The Kimberley in Ten Days: Part III

For Part I, go here.

For Part II, go here. 

 

Thursday we continued backtracking and drove from Halls Creek to Fitzroy Crossing. This drive was slowed -- just a bit -- because we'd pull over to check on other travellers stopped on the side of the road. 

About 30 kms past Fitzroy Crossing we left the blacktop and turned north on the Leopold Downs Road, a dirt and gravel road that was in good condition for the most part but whose bad sections seemed they might rattle the Pajero to pieces.

After an hour along this road we came to a huge water hazard. A pond basically sat in the road. On one side, trees prevented circumventing it and on the other the pond emptied into a creek. Shit.

I got out of the car and walked into the pond to see how deep it was. It was only halfway up my calves but the bottom was very soft and muddy. I worried about the truck just sinking in the mud to the point that it got stuck. There were also a few big rocks that might trip us up. Whereas other roads had at least had the occasional traveller, we hadn't passed anyone, so if we got stuck we could be waiting a very long time for help.

If I went around towards the creek side, I'd be able to keep one side of the truck mostly out of the water, but couldn't see what was below all the soggy grass (and I was still paranoid about puncturing another tire). I decided to do it anyways and slowly churned across; the passenger side was firmly in the pond and the car was at a 45 degree angle. Sharon could have stuck her hand out the window and scooped up the water. But we made it. Safely across, we rumbled to our first stop, Tunnel Creek.

Tunnel Creek, as the name suggests, is a large cavern formed by a creek cutting through cliffs (yet another remnant of the Devonian Reef). To enter, you walk from the parking lot down a short trail to the creek and crawl over a number of quartz boulders. It gets pitch black quickly, so you need a flashlight. The hand-held kind (mine) worked better than the kind that strap to your melon (Sharon's).

The way into Tunnel Creek.

A bit of light enters midway through.

An internal waterfall.

The ceiling.

Welcome to the other side.

Our flashlights illuminated fish, crayfish, tiny frogs, and bats in the darkness. The tunnel is probably half a kilometer long. We had to wade through the water at several points, but it was never deeper than mid-thigh. The tunnel terminates on the far side of the cliff and we were greeted with a beautiful scene of the creek widening out, flanked on both sides by trees. We hung out for a bit before going back through the tunnel.

The view on the far side of the tunnel.

As we returned to Leopold Downs road to head on to Windjana Gorge, our campground for the night, we passed a sign that had amused me. It simply said "Dip" and warned against a dip in the road ahead. We passed several of these "Dip" signs. I would see them and think, "Dips? Seriously? What about the ten other dips and multiple water hazards there weren't any signs for? Why even both to put any signs up since the whole road is a mess?"

We also saw a curious result of the controlled fires. One side of the road would be a lush green and the other would be blackened from fire, the trees' leaves cooked to an orange-brown. It was like the road straddled two worlds.

In late afternoon we arrived at Windjana Gorge and set up camp. This campground was more open, and more crowded, than the campground in Purnululu, though half the spots were still free. It also thankfully had showers and toilets with running water (and the showers even had hot water!). We made chicken schnitzel and baked beans and sipped on our expensive beers while the evening cooled a bit. Fire was permitted in this park and a few campers started roaring bonfires. When it got dark we climbed into the tent to read a bit, free from the mosquitoes, and went to sleep early.

Friday morning we walked to Windjana Gorge, known for hosting up to 80 freshwater crocodiles. Freshies, as they're called, generally don't get any larger than 3 meters  and aren't considered a menace to humans unless provoked. The crocs were the key attraction for me and I was pretty bummed that we didn't see any when we started our hike through the gorge around 8:00am. But by the time we were on our way back we saw about a dozen lounging on the opposite bank.

Windjana Gorge.

Freshie.

After Windjana, our plan was to go to Bell Gorge, which is supposed to be among the most beautiful gorges along the Gibb River Road (which has tons of gorges). Unfortunately this was closed for some reason so we decided to skip ahead to the next stop, Manning Gorge. We spent a final half hour on the Leopold Downs Road before turning north on the Gibb. Initially it was paved, which got me excited that it would be a smooth ride. That was naïve, though, because it quickly gave way to the standard packed gravel and dirt. Still, it was in the best condition of the offroad roads we'd been on. But like the others it had its rough parts that just hammered the miles in.

