Tramping tales for July 2014

We obviously had not had enough of corrugated red dirt roads as the start of July had SKV pulling Getaway up the Dampier Peninsula, a 220 km stretch of land north of Broome. Principally Aboriginal land known as Ardi (in language that means North East) it forms a small section of the Kimberley coastline. So much of the immense Kimberley coastline is inaccessible and enigmatic; a very broken shoreline full of beautiful bays, inlets, sandy beaches and rocky masses that create steep cliffs and headlands with hidden waterfalls; along with extensive mudflats and mangrove estuaries... Off shore, a myriad of rocky islands and hidden reefs change in size or come to light depending on the almost unbelievable tidal ranges of the region. These massive variations result in dramatic changes in coastal relief as we discovered in 2006 when our seaplane flew over the Buccaneer Archipelago to land in Talbot Bay – home of the only waterfalls that run horizontally. We were lucky enough not only to experience the awesome power of the Horizontal Falls on an extreme tide; we were able to take a free second ride the following morning while waiting for the seaplane to collect us. Unforgettable rides in a locale that left us with a lasting impression and a deep desire to see more of the Kimberley coast. When Alison and Amanda flew over Mitchell Falls last month, they too were given a taste of the Kimberley coastline even further north than us and we made a pact to buy a lotto ticket in the hopes that ‘one day’ together, we will cruise the wild waters of the Kimberley coast from Broome to Wyndham on one of many charter boats springing up for those interested in exploring the coastline.  In the meantime, we do the best we can to reach the more accessible places and the Dampier Peninsula is considered one gateway to this convoluted Kimberley Coast.

     

The Cape Leveque road ran up the centre of the Dampier Peninsula through fairly flat and heavily wooded country, nothing to rave about; the first fifteen kms were tarred before we hit the dirt, locked the hubs and subjected ourselves to a slow, noisy bump and rattle to the north. 

100 kms of thick pindan sands and corrugations, widening in parts or narrowing within the confines of steeply shaped sandy slopes produced road conditions that ranged from not too bad thanks to recent grading to appalling...   

Sight of a beautiful macadamised road heavily stained red on the left hand side as vehicles came out of the pindan sands brought merciful relief and as it continued into the old Beagle Bay Mission – we happily to turned off the main road to go and see Sacred Heart Church we have seen on many TV travel programs.

Built in 1918 by German Pallotine monks and local Aboriginals the startling white building against cobalt blue skies is renowned for its decorative mother-of-pearl details inside; in particular the altar.

This early mission settlement was established in 1890 by French Trappists before being handed to the Pallotine monks. In 1972, the mission lease was transferred to the Aboriginal inhabitants. Once again we were impressed by the well kept surrounds and sense of well being. We’d parked our rig outside the school and the sounds of activity we could hear indicated a well attended educational system.

Another 21kms along the main road we found the turn off to Middle Lagoon where George had booked three nights through the Broome Visitor Information Centre. Heading out on the Dampier Peninsular with no bush camps along the road, travellers are advised to book ahead to ensure Aboriginal outstation campgrounds expect you. Since communications are time consuming and very difficult to non-existent the Broome VIC undertakes bookings and payment in the designated campsites- Kooljaman and Middle Lagoon. (Strictly no caravans permitted at Kooljaman)  Our hearts dropped as we slowly covered the 33kms of rough corrugation, swayed through thick sand, bounced over series of switchbacks (Lea inwardly cringed wondering what was happening within Getaway) or picked a way through rocky passage before Middle Lagoon opened up to us. Although we were given a site on the unpowered ocean frontage the lie of the land precluded us from seeing the water.  Instead, rough grass outside Getaway gently rose to meet the sky. Sites on the crest provided views in the full face of the setting sun with caravan’s camped head to toe along the length had no appeal to us. We were happy with our open site well away from anyone and tucked up against a clump of pandanus. Middle Lagoon also seemed to go by the name of Natures Hideaway. We saw no lagoons just the lovely large, wide campground and cabins behind a low bluff giving 26 hectares of prime beachfront. To the north we came across well protected Monsoon Vine thickets – apparently the only patch of vine thicket on the Dampier Peninsula in a reasonably pristine state. Interesting to walk through with information about trees and their Aboriginal uses while giving long views up and down the coast.

