Our day had arrived… We still couldn’t quite make up our minds. Instead, we decided to leave Derby letting our journey unfold as we progressed from the western end of Gibb River Road- as the first 60 kms is on tar. Warnings ringing in our ears of taking it slowly had us enter the gravel at a gentle speed of 20kph, steadily wending our way along an empty road that somewhat surprised us - as word had been it was a mighty busy road. When we stopped for a late lunch beside a boab tree, the first of many vehicles to come, hurtled by leaving us to taste red dust and curse the macho drivers.
Our proposed informal campsite alongside the Lennard River had more than enough people to our minds, forcing us on to Windjana Gorge. Weary from the excitement of an exhilarating weekend, enveloped in dust; shaken, rattled and rolled by corrugations despite taking it so slowly to ensure we arrived in one piece we took notice of every tree and blade of grass- so similar to Zimbabwe that we found ourselves watching out for a lion! Photogenic boabs, with their grotesquely beautiful shapes added to our conversations. Mercy! Was it good to crawl into the Windjana Gorge campsite at sundown with the last of the sun’s rays illuminating the Napier Range. From the moment we arrived we felt we were in the presence of something special. Not even the spectacle of opening Getaway’s door diminished the feeling! Our basket of bits and bobs usually stowed safe enough was strewn all over the floor. As we collected up we became aware of a sticky glutinous feel to everything and the floor itself looked pretty glazed! Sunday night supper is always eggs – that night it had to be scrambled from what we were able to rescue… some yolks had drizzled down the inner fridge door and we know where the whites had ended up!
We now knew we were not prepared to continue with the Gibb River Road. Instead we’d take our chances on the awful Windjana Road and cut across to the Great Northern Highway via Tunnel Creek.
We spent a very satisfying day in Windjana Gorge. Reputed to be Australia’s premier spot for freshwater crocodiles, it proved to be just that. There were hundreds of the sleepy reptiles basking on the sandbanks so unconcerned about people that we were able to walk within a metre of them without the flicker of an eyelid. One would not do that with a “saltie”! We took the most attractive 7km return trail that lies between the towering Devonian reef cliffs and the river bed. The strident rattle of a bowerbird attracted our attention and there, next the path, was its bower with a collection of white objects decorating it. The bird even allowed George to get a shot of him inside the entrance. Squabbling fruit bats drew us to the spot where they were hanging like black bags in a paper-bark tree; and the baobabs growing at the base of the cliffs were another treat. However, with the day growing steadily hotter we were only too glad to get back to a cold shower under the midday sun.
Late that afternoon, with the light starting to soften, we walked back into the gorge to photograph the classic reflections of cliffs in the pools.
Reflections in Windjana Gorge
We found the crocs on the hunt. Their technique is to float motionless in the water or submerged in the shallows while awaiting an unsuspecting fish or cherubin (prawn) to pass by. We heard what sounded like gunshots and were amazed to discover it had been the jaws of crocs snapping at fish.
In Derby the tale of Jandamarra, better known as Pigeon, the Aboriginal freedom fighter in the 1890s had captured our interest. Now here we were in his “country” and the very place where he had waged battle with cattlemen. His story was to take us past the ruins of the Lillimulura Police Station to Tunnel Creek where his life ended.
37km of slow pounding and jarring brought us to Tunnel Creek the next day. The limestone ridge looked like many others we had seen and yet, the jumble of boulders that we had to squeeze between and clamber over concealed a tunnel of astonishing darkness and size. Faced with the chilly creek water to wade through in the dark was not Lea’s idea of fun, particularly as pythons are known to frequent the interior in their pursuit of bats. Fortunately, at this time of the season and with the light of our torches we were able to pick our way over enough rocky pavements and sandbanks before stream crossings became necessary. By then, we were enraptured and there was no thought of turning back! In this darkness, our hearts raced at the exaggerated sounds and echoes of footsteps through sand and water and excited voices far away. What fear an ambush situation must have been created here for police and Jandamarra alike? A roof collapse at one point brought relief from the darkness adding another ethereal quality to our most worthwhile adventure.
Inside Tunnel Creek
Much as we had enjoyed this place we were anxious to have the remaining dirt road behind us. Another 70 kays stretched ahead of us! Add - a growing concern for our fridge that appeared to be losing its chill. We were not too sure whether corrugations were knocking the thermostat control. Off we crawled for the Great Northern Highway hoping to find a suitable bush camp en route. This section of the road was not as bad as we had expected. Nevertheless, we still felt ourselves cringing at the impact of each rock or corrugation. By the time we reached the blessed bitumen the long hours of being bumped around had made us feel as if we had been inside a cement mixer! An ice-cream check convinced us that we urgently needed a powered site at Fitzroy Crossing. On we went …..
In case one imagines that our life is all pleasure, just how easily we are periodically grounded can be illustrated here.
After carefully positioning Getaway on a cemented site George prepared to unhitch, Lea began to connect up the extension cord for power. Just as she was about to plug into the caravan George drove off taking Getaway with him! He expected the hitch to disengage but it hadn’t. Nor was he aware of this until Lea shrieked. Carefully he reversed back to the original position. Only this time the caravan disengaged and kept rolling, rolling and rolling – breaking and skinning the power cord and fortunately pulling out at the power point while on its journey into the next site! Appalled at this happening Lea was trying to stop the caravan without becoming a fatality herself. As she reached the handbrake the jockey wheel ploughed into the turf and brought the run away caravan to a halt. Cool, calm George climbs out of Skiv only to be met by a shaken wife, spitting mad! Another hour was spent with a high lift jack trying to reconnect the caravan and reposition it. It has since been agreed that the use of wheel chocks and handbrake are mandatory!
