16th September 1967
BREAKING: Little America Lands in WA—Exmouth Opens with Giant Aerials and Bigger Sunscreen
Good evening, I’m Maree “Ningaloo” Pike, live from a blustery North West Cape where the wind is hotter than a pie warmer and today’s headline reads: “Town: Exmouth. Status: Open for business.” Also opening: a forest of radio towers that look like someone ordered a dozen clotheslines and got carried away.
Locals Mick “Antenna” Russo and Aunty Val are eyeing the new grid of streets like it’s a crossword with too many Qs. “You reckon that big VLF thing can pick up the footy?” Mick asks a US Navy chief who introduces himself as “Tex,” which is either a nickname or a warning label. Tex smiles, tips his cap, and hands over a commemorative badge the size of a hubcap.
New footpaths! Fresh kerbs! A school and a pool promised quicker than a cyclone changes its mind. The official ribbon gets snipped, the dignitaries clap, and a fly makes international news by landing precisely on the scissors at the crucial moment. “Historic,” says Aunty Val. “Unhygienic,” adds Maree, fanning herself.
Behind the jokes, there’s gravity. This is Country with stories older than any mast—so we nod to Elders and tread light. Then we queue for icy poles because the Pilbara sun doesn’t muck about. Tonight, the towers hum, caravan fridges purr, and Exmouth—brand-new but already sun-bleached—goes to sleep to the lullaby of radio waves and restless fish in the Gulf. Tomorrow? Same heat, bigger hat.
* as depicted by AI - may not factually be correct