We’re at Learmonth airport. It’s a military base, so photography is prohibited. Not that there is anything you’d want to photograph, like a Big Prawn! Today has been marked by discovering our rear right tyre was completely flat, as we left the caravan park, Dan leaving a towel on the roof after a snorkel, so it’s blown off somewhere, finding the fish & chip shop closed so eating the most nauseating Chinese in a remote location we’ve ever eaten. I’m glad we’re heading home.
Yesterday’s whale shark snorkelling tour reminded me of what I’d conveniently forgot about our trip to the Gálapagos three years ago: I get seasick. The water outside the reef was a little choppy. That, combined with a tight snorkel on my head, strapping in the stinger suit around my ears so water would rush in and out whispering like Voldemort, and the choppy waves rising up and down across my visual field as I tried to keep up behind the casually but very fast swimming whale… I got nauseated very fast. When there deckhand came up to rescue me, treading water and falling behind the group, the fumes from the motor fuel and splash of salt water into my mouth overcame the tight grip my esophageal sphincter were holding my Weetbix, milk and fresh cut strawberries down: I retched, then I hurled. Twice.
The relief of chundering up my chewed wheat flake breakfast after four hours of non digestion was outweighed by more sea water splashing into my mouth, the choppy waves swirling bits of sick around and back at my face and more hurling.
On the plus side, I swam with a whale shark who did not care or notice.
I called it quits after my second swim and second hurl. I passed out from exhaustion on the boat, waking up at lunch time feeling super better and I ate three sandwiches to make up for lost breakfast.
I had a tension headache by dinner time and Daniel kindly massaged the knot that had cemented most of my right trapezius after dinner, as we watched Kitty Flanagan on ABC back at the caravan park.
This morning we had originally planned to drive 90 min south, to Coral Bay, but we both needed a sleep in. Turned out we couldn’t have just left as we had a very flat tyre; our neighbour asked Dan, “Need help with your tyre?” when we gave them our leftover groceries at check out.
We drove around the cape to Lakeside beach where Dan snorkelled, in nothing but speedos and flippers. I stayed on the beach as there was another sign warning of irikanji and everybody else was wearing stinger suits. I did not want to die. Instead I was bit by March flies. I got suncream in my eye and, added to my contacts, resulted in me rubbing both eyes, my left swelled up itchy and watering. I don’t like the beach. I was glad when we left.
I drove back North around past the VLF antennae, the lighthouse, and a convoy of white 4WD heading the other way. Somehow Dan always ends up driving and I play Candy Crush. I’m Level 740 now. It’s so addictive. I wish I had brought a book instead. I downloaded 50 Poirot stories by Agatha Christie onto my Kindle app but they get repetitive: somebody dies, a bunch of clues are told, Poirot solves the case using his “little grey cells”.
We bought 3D hologram postcards. I’d better go find a postbox.