As Geikie Gorge lies just outside Fitzroy Crossing we spent the next morning recovering from “our episode” by taking a boat trip up the Fitzroy River with a CALM ranger. Our sense of humour returned on spotting a rock formation resembling President Richard Nixon on the west wall of Geikie Gorge.
President Nixon - Geikie Gorge
24 hours of 240v power had made little difference to our fridge. A study of the manuals and their trouble shooting check-lists revealed no easy fix. The next morning we quickly established that there was no refrigeration expert in town. The nearest technician 600km away in Kununarra! As we faced the prospect of losing our month’s supply of frozen food we had no option but to make the mad dash. What a day to celebrate 38 years of marriage!
Instead of railing at our bad luck we coped …. During the journey we decided we would phone Kununarra from Halls Creek and check whether our problem could be attended to on a Friday. If not, we would cut our losses and continue with our own timeless schedule. As it transpired the Kununarra technician was unavailable for the next 10 days. Left to our own resources we bought a bag of ice and headed for the bush. That evening we chose a rest area beside the upper reaches of the Ord River to eat our anniversary dinner of prawns before they went rotten.
We arose at dawn to make our way to a rest area close to the turn off to the Purnululu National Park. Here, we abandoned Getaway as the nature of the access road prohibits caravans. Easily said and done? NO. We were gripped by anxiety. No one in their right minds would dream of doing this elsewhere in the world … would they Gloria? We simply had to hope for the best.
So often roads are monotonously straight due to the Australian landscape - not this one! From the beginning it was a wonderfully interesting switchback ride – full of twists and turns, ups and downs, rocking from side to side through water hazard after water hazard. Entering this World Heritage Site we felt surprisingly little sense of wonder as we made our way towards the first of the tourist destinations, Cathedral Gorge. Only on rounding the mountain range was the full impact of the Bungle Bungles revealed. Hundreds of orange and black striated sandstone domes or beehives stretched out in tiers before us (Lea thought they looked like a massive choir of talking heads). The walk into the gorge with its huge amphitheatre at the end overlooking a quiet pool had a magical atmosphere. Its acoustic properties led us to believe that it would be a marvellous venue for a concert – especially with didgeridoos and click sticks. The “Domes Walk” provided us with close up views of the “beehives”. Geologists maintain that the range is the remains of a large sedimentary rock mass laid down about 360 million years ago and has since been uplifted and eroded into one of the world’s most spectacular sandstone formations. The banding is apparently the result of differences in the clay content – the dark bands being clay rich and protected by a covering by cyano-bacteria; the orange bands being clay poor. The question that puzzles George is what sort of climate regime was prevalent at the time for a series of clay rich / clay poor deposits to have been laid down in such symmetry.
Spinifex termite mounds are generally built on the rolling foothills of the range. We spotted termite mounds perched on the tops of domes and were fascinated at this strange positioning which seemed to grossly disadvantage them when they required food, let alone the mud for construction. By lunch time it was so hot we spent a quiet few hours reading / dozing in the shade of a tree in the Walardi campsite. In the late afternoon we drove to Walanginjdji Lookout, climbed to the top of a hill for the evening ceremony of watching the last rays of the sun behind us highlight the warm colours of the mountain range in front of us. From there, it was only a short way to the Kurrajong campsite where we spent a hot night in Skiv.
The heat was enough to have us up early the next morning and without much ado we were off to visit the Mini Palms Gorge and Echidna Chasm at this end of the range. Access to the Mini Palms Gorge involved driving along the thickly pebbled bed of a creek, followed by a 2.5km walk into this gorge which had masses of fan palms growing not only on the floor but also clinging to crevices on the sides. Within the gorge massive chunks of conglomerate had to be negotiated before opening into a bowl-like area with the sun beating down. It was a relief to escape into the narrower confines of the gorge higher up where we found staircases and viewing platforms had been built to restrict access within this culturally significant site for Aborigines.
Our last stop - Echidna Chasm proved to be the most enchanting of all. George had seen the aerial photography and knew what to expect. Lea took the word chasm at face value and expected to look down one! Reality was walking up the floor of a chasm little more than 1m wide in most places with walls towering anything around 150m sheer on either side.
Echidna Chasm, Purnululu National Park
Each time we thought we had come to the end it would duck off in another direction. As midday approached shafts of sunlight began illuminating sections of the chasm, creating a soft mystical orange light within. Such was the unusual beauty of it all we were made all the more aware of how much people miss by flying over the Bungle Bungles for the “big picture” and go away thinking they have seen it all.
Returning to Getaway we were pleased to find our home safe and sound. The ice had done its work keeping the fridge cool and our meat in the deep freeze in different stages of defrosting. Ice cream now hooligan juice! We transferred the meat into the mini-cooler in Skiv and pulled back onto the main road, hoping to find a cooler and more aesthetically pleasing roadside camp. It wasn’t to be. Instead we had to make do in a lay-by as driver fatigue set in.
As another week ends with us settled in Kununarra, on the edge of Lily Creek Lagoon - itself part of Lake Kununarra. It has been a most awesome week in its literal sense, not the commonly used slang word! And although we may have gone on and on and once again, felt the limitation of photos, we can only hope that we have managed to portray something of each special place.
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