Queen Elizabeth's Head on the right, seen driving north on the Gibb.

Along the road we saw our first wild dingo. It was snacking on a kangaroo killed by a truck and flew off into the woods as we approached. We saw another dingo a short time later. Cows once again roamed in front of us and a quick horn blast dispersed them.

Our first wild dingo.

From Windjana to Manning was a three hour drive. We had to stop at a roadhouse near the entrance to pay the camping fee and also bought an extra bag of ice, which cost $10.50. Supplies in this part of the world are hard to get and are pretty expensive as a result. The campground was mostly empty, so we picked a spot way from others, made lunch, and then went to explore the gorge.

To get to the gorge you first have to cross a wide stream. There are styro-foam boxes so you can float your stuff across, but there's no avoiding getting in the water. The setting is paradise, though. Tall palms and eucalypts border the water. A large rock provides a resting point midway. If this was the destination we would have been quite content to swim around and soak in the view. But really this is just the starting point to the gorge. Sharon and I thought it was quick hike so were wearing bathing suits and flips flops. In reality, it's a very rocky trail. Even the term "trail" is being a bit generous, since really it was just hills and hills of large rocks, with the occasional white dot painted on one to indicate you're still going the right direction. It took us a good 45 minutes to get to the end and one more than one occasion we wondered if this was a big joke and we were the suckers.

The start of the trail to Manning Gorge.

Sharon wades across.

Can you find the trail?

We made it!

My goanna.

Walking back from Manning Gorge.

All the hard work was worthwhile as soon as we caught a glimpse of the gorge, though. Manning Gorge was my favorite spot on our trip and I could have spent the entire day there. A wide waterfall poured into a large pool perfect for swimming. The stream continued on to other swimming pools, bordered by sandstone cliffs and plants. I found a goanna and snuck up to take a close-up photo (I later learned this is a bad idea as they can run up your body with their razor sharp claws). Sharon and I soaked in the atmosphere for an hour and a half or so, and then had to head back before it got dark. Even in the daylight we lost the trail a couple times, so navigating in the dark would be impossible.

On our way back across the stream, we saw an old man on the far side; he could have passed for Father Time with his white beard. He was wearing mechanic's overalls with a bottle of beer tucked firmly in each breast pocket. He plunged into the water and swam to the rock in the middle, where his wife was already waiting, dripping wet in her full set of clothes. They cracked open the beers and soaked up the sun on the rock. You meet a lot of characters on the Gibb.

While we were setting up dinner three tour buses rolled in. Each discharged 25 or so people and it hinted at how much more populous the campgrounds would be when the tourism high season arrived in June. Most of the tour bus passengers were in the 50s or 60s, with some even older. We watched many limp their way to the bathrooms. How on earth were they going to hike to Manning Gorge, we wondered.

If you don't want to do the trip yourself, this is what you'll travel around in. In the wet season they're used to transport miners.

Manning Gorge was our northernmost point on the Gibb River Road. After Manning the tourist sites are fewer and there isn't any place to refill your gas tank until you hit Kununurra, about 350 kms northeast. There were other sites back down the road in the direction we were heading, but many of these were a good distance off of the road down their own rickety tracks. So because Bell's Gorge was closed we decided to make one final stop at another famous gorge and then head back to Broome. Instead of spending our Sunday driving, we'd be able to spend it lounging on the beach.

Galvans Gorge was only about 30 minutes south of Manning Gorge, and is one of the easiest to access. A one kilometer walk takes you to a waterfall plunging in to a small swimming pool. The waterfall cascades down a few levels with a giant boab tree on top overseeing everything. We were there early -- about 8:00am -- and had the place to ourselves for a short time before another 25 people arrived. The heat of the day hadn't penetrated the tree cover to warm the day yet, but we swam around and hung out under the waterfall anyways.