Middle Lagoon

We spent 6 nights at Middle Lagoon Campground contentedly walking the beaches and coves or pottering around on large rocky platforms at low tide.

We thought to spend the first day or two recovering from the road in but curiosity got the better of us. Not knowing enough about other campgrounds and having conjured up certain expectations of the Dampier Peninsula as a result of word of mouth and photographs – which were yet to materialise... We decided we’d be better informed if we went on a recce and set off the following day in SKV. The discomforting Middle Lagoon road was a little easier without the caravan but once on the macadamised road we really couldn’t understand why caravans were not encouraged to go further north. Kooljaman Resort at Cape Leveque had a relatively easy 5km entry off the main road with lovely shady sites and views for camper trailers and tents only; amongst many other types of accommodation. Kooljaman is a multi award winning destination owned by the local Aboriginal people; set on the Cape with wide vision across the Indian Ocean.  While George went into reception to pay the day visitor permit ($5 pp) Lea went to look down onto the beach and was somewhat startled to see what looked like building rubble or a rock quarry stretching out below this good looking resort!

On closer inspection, this natural and unruly rock formation was a disappointing introduction to Western Beach

In hindsight, a perfect foil...

Once on the beach, towering red cliffs beautifully sculpted by the sea impacted upon us. Shapes and rich colours put us in mind of an ancient walled city in magnificent decline. The red contrasted against the white beach and azure sea washing up...  

Once again we were impressed to see Aboriginals gainfully employed. Particularly taken by three Bawdi Jawi Rangers we met down at Eastern Beach. Having returned to the truck after a picnic lunch in the beach shelter Lea was surprised when a Ranger asked if she owned a cockatoo under the vehicle! Her unclear expression had him point out a very shabby looking Corella below the engine. White feathers seemed to indicate a recent dust bath and, it not only looked very dirty it looked very poorly. George came to inspect and he also thought it looked pitiful and hot. The Rangers had tried capturing it from its awkward position under the car and failed. Lea suggested we try again using her towel. However, just as George prepared to reverse out with Rangers and Lea at the ready – it waddled to the back of the truck and we were fearful George would run over it. The noise of the engine was enough for the bird to exit into the car park.  Thankfully, as the Ranger tried to capture it with towel – it flew off proving it wasn’t sick. Perhaps, it was just seeking shade - although it must be used to far hotter summer conditions. Lea commented that she was glad not to leave worrying about the Corella and the Ranger she had been speaking to, agreed most wholeheartedly. Lovely, their attitude spoke volumes! Well spoken, smartly attired in uniforms these Bardi Jawi Rangers belong to a team of local indigenous people actively involved in land and sea conservation and management of their land. They present educational talks at schools and tourism businesses. Collect data on marine turtles and dugong populations; see to the dreaded invasive weed management that Ranger John Hayward had spoken about up at Mitchell Plateau. They also patrol their country for evidence of illegal foreign fishing vessel debris and aid the Australia Quarantine Inspection Service – all good solid responsibilities.

Plenty goes on at Kooljaman Resort – the noise of helicopters in evidence. We’d recommend it as a beautiful holiday destination. We fancied the delightful looking large safari tents on raised platforms overlooking the swimming beach on the eastern side. After lunch we returned to the main road and continued on to the Ardiyooloon Community at the end of the line. Lea had just commented on the pleasure of entering another clean, peaceful looking community without dogs and debris when we promptly spotted what looked like a dead dog on the road centreline. Cautiously, we  crept towards it, both of us  peering out the driver’s window – when a voice rang out from under the bonnet of a vehicle on the left of the road- “It’s OK the dog’s just cold- it expects you to detour round it”. We all had a good laugh and we couldn’t help but be struck by the pleasant and humorous interchange instigated by the Aboriginal man. Very different to what we have experienced in Queensland and Northern Territory and it typified the rest of our visit within the Ardiyooloon – One Arm Point Community. We registered for our visitors permit at the shop ($10 pp) and given a luminous wristband. A glossy community map with photographs, information and places of interest produced by the students of the local High School was an excellent guide. The Trochus Hatchery caught our attention and we headed out to One Arm Point. We popped into Round Rock Lookout over the entrance to King Sound. At the base of which Derby was located and where we’d been a week ago. Standing at this lookout we found ourselves absolutely mesmerised...    

