The Gibb River Road and upper Kimberley Region: 11 – 30 June 2014

The road ahead

We had agreed to meet up with Alison and Amanda at Zebra Rock Gallery, close to the Valentine Springs Road, a loop road that would take us north of Kununurra to Ramsar Listed Parry Lagoons. They landed up with a puncture in Keep River National Park and returned to Kununurra very early in the morning to have that repaired and we all ended up at Zebra Rock Gallery in time for morning tea and trip report...  En route for Parry Lagoons Nature Reserve and forty kilometres down the 4WD old Wyndham dirt road we stopped to spend a night at Mambi Island on the lower Ord River. Mambi Island came highly recommended by Peter and Velda Herring. The Ord River is the most famous of the East Kimberley Rivers with a diverse variety of ecosystems. We met the A’s on the upper Ord River at Leycester’s Rest. Spent a couple of nights on the Dunham River which is a tributary of the Ord and in Kununurra we were camped beside the Kununurra Diversion Dam; part of the massive Ord Irrigation Scheme.  Only a boat ramp sign marked the section on the Lower Ord River known as Mambi Island probably because the island is just a well vegetated mid stream sandbank. We were in the throes of setting up camp when the A’s arrived looking somewhat bemused to find us there! Since we are slow travellers they take the opportunity to explore side roads and creeks. Fortunately curiosity had them turn in here or they’d have ended up further ahead than they thought their mud map indicated.   

  

Mambi Island

Our camp site beside the river was very dusty with a roughly "ploughed-up" appearance thanks to cattle hooves breaking up the layer of recently deposited silt.  Later we were to discover the cattle preferred to drink right where we had chosen to camp and we had to remove our table and chairs during afternoon tea and give them right of way- after they had given us a long and righteous stare. It was a glorious spot that gave us wide vision of the bird life frequenting the riverine zone. Unlike Kakadu saltwater crocodiles so furtive and sinister we quickly spotted a saltie basking up on the Mambi Island sand bank directly opposite camp and on many occasion we saw salties cruising our stretch of the river. Late afternoon, we noticed the fishermen camping just upriver from us wisely dispose of fish offal onto this sand bank well away from their campground. This put us in the pound seats when it came to observing the scavenging Sea eagles, whistling kites, crows and crocs that came in for what seemed to be a customary evening snack. George discovered SKV had a puncture and lifted the wheel with the hi-lift jack until he could change the tyre the following morning. An almost full moon cast a beautiful light across the river and we sat out enjoying the balmy evening until bed-time.

We rarely see as many Boab babes across Africa and yet this Australian landscape appeared so African!  

Arriving atop Telegraph Hill, George unhitched and left for Wyndham to repair or replace our punctured tyre. The A’s arrived to see where we’d be camping overnight before taking a look at Marlgu Billabong before they too headed off to Wyndham- to take in the sights of this old frontier town. This large cattle capital with abattoir began a slow death when the abattoir closed in favour of live cattle export. Since Darwin took over the live cattle shipping industry it appears that local mines are shipping out their ore – nothing in comparison to Port Hedland. George discovered a very different place to what he recalled from our last visit- many places had closed and it was very run down. He had no choice but to turn round and head down the main road back to Kununurra where he bought a new tyre to make up for the 200km round trip. Lea had contented relaxed with her book and the panoramic view of the Ord floodplains and watched the many tourists calling in at Marlgu Billabong Bird Hide below Telegraph Hill. Once everyone had returned it was time for the highlight of Parry Lagoons – down at Marlgu Billabong. The A’s rushed down in their truck and we followed more leisurely on foot.  

A Bird Watcher’s paradise at dusk

The 36000ha Parry’s Lagoon Nature Reserve’s crown must be Marlgu Billabong with boardwalk and bird hide but it also includes the wetland of the Ord River flood plain, grasslands, woodlands, rugged sandstone outcrops and ranges. With two avid twitchers in our party we wanted to maximise optimal viewing times at dusk and dawn when bird activity was at its best hence we were illegally camping on Telegraph Hill. The sights and sounds from the boardwalk were superb and thanks to darkness falling early the place was ours. So much entertainment; after diving often enough a young magpie goose managed to unearth a  water lily corm and to our delight, proceeded to chase this bobbing ‘apple-like’ prize about for a good while in such close proximity to us.  A saltwater croc raised dreadful anticipation as it glided ever closer to a duck that seemed anxious and unsure but did not take wing until the very last moment. The pelican and whistling ducks could be seen further up in the fingers of the billabong and thermal-ling in updrafts around Telegraph Hill.        

The dawn showing gave us an awesome display of collective fishing beautifully synchronised by the pelicans – a grunt similar to a hippo appeared to be the signal to dive

Two hours after dawn we turned south for the Gibb River Road. This 667 km ‘beef road’ originally connected remote Kimberley stations to the ports of Wyndham and Derby until it steadily grew into a route the adventurous tackled as it provided rare views of an exciting wilderness area. As caravan novices in 2006 we had attempted the Gibb River Road from Derby (west) in peak season! We were so put off by the corrugations and swirling red dust thrown up by a continual stream of speeding 4WD – some hauling rattling trailers showing  little or no regard to road conditions. By the time we reached Windjana Gorge National Park we’d had enough and stayed south to Tunnel Creek taking the Great Northern Road across to the east instead. This time we were doing it earlier in the season and with more experience behind us. Alison and Amanda were popping into side roads to view many of the places we’d enjoyed previously on the eastern side as far as the Pentecost River. We’d arranged to meet them at Home Valley Station either that afternoon or any time the following day should they decide to see more of El Questro Station and all that it had to offer.

The inspiring Cockburn Range provides a fine introduction to the Gibb River Road. Our unconfirmed belief is this Range featured largely in Baz Lurman’s film ‘Australia’      

One of the major rivers draining the region and running into the Cambridge Gulf is the Pentecost River. This is a swift flowing river crossing and the deepest we’d encounter thus we were a little disappointed not to cross it with the A’s and have action shots of the event.

Keep your hands on the wheel and definitely keep your snoopy eyes on the boulder strewn river crossing ahead!

Home Valley Homestead, a large working cattle station proved to be a most picturesque station with boabs at its entrance gate and a well laid out area for its guests particularly the huge Dusty Bar. We’d been told about their bush camp down on the Pentecost River and naturally that had greater appeal for us. However, being a Saturday it had been closed to campers until after 4pm. due to a wedding. We happily relaxed alongside the swimming pool until lunch time feeling very decadent! On the dot of four we pulled out for the bush camp only to be briefly held up at the entrance gate as the bride on a white horse and the groom on a black steed were having their photos.  Turning east we were suddenly confronted with another startling aspect of the Cockburn Range. What a superb backdrop! The fast setting sun highlighted the entire length of the western face, in particular the sandstone cliffs and the bluffs; especially one with a sandstone tower or sentry box carved out by nature. We could barely take our eyes off such a spectacle and yet cattle gates to be opened and closed, pot holes thick with bull dust and a steep gully to manoeuvre our way through were a distraction. A large open campground with a very good ablution block came as a surprise considering its close proximity to the Pentecost River although camps had to be behind the road – well away from the tidal river bank and the many salties frequent the river. We were to spot some making use of the tidal gutters that become exposed at low tide, enabling them to slip easily back into the water when necessary.

