Okay, so to call this blog post ‘Roadtrippin’ WA’ is a slight stretch of the imagination, as firstly, WA (or Western Australia, for those who aren’t down with the Aussie slang) is ginormous and a road trip would take like a month. And secondly, we went to one place, that was only eight hours away. Yep, a pretty pathetic road trip to be honest, considering people spend months living out of a car. But still, in typical British style, ‘ooh we simply must make the most of the bank holiday weekend’, so me and Jess decided to pack up, wrap up, and head to the beach town of Esperance for the weekend. #harrietdidntcome
Now, I was talked into the trip to Esperance on the promise of a pink lake that’s insta-famous. Literally every bucket list ever invented bangs on about this lake; and of course this lead to me picturing myself, skinny, blonde and in a bikini, just chilling in the pink lake. Despite the fact that it’s winter here in Australia and literally freezing, I didn’t let that deter my dreams. Pink lake, here I come…
Was the lake pink? … No. Despite a lot of squinting and ‘oh does that bit look a bit pink to you, Jess?’ ‘Yeah maybe a little tiny bit’, the brutal truth was that it was… grey. Apparently it’s pink in summer when the salt algae gets heated and goes a reddish colour. If only we’d known that before we undertook the eight hour drive. However, I wasn’t going to let a little dose of a reality get in the way of my #pinklakeexperience so with the help of twenty million Instagram filters and a conveniently pink sunset, I made my lake pink.
Going to Esperance in June turns out to be a lot like going to Cornwall in January; the beaches are beautiful, but omg why is it SO cold. I kid you not when I say that I purchased a hot water bottle to get me through the weekend. Despite having to wear a woolly hat (repping Phil Mitchell all weekend), a coat and uggs all weekend, I couldn’t get over how incredibly beautiful and peaceful the beaches of Esperance were. I keep wondering where on earth the massive resorts/tacky beach bars/overweight Brits sunbathing topless were, considering how scenic the beaches were. Every single beach was so instragrammable, without even needing a filter.
The highlight was definitely Lucky Bay, named because if you’re really, really lucky, you’ll see kangaroos just chillin’ on the beach (disclaimer: I have no idea if this is why). The beach itself was incredible, with pure white sand and glistening blue sea, but all four of us literally squealed like six year olds at the sight of a mother and baby kangaroo hoping past without a fear in the world. It was such an amazing moment that I was pretty glad the beach hadn’t been invaded by pasty Brits and all inclusive resorts; in that moment it was just us and the kangas, and it was pretty magical. ❤️
However, the one problem with going on a road trip? The actual driving part. For eight hours. Now, what with me and Jess being responsible working types, we couldn’t leave until 7pm Friday evening, so we figured we’d get a few miles under our (by which I mean Jess’ belt as I don’t drive) belts so we could make the most of our time on Saturday. However, not realising quite how remote the roads in WA are, we ended up sleeping in the most terrifying campsite overnight. I’m talking ‘oh my god, we’re going to get murdered’ terrifying. There were no lights, an ominous caravan and a friendly huntsman spider just, y’know, chilling in the loo. So yep, we slept in the car that night. Funnily enough, in the light of day the next morning, the caravan ‘murderers’ turned out to be a nice elderly couple who offered us a cuppa, breakfast and about twenty brochures on Esperance. Clearly, our Wolf Creek experience was just in our heads… for now.
Being in a car for that long turned me and Jess pretty crazy, I’m sure. The car, which I have affectionately decided to name the ‘phlegm mobile’ for the purposes of the article, was a Mazada 323, so definitely not big enough to contain me, Jess, all of our crap and our many germs as we were both ill at the start of the trip. For every time I’d sneeze everywhere, Jess would cough, and before long, the car had the nice smell of illness, Doritos and skittles. Delirium and mood swings definitely set in, as one minute we’d be screaming (and I mean screaming) along to Ella Henderson’s Glitterball, then the next we’d be mourning lost loves and getting totes emosh to Adele’s Hello. I feel like bonding totally happened on the trip, and not only because we were stuck in a car for 8 hours without killing each other.
Urban Dictionary defines a road trip as ‘The long and boring trip that eventually becomes memorable and fun through time’. Although driving for eight hours was certainly boring at times, it’s certainly been memorable and fun! Bring on the 23 hour journey to Broome in September…