Easter Tuesday and our wheels were rollin' again. Our destination was a long way - around 570 miles - and we decided we would break the journey with a pitstop overnight about the halfway mark. The weather was fine and the driving surprisingly not overtaxing. It got warmer as we trundled northward and the true value of a/c in the car became more apparent.

There was very little traffic on the Brand Highway once we had gotten any distance away from the greater Perth area. A population of just 1.6 million souls inhabit Western Australia of which 1.2 are located at Perth. The State is about the same size as all of Western Europe, or to put it another way Alaska+Texas, and so there's an awful lot of room for less than half a million people outside of, and even less to the north of, the Capital. It's no wonder traffic was sparse.

The scenery either side of the highway was mostly sparse as well - bush scrubland. It had a real "get away from it all" feel to it - just the business in terms of what I'd imagined Down Under to be like. Meeting so few fellow travellers tended to bring back to life an almost forgotten habit of bygone days back home in Ireland when everyone used to greet passersby with a nod or a wave. Out in the Australian remote lands I found meself and others naturally doing the same. I suppose when other faces are rare sights, we tend to be a little more civil. Even the one emu we passed (standing stark still in the middle of the day in the middle of the road casually watching the world go by) earned a nod, and seemed to nod back at us! Now that's not a sight you'd see everyday in our modern world.

By mid afternoon we had reached Dongara, where we stopped for petrol again (we had previously taken on fuel for bodies and car away back along the road, in truth "stuffing our faces" there to keep ourselves as well as the wheels in good ticking nick). It was a surprise to see a coach from Darwin pulling in to the pumps at the same time. That was some journey from the Northern Territory - I'd reckon more than 2,400 miles. The occupants just sat and stared out of the windows at the only thing of interest in sight - us. Funny enough it didn't feel a bit like our being celebrities. Maybe they were looking but past seeing, after such a long time watching through the bus windows.

By this time the day had gotten quite hot so we decided to take a breather for a while down at the town beach. And a fine long beach it was too with a big salt spray and a goodly number of surfers doing their thing on the high rollers decorating the glistening Indian Ocean  It was interesting to watch this display of Aussie culture for a time whilst we "stuffed our faces" again with some snack goodies we had stocked up on earlier. This picnic backdrop also facilitated democratic values in the form of an unanimous decision to terminate our travel for the day at Geraldton, just a little over 40 miles further down the road.

It was heading on for 6 pm when we rolled into Geraldton, allegedly the sunniest city in the world. We "pitched camp" at the Goodwood Lodge about a half mile outside town. The nice elderly couple operating this comfortable motel were very interested in Ireland, or to be more precise horses in Ireland. I don't need much prompting to converse about the gee gees and it was interesting to hear of a relation of theirs working the ponies back in Co.Kildare. They expressed a wish to visit one day and I was glad to confirm their mental picture of a green green land liberally dotted with grazing thoroughbreds.

Later we ate reasonably well at a food hall in town, after which we took an exploratory stroll through some very quiet streets. There was a thunderstorm rattling and rumbling away just a little out to sea and maybe this explained the "quietness". Lucky enough it didn't rain on us at all and we had plenty of time to locate a local "bottle shop" where we could stock up before headin' back out to the digs for R and R.

In the morning the air was bright and fresh and the sky fully clear again as we set off on the second half of the trip to dolphin land. Passing the turn off for Kalbarrii National Park brought to mind Eileen saying she had visited there once with her Mam and Dad and found it a great place. Maybe we'll get back there sometime ourselves. After about 150 miles we came upon the well known Overlander Roadhouse where we "stocked up" again on eats. It's strange how your idea of distance becomes very relative in a large place like WA. We still had 100 miles to go at this Roadhouse but it felt like we were nearly there! That'd be a very strange concept indeed in the Emerald Isle. We reached Denham around 3 pm and our destination was just a short 17 miles further on.

Monkey Mia resort is essentially just a beach with a caravan and camping park. We quickly established at the Information Centre that the wild dolphins generally only came into shore in the morning. So we found a vacant spot on the beach and settled down to look around and plan what to do. Later on, after we had something to eat (again!), we checked out the scene at the camp site. The only accommodation available for the night was a small wooden chalet without air conditioning (and it was hot) at quite an expensive charge - almost double what we were by now used to paying. We decided to go back into Denham remembering previously heard advice that somewhere to lay our heads would be a lot more suitable pocketwise in that hamlet. And so it turned out to be. We had, by the way, paid into the Monkey Mia resort but the entrance ticket was valid for 3 days and so there was no problem going in and out at random.

Denham is a small prawn fishing and tourist place and had all the essentials such as pub and restaurant and a "before and after" short stroll promenade to whet the anticipatory appetites and aid ancillary digestion. The sleeping quarters were okay too.

