Ghouls, Camels, and Confiscated Avocados: Crossing the Nullarbor
Fringed by the dramatic cliffs of the Great Australian Bight and stretching endlessly across the horizon, the Nullarbor Plain is one of Australia’s most iconic landscapes. Spanning the border between South Australia and Western Australia, its name comes from the Latin nulla arbor - meaning “no trees”. A fitting description for this vast, open expanse.
Cutting through the heart of the Nullarbor, the Eyre Highway is legendary for its long, isolated stretches of road, including one of the world’s longest straight sections, and, more importantly, the world’s longest golf course, the Nullarbor Links (plagued with flies - do not recommend).
Before tackling this beast, it’s essential to stock up on the necessities - especially fuel. Which is how we found ourselves spending the night in the slightly sketchy town of Ceduna.
Since then, almost everyone we've spoken to has had something questionable to say about the place. Some swore there was an eerie presence hanging over the town, others admitted they left in the middle of the night, and seasoned Nullarbor veterans simply told us they refuse to stay there altogether. Thankfully, we made it through the night without any visits from ghouls or other trouble, but it's safe to say we're not in a hurry to return...
About two hours into our drive towards the Nullarbor Roadhouse, we pulled into Lake MacDonnell - a salt lake renowned for its pink waters that contrast the blue ponds on the opposite side of the road, which are also part of the saltworks lake system. Often referred to as “Bubblegum Alley”, the striking contrast in colours is created by varying salinity levels, algae, and mineral concentrations within the evaporation ponds.
After several more hours of driving, singing along to the same 30 songs on repeat, and alternating between ‘Stick to Football’, ‘The Joe Rogan Experience’, and ‘The Jack & Ash Show’, we arrived at the iconic Nullarbor Roadhouse to a sunset display like no other. With no trees to interrupt the view, the pink and red sunset span for miles, as though the world itself was on fire.
We spent the evening scoffing the house lasagna from the Roadhouse, and even treated ourselves to a delicious apple crumble. Not what we expected to be eating in the dessert.
Tucking up into bed after a long day of driving, we were serenaded to sleep by a pack of dingoes, howling to the moon.
The following morning, we set off towards the Western Australian border. Another full day of driving later, we pulled into border control with excitement. This would be our first time entering the state that we intend to call home, together.
With no idea what to expect and, thanks to the complete lack of phone signal, no way of checking what was and wasn't allowed across the border, we pulled into the quarantine bay. Half a fridge of avocados, a fire-poking stick that Jack had become emotionally attached to, and a three-quarter-full jar of homemade honey later, we were officially in WA - and hugely pissed off about the confiscation of our precious belongings. We spent the next 3 days craving honey-drizzled avocado on toast - something we hadn’t given any thought to prior to this moment.
Our first stop in Western Australia was the tiny town of Eucla, just beyond the border. With absolutely nothing better to do, we decided the best use of our time was to get drunk at the campsite bar.
Thankfully, it seemed several other travellers had reached the same conclusion, including, but not limited to, our new friend Attila (yes, like the Hun). We spent the evening swapping stories, playing pool, and trialing every local-brew on the menu before eventually stumbling back to the van for a well-earned night's sleep.
One little-known fact about Australia is that it has the largest wild camel population in the world. Feral camels were originally imported during the 19th century to assist with transport and exploration through the country's dessert-centre. When motorised vehicles eventually replaced them, many were released into the wild, and, thanks to their adaptability to Australia's harsh conditions, their numbers exploded. Today, estimates vary wildly, with populations thought to range from around 300,000 to well over a million.
There are warning signs across the Nullarbor reminding drivers to watch out for camels. Up until this point, though, we'd never actually seen one. Neither, it seemed, had any of the other travellers staying in Eucla. Except Stan, who had been travelling east while the rest of us were heading west. He reported spotting several camel carcasses earlier that day. Sure enough, the following afternoon, we came across the same unfortunate scene: two deceased camels lying beside the highway, clearly the victims of a collision with a road train.
It's not something we ever imagined seeing in our lifetime; roadkill camels. And while we felt sorry for the camels, we were equally relieved not to be the road train driver.
And with that rather grim image lingering in our minds, we wrapped up our Nullarbor adventure, but not without another incredible sunset to send us on our way.
Twenty-four hours later, finally getting signal for the first time in a week, we rolled into Esperance, ready for some well-earned respite.
Or so we thought...
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