Coral Bay is hardly a village, it’s just 2 campsites, a couple of restaurants, a handful of shops, and a beautiful stretch of coastline. This remote feel adds to the charm and we allow ourselves an extra day of rest. A snorkelling trip on a catamaran takes us out to the Ningaloo reef, where we swim with marine turtles. Herb makes date couscous with grilled vegetables which we enjoy with a glass of wine and in the company of Norbert, a German geologist we met here.
When, on the second day, we take a stroll to the shops, we suddenly hear a familiar Dutch voice: ‘Gaan we nog een biertje doen?’ Loes’ parents have driven all the way up from Perth to pay us a surprise visit and we spend a wonderful evening over a lovely dinner, a real treat. The next day we’re back in the saddle; south, into the wind. Turquoise water no more, red dust instead. Apart from the stench of roadkill and a sign that marks the tropic of Capricorn there’s not much going on in this monotonous landscape. Or so we tought. Just after crossing the tropic of Capricorn we are surprised to find our names written on the road in true Tour de France fashion. As the day progresses we come across several texts that Norbert left on the road to cheer us on. A true present, which really does help.
