| Surreal.
Stark. A little scary.
Those were my first impressions
of Shark bay, an impossibly wild mosaic of red peninsulas and
kaleidoscopic waters some 850 kilometres north of Perth, Western
Australia.
I expected wilderness, but
nothing had prepared me for this otherworldly experience. There
were no swaying palms here, rather a sunbaked version of the
surface of Mars. Blood red sand, rich
in iron, spilled everywhere, appearing almost incandescent, hot
enough to cook on. The red pindan sand poured from the peninsula
heights, dotted here and there with defiant stands of saltbush, to
cascade into steep dunes which end abruptly at the talcum- like
beach. The line between red and white was only a few centimetres,
the transition compelling. Throw into the equation an impossibly
blue sea lapping just metres away from this strange sand tussle
and it’s easy to see why I was so entranced.
 This
is the very tip of Peron peninsula, named after the 19th Century
French explorer Francois Peron, who I dare say was just as
spellbound as I when sighting these strange lands for the first
time. What seems even stranger is how anything can live in such a
harsh environment, yet we spied a wallaby going about his business
quite happily, seemingly oblivious of absurd human intrusions. A
bold goat stopped by our temporary camp on the beach, eyeing us
with much disdain. The goat seemed fascinated by our tent
structure, as if it were a new type of triangular goat. I felt
like reminding said goat that his days were numbered in these
parts, due to the efforts of Project Eden, a West Australian
government initiative to eradicate all introduced species from
Peron Peninsula. Oh well ,let the goat have his day...
I had arrived at Cape Peron
courtesy of my newfound Japanese friend Koichi, who had navigated
his rented jeep unerringly through a wild peninsula criss-crossed
with deep red sand tracks, riddled with boulders and false trails.
Head high saltbush gave the impression of being in a mad red and
green maze. Occasionally, the track widened when it crossed
shimmering, desolate salt pans, kilometres of blinding white in
all directions. Masako caved in and took a photo. He liked seeing
lots of “nothing”.
Little has changed around
Shark bay since Peron’s day, apart from the odd shipwreck, such
as the Gudrun, which was deliberately run aground in 1909 on the
Peron flats 13 kilometres north of the Cape. The
ship’s carpenter had drilled a hole in the ship’s keel in an
attempt to scuttle it. This stunt he had tried before in Fremantle
but this time it seemed he was more successful for being placed in
irons.
This area is full of such
historic events, yet when I stood overlooking Shark Bay, I half
expected Peron’s ship to sail into view. Such a harsh and
uncompromising coastline deterred most early explorers, but Peron
persisted.
On the 27th of June, 1801
he wrote, “ …. The appearance of the continent in this part
was as barren as that we had seen on the preceding days….. the
shore consisted of either white or red sand, and had no other
verdure than here and there a few miserable shrubs. To this dismal
sterility of the continent and the isles, may be pleasantly
contrasted the productions of the sea, which are astonishingly
numerous and in very great variety.“ With
much trepidation, Koichi and I decided to test Peron’s
observations with an exploratory snorkelling session. Anything to
escape the heat. Images of sea monsters ran wild in our minds even
as we drifted slowly over riotously colourful coral gardens.
Just as we were feeling more at
ease, a huge billowing of sand straight ahead sent us into panic
mode. A massive grey flank appeared out of the debris and we
feared the worst.
 Panic
turned to fascination; it was a harmless Dugong,
a type of ‘sea cow’ native to northern Australian waters. We
remained still and observed the huge creature fin off into deeper
water. It would have been over two and a half metres long and
perhaps 300kilos. Excited, we explored the reefs some more,
spotting a huge variety of wildly colourful fish, some much too
big for any frying pan I’ve ever seen!
Koichi tugged my arm to indicate
that perhaps we had better seek terra firma while our luck held
out. I agreed, keeping in close formation with my Japanese friend
all the way to that alabaster beach. We hauled out like seals and
lay contentedly on the sand, raving to each other, feeling
privileged to have seen such rare and pristine examples of nature.
I imagined Peron smiling down on
us and winking as if to say, “There, I told you so!“
I never doubted you Francois, not
for a minute.
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