A quiet seething mass of crystal clear water powered through one of the many passages between a nest of islands at the entrance to King Sound. An equinox or king tide would be phenomenal viewed from here. 

Other than knowing Trochus was a shell we had no idea of its value... Button making operations began here in the early 1900’s using the inner mother-of-pearl surface of the shell while the Trochus meat provided a valuable source of protein. During the 1950’s , this fishing industry declined when plastic buttons swamped markets  However, in the 1970’s,  the hardy nature of Trochus buttons revived as a luxury product within the European fashion and the Ardyaloon Trochus Hatchery and Aquaculture was established to cultivate Trochus. Only the Bardi Jawi people are permitted to collect in one tank we found the tiny seeding of Trochus until they 20cm in size before being released back into the environment. Other display tanks gave us a wonderful insight into the local marine life of the Dampier Peninsula and we could watch the men cutting and polishing shells in their workshops off to the side. Manufactured products from polished and cut shells mainly jewellery were on sale and, curiously,  fragments of shell are ground down and used as a raw material in paints, cosmetic and other products. We’d just missed the afternoon guided talk yet we found all the staff very willing to talk and share their knowledge. Beyond the large shed shading the tanks and workmen we were constantly aware of the million dollar view and sheer power of the tidal current swiftly filling King Sound.  We may have been witnessing a low tidal range by Dampier standards but the 6.5 metre tide powering through was nothing to sniff at. A family arrived and overheard us discussing the water movement only to rave about the Giant Tide Tour they had done from Cygnet Bay through this King Sound Entrance. The adrenalin rush highly recommended! 

 

Ardyaloon Trochus Hatchery

Cygnet Bay Pearl Farm  came into its own in 1960 when a young Australia  changed the course of the Pearling industry by becoming the first non-Japanese person to figure out how to culture pearls. Having been to Willie Creek Pearl Farm in Broome we hadn’t planned to go to the only fully operational pearl farm open to the public in Cygnet Bay. All changed after hearing about the high speed boat ride to experience the force of the world’s largest tropical tides. Here, we should add the High School pupils of Ardiyooloon reckoned their tides were the second highest tides in the world at 10-12 metres. They gave title to the highest tides to Nova Scotia, Canada, where tidal measurements are 12-18 metres! We took the road to Cygnet Bay within King Sound to find out more about their many boat adventure tours, in particular the ‘Giant Tide’ and their campground. Unfortunately this new campground was unsuitable for caravans due to overhanging trees. The tide dependent tour times for the Giant Tide ride had already departed and others for the next few days were fully booked.

Although Middle Lagoon was the most suitably spacious campground for caravans – the grind of a 200 km return trip was just too far to contemplate on a daily basis to reach the pleasures of the Cape itself. We had to be content with having seen what was on offer as the only other possible campground for a caravan was Gambanan, an enticing 1.5 km of dirt from the main road beyond Kooljaman and Cygnet Bay. We had called in there but found the office closed and what we could see of the place overgrown... Later we learned the owner was sick and another couple had just arrived to take-over the running for the season and there was plenty of ‘catching up required but still a good campground. We decided to stay where we were at Middle Lagoon and booked another three days.

An advert on the Toilet block wall called for volunteers at Two Moons Whale Research Base. This interested us. We discovered it was en route to Whale Song Cafe – not at all far from Middle Lagoon and we decided to call in at the Base and find out more about the 2014 Season’s Whale monitoring before going to morning tea at Whale Song Cafe .The person in charge was too busy to talk and volunteers only required later in July.  Too late for us to consider! We found Whale Song Cafe and Campground! WOWEE! What a place – It really was what we’d consider a real nature hideaway.

The view from the cafe verandah overlooking the spectacular Pender Bay – a Humpback Whale nursery and resting ground from late July to October.

