Nick Squires discovers a whale watcher’s paradise located near one of the driest places on earth

It seems an unlikely place to watch whales. We are on the Nullarbor Plain, a parched nothingness of saltbush and sharp stones which stretches for hundreds of kilometres across the southernmost strip of Australia.

‘Nullarbor’ may sound like an Aboriginal word but, in fact, it’s bad Latin and means ‘no trees’. The landscape around the lonely Nullarbor Roadhouse lives up to that name.

Not only are there no trees, there’s barely a blade of grass in an area nearly the size of Victoria. High above, a lone wedge-tailed eagle soars across an arcing blue sky.

But just 24km south of this bone-dry landscape, wildlife abounds. The desert abruptly ends where it meets the Head of Bight, the most northerly part of the great scimitar curve of coastline known as the Great Australian Bight.

Here the Bunda Cliffs, up to 80m high, crumble into the sea like giant slabs of shortbread. The bay, a stunning shade of turquoise, is crowded with big dark blobs - southern right whales.

The whales, shiny as liquorice, congregate here each year between May and October.

Hunted almost to the point of extinction by whalers in the 19th century, the species is slowly recovering - but the worldwide population still only numbers about 4000, from an estimated norm of 100,000.

Australia has a visiting population of around 800, and Head of Bight is one of the best places in the country to see these awesome creatures.

Up to 100 gather at any one time at the foot of the cliffs, mating, giving birth and suckling their calves. Whale milk is so rich that calves gain about 90kg a day.

The whales come here because the water of the Leeuwin Current, at around 17ºC, is relatively warm - at least compared to their normal habitat in sub-Antarctic waters.

Even from a distance, the whales are huge. “An adult can be 17m long and weigh 70 tons,” says Greg Limbert, a local tour guide. “That’s about the size of a road train.”

Newborn calves are 5m long and a ton in weight. While their mothers are content to loll in the jade-coloured shallows, the youngsters slap their tails and breach in a spectacular display of youthful exuberance.

They lift their heads above the water for a good look around - ‘spy-hopping’ - and slam their tail flukes on the water in what’s known as a ‘tail lob’.

A brand new ‘interpretative centre’ has been built just back from the cliffs to cater for the growing number of people who come to watch the whales.

Its roof is shaped like a whale and the walls are made of angled poles designed to represent the long baleen plates that crowd a southern right whale’s mouth.

“Last year we had 20,000 visitors,” says Greg. “It’s becoming a destination in itself rather than just a stopover for people driving across the Nullarbor.”

Researchers identify whales by their unique head markings, called callosities. The best-known whales have nicknames like Chip, Ned and Michelin Man.

The Great Australian Bight, which extends 1100km, is one of the emptiest, driest stretches of coastline in the world. There is an epic quality about its endless surf-pummelled beaches, its vast sand dunes, salt lakes and rocky headlands.

It was first charted by British explorer Matthew Flinders. In the 1860s, pioneers established pastoral runs on the Nullarbor, despite its crippling lack of rain. It was not crossed by vehicle until 1912.

The gigantic scale of the Nullarbor and Head of Bight is best appreciated from the air, and scenic flights operate from a blinding white dirt strip beside the Nullarbor Roadhouse. Strict rules mean light aircraft must keep at least 300m above the sea, but that is low enough to provide a bird’s eye view of the cetaceans.

“From May to October it’s pretty much guaranteed that you’ll see whales,” our pilot says as he dips the right wing of the aircraft to point out a mother and calf. “Very rarely does a day go past when you don’t see any whales at all. The record number seen in a day is 135.”

Sea lions live along this stretch of coast too, as does the southern right whale’s only predator - the great white shark.

In the unlikely event you don’t get any whale photos, there’s an almost life-size fibreglass whale outside the roadhouse. It looks surreal against the battered petrol bowsers and resting road trains.

A few hundred metres away is an even better photo opportunity - a famous road sign, which warns motorists about the danger of passing camels, kangaroos and wombats. Aside from the roadhouse, it’s the tallest structure around in this extraordinary landscape of baked desert and enigmatic ocean giants.

Open Road May/June 2008