Now I'll make it clear to you now that I had not washed since Exmouth... Hundreds and hundreds of km's back. I was dirty. My face was covered in dirt smudges, my legs were red with thick layers of earth, my riding top and shorts were stiff with dried blood from the fall and I stunk like never before. It was great.
So I when I jumped into the clear pools the water seemed to fizzle like I was a bath-bomb. I cleaned my wounds as best I could and spent countless hours soaking in the pristine rock-pools. To add to my delight I met 3 young, beautiful Swizz girls who insisted on dressing my grazes. What an oasis.
I spent two days exploring the gorge systems and moved on reluctantly. But I was excited to reach my next destination... Wittenoom.
Wittenoom is now a ghost town, buildings still standing paying tribute to perhaps Australia's worst industrial disaster. It is situated in the very scenic Hamersley Range within the Pilbara.
In the 1950's Wittenoom was the largest town in the Pilbara, where blue asbestos was being heavily mined. The mining boom brought many people to live in the town and gas and electricity were connected.
By 1966 the mine was shut down due to growing health concerns, and the town slowly diminished into what remains today: just 5 stubborn residents.
Today the town receives no government services, the gas and electricity has been shut-off and the town has been removed from road signs and official maps.
Many people died as a result of lung disease caused by the asbestos fibres being inhaled. Within the refinery and milling buildings were men who worked within a cloud of tiny particles, and many/most of these men have suffered painful deaths.
This is where I was heading.
The dirt road in was dusty and corrugated. Due to a new iron-ore mine being placed 100km's past Wittenoom the road was being used by some very big road-trains. Each road-train raised a wall of thick dust that choked my air-ways and stuck to my sweaty skin. It was very unpleasant. But after some time and perseverance I arrived on the street over-looking Wittenoom town. Two government vehicles slowed down to 'advise' me to leave the area immediately due to the hazardous air. Scaredy cats.
I rode up and down the cracking sealed roads to observe the town gone to waste. Roads were over-grown, shops were empty and houses were slowly fading away to nothing. However, as I passed by I noticed a few houses with well-kept gardens and even music coming from one particular yard. I stopped in and came face-to-face with a man representing one-fifth of the population. We sat down in the yard to listen to country music over a cold VB. As I had imagined, this man was peculiar. I felt that his life had been dedicated to fighting a war that was long forgotten. He was not going anywhere, and it was all he could talk about. He shopped 3 times a year in Tom Price and that was the extent of his travels. He didn't have a job or a family. I had the impression that he did not often have company, and when a truck pulled up to join us for a chat he nearly jumped out of his skin. Three was a crowd.
The truck driver had stopped to see the town that had killed his father. His father had worked in the mill, and died of asbestosis 30 years later. It was a cold reminder for me to understand the reality of the danger. Listening to this local complaining about the hardship of life was taxing on my happiness and so I was off. I decided to ride into Wittenoom gorge to camp for the night. The road in was so over-grown and cracked that it gave a strange forgotten feel. I was very alone in the gorge system and far from phone reception or civilisation. I loved the feeling. I saw snakes and lizards and camped right on the edge of a lush water hole beneath a towering cliff. It was picturesque.
Admittedly I found that indeed the ground was littered with blue asbestos fibres, but they were as long as a finger and impossible to inhale. I walked carefully and have no regrets on entering.
That night as I fired up my cooker to prepare dinner, I listened as the howling of dingo's came closer and closer. I had encountered this before and so took little notice. However when the howling stopped and I heard sticks cracking very close by I shone my torch around wildly. Only a few meters away were four or five dingo's approaching wearily. I had been warned that when a large pack worked together they become increasingly brave and so I stood back in fright. Luckily when I made loud noises and stood tall with my arms in the air they retreated and all was well. It was a very cool experience.
Wittenoom had been unforgettable, and I will upload some pictures soon to prove the beauty.
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