On my way home across the great big blue, I had the pleasure of visiting some old friends I met overseas over the past few years. Three of us drove though hundreds of kilometers of a whole lotta ‘not-a-lot’, along the stupidly colorful rocky coast of northern W.A.; It got pretty feral in the truest Baja fashion: flies, sand, salty bodies and all that that accompanies.
Australians are hardy individuals, with a vocabulary as vast and misinterpreted as the sharp scrubby outback that they hail from. I always forget how magic the desert can be, & especially when it rains. We had the cojones to stray from the coast, through mining towns of all varieties, where cockatoos strutted and squawked on every street. A few deep, rocky swimming holes were jumped into, many a can of beans scarfed, and some midnight moments of rage towards mosquitoes, alas, I give it an A+.
These are a few gems from Karijini NP, the North Coast, the town of Fremantle, and the faces and places that lie between them.