I was heading to the Quobba blowholes intentionally but I made a couple mistakes, silly one’s too. As you end the long road leading to the blowies, there is a big wooden arch that signals them, like literally right at the end of the road, with the only options being straight forward into the car park or left/ right which leads to nowhere, and already being in the middle of nowhere there was even less of that going either way. As the sun was on its way to setting, the brightness blinded my view of the wooden arch and I completely missed what I was aiming for. I could see on the Satnav the road finished if I took a left, so naturally I turned right. I drove for miles, and miles, and miles thinking its okay, I’m in the Australian outback, everything is this far away (going from experience).
The road began to turn to loose chalky rock, churning dust to the wind. I was worried about my tires too as this was pretty poor road, the type of road only big transport lorries would use and then there’s me, in my Mazda 3 hatchback, well out of place. I continued until the sinking feeling set in, I was lost. My petrol was low, and honestly I mean it was low, low. Fortunately I had a digital gauge that told me how many kilometres I would get out of what’s left in the tank. Considering my location and how far the closest town was, I had about 5 kilometres to spare, yep, I am that guy. I turned back around and proceeded to correct my blunder.
I got to what I thought might have been the blowholes, which it wasn’t - but nonetheless got some good drone footage of the area. I parked up on the edge of a hill and looked down, it looked alright, I jumped back in the car and went down the hill. It was not alright. Loose gravel stone covered an area where I figured would be best to turn around, second mistake, I got stuck. You know when you’ve realised you’ve fucked up, your face goes bright red, a sweat develops in every pore between your brows and shoulders, your heart starts to pound and you calculate every resource you have at your immediate disposal and the probability you’ll get out of this on your own. After casually looking around through the tinted glass of my air-conned comfort, (so as to not look like a damsel in distress), I could see a couple 4WD’s not too far away, a couple families fishing by the looks of it. I jumped out the car and spent five minuets digging trenches with the inside of my feet, similar as to what I imagine you’d do when stuck in snow (I’m British, we panic in snow too apparently). Long story shorter, I got out, back up the hill and parked in the same spot I started. Crisis averted. After a while of flying, the families made their way up the hill, stopping for a friendly chat too. The sun begun to glow its evening orange and I figured if I don’t head to find the Blowholes now, I wouldn’t get a chance to film at all, remembering I’m low on petrol, in the middle of fucking nowhere and its almost dark.
Returning the only way possible, I was approaching the turning I took to start with, then I saw it, a big F off wooden arch. I laughed at myself, what a fool! Pulling into the little car park, I witnessed my first ever natural blowie, a giant jet of water spraying from beyond the cliff. Sigh*.. made it! I had just enough time to witness a spectacular natural phenomenon paired with an gorgeous sunset. The lighting paired so well that I was able to catch a refraction through the mists of water set on by the blowholes, creating its own rainbow. It was a magical moment. And to think, if I didn’t get lost in the first place, I probably wouldn’t have stayed for the sunset either, well worth an 80 odd kilometre drive back to Carnarvon in the dark.