Galvans Gorge.

Loved that Boab on top.

Driving back down the Gibb River Road towards Broome. Nothing to see here.

We were back on the road by 10:30 and headed to Broome via Derby. There isn't much to see in Derby apart from the famous Boab Prison Tree. Boabs have fat trunks that taper at the top -- they're also referred to as bottle trees -- and the bigger ones are suspected of being thousands of years old. There's no way to tell as they don't have tree rings, however. The oldest, and hence the biggest, were occasionally used as temporary prisons. The settlers would hollow them out and stick aborigines in them.

This particular prison tree in Derby was used as a holding cell for young aboriginal men who'd been kidnapped by settlers to do forced labor for the pearlers in Broome. The white pastoralists went along with this and often aided in the kidnapping because they thought if the aboriginal communities lost all their young men, the communities would be docile (it didn't work). Many old Boabs also featured in aboriginal religious belief and the Derby prison tree was among these, so was fenced off.

Derby prison tree.

When we got back to Broome we had mobile phone service again. I instinctively got out my phone to check email and Facebook, but stopped and put it away again. I wasn't ready to be connected. Sharon and I joked about how hard it would be to adjust back to the hubbub of Sydney.

Since we were back in Broome a day early we didn't have anywhere to stay. We found a caravan park overlooking the water that allowed campers and picked up a spot. But whereas the Kimberley got quite chilly at night, Broome stayed sweltering. I opened the tent flap a tiny bit to let in some of the sea breeze in the hopes that it would cool down enough for us to sleep. I dozed a bit but jolted awake at the telltale sound of buzzing. Mozzies had breached the castle walls! Sharon and I spent the next half hour killing all the mosquitoes in the tent. The paper towels we used were spotted with blood (our blood!) and Sharon's skin showed their handiwork in the morning.

I was grateful when daylight arrived. We packed up camp, ate breakfast overlooking the ocean, and returned the camping equipment we rented. Since  the truck was coated inside and out in the fine red dust from the road I also decided, in the interest of avoiding Europcar's cleaning fee, to take it to a carwash. We spent a couple hours at the beach and then headed to our accommodation for the night, the Lord McAlpine House.

This house was initially the home of a prominent pearler and was purchased in the 90s by a British politician, Lord McAlpine, who expanded it and used it as his home when he visited Broome. The home was subsequently sold and turned into a boutique hotel. I figured we'd want somewhere nice to decompress after camping and this place was perfect. It only had eight rooms so was very quiet. Lush gardens (with over 100 species of native plants) shut out the world around the property. Sharon and I sat next to the pool and read all afternoon. It was a nice way to end the trip and I would have been happy to spend another day just lazing around there. But alas, all trips come to an end so Monday we waved goodbye to Broome and flew back to Sydney.

Veranda of original house at Lord McAlpine House.

View of the parrot houses.

Communal breakfast table.

One of the amazing trees at Lord McAlpine house and one of Adam's Top Ten Trees of All Time.

Sharon had never camped in her life and I hadn't gone camping for probably fifteen years or so. This trip certainly didn't make us into serious campers, but it was fun and Sharon embraced it. I told her, "You're a good adventurer, Sharon. And no matter how much trouble I get us in you're always game for more."

Oh, and that tire? $287 to replace. Ouch.

Things to consider and advice if you go:

Timing

Peak tourist season is June-August. The earlier in the season you go, the greener and wetter things still are. It's supposedly pretty dried out and dusty by August. Most of the roads open in April but that's still a pretty risky month. We went May 5-14. Everything was still lush and the waterfalls were very impressive (they dry up too), but the roads were pretty rough. We saw workers grading every road we were on: the Mabel Downs track, Leopold Downs, and the Gibb. Also, it's possible the road to Bell Gorge would have been open if we'd gone later (although nothing is ever a guarantee out here). So a couple weeks later in the season we would have had a smoother ride and been able to see everything we wanted. On the other hand, you'd be sharing the sites with more tourists. And in June, some campgrounds get completely full and you can't enter until someone leaves.