Up  early the following morning, we returned to the homestead to begin a 6km return Bindoola Gorge Lookout Trail through classic East Kimberley scenery of savannah woodland, low rocky ridges that gave us views of the homestead and the Cockburn Range (with face in shadow it appeared quite ordinary) and the Pentecost River much further downstream. We were most taken by the Scarlet Gums (Eucalyptus phoenicea0 with their flaky rough textured yellow bark which were all in flower. Although the name implies scarlet flowers we only saw burnt orange flowers and the odd yellow. In a small clump of them a bird party was taking place with plenty of chirps from wood swallows, honey eaters and finches. Once up in the mountainous terrain (part of the Pentecost Range) we walked the rim of the sandstone gorge to the Bindoola River with sheer cliff faces and incredible rock formations – layered and fissured in such a way as to look like irregular building blocks. We perched on the edge Johnstone Lookout with a cliff drop of more than 40m and absorbed the atmosphere and beauty; our eyes searching for any movement in the cobbled riverbed or rock pools below. 

    

Bindoola Gorge from Johnstone’s Lookout

We saved the 3.6km Mount Baldy Lookout return walk for the afternoon as it provided the most perfect panoramic view of the Cockburn Range at sunset and we wanted to share that spectacle with Alison and Amanda. They arrived at lunchtime having upset their day by having to return to El Questro to collect the little door-step we had lent them for the duration of their trip. Further delayed at the Pentecost River helping a couple with a puncture and desperate for a jack!

We did it! It’s a brief window of opportunity to capture the sight of a sun-lit Cockburn Range from the almost treeless summit of Mount Baldy.

Mount Baldy is not very high at all and covered in shaly sandstone and siltstone with many clumps of Curly Spinifex. We had to scurry back down as darkness falls very early this far north. In fact our body clocks have fallen into another rhythm much like the time frame we became accustomed to in Niassa. We eat earlier, fall into bed even earlier and more often than not we are up and away by break of day!

Leaving the A’s to meander at will we took to the Gibb River Road for Ellenbrae Station with a planned stop 15kms down the road to see the Bindoola Falls. No signs we passed the possible site and with no place to turn around we were forced to give it a miss. We were impressed by the state of the road which made for easier travel and at that hour of the day free of any traffic. The Pentecost Range stretching to the north of us was far from remarkable – little more than a long set of rolling hills. Somehow we had expected rugged terrain; and felt mildly disappointed by a subdued landscape of open savannah - no prominent features other than small ‘jump-ups’ or shallow creek crossings until we reached Roelie’s Jump-up followed by a steep descent into the Durack River. We marvelled at the vast width and extent of the flood plain as depicted by river-borne debris in bushes and trees for well over a kilometre.

     

The Durack River was definitely not a river to mess with in the Wet.

Obviously the Durack River Homestead had a bad time over many decades as it has since been abandoned. The pioneering Durack family are synonymous with the Kimberley driving the first cattle into this dominantly cattle region (The family home was situated within the borders of Lake Argyle and during the formation of the lake was plucked from the rising waters because of its historical value).

Ellenbrae proved a most interesting station and lured us on down its road with many signs tempting taste buds to a “scone-sational” end. After registering at the homestead we were directed to Ringers Camp. The ablution block set in a green oasis, fenced and gated to keep cattle out; was most unusual stone structure with the biggest wood fired ‘donkey’ we have ever seen in the middle of a ‘verandah’ with a camp kitchen to the side. To the left of the kitchen a road sign reading FLOODWAY drew us into rustically ram-shackled area housing a toilet behind a shade cloth curtain, Further along the dark little passage a large bathtub was poised in the middle of the other room with a shower in the corner.  Fortunately a door to the en suite could be closed with a huge bolt made of one inch pipe. As the day wore on and the number of campers steadily grew it was far from fun to contemplate a toilet visit. Alison was brave enough to take a dip in the creek pool despite the murky tannin stained and leaf strewn cold water set within beautifully tall melaleucas and dappled sunlight. Hot shower to warm up turned out to be more of a hot dribble which did not impress.

    

New bet being made between Alison and George re Pardalote nesting in the holes that had obvious reptile claw scratches... Camera’s go out for the night... Results: inconclusive!

On the road again travelling more of the same sweeping savannah woodlands, we came to accept this aspect of the Gibb River Road and recalled reading in the book “ Surviving the Outback”   that the Kimberley was so named because of ‘it’s similarity to its counterpart in South Africa’. At the time we had scoffed at this as we certainly did not have that impression from what we’d seen of the west or east Kimberley other than low veldt baobabs....  Observing the passing scene of golden grasslands studded with white trunked rough leafed cabbage gums, Grevillia with gingery bottle brush flowers and the Scarlet gums with burnt orange flowers – very Australian and yet, close your eyes and take a new look... It could be Mopane woodlands in Botswana or the familiar Miombo woodlands of Zimbabwe or even the game reserves of Northern Natal. These open woodlands with long grass now seemed very African. Later, George pulled out the first book (The Kimberley by Jocelyn Burt) given to us by Didj-Mtwaze (Ken Tinley) our first visitor to our ‘Gondwanan home’ in 1997. Inscribed within the cover he had written “a foretaste of the Top End of Australia whose floral affinities with Africa are so similar, yet overlain with its own unique Spirit of Place”. Here we were - experiencing just that! Patches of parasitical mistletoe, the ‘foreign’ bushy growth readily noticeable in some trees revived our interest in the mistletoe bird and its habits. Especially as we have recently come to understand that mistletoe is only capable of establishing itself on a small number of host plants and to have a large number of trees infested indicated many tiny Mistletoe Birds active in the area?    Approaching the Kalumburu / Gibb River Road Junction we began to wonder when we’d ever come across the river to which the road derives its name.

  

Expectations of the Gibb River running alongside the Gibb River Road somewhere along the route ended when we found the Gibb River crossing on the Kalumburu Road.

It became a matter of surviving the Kalumburu Road as we made the 60km run to 4000 sq km Drysdale Station.  What a relief to reach the station gates and get into a camp site and discover Getaway had managed the trip pretty unscathed. We were to leave our caravan in the care of Drysdale Station while we headed northwest to the jewel in the crown of any visit to the Kimberley – the Mitchell Falls. Road reports from all and sundry said the road in was  atrocious and by the time we left Kununurra the A’s were fast coming to the conclusion that their hire vehicle was not covered on unmaintained tracks  and they could only hope to join a tour group from the Station. After enduring the first section of the Kalumburu road we too had serious doubts. However, we quickly sobered up on hearing flight costs and with no further ado began packing for a night away in SKV. Alison and Amanda were able to pick up a flight in the Drysdale fixed wing plane with another family of three which eased costs a fraction. Within an hour of their arrival they were off on a two hour flight that took in Mount Hann, Prince Regent River along the remote coastline of NW Kimberley before circling over the Mitchell Falls on their homeward flight. Poor Ali- suffered air sickness twenty minutes after departure making it a gruelling trip. 

The sight of these shredded tyres and rims written off on the Kalumburu Road added to our anxiety for the road ahead...

We departed for Mitchell Falls at sunrise and within an hour - a puncture!

Despite no towing, we were subjected to a noisy, slow trip up another 100kms of the Kalumburu Road before we reached the turn off to the Mitchell Plateau, an area rich in environmental and Aboriginal cultural significance.