Odd, we’d only just discussed how beaches remained white despite the staining red soils and deep red cliffs adjacent to them; then we arrive at Whale Song Cafe and immediately see pinkish beach sands with red stain edging the waters along the sweep of the bay.  We asked about the campground – fully booked for the season with one night available Monday. We went to see the lie of the land regarding our caravan. Hidden away in the bush with a lovely trail through to it from the Cafe we found their ‘authentic bush camp’ broke into five sites arranged in a secluded location on the cliff edge overlooking the isolated beach of Pender Bay. We took a look at the outdoor shower set in the bush with carefully sculpted walls to maintain privacy - unusual and clever.  We booked Monday!

In the meantime, we happily whiled away days as strandloopers at Middle Lagoon. Against the glare of the afternoon sun Lea’s eye caught strange activity in the middle of the bay and thinking it may be a dolphin, she called George. Shoals of fish were also skittering across the surface as they made for the safety of rock platforms before we were able to determine a pair of Brown Booby. Flying close to the water before rising to dive and take fish from the waves. The white breasts added confusion to the splash of water as their aerobatic skills continued. Another early morning had four Brown Booby put on a display in the bay during low tide with the sun showing up their true coloration. How chuffed the A’s would have been to witness all this.

Belonging to the Munget Community, a stone fish trap gives Mayorr Campground its Aboriginal name. We were thrilled to have managed a night in site 4 here. And, arrived early to get the most out of the hours given us and the $40 price of a night...

  

Unable to get enough of the view, we had a ‘braai’ that night.

WHALES - Somewhat like Goldilocks we are either, too early or too late; never just right! Here we are at a perfect vantage point; one of the greatest places on earth to watch the majestic Humpback Whale only to find we are too early... After such brutal decimation of whales the world over past centuries it is heartening to hear population numbers are on the increase; particularly within the Humpbacks who summer in Antarctica and migrate to warmer waters in winter for birthing.  Most intriguing to us has been the discovery that globally, five main pods of Humpbacks have been identified by their winter calving areas as West Australia, East Australia, Hawaii and the South American coastlines. The West Australian pod, estimated at 20,000 is considered the dominant and largest population. They winter along the Kimberley coast.

Scientists always find something to investigate!

Dampier Peninsula return journey made; we arrived all shook up and unable to face another 15kms of similar conditions back to the Bird Sanctuary. We decided to try Broome Gateway Caravan Park. We had spotted this new campground on the road between Derby and Broome. Although 25kms from Broome we found large sites in a bush setting with excellent ablution block and a community fire pit for socialising. During winter peak season this turned out to be a far better bet than Broome parks in our mind. Next morning we took an easy ride back to Broome to replenish our stocks and give our rig a much needed wash down before  beginning the slow descent South, down the western coastline. We are in no hurry to face Perth’s wintery conditions. In the main, we will be travelling known roads and revisiting favourite places...

Out on the Roebuck Plains a wonderful sight of around 130 Brolgas met our eye. We stopped to watch an interaction of dancing, prancing or gentle strolls across the grasslands and heard communications in hoarse staccato croaks.

120kms from Broome we were glad to see the familiar ‘white tyre’ at the entrance to Thangool Station and the Barn Hill Eco based Park, our next destination. Despite knowing this was a popular campground – George still burst out with a bad word seeing just how crowded the place was in comparison to the handful on our last visit in summer! Very reasonable prices – we squeezed in more easily than you’d think because it is a huge area.  The wilder coast sites with views of the beach were at a premium. We took to the far end and tucked the rig into a beautifully private back site overlooking the bush. All George’s concerns for remaining static without power have fallen by the by since investing in the new solar panels to run the deepfreeze in SKV; in turn, unpowered sites give us the most freedom. Thangool Station is a working property of approximately 430 000 acres running 8000 head of Brahman cattle for the live export trade.  Their campground takes its name the landmarked ‘Barn’ shaped hill we look onto from the back of our site. The historical ‘cairn’ atop the hill was left by Alexander Forrest during his expedition to the Kimberley in 1879.  After five weeks of rough ‘horrorgations’ we thought we were over the worst when we cleaned up in Broome. However, arriving at Barn Hill we not only had a ‘flat’ on the caravan, the short corrugated road provided truth in the cliché straw that breaks the camel’s back.  How lucky we’d been not to lose the spare tyre! The welding had cracked on the bracket holding the tyre. Although George strapped the bad tyre back on for safety - by the time Lea closed the last gate departing Barn Hill she noticed the weld had completely given in and the tyre swung within the strapping, close to the road. 