Tire check

I never would have thought of this until it happened to us, but if you have a rental truck make sure you can loosen the wheel nuts with the spanner wrench that comes in the rental. Flat tires are a fairly common experience on the tracks (we met one group who'd had three). If you can't loosen it find a mechanic who can do it for you, and then tighten them yourself using your own strength. That way you'll know you'll be able to take them off if needed. You should also carry a tire gauge so you can measure your tire pressure -- you need to lower the pressure when you go offroad to decrease the risk of a puncture.

Prep time on either side of your trip

I recommend leaving yourself at least one full day on either side of your trip for prep and clean-up -- getting gear and food, figuring out to pack the truck the best way, and cleaning all that dirt off at the end. Plus, if you have a truck issue and get delayed, you won't have to worry too much about missing your flight home.

Planning your trip

This website (http://www.kimberleyaustralia.com/) is useful but I highly recommend purchasing the site's PDF guide to the Kimberley. It has a huge amount of good information on sites, itineraries, and other things you'll need to plan.

The Kimberley in Ten Days: Part II

For Part I, go here.

The next morning we got up early, wolfed down some oatmeal in the hotel room, and were out the door by 8:00 to head to Purnululu National Park. Sharon was doing the driving to the park and then I would take over to handle the off-road trail. As usual, the highway was mostly empty, though it had a bit more traffic than the leg from Broome to Halls Creek.

Along the way a big hawk lazily swooped in front of us. A little too lazily. Like seriously, bird, get the hell out of the -- whump!! The hawk ploughed into the bull bar and then tumbled up over the hood to smack the windshield, where the wind peeled it off and tossed it to the side of the road.

Whereas I had been personally responsible for the fate of the crow, now that Sharon was doing the damage it was the bird's fault. "There's nothing around for miles and he has to hit my car? These birds are so stupid!" she yelled incredulously.

Two birds in two days. At this rate we'd kill an entire flock by the end of the trip.

Besides taking out birds, we killed our fair share of bugs. This is what the windshield looked like after a few days. These are all bug splatters.

The distance from Halls Creek to the trail heading into Purnululu was 180 kms, which we covered in about an hour and a half. The trail to the park was roughly 50 kms. This distance alone took us another couple hours to navigate. The trail cuts through a giant cattle station called Mabel Downs; the staff maintain it for tourists and for their own use, but it's by no means a smooth ride. The trail at its best is corrugated gravel but is interrupted by steep inclines, hairpin turns, creek crossings, mud, and large rocks.

The first creek crossing was several truck lengths in distance and I wasn't sure how deep it would go. I was mindful of the rental car policy that we shouldn't drive in anything that was deeper than halfway up the tire. I wasn't about to turn around at this point, however, and operating under the assumption that if other people had made it through, we could too, we eased in.  This was the first of many creek crossings, all of which proved to be shorter (though not necessarily shallower).

Creek crossing numero uno.

Once we arrived in the park, the road conditions improved a bit. We checked in with the visitor center and drove to our campsite, pulled into our designated spot, and parked to make some lunch and set up some gear.

As we had bounced and jostled up and down the hills of the trail towards the park we smelled gasoline in the truck. We had a 20 liter jerry can in the back so that was no doubt the source of the smell. We had opened the windows to air it out but never thought to stop to investigate. While I don't recall consciously having this thought, I'm sure a part of my brain rationalized the smell by thinking: "The ambient temperature in the car is rising, which would make the gasoline molecules become more active and expand, so of course you'd be smelling gasoline. That's science. God, you're an intelligent man, Adam."

Unfortunately, it turns out I am not.

Upon opening the back door, we discovered that probably a good liter of gasoline had leaked out of a loose cap and coated the cargo area and a number of our things. We wiped up what we could with the paper towels we had and cursed ourselves for not stopping to check the smell out early on.

We made a quick lunch and then drove another thirty minutes to see the Bungle Bungle Range. The Bungle Bungle Range, or the Bungles for short, are probably the prime attraction in the Kimberley. They are a huge collection of beehive-shaped domes of alternating orange and grey sandstone. I suppressed any concerns of the car overheating and igniting the gasoline and we made the short hike into the park.