We visibly blanched at the first part of the road that approached the King Edward River yet quickly acknowledged by Niassa or Tanzanian standards this would be considered a good road!

A welcome break from the road came when we pulled into a parking area with just a sign ‘Walk’ to see one of world’s greatest Rock Art Galleries. We tagged onto an APT Oka tour group just ahead of us and gained so much more listening to the guide... There are two ancient art styles to be found in the Kimberley. The earliest are the Bradshaw’s; named for an early explorer in the 1890’s, Joseph Bradshaw, the first European to report and describe this well preserved style of rock art dating  back at least 17,500 years. The more recent Wandjina style features human figures with halo-like head dresses. They are said to be ancestral Rain Spirits and as we understood, these are ceremonially touched up by an Aboriginal Elder at the start of each Wet season to bring on the rains. 

Manuru Aboriginal Art Site- The detail and delicacy of these paintings really appealed to us as we saw a similarity to Africa’s Bushman paintings.

Manuru provided a lovely setting among the sandstone outcrops with a mass of tiny blue or white flowers sprinkled copiously in the surrounding grasslands. As we made our way back to the truck via a Burial ground we noticed a long snake skin dangling from a crevice on a rock face and George was quick to spy Rambi-rambi asleep further along the ledge

 This beautifully marked Northern Brown Tree Snake hunts by night and is adept at plucking bats from the air as they fly in or out of narrow cave openings. Totally harmless to humans, we add. 

Unique to the Mitchell Plateau vegetation were Fan Palms (Livistona sp.)

Seven hours later after many creek crossings and jump-ups we trundled into the Mitchell Falls campgrounds – very sorry the A’s had missed out on this adventure thanks to fellow traveller’s word pictures painting a daunting scene in all our imaginations. Other Hertz vehicles were there to prove the possibility. We found ourselves a site as far as possible from the buzzing helicopters constantly ferrying tourists back and forth on a six minute trip from Mitchell Falls. We took the River View trail before an early supper as we were keen to attend Ranger John Hayward’s Campfire talk. His passion was evident in his presentation of video clips and photos on a big screen of the Mitchell River National Park in the Wet and the rock art and archaeology of the North West Kimberley. This electrician with an interest in remote wilderness bottomed out on the Pentecost River twenty years ago and one good turn led to another bringing the breaks that brought him to this remote Ranger post for the past twelve years certainly imbued us with his enthusiasm. We reluctantly dragged ourselves away two hours later for much needed sleep and another early morning start on the morrow.

At first light we were away down the estimated 4-6 hour walking track to Mitchell Falls.  All was quiet and serene and other than bumping into Ranger John Hayward at the crossing of Little Merten creek we owned the trail and the sights along the way for the next three hours. The trail connects three waterfalls: Little Merten, Big Merton with its deep narrow chasm below and the 80 metre high Mitchell Falls which drop over four successive stages. Plenty of rocky and uneven surfaces through rugged sandstone country; beautiful woodland filled with the sound of friar birds, finches and wood swallows feasting on flowering gums; amazing cliffs, gorges and water crossings were encountered along the way. We were so glad we had decided not to take the expected walk in and chopper out or vice versa options. There was nothing to beat ‘ground truthing’ and the more we saw, the more we regretted the limited time we had given ourselves.

  

It was awesome and the fact we had the Mitchell Falls to ourselves without the intrusion of helicopters or people in those early hours added to the pleasure. With eye on the time we reluctantly waded back across the Mitchell River a short distance upstream of the Mitchell Falls; carefully picking our way over rocky slabs of the channel to find thigh deep passages through swiftly flowing water.  By the time we reached Little Merten Falls again we regretted not having walked behind the fall of water earlier as the queue of people waiting to do this had already built up. We had not done justice to this beautiful region; it required far more than the 22 hours we’d relegated to it. Speed walking as the heat steadily built up- we were back on the rough road by 10 o’clock mindful of  reaching Drysdale Station earlier enough to hopefully have our puncture tyre mended as soon as possible. Despite a search for another Aboriginal Art site alongside the King Edward River we rattled and shook our way back to the station in good time.  Tyre fixed immediately and early bed for early getaway to catch up with the A’s at Mount Elizabeth Station.

It was a relief to complete the final leg of compulsory and very exhausting corrugation ‘trembling’ that went with the Kalumburu road. In comparison the Gibb River Road, undergoing upgrading was a dream. Thirty K’s off the Gibb brought us into Mount Elizabeth in plenty time morning tea. As our eyes cast round our hearts dropped as this certainly didn’t appear to be a station that warranted the expensive stay of 2-3 days, the brochures had led the A’s to expect.  No familiar Hertz shape vehicle in the campground we decided the A’s would not anticipate our arrival until well after noon at the very earliest. They were not to know our bad habits had gone for a Burton of late! We settled in to await them. At lunch time the station owner arrived with a message “The A’s had tyre problems and would meet us at Manning Gorge Campground beside the boab”. Having paid for a night we had no alternative but to stay put. Other than a donkey braying at odd intervals, we relaxed – very glad to be still.  

Away at first light we had one particularly stony stretch back on the Gibb River Road close to Mount Barnett Roadhouse. They kindly allowed us to pop down the Manning Gorge road to locate the A’s without purchasing a permit. Our hearts dropped when we found no A’s parked close to any of the Manning Campground Boabs.  Lea set off on foot to check further afield and discovered hidden two hot and very bothered A’s having just battled to change yet  another punctured tyre – the second in two days and the third for the trip thus far. They had to re-shower before joining us at the Roadhouse where severely rumbling tummies were allayed with very good value breakfast. Manning Gorge Campground certainly ticks boxes as a good site for next time but we didn’t have time to hang around as we wanted three nights at Mornington Wildlife Sanctuary; owned by Australian Wildlife Conservancy. It was considered another jewel in the crown of the Kimberley and only allowed a limited number of visitors. As soon as we’d been able to anticipate a date, Alison had phoned for a place only to be informed that no bookings taken. It was first come, first served from the shelter containing a radio-intercom just off the Gibb River Road – only then would we be able to ascertain whether the Sanctuary had space for us before driving the 90km south-east of the Gibb River Road. We hurried on west for Mornington leaving the A’s to sort out another tyre at “Over the Range” some thirty kilometres beyond the Barnett Roadhouse. 

TYRES are singularly most vulnerable on the Gibb River Road.  Neville’s enterprising business, the only tyre and mechanical repair workshop along the road and seemingly in the middle of nowhere saved the day for a second time. 

