We left Dick at Madura to hitch back to Sydney, and John and I continued on to Perth.
The clutch cable broke near Norseman, so I got to become proficient at clutch-less gear changes, a hundred gear changes later, and a few hills, a thousand km, and learning to judge the approach speed at the traffic lights to avoid a stop, as we came into the outskirts of Perth. To stay at the Doc's place, see below.
Great old Nullarbor crossing videos copied from Super8mm
youtu.be/fgp3ztGzxp0
See this bit of history ANOTHER WA CLAIM TO FAME - AUSTRALIA'S FIRST MOTEL
In 1951 a modern motel rose out of the dust of Madura but far from being lonely, life at the first motel in Australia was hectic.
Suffocated by sand hills and 850 miles from Perth, Madura only existed because it was a petrol supply point on the Eyre Highway for east-west motorists. Up to 30 motorcars passing a day in early 1950.
Those travelling from the west would come upon the town quite suddenly after 194 desolate miles from windswept Balladonia. Riding through the scenic Madura Pass, motorists had the joy of riding on 400 yards of bitumen.
The change from rocky, scrubby landscape to the coastal plain was breathtaking. Tall gum trees flanking the pass and framed the Madura Motel sitting prettily on the side of a hill - like an oasis in the desert. Next to the motel was the old Madura station homestead, well known for its hot mineral baths.
Australia's first motel was full of surprises, according to its tall and easy-going licensee 32-year-old Eric Poat.
Most surprises come in the shape of the people who stayed at the motel. They came from all walks of life discovering companionship and sharing stories in the motel's tiny bar. Including hitch-hiking students, cabinet ministers, hobos, honeymooners, and businessmen.
Others were more difficult to classify - like the bespectacled little man who drove up in a van containing two black cockatoos, a kookaburra, a cage of budgerigars, and a 7ft. carpet snake curled up on the seat.
Eric was never happier than when he was working in the quaint bar of the motel. Serving everything from effervescent salts to Scotch, from toothpaste to tinned pineapple. Around the walls were murals drawn by a traveller using charcoal, depicting, in a humorous vein, some of the people who had drunk there.
Occasionally car thieves were intercepted at Madura when they had to call in for petrol or supplies.
There was also the matter of a dead body found buried only 30 yards from the motel, thought by police to be a prospector who died of thirst when making for the Goldfields in the 1890s.
Visitors to Madura would make all sorts of demands. Those for accommodation, meals, petrol, stores, or a double Scotch were easily met. But Eric was often woken in the early hours of the morning for nothing more than a billy of water or a pint of oil.
Caravanners and hitchhikers also created problems by frequently using the motel's facilities for no fee. Once a caravanner asked to use the refrigerator so that he could keep his butter fresh overnight. The next morning the butter and caravanner were gone, plus two dozen eggs and a side of ham!
When Eric was not in the motel bar or attending to the more mundane needs of guests, he was usually with his "wife" a rugged utility truck, huntin', shootin' and fishin' or exploring the Nullarbor caves.
There's a peace about the outback that you don't find in cities, Eric told Western Mail journalist Athol Thomas, before reluctantly returning to Perth in 1952.
From..
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