This morning there was a mackerel sky, which effectively lowered the temperature for the first two hours of driving. There was a free continental breakfast offered at the roadhouse, but the girl was rushed of her feet and I would have been better making my own. I took this photo of one of the huge road trains that pulled in:
I was soon on my way again. I stopped for a break at the Fortescue Roadhouse, little shade, and the bowsers very difficult to work (presumably to stop people filling up then driving away without paying). The Fortescue River had plenty of water flowing, as did the smaller rivers further north.
I had booked a chalet at The Cove caravan park in Point Samson. I was looking forward to improved facilities after the primitive donga at Nanutarra. As I approached the town, I stopped at the Information board. This was situated next to a large rock by the roadside, which was a traditional spot for the gathering of yellow ochre to use for aboriginal face painting.
My chalet is right next to the pool, which meant I could choose my time to do a few lengths without little kids jumping in. Then it was time for a walk along the coastal path to Honeymoon Cove, a picturesque spot with striking striated rocks:
I couldn’t linger there because I noticed a dreaded sandfly had landed in my arm. Their bite is far worse than any mosquito!
I took a couple of photos, looking south to Cape Lambert, where iron ore was being loaded from the jetty. I could just make out no less than 13 container ships on the horizon, waiting their turn to load:
On my way back to the caravan park, I spotted a road train that had shed its trailers. It was kept in immaculate condition by its proud owner:
As I sat on my balcony, I had a chat with the couple next door. They had driven here all the way from Tasmania: true grey nomads!
That truck is fitted out to haul some mighty big loads.
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