“Mornington, Mornington Do you copy?”  Resulted in no vacancies for two let alone four! They advised we get back there early the next morning but with nowhere close to legitimately stay on the off-chance we’d get in – we could only return to the Gibb River and await the A’s and decide our next move. Although disappointed we decided to push on to a Roadhouse at Imintji and enjoyed a change in scenery with the northern escarpment of the Phillips Range providing interest. The roadhouse advised the access to Silent Grove Campground would be no problem and from there 4WD would get us to Bells Gorge. Some 8 km west  along the King Leopold Range we took the 19km track to attractive, busy little Silent Grove- squeezed in sideways for a view of the bush and plenty of bird activity. George and Amanda had had enough of vehicles and were content to relax around the camp. Lea and Alison were drawn to check out Bells Gorge another 10 kms inland although they had some doubts about getting to the gorge described as a “steep descent on a rocky goat track that evokes images of sprained ankles and bruised behinds”. Curiosity got the better of us and once we knew that only entailed 1km we decided to beat the heat and do it. While putting on swimming costumes George decided a chauffeur was a good idea and joined us. The goat track was no real obstacle with due care and once we were down in the creek bed out of the sun it was a most pleasurable twenty minute walk into an arena of rocks and human noise! So many people wallowing in the rocky channels above the first waterfall, their laughter and voices magnified in the gorge. George climbed to a high point for a photo and lost sight of Lea and Alison who’d meanwhile crossed the river and climbed the rocky outcrop to the lookout over Bell Falls. Amazingly, by the time they returned – silence reigned bar the sound of water rushing over the rocks. Alison was into a rock pool while Lea hovered on the edge wondering if she could manage a dip – hot body made the water seem even colder. Wow! She was IN with a little shriek – amazing George from afar. He’d been distracted by a ‘machine’ owned by the only other couple left in the gorge. While the cousins wallowed together in a most refreshingly pool in a most glorious setting – Ali ears and eyes picked up a drone above us.  A good 500 metres away an intrigued George stood with the owner of the ‘drone’ as he manipulated it, filming the gorge from above.

  

Bell Gorge- very glad we did not allow another 10km of rough road prevent us from seeing this rewarding place.

We pulled out early next day hoping to ensure a good campsite in the very popular Windjana Gorge while the A team continued another 35kms further along the Windjana road to visit Tunnel Creek. We’d had a taste of the King Leopold Ranges yesterday but nothing prepared us for the sheer pleasure we all enjoyed back on the Gibb River Road after crossing Bell Creek. The long steep climb up the scarp of King Leopold Range unfolded wonderful vistas – This was a most worthy western entrance to equal that of the eastern Cockburn Range and we found ourselves reveling in the rugged beauty. We stopped for breakfast in March fly Glen Picnic Area busy with overnight campers and we were sorely tempted to wait by the roadside for the A’s (somewhere further back) to pass us so we could suggest a night here!

While admiring other aspects in the King Leopold Range the A’s zoomed past...

Further along the drag as we neared the Napier Range we began seeking out a large rock alleged to bear a likeness to Queen Victoria’s head.  George’s adamant “There it is”, confused the search a couple of times. We came across the A’s by the roadside with binoculars to eyes staring up at an outcrop with a prominent face-like rock. No! That is not Queen Victoria, we called out.....Despite driving, Alison’s hawk eyes had spotted a Wallaroo in the shadow of that rock.     

By the time we spotted ‘Queen Victoria in Yammera Gap the camera was only able to catch her profile at an awkward angle!

We have been lucky with snake sightings this June!

Think Australia. Think of all the potentially dangerous snakes capable of killing humans! King Brown is more often the first to come to mind in the lengthy list and yet during the eight years on the road and walking the bush we have generally seen oh so few snakes. More have been dead and others mere glimpses and they are rarely the baddies... When we have a clear sighting we are excited! Fortunately when we saw the large snake moving across the road George instinctively knew not to jump out the truck for a photo instead he rapidly threw SKV into reverse and backtracked the short distance... The first photograph was spoilt by the shadow cast by Getaway and as I stood peering over George head from inside the cab – ‘King Brown’ royally swept round and retreated. Later, thanks to the close encounter and scrutiny of a snake book we identified it as the equally toxic Western Brown. As for our   second black headed python on the road (first was on the Tanami) an unexpected road train carrying fuel bolted past us leaving us in a cloud of dust. George cursed him volubly for disregarding a python. Fortunately once the dust had settled and, despite the hour of morning the python immediate reaction indicated it was not cold or sluggish; all was well. George was thrilled to capture the python’s tracks after it somehow avoided the road trains many deadly wheels. 

  

We found the two campsites at Windjana (one for generators) pretty quiet in comparison to our first visit in 2006 and after perusing both settled in the quieter one. As the day wore on we began to wonder whether the incredible heat of the day 36.7C had kept the A’s inside the cooler Tunnel Gorge.  We’d sort of expected them back around lunchtime... Mid afternoon they rolled in cursing their fourth puncture en route for Tunnel Creek and the struggle they had endured to try and change that under very trying and difficult circumstances. A kindly man further infuriated them when he stopped and said their tyres should only be inflated to 30. However, he had better equipment and sorted the problem plus, he waved down a speeding vehicle and gave him hell for creating hazardous conditions when there was a problem on the road. Although the Gibb River Road has been much improved and we really haven’t been bothered by as many road hooligans as endured the first time we attempted the road. However, there are still groups of stag hoons in 4WD utes putting foot to prove themselves on the Gibb. Within the pages of Amanda’s new book ‘The Complete Guide to Finding Birds of Australia’ we noted the following “high incidence of road rage, crashes and inconsiderate driving (Australians were recently voted the world’s most abusive drivers)”- Very interesting!  Although to balance this inconsiderate and very macho behaviour, we saw an almost equal number of mindful drivers out on the Gibb River Road Adventure too.

Windjana collage: George couldn’t resist snapping the termite mounds out on the grassy plains- these blobby formations appeared to be slapped together in haste and some brought to mind Samurai warriors.

The mystical air we’d experienced on our first visit to Windjana Gorge recaptured us just as strongly and we were delighted to witness Alison and Amanda feel that same overwhelming sense of sacredness within the towering red cliffs, the incredible lighting cast at dawn and  dusk upon the trees sheltering in close proximity to the ancient Devonian limestone reef once covered by tropical seas until the ‘reef’  was altered by natural occurrences, weather  or  river sedimentation and erosion to provide us with awe inspiring scenery. It must have been courting time for the Great Bowerbirds as the song and dance going on in different parts of Windjana Gorge had us all check out those particular spots. Sure enough bowers hidden deep into the undergrowth produced a fine display from the male owner; in the case of one male he was attempting to induce three curious females into his bower. These are delightful birds with their antics and they remind us of American Roadrunners!  Johnson crocs have become so used to tourists that they loll in very relaxed attitudes in the water or bask along the water’s edge- we counted 50 in a row one morning. Alas, Lea longed to hear the muted yet resounding ‘clap’ she recalled these ‘freshies’ making when snapping their mouths, on our last visit.

The second night in Windjana camp had us all irritated by fellow campers arriving far too close for our liking, virtually hemming us in. Just as Alison stalked off to shower and the Camp-host arrived at Amanda’s door for payment George found the deep freeze temperature plummeting in SKV. He was already anxious about the battery status in Getaway after twelve days on solar power with no decent top-up from 240v mains. The unseasonally high temperatures did not help either.  Lea dashed over to the Camp Host to ask if there was room in the Generator camp for us to urgently charge up with our generator – he led us to believe space was very limited at that hour and  the A’s could not join us... BUT we were happy to grab at least an hour; speedily pulled out with Lea hanging onto everything loose inside the caravan as George drove along the dark road leaving behind very bemused onlookers not to mention an anxious Amanda fighting off late comers trying to take our spot despite leaving chairs and door mat scattered there! Plenty of room over there and a quieter camp despite the gentle humming of generators permitted until 8pm. We were gone over 1.5 hours – our rapid and totally unexpected departure had left the A’s in a state of consternation as minutes ticked on and on...  The neighbours had gathered into a noisy musical evening around a camp fire. Tents had squeezed in on the rear flank where we’d exited ... On our return we found Alison coming to look for us ... Relief,  all was OK for the night. Over a late supper (for the hours we now keep!) thrown together the decision to get to Derby next day was made. With no spare tyre – the A’s were keen to contact Hertz and have a new replacement and we needed a good 24 hour batteries recharge on mains. 