Barn Hill Park provides two excellent stretches of beach out of their 85 km coastal frontage. Steps provided down to South beach and a delightful canyon-like entry to North beach.

There may be an enormous number of people camped here yet we are hardly aware of them or we weren’t until we returned from an evening walk through the powered sites and came across the finals for the afternoon Bowls Tournament taking place on a carefully tended but moth eaten stretch of grass. The social creatures were out in force and the good natured banter, clapping and laughter a sight to be seen. Barn Hill provides ‘Sunday night out’ with entertainment; Wednesday night BYO BBQ and sausage sizzles for any other little occasion like the Bowls tournament. Apparently the station has a reputation for daily fresh vanilla slices and lamingtons too. We only came for the magnificently scenic beaches...   

        

Last night in this glorious coastal environment that we rate in our top five for photogenic variety  of land forms and colours on a beach.  

Little did we know those clouds sweeping in were to bring 24 hours of very grey and overcast skies with heavy rain. 200 mm fell on the Dampier Peninsula within two hours and Broome Airport registered much the same. This is the DRY so the rain caught us all by surprise.  We do not enjoy travelling main highways in rain so took refuge in a 24hr Rest Area and were amazed when puddles formed in the parched land around us. There was no let up for the rest of the day...

Cape Keraudren is another of our favourite beauty spots along the Western coast and of course very popular with the fisher-folk.  All the best vantage sites overlooking the basin inlet had been taken and we were just about to settle for a back site when we notice a lone site further to back of the inlet – thrilled we stayed three nights. Last time we visited in peak summer we owned the place. Since then, very good enviro-toilet blocks and picnic shelters have been installed at both Sandy Beach and Boat slip campsites on either side of the Cape.  

It is hard to describe the fascination of this basin inlet that rises to the brim with the incoming tide and empties on the low allowing us to jump down into the base and walk the rock floor expanse.

Our next spot as the crow flies was a mere hop and a skip over the basin inlet but by road it was another 80 kms to Pardoo Station. Curious to see the coastline we were to be stunned by the size of the caravan park this cattle station has developed. Once an out-station for the massive De Grey Station it was bought out during the 1960’s and now boasts a shop and a restaurant along with a very popular caravan park surrounding the old homestead. Mustering was in process and we could hear cattle lowing. Most surprising, it wasn’t close to the sea and had no coastal views. To reach the beach or creek required vehicles to travel the 13km track- not our scene but interesting to know about and we spent a night there.

On reaching Port Hedland we happened across Vernelle Engineering and Vernon was most kind and put a young Appie onto the task of welding back our spare tyre attachment. An excellent job and in whiling away the time we discovered many of the staff were ex Zimbabweans. Amazing how accents alert! Next stop- to sort out spare on the caravan; that proved to be a faulty valve and before the day was done we were able to move on to the Yule River and a bush camp George had noticed and noted down on a previous run. We passed a previous stop-over on the West Peawah River and George reminded Lea it had been the place where a man had shocked Paula and Lea when he unexpectedly and angrily swore at them in the silence of the night.  It didn’t look the same and Lea felt the incident had occurred closer to Exmouth. Just as well we have the blog to refer to - .he was quite right! Despite happening within our first few months on the road it had been the only ‘scary’ experience in 8 years until Lea recalled a more recent episode occurred... One, we’d totally forgotten about and hadn’t even recorded... Lovely Frank Potts Reserve in South Australia where we stayed three times! On the second visit, we met up with Di and Peter Ryan and a couple of nights after their departure Lea awoke to a vehicle speeding into the Reserve, music blaring, headlights on full at 2 a.m. to halt in front of our rig before squeezing between the river bank and SKV to continue noisy passage amongst all the other campers. The sound system somewhat appropriately changed to “Bang! Bang! I shot you dead” to which the hoons added further mayhem with relish; banging fists on their car doors on the repetitive bang, bangs!  Having ensured all campers had been frightfully disturbed bar George, they departed.  As for the deep sleeper, he had to swallow his disbelief when clearly evident tracks in wet grass were found riskily close to our rig...

