The New (Old)Nomads

There's an unbending stretch of bitumen, but little else here tells of human intervention. Several hours of red dirt and hardy scrub and 240 km north of Port Hedland, a gray-haired multitude has gathered at the end of a gravel road off the highway. All are wearing shorts, some carry rods and reels. Hundreds of time-rich wanderers are fishing or collecting shells on Eighty Mile Beach in the midday sun, while their well-traveled 4WDs and homes on wheels rest in the caravan park behind the dunes. These gray nomads jest that they are part of the SKI club: Spending the Kids'...

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