   

So much for playing a good support role in the Kimberley Expedition... The A’s punctures had all occurred in our absence – Bad!  Usually we are the slow coaches and set off for the next destination ahead of them with the ‘ruling’ in view of last light at 5pm. and no mobile communications; search party would go out if we were not all present and correct by 3.30 each day.  This time the A’s departed first so they had the peace of mind – we were behind them with our spare tyre if required. The last leg of The Gibb road proved not to be the dreaded dustbowl of our memory- it was a blessed stretch of bitumen and we were all safely through to Derby in good time. SKV was due for an oil change. We loathed the thought of hanging around in Broome for a booking... On entering the outskirt of Derby we saw an Auto workshop and took a chance. An absolute stroke of luck- the mechanic could do it then and there having just completed a job earlier than expected. He was happy to enjoy a relaxed ‘smoko’ while George off loaded Getaway in the caravan park.

We thought we had landed with a fine site at the back of Kimberley Gateway Caravan Park but by the time our team had come together we had two couples with trailer tents backing us. Worse, they noisily set up their chairs immediately behind ours. It was most off-putting and as soon as all the  laundry was on the line, the women shot off to the supermarket to resupply with fresh fruit and vegetable. No ways could we remain in camp for the evening knowing our neighbours had been sipping stubbies all afternoon! We departed for the Derby Wharf keen for the A’s to experience the setting sun over the remarkable King Sound  and see the massive jetty structure that copes with Australia’s highest tidal variations. Sadly, being a neap tide the dramatic exchange of water that can occur in King Sound was not as striking as we’d first seen in 2006 during an extreme or Spring Tide.

  

The Gibb Road Exploration team on the Derby jetty prior to Barramundi fish and chips

Alison had been hankering for a braai throughout our trip and we found it hard to believe our ears when bacon and lamb chops was mooted as the trip began drawing to a close. Before leaving Derby we popped into a butcher and bought the meat and biltong hoping for a night in a bush camp on the Fitzroy River near the Willare Bridge.  It proved far too rough and inaccessible and we ended up with a marathon drive towards Willies Creek north of Broome. George and Lea’s memories of this bush camp were at odds... After turning onto The Cape Leveque road the 4WD warning for Willies Creek had us reappraise the situation on our mobile we requested the A’s to pull over and await a review. After Alison had checked the Broome Bird Observatory had camp sites available for us we all back tracked to the main road and headed south. All these changes had put us well ahead of schedule and in such a perfect little environment we booked into BBO for four nights.

The three trails especially Pindan and Spinifex, the Bird Hide, the Coastal platform and the two camera traps happily absorbed relaxing days at the Observatory.

Battery charging matters were niggling George – he couldn’t relax. BBO did not allow generators or electrical devices to be run in their small campground.  A day in Broome was planned so that George could search out a Century Battery Supplier and have his faulty battery tested and hopefully replaced under guarantee. Alison and Amanda had been given tips on the local hot-spots for birding in Broome beginning with whereabouts of the Broome sewerage farm lookouts; the Court house for barking owls, Booby’s down at the docks and around Streeter’s Jetty in Chinatown for red headed honey eater.  We were held up over the battery... In view of our impending trip to the Dampier Peninsular and our sources of power proving a concern without regular 240v input we decided to invest in a portable solar panel. Eventually we caught up with the A’s down at the Chinatown jetty- only Amanda was lucky to see the ‘red heads’ the rest of us were hot and thirsty!

On arrival in Broome at the start of June, Alison and Amanda had been given recommendations for Matzo’s Broome Brewery. They had so enjoyed their meal there and in particular the Desert Lime and Ginger Cider that they had bought a case for the road.  When they first introduced us to this most unusual and refreshing cider they expressed their desire to take us to Matzo for a farewell lunch when we all reached Broome. With two days left we met for lunch.  

A most tasty lunch in a delightful setting on an old colonial verandah overlooking the azure blue waters of Roebuck Bay drinking cider and sampling the brewery’s beers...   

To end the afternoon we went to the Broome Courthouse gardens to find the Barking Owls. Success! A pair fixedly stared down at us from their Tamarind tree and gave some gentle hoots. On our return to BBO we heard the Tawny frogmouth was down at the Shoreline viewing platform and we dashed down to enjoy good encounter with a sleeping, well camouflaged the frogmouth before sunset. Barbeque or Braai!  We had one to start our stay and one to end as the BBO facilities were excellent. Although we did have to share the toilets and showers with rubbery green tree frogs of many sizes.  We counted sixteen in a toilet cistern – how the devil they get in there, beats us!

And so, as all good things do – Alison and Amanda’s holiday in the sun came to an end. On leaving BBO we travelled the last 15kms of red pindan sands together to ensure nothing went wrong during the last 45min trip back to Broome in readiness for their flight home to Tasmania where temperatures are down to 4C at night and only registering 9C at midday, in comparison to minimums of 13C and maximums of 28+ here. At the airport turn off sad farewells before we made for Broome Vacation Park where we’d see out the last two nights of June. Frantically wrote up the trip and prepared for our next adventure...     

Tackling the Tanami: 1-11 June 2014

After our night on the Tropic of Capricorn Lea decided it was time to read Simon Reeve’s Book “Tropic of Capricorn”  as a decent amount of time had elapsed since watching his TV series; and, we’d be recrossing the Tropic of Capricorn again as we headed out on the  Tanami Track north west of Alice Springs. In fact the Tropic of Capricorn will feature high in all our travels this year as we were to discover during the reading of Simon’s book. The Tanami Track is another of Australia’s central roads that evoke a sense of mystique. There are few highlights along the route to make it a specific destination – it’s really a challenging "shortcut" from the Red Centre to the Kimberley where we were to meet Cousin Alison and Amanda from Tasmania. We had been talking about doing a trip together for some time and almost a year ago they chose The Kimberley. By September 2013 dates were set and flight bookings made. As June arrived the A’s took a flight to Broome and hired a 4WD ......  we took to the Tanami Track. The plan: to meet them on the Great Northern Highway, north of Halls Creek on D Day - 6 June.

The innocuous looking Tanami Track

Over past months we’d mentioned to fellow travellers that we were taking the Tanami Track only to be warned of potential problems in particular the criminal activities of young Aboriginals (don’t travel alone) and of course, the state of the road. We heard all this enough times to give rise to a concern despite our natural disregard for ‘talk’ that easily blows out of proportion from one mouth to the next. The Tanami Track traverses the third largest desert in Australia, the Tanami Desert. A 1077 kilometre journey required 4WD to get through a remote and arid area; it wasn’t considered suitable for caravans (although Camps Australia allowed for off-road caravans). Naturally, we prudently sought advice the Roadhouse; watched the weather forecasts, checked Road Reports and enquired at Alice’s Visitor Information Centre (There are half a dozen designated camp sites along the route and VIC suggested we camp well off the main road out of sight of ‘trouble’ at night and give road trains wide berth. George had ascertained that our first day as far as Tilmouth Well Roadhouse would be a single-lane sealed road. Thereafter, the Tanami road was reasonably well maintained by mining companies although parts could become badly corrugated. According to the roadhouse the road as far as the State border had been newly graded – the job completed that very week. We recalled seeing machinery at the Stuart Highway/Tanami Turnoff a few days previously -.  What luck! There has always been an abundance of gold out in this desert but due to logistics and the harshness, mining was sporadic over the last century. Now major mines dominate the region considered Australia’s last under-explored mineral province after they gained access to large areas of land through negotiated agreements with the traditional Aboriginal owners.