In the morning we climbed into the mobile after a substantial breakfast and headed back over to Monkey Mia at around 9.30 am. We'd been told the dolphins usually showed up between 8-11 am. After a pleasant couple of dips in the sea (the day was already quite hot) we settled down on the beach to await the arrival of "the wild ones" and shortly before 11 they did indeed turn up.

There were six of them - 3 mothers and 3 youngsters according to the Rangerman. The human beings lined up standing a couple of steps into the water while the finned flyers swam up and down closely inspecting us all with curiosity filled eyes. They were in fact very close - so close you could touch 'em. Surprisingly their skin feels kind of rough - like sandpaper. Naturally they displayed most interest in the said Ranger - no doubt they looked to him to provide the grub. And after a while that is exactly what he did with the aid of a couple of Rangerettes. They roped in a few small people from the "audience" to help serve the smaller members of the main act, to the rackety sound of much camera clicking. Our new fishy friends didn't seem to mind this at all.

After their brunch the dolphins took off out to sea again. It had been an unusual and somewhat strange experience to commune so closely with these wild creatures who had behaved in a very tame and gentle manner. I gather they can get quite rough if annoyed (believe it or not they generally come off best in a rumble with sharks) and could let you know this in no uncertain way with a wallop from their powerful tails. It had been a brand new adventure for us and we sat back down on the beach afterwards in smug satisfaction.

The word was that there wouldn't be another "episode" until the morrow. However, we must all have impressed Flipper because after about an hour and a half the visitors returned for a second bite, so to speak. A repeat performance ensued, this time with the dolphins lining up opposite the human troop. It was as if they were having a joke with us all (or were we going to take part in an inter species line dance of sorts?) and I thought I felt a deeper empathy with these "free spirits" second time around. Wonderful creatures they indeed are, with wonderful vibes that linger for a long time after encounters.

When the Ecco brigade had moved off for the second time, we again languished for some time in our memories on the beach. Without our quite realising it (what with all the distraction) the day had grown much hotter. Eventually when we "came back to ourselves" around 2 pm, the heat suddenly registered big time and we decided to head back to Denham for some cooling shade and refreshment.

We spent the rest of the afternoon sitting comfortably in the shade at a pavement table outside our new "local" with a jug of cool beer each, which "hit the spot" every time. From this vantage point we could watch the world go slowly by in Denham and make funny faces at our new neighbours' kids, and accept compliments in Aussie lingo such as "on ya mate" and "no worries". Afterwards we took a leisurely stroll around and for a while watched a small group of fishing rods holding out for the triumph of hope over reality off the town jetty. It was really pleasant and relaxing and by this time we were well used to the heat. Later in the relative coolness of the moonlit night we had a nice meal (again) and very good wine at a nearby restaurant, followed by a few "chaser" jars back in the "local" before bedtime.    

Next morning at the breakfast (included in the sub for the room) the local radio was issuing further cyclone warnings for the area north of Carnavon. This decided us not to venture further afield but rather to set our course back southwards. And so after the "wake me up" grub we loaded up and pulled slowly out - "back on the road again". Strangely, as before, the long haul driving did not seem that tedious. I even persuaded herself to have a go, reminding her of a pre journey promise to do her fair share of the work. Now Bernadette's idea of this egalitarian notion is to chip in her twopence hapenny worth for a whole hour, and then retire. There's no doubt women are the cleverest as well as the strongest sex.

The only anxious moment we had in all the driving involved  an oncoming road train we could see a long way ahead which was overtaking a car. It seemed to take forever with the truck growing larger in our windscreen at a frighteningly fast pace. When he swerved back in to his own side, maybe three or four hundred yards away, he seemed to sway around precariously and I thought for a minute the whole bloody thing might flip over. However, I suppose there was plenty of flat open space either side of the highway for us to take evasive action had a real emergency arisen.

We stopped for lunch at a small sleepy little town somewhere before Geraldton . The main street was lined on both sides with "bent over" trees giving the place a sort of cool dappled aspect, which was quite attractive in the heat. There was nothing remarkable about the grub but the conversation at the front garden table behind us definitely caught the attention. They were discussing the Irish peace process would you believe. It was sort of fascinating to hear first hand the "ordinary" Aussie view of the main players - Loyalist, Nationalist, Republican and Unionist. The "discussers" obviously were not aware of Irish ears eavesdropping (unless they happened to overhear our accents when we ordered - but I doubt this) and I'm glad to report that the general tone was one of goodwill and best wishes for a just and lasting peace.

When we got as far as Geraldton we were feeling "on a roll" and decided to go on. After that the day sort of slid by and so did the road until we stopped for more petrol, this time up an "unpaved" side track into a sort of farmyard. It wasn't unlike what you'd see in Hillbilly films. A woman, who looked like she could look after herself, emerged from a hut when we pulled up at the one and only pump and wordlessly looked after us, filling our ration of fuel. A big circle, maybe to avoid the rush of traffic coming in?, brought us back out to the modern world again and we continued on our way wondering what life was really like for that remote lady.