The Bungles.

The Bungles weren't my favorite stop on our trip, but they certainly were the most awe-inspiring. Hundreds and hundreds of domed peaks rose around us. Sharon took this video right at the trail head:

We followed the trail to a spot called Cathedral Gorge, where a huge cavern had been carved out of the rock face. 

Hiking  into Cathedral Gorge -- check out the orange on that cliff!

The Cathedral end of Cathedral Gorge.

We followed the trail back to a junction and headed off to Picaninny Creek. The dry creak bed was solid rock, and had these incredible, deep grooves in it from the wet season's torrents of water. About a hundred meters up the creek bed the creek still had water. Further on it begins to wind its way through the Bungles. With permission from the visitor center you can hike to the start of the gorge and camp overnight. Sharon and I tried to walk up it as far as possible but quickly ran out of dry land; on one side there were sheer cliffs and on the other there was a gentle slope covered in razor sharp grass up to our waists.

Picanniny Creek.

The grooves cut in the creek bed.

Picanny creek heads into the Bungles

View from the lookout.

We took another 600m trail to a point overlooking a valley and some more domed rocks in the distance and then  hiked back to the parking lot. The entire experience took about two hours; thankfully a wisp of cloud muted the sun's heat, but we were still sweaty and dirty. Unfortunately, our campground had no shower facilities so we wouldn't be cleaning up for a while; the sanitary wipes we bought came up brown when we wiped down our faces and necks.

I commented to Sharon that if this were America there would be a two lane highway leading right up to a vast blacktop parking lot and there would be a huge gift shop selling dome-shaped plush toys. There's something to be said for accessibility, but also something to be said for making people put in an effort to experience a place like the Bungles. This was worth the haul.

Back at camp, we started cooking our dinner around 5:00pm and quickly learned that it gets dark at 5:30. And by dark I mean pitch black. It was amazing how fast the daylight disappeared. The lanterns did what they could to cut through the blackness, but we essentially cooked and ate in the dark (the lanterns also had the unfortunate side effect of attracting about a million bugs). Sharon was mostly interested in the camp cuisine of others. Looking through some trees to our nearest neighbor, Sharon opined that the woman we saw preparing her meal was "probably like a professional camper."

Sharon cooking dinner.

There wasn't much to do after dinner. Sharon asked, "What do camp people do at night?"

"I don't know," I replied. "Chit chat I guess."

We sat there in the dark a while longer.

"Isn't this fun?" I asked.

"This is not fun."

With nothing else to do, we climbed into the tent around 7:30 to go to sleep. A tour bus had just pulled into a nearby camping area reserved for groups, and we could hear them having a blast as the tour group staff set up camp and made their dinner.

We fell asleep to the carousing of our neighbors and the feint smell of gasoline.

I woke up at 3:00am and thought someone had a spotlight on us; when I opened the tent flap and walked outside I realized it was the moon. I'd never seen the moon shine so brightly. I could literally have gone for a walk with no flashlight and even thought about doing it, but figured I'd spook the few other campers.

* * *

On Wednesday morning we woke up around 6:30am, made what would be our usual oatmeal breakfast, packed up camp, and were on the road by 8:00am heading to the two other main sites in Purnululu: Little Palm Grove and Echidna Chasm.

I crossed one of the many creeks in the park and as we climbed the other side up we heard a loud hissing sound. We immediately knew we'd punctured a tire. "Shit! Shit shit shit!" I yelled. When I inspected the tire I saw that I'd punctured the side wall, which couldn't be patched. "That's going to be an expensive tire."

This was karmic revenge for killing the two birds, I told Sharon. (Come to think of it, Sharon also threw a rock at a termite mound).

We emptied some things from the cargo area of the truck so I could access the jack. When I lifted up the cover and grabbed the tools I discovered they were covered in gasoline; our jerry can had leaked more than we thought and leaked into more places than we thought.

I wiped off the spanner wrench and went to loosen the nuts on the tire. They wouldn't budge. I was using all my strength and they wouldn't move. I was actually moving the truck but not the nuts.