The 1^st day of winter – and with temperature in Alice Springs reading 8.5⁰C at 8.00am - it certainly felt like it never-the-less we were swift out of bed ready to be off on a new adventure... thrilled to be taking up the challenge of the Tanami and a modicum of nervous excitement for what lay ahead. We only felt well and truly on our way when we turned onto the Tanami Track, 18km north of Alice. The West MacDonnell range, beautifully illuminated, now lay to our south and six wedge tailed eagles feeding on a dead kangaroo was something we had not seen for a long time. Forty kms along the road we recrossed the imaginary line of the Tropic of Capricorn – nothing to mark the spot just our own interest.   Another point of interest- George had his forensic investigator’s cap on as the Tanami Track was of course the very road that the drug-runner Bradley Murdoch, serving sentence in Darwin for the murder of Peter Falconio (the British backpacker) in July 2001, was suspected to have dumped the body (as yet never found) ….  As we trundled along, the narrow strip of tar with frayed edges naturally took us back to our youth in Zimbabwe although most often, Rhodesian strip roads were two very narrow strips to just span the tyres comfortably. Fragments of shredded tyres and discarded rims were numerous. These constant roadside decorations were to remain along the entire route of the Tanami as an unnerving sight! We made Tilmouth Well easily and pulled into a modern looking roadhouse for our first night in their caravan park. A convoy of grey nomads with their off-road camper trailers had stopped for fuel and lunch in the courtyard and the men were in the midst of lowering tyre pressures in readiness for the gravel ahead. While George booked in and topped up with fuel Lea observed body language as the group looked askance at our lone caravan! Inner reminder - we’d done The Great Central Desert Road alone and confidence returned. We pulled into the empty park and set up overlooking the dry but most attractive Napperby Creek and spent a lazy afternoon in an overpriced campground ($30 unpowered). We had felt a loyalty to supporting the Roadhouse owners for their road status information and fuel out here we just hadn’t reckoned on such a steep cost. On our evening walk we found a swimming pool and a large carpet of thick green grass fronting the chalets and guessed this alone increased the price!

We arose next morning ready to face a total of 753 km of unsealed road and were surprised to the tarred section we’d followed the previous actually continued past Tilmouth Well; mindful of deflated tyres to 30psi   we took it gently until we reached the reality of the Tanami Track. Newly graded? In actual fact we saw little sign of such treatment but with the occasional stretch of bitumen (one about 14km long) and SKV in 4WD we rattled and bumped our way along sticking well left of the ‘red gash’ especially after a yellow saloon car with flashing roof light sped past us. Not long after another three vehicles hurtled past and we realised a rally was in progress. We were to ‘eat their dust’ for the rest of the day – We’d catch a brief wave from the cabs before the red dust engulfed us. Others, more friendly or perhaps apologetically; gave a toot with gimmicky horns as they came up beside us, shocking George from his reveries. Bad, blue Tosca talk emanated from his mouth as we slowed even further in the blindness of dust. We turned off to Yuendumu, an Aboriginal settlement which professed to be the last place for fuel before Halls Creek, 757 km away. We drove around the typically scruffy looking town festooned with dogs, rubbish and wrecked vehicles. Failed to find the filling station for a last ‘top up’ and decided to push on regardless. Shortly thereafter George stopped to check how the van had fared thus far … only to find the “usual”; a door off the grocery cupboard and in many pieces; the fridge door open and our goods all over the floor; even the computers had come out from under the bed and were being coated in spilt yoghurt!  We were under attack from the Tanami Track and at this stage not doing too well! The mustard and curry paste jars had not only lost their lids they’d upturned and deposited much of their contents down the door of the fridge and naturally drizzled out. Smeared across the floor was a new concoction mixed with red dust coating other fridge escapees. Despite every effort at control there is no knowing what a good shake up will do! While Lea cleaned up the floor and repacked, George did a few running repairs and taped the fridge and the cupboard closed. Eventually he had to slide a piece of wood between the handles and tape that to the doors.  The Drive for the Flying Doctor Rally had clocked in at Yuendumu so another bout of souped-up cars all with flashing lights roared past us, once again.

6 hours and 263 km later we pulled into Renahan’s Bore, feeling a little worse for wear and very ready for a night stop. A couple of rally drivers were taking a breather in the scruffy  rest area and we drove into the bush behind and found the dilapidated windmill and bore giving the rest area it’s name. We stopped there with an old car wreck directly outside our door. It wasn’t the finest of campsites. Of course there had to be another round of restoration and cleaning inside Getaway with seven black ravens looking on and plaintively cawing.

A new day began with a flat caravan tyre … a puncture on the van being the last thing we wanted this early on in the trip. After pumping it up George suspected a slow leak and we set off with heart in mouth wincing at every sharp or rocky section. Only one spare tyre for the caravan’s set of four and barely half way across the Tanami had Lea’s imagination perceiving all kinds of scenarios. We stopped every 20km or so to monitor the pressure and were relieved to find the tyre holding up well. Not so the caravan, 80kms on George took a peek inside and found the door of the deep freeze had fallen off – our frozen goods (bread, ice creams, frozen fruit scattered all over the floor! The container of chopped onion had  smashed on hitting the floor and we found ourselves slipping and slithering on the onion deposit as we gathered up dust and onion stained packets containing our foodstuffs before launching into another major clean-up operation  before replacing the deep freeze door as quickly as possible. The catch of the drawer containing our precious convection oven had disintegrated and that too had to be repaired. Leaving him to it, Lea returned to SKV and before climbing aboard dropped her pants for a quick wee. A sixth sense had her look up and in utter astonishment there was a dingo, just a metre away. She leapt in the open door before double checking her eyesight...

The dismal young dingo that curiously watched Lea!

This was the second time within the short day Lea had been caught with her pants down. The first occurred at Renahan’s Bore while George pumped up the tyre Lea straddled her legs to park a quick pint when shock – horror a small white ute unbelievably appeared out of the never- never heading straight towards her. How she wished she’d had the panache to wave rather than scramble and mortifyingly, hide behind her husband.

Thus the Battle of the Tanami continued … grinding over more bone-shaking corrugations, limping ever westwards, worrying about tyres and the road ahead. The term desert means different things to different people.  We, like many others think of the Sahara or the Namib as desert because of the lack of vegetation and presence of wind-blown dunes. The Tanami Desert was neither. Nor were we seeing bare expanses of parched earth...

Instead, we marvelled over the never ending sight of knee high golden grasslands dotted with conical termite mounds that easily recalled our images of Botswana’s Savuti Plains. 

Happily the road began to improve the moment we reached Granite Mine (a gold mine run by the Newman group) and we were in time to see two large passenger planes preparing for take-off after delivering their loads of fly-in-fly-out miners. We allowed the mining buses collecting the staff to pull out as we reached the airport turnoff knowing they would be speedier than us. The infrastructure to these fly-in-fly-out mines is temporary, yet immense. We could only see a small part of Granite Mine to the left of the track and we were to see just as little of the Tanami Mine another 100 km further on and yet, they are amongst the largest gold-producing mines in Australia and likely to remain operational for many years on.