    

Herbert Parker Parking Area looked good and despite boulders and bollards to prevent folk disappearing into the bush- many campers had found a way to creep through to perfect spots along the river.  We found our own hideaway for two nights before heading on to discover Cleaverville Beach. The campground, open from May until September with a caretaker; was very busy and we battled to find a decent camp until a man kindly came and told us where a lone camp just off the beach was going begging. 

It was heavenly spot only Lea was to be bothered by nasty No-See-ums setting up severe itch whenever the wind dropped!

Tidal rock pools were full of interesting life and a 4WD adventure track up Jockey Hill (immediately behind us) into the surrounding hills so typical of the Pilbara – Spinifex studded rocky ridges provided views and walking for us.  The Sturt Peas – Western Australia’s beautiful State Flower were out in blossom along the roadside. And then we had the views out to sea. We would have stayed longer than two nights but the weather closed in on the second day and we ran into solar problems that night.  The generator playing up and in need of a good service and when rain arrived during the night we knew we had to move on to Karratha and find someone to service the Honda. This required an overnight stay in Karratha and just as well as the rain kept coming for the next 24 hours and this time a leak manifested itself in the roof and dripped loudly into an ice-cream container. To Lea’s delight we had TV; even better Monday’s best enabled us to catch up on the news of the world and the ghastly ‘downing’ of an Air Malaysian aircraft; reminded us of the equally ghastly Rhodesian Viscounts taken out of the sky by heat seeking missiles in the 1970’s. All incredibly tragic!

Having so enjoyed Cleaverville Beach we decided to try Gnoorea Point / 40 Mile Beach, south of Karratha. Another Shire Campground with a caretaker keeping control of the number of campers that stretches the length of the beach. We found lovely wild sites without the interesting views of Cleaverville. The beach itself was virtually non-existent by virtue of a wide belt of mangrove. No-see-ums have little effect on George and after the reactions of Cleaverville Lea dreaded more of the same. Whether they were there or not – who knows!  Lea kept them at bay with plenty of spray. SUN was back and the roof rapidly dried enabling George to climb up and reattach panels that had once again sheared screws before he resealed the roof joints and guttering after so much roof flexing of past weeks.

 For all our sea watching we had yet to see any sign of whales or even dugong!  What has sprung up along the coast is the Gas industry! 12kms across the grassy plain behind us is a Gas Plant and at night we observed the sea aglow with lights on the horizon. At first we thought it was ship movement until they didn’t move on. Through binoculars by daylight George was able to discern mining activity on Cape Preston. On the map it didn’t look as if it extended very far into the ocean. Reality showed a featureless range well out to sea. We soon discovered a gas pipe passed beneath Gnoorea Point at a depth of 10 - 25m and ran parallel to the beach road  to avoid impacting the environmental and recreational values  as it carried gas from Reindeer Off-Shore Platform  to Devil’s Creek Gas Plant. The gas field, 80 kms off shore began operation in 2011. On occasion at night we’d see flaring out on the gas field and learned in time, the controlled release and burning of excess gas results in a 20m high flame. At the Plant, gas is compressed and exported into the Natural Gas Pipeline Grid that runs from Dampier to Bunbury and our eyes attentively sought its position as we travelled south.

A view along ‘Warlu Way’.  We are filling in gaps on our map and travelling particular sections of the North West Coastal Highway for the first time as previously we had gone in to Karijini National Park or inland Pilbara.

We pulled into the Robe Rest Area as sole occupants at morning tea-time and within a short span of time the caravans and campers began to pack in around us that we were relieved to have taken the more private spot overlooking dry river bed. Good toilets and lunch shelters had been provided; even more impressive was the solar lighting and a wifi hot spot above one of the shelters (although no one was able to utilize the weak signal that came and went). A piano accordion serenaded the night from one camp fire.

