We’ve just returned from our family holiday. This year, we camped at Lucky Bay in Cape Le Grand National Park, about 800 km southeast of Perth. We’re experienced campers now, and I’ve come home recharged and refreshed. There’s also a few more freckles and an extra kilo or two, but who cares about that?
I’m feeling quite contemplative. I often feel like this after a family holiday, because I’m reminded again of all that’s important to me—the things I enjoy doing, and the people I love doing them with.
(Click on an image to enlarge.)
Cape Le Grand is a spectacular part of the state. The sand on the beaches is fine and white, and as soft as bread. It squeaks as you walk, like the Tasmanian beaches of my childhood. The ocean is the colour of gemstones, even when it’s cloudy. It’s body-numbing cold until you get used to it, and so clear I could still see the freckle on my foot when I stood in it.
The water ebbed away before I took the photo, but you get the idea …
Just off the coast are the islands of the Recherche Archipelago, rising from the blue like ancient sea creatures.
Each morning, we woke to the sound of the waves, and I felt drawn to the shore, where I could have spent the whole day—digging in the sand as I watched waves roll in, or kangaroos fossick amongst seaweed, or gulls in flight …
… or disagreement.
We climbed a few of the granite boulders in the Park: Mount Le Grand and Frenchman’s Peak, also called Mandooboornup. Like the islands, these regal-looking monoliths arise from the landscape and look like prehistoric animals that were frozen before they could completely emerge and lope off. They appear to be waiting, hoping for a time when they might move again …
Mandooboornup, also called ‘Frenchman’s Peak’
According to indigenous legend, an eagle built a nest at Mandooboornup, in which she laid her eggs. However, two children stole the eggs, so she in turn stole the children from their mothers, and dropped them into the sea, where they became two islands, just off-shore.
The view from the top of Mandooboornup. You can see the islands in the distance …
The eagle now waits, in the form of Mandooboornup, watching the children. Each time they swim to shore, she picks them up and carries them out to sea again. The water that trickles from the peak after the rain is said to be the tears of the children’s mothers.
The cave at the top
Looking through the cave
From the top, the land stretches in all directions and you sense its timelessness—that it’s an ancient landscape, one that hasn’t changed since long before white man arrived …
Looking towards Cape Le Grand Beach.
It might look boring shades of green and brown in these photos, but when walking amongst it, the beauty and colour is striking:
I love escaping from civilisation, and the more remote, the better. The fewer the modern conveniences, the more real I feel. All we went without, really, were electricity, internet and phone—we still had toilets and showers and slept on mattresses, which was relative comfort compared to last year’s Cradle Mountain trek (I wrote about that cold, hard walk here).
Getting away like this gave us time together as a family and without distraction. We spent most of the two weeks’ outside—on the beach or in the water, walking the trails, climbing the granite peaks, and of an evening, we read or played cards and games under the stars.
We were even treated to a reading from ‘The Hobbit’ in the voice of Mickey Mouse—one might ask why ‘The Hobbit’ had to be read in a Mickey Mouse voice, but there doesn’t have to be a reason, does there?
From time-to-time, I need to step out of city life and let nature and the seasons dictate my day, if only for a few weeks a year. I need to feel sun and rain and wind against my skin. I must sink my feet into sand and soil, and feel the earth again. I have to swim in waves, even when they frighten me, and smell salt and seaweed, and inhale it all. It replenishes a part of me that needs topping up, that gets drained and depleted by timetables and commitments and responsibilities, and that must be refilled in order to keep going.
It’s humbling, too, seeing how little we really need. When hot, the shade of a tree is cooling, or a dip in the ocean. And it’s liberating not to have to vacuum or do laundry or care about the way I look—I wore the same grubby shorts for the last few days because I’d run out of clothes, and I don’t think anyone noticed.
Most of all, whenever I go away like this, I’m reminded of how beautiful our planet is—the land and the ocean, the wildflowers and the animals. It moves me, this ancient land of ours, and I feel so privileged to be a part of it.
It sounds marvellous, inspirational, Louise. No wonder you come back refreshed.
Thanks, Elisabeth. Yes, I think I’ve brought the the sights, the sounds, the smell, and the feel of it all back with me. Hopefully, enough to keep me going until next year!
Louise, that is the most beautiful and serene account of a holiday I have ever read. It was such a balm to me this morning. I have been unable to get away for a couple of years now and I know I am so overdue… I have been to the places you describe and I agree they are some of the most stunning, still, majestic, and soul deepening landscapes I have experienced. The water, the sand, the outcrops, the incredible vistas, the remoteness, the isolation, the absolute feeling of beingness without need for more. And the beauty…thank you so much for sharing this. I feel I have had a mini vacation in my mind…(and, of course, you must read the Hobbit in a Mickey Mouse voice, absolutely!! lol)…all the very best to you and your family…
Thank you so much for commenting, Kim! Your words are beautiful, and you’ve encapsulated how soothing it was and the magic of it all in your comment.
PS. I believe it’s been decreed that ‘The Hobbit’ must always be read in a Mickey Mouse voice in this house!
so beautifully written Louise, I want to go to these places right now!
I’m glad it makes you want to visit Cape Le Grand and Lucky Bay, Karen. I’m not so sure it’s beautifully written—I’m never completely happy with my blog posts as there’s not the time to edit and refine them as much as I’d like. That’s why I do so much editing post-publishing. I sometimes wonder if anyone gets confused if they re-read one of my posts later. Some of the posts end up very different to how they were when I first published them!
You’ve captured the beauty and feel of this amazing region beautifully Louise. I’m lucky to have relatives both in Esperance and at Duke of Orleans Caravan Park so we’ve stayed many times. One of my favourite places in the world. I love the pic of the roo on the shore.
Thanks for visiting, Kamille! It’s lovely you have an excuse to visit Esperance—it’s quite a drive, but a beautiful part of the country and worth seeing. We actually camped on Woody Island two years’ ago, which is why we wanted to return—the marine and bird life in the archipelago is incredible.
Sounds wonderful, Louise. Love your photos. Thanks for sharing.
Thanks, Maureen. It was wonderful!
This is a wonderful story Louise, almost dreamlike in its images and prose. I do love the Esperence region and I’m longing to return. Thank you.
Thanks for visiting, Claire, and for your kind comments. That’s lovely if it reads like a dream, because it was a special time. The area has captured me, and I’m sure I’ll return. I hope you get to, too.
Welcome back. Wonderful photographs, and so well said. We have yet to take our boys camping but hubs is keen. Did you know the kangaroo on our Hearts n Wined Twitter banner photo was taken at Lucky Bay? (There’s the trivia for you).
Happy 2015 Louise!
Thanks, Lily! I love camping, but I know it’s not for everyone. Mind you, you can ‘glamp’ these days—with solar panels and the like. Maybe next time …
I didn’t know that’s where the ‘roo was photographed, but it makes sense now—it was rare for the beach not to have any kangaroos, and they were so tame.
Happy 2015 to you and all the best for your novel. I hope to read the ‘Moses’ line in the finished product, not that it would detract from it if it’s gone. We joked about it after your tweet—how awesome Moses was and how no one else that followed could hope to match him. 😉
Ha! Yes – he definitely was a hard act to follow… but I guess so was God, given he created the world in 7 days and all that.
Sigh. I’m sad God doesn’t do this sort of thing anymore—creating planets, revealing himself in a burning bush, keeping people safe inside whales, parting seas so people can pass out of slavery, and performing general miracles. It’s just not like the good Ol’ Testament days …
Exquisite Louise xxxx
Thanks, Rae. Somehow, I think it’s a little different to ‘Pleasantville’!