Truly characteristic Desert dwellers excited us further along the drag...

Apart from a few bad patches, we came across evidence of the recent Labor Government ‘Nation Building’ expenditure in greatly improved road conditions as we approached the NT/WA border, 8 hours and 270 km after leaving Renahan’s Bore. Other than signs to indicate a change in State we were amazed not to have the usual WA Inspector check our contents. Even the Quarantine Bin turned out to be another 300 km inside the state. We camped at the Border beside a borrow pit used by the Roads Dept. and relished the stillness and the quiet.

With our sights now set on reaching Wolfe Creek we were up and away early especially as we’d heard the WA section of the Tanami Track was the worst of all, through lack of maintenance. Not long after passing the Coyote Mine settlement we came across a beautiful black headed python thermo regulating itself on the road.  We drew to a rapid halt and leapt out to get a few photos. In turn, we noticed a good few hairy caterpillars hot footing it over the corrugations. 

Hope the beauty survived lying in that vulnerable spot!

The first 100km of the road was not all that bad and the roadsides were thickly lined with golden wattle flowers mixed with we had come to call ‘Holly’ due to its holly like leaves, red flowers and green berries. Another interesting observation was the sheer numbers of Puff Ball fungi popping out of the soft sand in the road margins.  Out in the flat, flat, landscape small rolls of hills began to arise towards the horizon. On nearing the Balgo Hills range our attention was drawn to the very distinct transition between grass-covered foot-slopes and the barren crest. Thereafter the road became very sandy and severely corrugated. The rig held up well although during a routine check George noticed the fridge load hadn’t registered for a second time on the Solar Charge Controller. Inside all appeared cold and good. At the junction to Wolfe Creek we stopped to stare out to our right, searching a geological feature that harboured mystery, murder and mayhem thanks to the film Wolfe Creek!

 

March 2006 while we awaited collection of our new caravan and searched out a towing vehicle in Melbourne, we’d offered the spare room in our Park cabin to Justine and Dan’s friends touring Australia and coincidentally in the city at the same time. Irish Nuela warned us not to watch a recently released film Wolfe Creek as it was likely to raise the hairs on our neck when it came to ever stopping in lonely places. By sheer coincidence we arrived back in Perth a few months later with the brand new rig to find Saxon and Paul had hired ‘Wolfe Creek’ for the night. It left a lasting impression... Never-the-less, each time we travelled the Great Northern Highway across the top of Australia  we thought longingly of the 131km route out to Wolfe Creek only to be thwarted for one reason or another and shelve it with the promise we’d do the Tanami Track one day. Approaching from the south our day had come... Twenty kilometres northeast on a cattle station, Wolfe Creek Meteorite Crater Park had been excised with cattle gates to open and close along the way. We threw suspicious glances at the concealed Station homestead near the first and the ruins alongside the second gate. Crossing Wolfe Creek itself had black tailed cockatoos dramatically fly upwards out of the creek bed squawking vociferously and before we’d reached the third gate – quite out of the blue we had a rally car streak past... the Fly Doctor drivers were back on our scene. An innocuously looking hill had come into sight – no different to many that dot Australia and we found it hard to believe this could possibly be the “spectacular meteorite crater we’d come to see.  At the third gate, a Ruby Plains stockman had seized an opportunity to raise funds for School of the Air by welcoming the Drivers for the Flying Doctor and ‘fleecing’ them of $10 for an on the spot raffle. Our support had us leave with a sweet from the ‘Poor Buggers’ tin! Upon reaching the Wolfe Creek Meteorite Crater campground the first thing George did was recheck the Solar Panel Control; then the fridge fuse and finally seeking he knew not what, opened the back of the fridge to find a loose pipe (a broken solder joint) –  the fridge had lost all its gas! The Tanami Track had struck its final crippling blow because heaven knows when we’ll be able to get it re-gassed. Under the circumstances we transferred as much of our frozen goods as possible into the Waeco freezer in the truck and brought into play the electric cooler we had stowed away under the bed to keep milk, cheese, butter going off  and resigned ourselves to a new way of life.  

 

From afar the walls of the Wolfe Creek crater, one of the largest authenticated meteorite sites in the world; discovered in 1947 did not look like much. Curiosity got the better of us and in the heat of the day we walked up to the Crater Parking lot and established we hadn’t really beaten some of the drivers to Wolfe Creek! The Rally had spent the previous night in Halls Creek, were now on a loop road that incorporated  a lunch stop at Wolfe Creek; their end destination being Margaret River in the far south of Western Australia. Much jocular comment arose over the magnetic forces stopping watches and car ignitions not to mention the tunnel of sadistic torture per se the film.  However, once on top of rim all thoughts of this being a sinister place evaporated as we overlooked a beautifully benign scene

Said to be the second largest crater in the world at 880m in diameter, the floor of the crater 60m below contained a distinctive concentrically shaped wetland. It was a stunning sight.

That ‘peek’ allayed any doubts of a wasted journey and we returned to Getaway until evening allowed for cooler exploration. Later, clambering down the inner wall of the crater and walking out to the wetland – the path through a growth of Salt Wattle into exposed saline soils and waist high purple mulla-mulla made for the unexpected discovery of a little Garden of Eden filled with the melodic twittering of birds. The red wall surrounds of this perfect crater provided lovely photographic opportunity.  By the time we had climbed back up the wall of the crater the sun was starting to set. We sat among all the rust coloured meteorite fragments, watching the shadow of the crater slowly creep across its floor George commented  on how lucky we were, given its origins (the impact of a 50 000 ton meteorite) and age (300 000 years), to be looking over such an extraordinary feature.

 We may have paid dearly for tackling the Tanami but the magic of a place like this made it worthwhile! 

Although Halls Creek was only 120kms away the Tanami Track hadn’t quite finished with us yet. George got up next morning to find the faulty caravan tyre completely flat and a dent in the rim obvious enough to have him wonder if this was the cause of the problem. First job of the day was to remove it and fit the spare. Furthermore, the last 120kms of the Tanami was in a dreadful condition so much so that after 3 hours of hard driving, fighting to control the forever shuddering steering wheel, we were very glad to finally reach the Great Northern Highway. There was one highlight however – an unforgettable one! A ‘Mad Cow’ standing close to the road at first sighting appeared to be ailing with a l-o-n-g tongue lolling uncontrollably out of its mouth (rather like an animal after anaesthetic). Lea most certainly didn’t believe George’s outburst “That Brahman’s eating a kangaroo” as he brought the rig to a sudden and slithering halt. He shot out with his camera and Lea opened her door to look back while he captured the ‘evidence’. Sure enough – utter disbelief became reality as an unconcerned bull swung the earlier wet and slimy length of ’tongue’ and at the base appeared two back limbs of a kangaroo. Visualising George moving cautiously ever closer to the Brahman, taking shot after shot until the bull took fright and dropped the slimy mass before heading into the bush. The scientist was then to be seen closely inspecting the ‘remains. Back in the vehicle Lea could barely wait to see George’s evidence! Utter Frustration ...He aimed for one shot; the best shot and ended up with NO SHOT!         

Excuse us - ‘domestic’!!!! 

Confirming kangaroo... rather like biltong after a child has given it a good suck and chew was our only evidence.         