We were drawn to visiting Onslow despite it being a long way off the highway as its name comes up so regularly in cyclone season.  Flat, grassy plains with little other than termite mounds to give shelter against cyclonic winds hammering the North West we were to see little during the 80km ride out to Onslow until we reached the tidal flats of Beadon Creek in  which the second largest salt industry of Western Australia depends. Two and a half million tons exported a year from the end of a loading jetty. The main street of Onslow with its centre of trees and bougainvillea was reminiscent of a Portuguese settlement in Mozambique’s yester-years.  Ocean View Caravan Park – despite being well off the beaten track finally reinforced our growing alarm at 2014 Western Australia Caravan Park price expectations. Since 2006 the costs have escalated to more than double. We were in two minds whether to stay and yet it was a long way to have come and not stayed... So we bit the bullet, showered and laundered before exploring.

Onslow turned out to be in the most cyclone prone part of the Australian coast with numerous severe cyclones battering it over the decades at wind speeds of 170km per hr and a record 1975 registered 246 km an hour. Just to the west of the caravan park at the War Memorial with its striking arc to meet the rising sun we found memorials to crews from fishing boats that lost their lives to Cyclone Bobby. Leaving from this point was a 1 km board walk to the salt loading jetty which provided us with a morning walk before our departure. To the east of the caravan park a hive of construction activity – cyclone proof apartments elevated to protect from storm surges were nearing completion and at the Visitor Information Centre we soon learned that Chevron Gas due for completion in 2015 had initiated a change in fortunes for this little town much the same as it has done for the Karratha (most recently declared a city) and Dampier region. In the well documented museum we discovered Onslow had been the furthermost point south attacked by the Japanese in September 1943; as a result of being a U.S. Submarine Refuelling Base. And, another point of interest occurred in October 1952. Britain carried out its first nuclear tests with an atomic bomb exploding on the Montebello Islands from the Onslow military base.  

Left: A salt pond and the loading jetty. Right Top: War Memorial looking east across Beadon Bay. Bottom; Chevron’s gas pipeline under construction to the new port of Ashburton, south of Onslow.      

Departing Onslow, we chose to take the 4WD only Twitchen Road south and rejoin the highway at Yannarie River for a change of scenery. The VIC had mentioned it was in good condition as Chevron Gas was working out there although could be dusty. For the first 30 kms we sailed along the dirt road dampened for dust suppression until we passed the last large construction camp. Thereafter, the road deteriorated into heavily coated bull dust and sand that we had to engage 4WD. We saw nothing other than a wedge tail eagle rise from the road side and unbelievably; we were mightily astonished by the foolhardy appearance of a station hand on a motorbike on our left, despite the chokingly thick dust cloud we left in our wake. As this intrepid fellow passed us in such lousy conditions we barely saw through his trail of dust!   A 115 kms later – more mileage than expected, we were glad to immediately pull up in Barradale Rest Area only to be initially put-off by the number of caravans and motorhomes settled in the vicinity of the toilet and BBQ picnic area.  We continued through this expansive rest-stop towards the river and finally settled on the sandy edge of Yannarie River’s extensive width of flood plain.  By nightfall we had folk on either side of us – unbelievable to see how many travellers are now using these facilities. We stopped here 10/07/06 and there was nothing like the numbers we experienced 26/10/2014. Given that the road between Carnarvon and Karratha has little else other than the odd roadhouse – we can’t help but wonder if they are shunning the coastal caravan parks as too expensive for an overnight stop on top of fuel costs required to reach those destinations? We stayed another night and from EMPTY by 9 a.m. we again, had newcomers scrabbling for sites by dusk.  A ‘city’ mushrooms up from midday. In the past, many travellers stopped around 3 p.m. and if no one had joined them by 4p.m. they went in search of the next populated rest-stop believing safety in numbers... 

Our camp on Yanarrie River.

For the two days we were entertained by an Australian Noisy Minor hopped around our door for any signs of crumbs while its juvenile hopped up and down a branch in the tree above us chirruping incessantly if mother was in sight. Mother bird seemed to have a fascination for our broom until George realised it was after Lea’s long hairs caught in the bristles. Three crested pigeons also enjoyed feeding in the caravan surrounds which the minor did not appreciate and demonstrated this by leaping onto an unsuspecting back sending feathers flying as it pecked the owner’s neck. A butcher bird nesting in a tree further away was also driven off in this manner by our aggressive little light-weight neighbour.

