From here we could look out at the intensely blue water of the bay as we ate our lunch and then watch it slowly creep away and change colour as the outgoing tide revealed the mudflats that line this shallow body of water.

There was time to enjoy the passing parade of local birdlife; a pair of pelicans in a synchronised feeding and swim-by, an osprey fossicked in the flats, a tall jabiru strode slowly by, a variety of small waders probing for food as the water receded. At low tide, the waterline was several hundred metres away, enabling us to wander out and check out the curious fauna of that inhabit this intertidal zone and then watch the tide flow back in again. Its a hard life in Broome!

As we sat on our deckchairs looking across the beach sipping our evening beer, we were provided with a spectacle of everchanging pastel colours of sea and sky as clouds drifted by, the sun set and an almost full-moon grew bright in the twilight. This is a place that could grow on you.

Cable Beach Walk

Fairly quickly though, the cliffs merged into a long-line of sandy dunes and the wide expanse of Cable Beach began. It would not end for 22km northward, though we weren’t going quite that far.

Our walk along this beach reminded me a lot of Fraser Island on the east coast – for on this southern section, the locals had driven down onto the firm sand to fish or just enjoy a fine Saturday morning.  However, a couple of kilometres further north, it was just us and the seabirds. The pale sand was intriguing, firm underfoot when dry, it turned to soft plasticine when wet by the rising tide.

It was pleasant walking along this magnificent stretch of beach, a cool wind from the east, the odd wave, an old pearl lugger anchored offshore and patches of crab sand-art slowly being erased by the incoming tide.

When we reached the Surf Lifesaver’s Club, which is Cable Beach as most people know it, we joined the masses for a swim in the clear waters of the Indian Ocean – there was even the odd wave large enough to do a bit of body-surfing.

It was a very pleasant start to the day, after which we caught the bus back to town to visit the Courthouse Markets. That evening we again headed out to Cable Beach for the ritual of watching the sun set over the Indian Ocean in a spectacular display of golden-orange light. I remember that the last time we visited the western coastline of Australia, this became an evening ritual – I doubt that we will ever grow tired of it.

From Willie’s Creek, we headed north on the red sand road to James Price Point. Here the Pindan clays that give the road its colour, form low dark earth-red cliffs that rise out of an almost white sand beach. Coupled with the intense blue of the sea, it makes for a surreal colour scheme that almost verges on the unnatural. As the cliché goes – a photographer’s delight.

Another reason for visiting James Price Point is that it may well be a vanishing landscape, so if you want to see it for yourself, don't take too long to do so. Imagine a massive Liquefied Natural Gas processing hub (liquefying plant and associated port facility) on the photo above. Not pleasant - well, if the off-shore gas companies and state government have their way, that is what soon will be there.

However, our visit to Price Point came at a price; only a few kilometres on the way back, a bearing in the fan pulley of our HiLux broke, throwing the pulley off its axle and shedding the fan belt. Suddenly we found ourselves broken down on th side of the road outside the range of our mobile ‘phone. But as often happens in this part of the world, a good Samaritan appeared by the name of Grant. He drove me 30km back to Willie Creek so that we could organize a tow, and then brought me back to the HiLux, where his fiancé had stayed to keep the fair Nello company. The bush spirit remains alive and well – thanks Grant!

This explains why we didn't see any more of the northern beaches and why our camper ignominously  returned to Roebuck Bay on the back of a pick-up truck. Fortunately, the part was available in Broome and we had the vehicle back and fixed by the end of the next day. While waiting, we were obliged to catch a bus out to Cable Beach to laze in the sandy shade and occasionally get up and have a swim in the Indian Ocean. There are definitely worse places to break down than Broome.

Late afternoon view from Gantheaume Point

The rocks of Minyirr

Waiting for the moon

We were lucky not to be delayed for more than a night – in fact we were doubly lucky, for that night we took our deckchairs and cold beers once again down to Town Beach on the edge of our Campsite, to join the hundreds of people awaiting the rising of the moon. It was “Staircase to the Moon” night in Broome – a coincidence of a full-moon rise and a very low tide. The light of the rising moon reflects on the wet mudflats of Roebuck Bay exposed by the low tide to produce a narrow band of rippled light that gives the illusion of a ladder from earth to moon – a beautiful effect and a fitting finale to our stay here.