Take heed, in time to come George will dine out on this tale; beginning by asking “Whether cows eat kangaroos? The answer surely, will be NO, they eat grass.  BUT...   You will have to believe us when we say we saw a Brahman standing beside the road chewing on the remains of a roo, hind legs and all – and he has a photo to prove it???  

              

Macadamised road of 11kms quietly took us into Halls Creek from the Tanami Junction. George promptly pumped up all eight tyres, filled our empty tanks with diesel and dropped off the faulty tyre for repair (the workshop verified a glancing blow from a rock had unbelievably dented the high tensile steel rim allowing air to leak out of the tubeless tyre); before we settled into Halls Creek caravan park to lick our wounds and conduct a massive clean-up / repair operation in the caravan. After eight years on the road Getaway has become increasingly prone to dust invasion particularly around the fridge area. Never quite as much as this though and the grocery cupboard had to be totally cleaned and washed down. Prior to Tanami these shelves had been carefully repacked to allow for limited movement. No matter what you do – severe vibration allows for marathon games of Chinese Checker’s to take place each day. Lids unscrew, labels on can are shredded to smithereens – while other cans dent as they leap from tight confinement on one side of the cupboard and travel to the furthest corner. Organization totally upturned! Simultaneously the dirty clothing hits the laundry as we took a long overdue shower.

70^th Anniversary of the D-Day landing, grand-daughter Kiki’s 9^th Birthday and thirdly our rendezvous with Alison and Amanda all on schedule.  Craving a fresh apple and a tomato Lea dashed into IGA while George collected the repaired tyre before heading north along the Great Northern Highway to find a site in either Spring Creek or Leycester’s Rest. Spring Creek- a favourite place for leaving caravans prior to entering the Bungle Bungle had been closed off.  We couldn’t help surmising whether the Caravan Park on the Bungle Bungle road had a hand in this... wanting the usually high numbers here to use their facilities at hefty prices $20 per day storage. Unpowered sites $35 and $45 with power!  We returned the short distance of 7kms to Leycester’s Rest adjacent to the Ord River to await the arrival of the A’s   

Reunion at Leycester’s Rest

We spent the afternoon walking amidst the wide sandy channels of the shady Ord riverbed, with an eye on the bird life. We were delighted to have our best sighting ever of an immature male Mistletoe bird clearly flitting around on branches above our heads literally moments after mentioning this elusive feathered creature. Ever since our visit to Scott and Sue Lebish followed by the NSW/SA and VIC Corner in December we had a renewed interest in the parasitic mistletoe and in particular the agent bird that spreads it. This tiny culprit had eluded us until now... 

 

After all the motion and shaking up of past days we’d planned on ‘still’ time and encouraged the A’s to set off early for two or more nights if they so fancied, in the awe inspiring Purnululu National Park (Bungle Bungles) while we stayed put for another night in Leycester’s Rest. And relax we did. Nervously Lea took out the old computer George had bequeathed to after receiving a new one from Justine and Daniel on our last visit to England. Early in May this computer began warning the battery needed replacing. Compounding this, George accidentally dropped it cracking the screen.  Thankfully it still worked although after the Eastern Loop around Alice gentian violet smears had arisen as a result of vibration. George had promptly backed up Lea’s huge store of family history. It was time to see what damage the Tanami had inflicted... All seemed unchanged and thankfully we had no need to share one computer as yet and spent the day happily writing.... Come evening, when George was  putting the Waeco freezer into the back of Skiv prior to setting off on our evening exercise he  noticed an orange light flashing and the temperature sitting at -8⁰C instead of -15, and steadily dropping! Anxiety levels screamed up and much later, after consulting the manual George concluded the deep cycle battery was delivering insufficient power to the freezer and started the truck to see if the freezer would run normally with the engine running. Instead it cut out all-together!  Panicking at the thought of yet another fridge packing up on us we rapidly brought the freezer into the caravan and ran it off the van’s deep cycle batteries. That solved the immediate problem. However, why Skiv’s batteries had suddenly failed remained a mystery.

Come morning more problems were awaiting us. This time Skiv that would not start, suggesting something had drained both batteries regardless of the isolator switch! The Honda generator was connected up to the start battery for an hour of charging  … yet still George could not start the engine. Consultation with another camper followed and he had listened and looked around made the suggestion the cells of the batteries could be dry and gave George a bottle of distilled water. It transpired that all six cells of both batteries were indeed bone dry. All the metal straps that hold down the batteries had to be removed to access the entry to refill them. Once again, the generator ran for another hour. There was still no response and George was becoming increasingly desperate as there was only our one man left in the 24 hour stopover and he was hitched to his caravan.  George sought the aid of another traveller he saw pull in for a coffee break closer to the main road and requested a ‘jump start’ before he moved on. In George’s super-efficient manner, he dashed back to SKV to prepare for his arrival and in short shift ‘cooked’ our set of jump when the ends on the ground accidentally touched. No time to think and adrenalin assisted, George scurried down to the caravan neighbour and asked to borrow his set. Finally all in place for a jump start - Skiv still would not start.  However, the cooking of jump leads did at least suggest the start battery wasn’t dead!  A new fear arose – that way out here the starter motor had packed up reminiscent of MT Carbine prior to catching the Cargo boat to Cape York last year. With three heads peering into the engine the use of a hammer to tap the starter motor and possibly free up the bendix was suggested. Still ignition just clicked over. The truck departed and in the long silence following – our kindly neighbour said he’d go and unhitch his caravan and see if a pull-start would help. George too, unhitched his van and   found his heavy duty tow- chain in the bowels of SKV.  Somewhat ludicrously, Lea crossed her legs and fingers and waited with bated breath. Thankfully almost immediately thumbs up appeared at George’s window –SKV’s engine was running again. The relief was palpable as we nervously hitched back up and hit the road north for 170km to fully recharge the batteries. Even left the engine running over a brief stop for lunch in fear of being stranded! Pulling into Dunham River 24 hour Rest-stop we looked at each other before turning off ignition and then restarted- whew no problem. Another lesson learnt the hard way as usual, in battery maintenance.  With familiar Kapok tree out in yellow blossoms along with and purple turkey bush, typical of the Top End of Australia; we were able to relax once more and happily await the arrival of the A’s in their own good time.

Alison and Amanda were back by Monday afternoon after a wonderful visit into the Bungles. Battery problems came back to hound us that night and again, the freezer brought inside Getaway. Next morning SKV required a jump start from a Good Samaritan before we could get going to Kununurra. Once we’d booked into Kimberleyland Caravan Park on the edge of Lake Kununurra George went in search of an auto-electrician.  Our year old Century starter battery had failed us! Over past days it has been draining the deep cycle battery. With no Century dealer in Kununurra to meet our guarantee we unfortunately had to buy a new battery.  

The following day the A’s went further north to see Lake Argyle and spend a night in the Keep River National Park over the border in the Northern Territory. We   stayed ‘put’ in Kununurra to prepare for the next onslaught! Just as well... George’s first job of the day was to clean the solar panels. Up on the roof he was to discover the pop rivets attaching one of our solar panels to the roof brackets had all sheered; the cover over the air conditioner was hanging on by a last remaining screw and there were many stones lodged in many places... By the end of the day we had battened down the hatches in readiness for our next escapade: The Gibb River Road  and the upper Kimberley.