Our second night was spent at the mouth of the Fitzroy River. We searched for a while, over shooting the turn off, and finally back tracking until we found the obscure and decaying sign pointing to the river outlet. I realised why I’d missed the sign, because directly opposite the turn was this decorated fence.
The camping area was situated perfectly right smack bang next to the Fitzroy River. The river had been cutoff from the sea and was brimming full.
Regular users of the camping area advised me that normally you could drive right up close to the beach but on this occasion to get to the beach we had to wade through knee-high river water for 500 metres before negotiating the wind-swept sand dunes. The local wind farm says it all, and the beach with all its sand and debris is carved by the wind.
The night passed and my nose being the excellent weather station that it is, told me that it was a very cold night indeed.