Covid-cation

Well, my dears, Covid has finally arrived in Western Australia. So obviously, I've already gotten it. I'm writing from my Covid Isolation Den and I'm on Day 8 of at-home quarantine and I don't know if you recall from the 3-month lockdown back in March 2020 but I am VERY GOOD at doing home-time. So good at it, y'all. 

The short version: my mate Matt flew back to Exmouth from a trip to see his parents and mates out east, I picked him up from the airport, he tested positive for Covid soon after arrival. Because I was a close-contact, I was legally obligated to do a 7-day home isolation. If I tested negative for the spicy cough on Day 7, I was free to carry on with normal life. I did not make it to Day 7. Since Matty also had to quarantine, and since my housemate would've been forced into isolation if/when I did test positive, I just decided to stay and hang out at Matt's house for iso. He lives in a big house on the canals in town with two pups, a pool, and a large, shady verandah. His housemates work away for three weeks at a time. So all I'm saying is that it's not exactly a chore to be isolated in what may as well be a holiday home. Because I have my Kindle with me (thank you Gaia for being the Best Wife Ever and grabbing me things from my apartment), and because Mia did a big round of grocery shopping for us (have I mentioned recently how grateful I am for amazing friends?!) we haven't had to do anything but laze around reading and napping and feeling guilty that all my mates at the pub totally have to pull up my slack because I'm not there. Oops. 

Mia probably reminding me not to get Covid

Anyway, in chatting with M&D this morning, I was reminded that I'm very, very behind in my blog posts. So with that reminder a-buzzin', let me just tell you about some of my most recent adventures in Exmouth!

A few weeks back, I went camping with Matty on the West Side at South Lefroy. It's a gorgeous beach spot, with campsites right in the dunes overlooking the water, and we spent a whole day slow rolling our trip to get there. We popped into beaches along the way for swims and walks, and just generally took in the beauty of the Ningaloo Coast. The weekend was gorgeous: warm and sunny with just enough breeze to keep things cool. Evenings have been cooling down even though the days are still hot, so it was ideal camping weather!

We were late leaving in the morning because I am me, so we nearly were too late to make it across the Yardie Creek crossing before the tide came in too high to chance it. NEARLY. But we made it. So then, in celebration, we popped into a little beach just north of Winderabandi Point. The beach was a really sharp slope where we stopped, so Joyful Kate, excited that I hadn't stuffed up the whole expedition by causing us to be So Late That We Missed The Tide-Dependent Crossing, took child-like joy out of running down the hill towards the water. And looked equally child-like, I'm sure, as I face-planted in the sand at the bottom of the hill where the sand got Very Abruptly Soft. Thank goodness Matt is not a person who carries his phone around to document such incidents, so there is no photographic evidence of my mishap, but the memory lives on. We went for a swim, headed back to the car, and kept going.

The next beach stop took us to a shallow, gently sloping water entry. No room for mishaps, surely! But then I spotted the turtle shell, floating in the shallows. It was very much dead, but not so completely decayed that everything was missing. I wanted to see what the inside of the shell looked like, so I turned it over. Discussions ensued about the feasibility of retrieving the spine from the shell (eventually decided it would be a long, smelly process). Then I really wanted to give it a proper sea burial so I spent ten minutes trying to get the dang thing to float away from the incoming tide (I never claimed to be smart). I finally gave up. 

Matty had already abandoned my efforts, so we walked back over to the car where we were greeted with what can only be described as a stench. We sniffed around the car and finally realized the stench was on my hands. Dead turtle musk had infected me. Back to the shore I went, to scour and scour and scour my hands with sand, in hopes of removing the odor. It was about this time that we realized neither of us had packed dish soap in our camping gear. We had finally decided to sacrifice some vodka to the cause when I remembered a tiny bottle of hand sanitizer left over from my college admissions days, in a delightful Autumn Breeze scent. That, blessedly, worked its magic and instead of dead turtle stank in the car, we were treated to an aggressive Pumpkin Spice smell. Far less malevolent, though no less pungent. 

Our next beach stop at Billie's Point took us for a stroll along the beach where I marveled at our living in such an extraordinary place: there were sea turtles everywhere in the water. At one point, we could count four swimming through the breakers at our feet, none of them more than 40 feet away. Magic.

The afternoon was wearing on and I wanted to go for a good snorkel, so we headed to our campsite at South Lefroy. The whole campground of probably 40 sites was only populated by two other caravans, probably half a kilometer down the beach. Close enough that we could count the number of humans, too far to hear them or be bothered by their lights at night. We hopped in the water and swam around for a good hour, checking out more turtles, coral, little reef sharks, and so many fish. The autumn coral spawns that happen around the full moons had begun, and there was life everywhere we looked. Back to the beachhead for some cold drinks to celebrate a beautiful day, some sausage sandwiches for dinner, and a night sleeping under the stars. Who could ask for more?

The beach where we camped at South Lefroy

The next day, before heading back to town so I could go to work, we wanted to check out Norwegian Bay. It's located just south of the campground, and we'd heard you can see the remains of an old whaling station. We drove along the track for a while, looking for an obvious entry point, but the roads up to the dunes were all blocked off. So when we got to the place on the track closest to the bay, we hopped out the car and decided to hoof it; we were only 300m away from the mark on Google Maps, and the dunes didn't look THAT steep. It was only about 9:30, so a barefoot trek through the dunes didn't seem so bad. Spoiler alert: it was NOT 300m. It was 2km. Each way.

The single dune hill we could see from where we parked the car turned out to be just the first of many dune hills we had to cross, complete with many dune gullies filled with Spinifex (a spiky desert grass that will cut your feet up very easily) and random bones of sheep and goats that dingoes had dined upon. Matt, who was in the midst of training for a marathon at that point, was chipper and cheerful - he runs 10ks on sand for fun. I, who was in the midst of NOTHING OF THE SORT, was a bit more out of breath - and my feet were reminding me that lots of snorkeling doesn't exactly lend itself to developing thickly calloused footsies. I also realized about halfway across the dunes that I really needed to poo. 

Felt like crossing the Sahara

But after 45 minutes of walking, we found it!

The scattered, rusty bits of boat made me reaaaaally wish I had shoes on

The walk back through the dunes was hotter under foot, but more direct than our meandering path there. We had the benefit of our own footprints as guides, and I was carrying a lighter load after my aquapoo. So when I spotted a really cool looking ram's skull that had been bleached by the sun, Matty didn't even remind me of my last interaction with a dead creature's remains and simply volunteered to carry it back to the car for me. What a good egg! We made it back before the sand got too hot, and made it back to town with enough time for me to shower before work. All tolled, a successful trip!

Besides my camping outing, I've done a few fishing outings in the Gulf in the past few weeks. I still scream (joyfully) when I actually catch a fish, but I'm getting better at unhooking them without shrieking and accidentally dropping them into the boat. Steady improvements!

My estuary cod

Matt does the hard work of tying lines...

...while I do the easy work of driving the boat around.

A pretty bronze whaler...

...with a new lip ring

Since Matt gave me the Covid, he's finished his 7 day isolation before me. I have to tack a few days extra onto mine because I entered isolation as a close contact and then had to re-start the 7 day clock when I tested positive. So he's back to work today and I'm hanging out at his house with the poochies. 

My gal, Bailey

Diego

I think I've got to be nearly the luckiest little fish in the world.