birds until the light was gone.
Just as the sun dipped below the horizon, we started hearing splashes from the bay below. It didn't take long for me to realize that there was a giant school of fish, just offshore...and I didn't have anything to catch them with. Not even a hook and some twine. No dynamite or nuthin'. I spent over an hour trying to catch them with the only thing I had -- my camera. Hopefully to be added in a photo gallery will be at least one lucky snap of a leaping Taylor silhoutted by the setting sun. Fingers crossed.
We took some REI catalog-style pictures of our tent perched on the bluff, marvelled at our luck in having such a beautiful spot to ourselves, and cooked some burritos on the new stove. I don't know if any of you have had the experience of trying to use one of the ultralight backpacking stoves, but the one that we didn't bring is this unstable contraption that not only is prone to dumping your food all over, but the only thing that keeps the cannister of highly flammable stove fuel away from the flames is a sheet of really thick aluminum foil. It is not a utensil which inspires confidence, and lighting it requires a full college engineering course.
With that in mind, imagine my glee when, upon turning the knob on the new stove, it just lit. Just like that. We didn't spill any food, the wind didn't blow out the flame, the water boiled in about 30 seconds (very important for morning coffee), and -- this is the really important bit -- at no time did I feel as though it might explode and leave me with a lifetime of explaining why I had no eyebrows.
As we retired, tickled by how easy this new stove would make our camping trips and belching salsa fumes, I settled in to win handily at cribbage and fall asleep, little knowing what the night would hold...