Like elephants – caravans draw in for a night and by early morning they have quietly disappeared. Most travellers appeared to be heading for very popular Coral Bay or the Ningaloo Marine Park around Exmouth. Cape Range National and Exmouth quietly and at the coastal turn off we continued to cover another ‘gap’ on our map. Approaching the Lyndon River we arrived at 23½⁰ South – Tropic of Capricorn again. In leaving the tropics we had so enjoyed; a sense of disbelief washed over us, broad smiles covered our faces knowing, Inshallah, we’d be back on the Tropic of Capricorn in just over three months time – only it would be South America!

A bleak landscape of desertification with cattle skeletons, carcasses of emu, sheep and kangaroo followed. We were headed for a night-stop at Lake Macleod as it didn’t possess a close to road icon in our Camps 6. Sailing past a small roadside rest area the realisation came to George that it matched the mileage posts of Lake Macleod and we turned back. Although grey nomads were in the throes of setting up for a night we decided we just couldn’t face this dismal scene despite having been co-oped up in SKV for 3 hours. After an early lunch break we pushed on another 150km to Point Quobba. A Western Australian mini Mosi-oa-tunya (a smoke that thunders - nothing as good as the original - Victoria Falls) rose out of the salt flats above the  dune as we neared the coast. After weeks of gently undulating or softly heaving ocean waters it was quite something to come over a primary dune and feel the fierce wind as it blew white horses over a turbulent sea thundering onto the rocky platform that stretched north and southwards. The Point Quobba blowholes sending plumes of spray sky high.  

Although the camping area at Point Quobba had undergone improvements at the beach parking area with new toilets, a boardwalk and beach shelters (for the expense entailed one was  ridiculously positioned below the high water mark) we found the same scruffy shack settlement in which to weave through finding a suitable site for our caravan.  In comparison to the more ordered Forty Mile Beach and Cleaverville Campgrounds ($10 a site a night) this was a disappointment as was the charge of $11 per person per night. When it came time to pay we actually had a concession - $8 p.p.  In 2006 we paid $5.50 a site. A good walk along the steeply shelving beach overlooking a lagoon and near-shore reef with huge rollers crashing on the outer edge gave us a chance to stretch our legs before the wind became too tiresome. Although tempted to go further north to Red Bluff to revisit a favourite spot of Justine and Daniel’s as well as the chosen resting place for much loved Jamie Taylor’s ashes - we didn’t have the fuel. Instead we went a short distance north to Quobba Station to check it out. A lovely ablution block and laundry came with the $10 p.p. per night charge within a large and very open campground with scattered low growing wind cropped shrubs. Rather like Brer Rabbit’s brier bush we soon noticed rabbits inhabited the thick, low lumps of bush.  And, rather like Middle Beach on the Dampier Peninsula – the greenery rose slightly to meet the sky giving no sea views. However, we could hear the waves thundering upon the rocky platforms and, until the wind came up we’d even hear ‘rattling’ of shells as the water withdrew.  

  

Quobba Station runs 10,000 Damara Sheep  and  two rams grazed around our camp site.

At the Shearing Shed a large flock of roman nosed ewes were penned up... Not for shearing as Damara is a hairy breed of sheep imported from Namibia for the meat market. On registering, the owner had mentioned the whales were on the move north and we decided to go sit up on primary dune and watch for whales since it was such a balmy morning ... Once on the rise the hidden beaches beckoned....  

Like Barn Hill Station, Quobba Station fronts 80kms of coast. Notorious  King Wave territory  we heeded the many warnings to take care out on the rock ledges that line the beach. 

Between one ledge and another, we found sandy coves with shells rattling away within the tide line. Like discarded angel wings there was a preponderance of clam shells. Every size, often still jointed lay about until the continual tumbling broke them apart and wore down their characteristic shaping. Heavily fossilised sections of rock added to the pleasure of beach combing this endless, lonely coastline but there were no spouting whales out to sea...

After no mobile, radio or television signal for days and birthdays to mark with at least a text message we moved on to Carnarvon a day earlier than planned. Roughly halfway between Broome and Perth, we found the little Northwesta Caravan Park we have used on a previous occasion. Freddy runs his hands-on park and charges were still very fair. We delightedly stayed a night to replenish with fresh food and post July blog.

     

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...