Since everyone in the outback is, in a sense, part of an exclusive club of explorers, a code of the road applies: whenever you see someone pulled over, you slow down and ask them if everything is okay. I embraced this ethic wholeheartedly and was constantly checking in on people. "Code of the road," I'd say every time Sharon looked up from her book when I decelerated.

Fortunately, the code of the road applied in Purnululu. A few people passed and offered help; one older couple said they had a spanner wrench with a longer handle that might give me the leverage I needed. With the use of their wrench I was finally able to get the nuts loose, but it required so much effort I burst blood vessels in my palms from the pressure. 

By the time I'd changed the tire we'd lost an hour. I was sweaty and covered in dust from laying on the ground to place the jack. And the jack wouldn't go back down, so if we had another flat we had one more spare but no means to put it on. I was now paranoid about driving over any rocks, which wasn't a good thing in Purnululu. But with the karma of the universe returned to balance, we climbed back in the truck and continued on our way.

Our next stop was Little Palm Grove. The park had very subtle signage and I missed the turn off because I thought the road was just a dry creek bed. Well, it was just a dry creek bed but it was also the road. And it was made entirely from small rocks. I eased along the path, just waiting for the tell-tale hiss of a burst tire. We made it to the small parking area and started the hike, which at the beginning followed the same creek bed we'd driven along. There was no tree cover along the creek so the sun was free to bake us to a crisp.

Thankfully the trail soon wound up and into a gorge which provided much-needed shade. The trail was the hardest yet -- we had to climb up and over rocks, squeeze between boulders, and forge our way up steep hills. It finally came to a lush grove full of palm trees. The little palms that give the grove its name are just young versions of the adult tall palms.

Pretty standard on the way to Little Palm Grove.

Little Palm Grove. The far side is the direction we came from.

From the grove a stairwell led up to a small observation deck overlooking a patch of virgin red soil. On either side cliffs rose up, tapering to a point where they met and created a huge, pitch black cave. This was off limits to tourists but I hopped the observation deck fence and climbed down the boulders to explore. A large number of other footprints indicated I wasn't the first to do this. I sprinted across the soil and into the cave with my flashlight out. I could hear bats in the upper reaches but couldn't see them. I felt bad that Sharon was still on the observation deck, so after a few minutes I clambered back up and sweated our way back to the carpark. A placard at the start of the trail estimated the hike took 2-3 hours; we did it in an hour and fifteen minutes.

View from inside the cavern; way at the end of the dirt where you can see some boulders is where the observation deck is.

View from the observation deck. The cave at the far side is where I took the previous photo from.

We jumped back in the truck, eased our way back down the creek bed, and zoomed further down the road to Echidna Chasm. This is, as the name implies, a rather large chasm that is only illuminated during midday when the sun is directly overhead (an echidna is one of Australia's many unique creatures and looks a little bit like a porcupine with a long, slender nose; I have no idea how it gave the chasm its name). The chasm was a quick hike from the parking lot and was cool and quiet.

Echidna Chasm.

By now it was about 1:00pm and we were headed back to Halls Creek for the night. We left the park and bounced and rattled our way back to the highway. Sharon gamely tried to nap. At one point I got waved down by a passing truck. "Oh no," I thought, "What now?" Turns out it was just our front license plate falling off.

Even though we'd only been camping one night, it felt great to get back to civilization. Sharon threw a load of laundry in the machine at our hotel, once again the Kimberley Hotel Halls Creek. I dumped a bunch of baking soda all over the back of the car to help soak up the gasoline and neutralize the smell. We'd be camping out the following three nights, so Sharon had the brilliant idea of chopping up the veggies for our dinners now so she wouldn't have to do it at the campsites.

When I came in from cleaning the car as best I could I jumped in the shower to wash off the grime of the previous two days. Something was partially blocking the drain and when I picked it up I saw it was an onion skin. I also found a piece of onion blocking the sink drain. These were the remnants of Sharon's prep work. It reminded me of the Seinfeld episode where Kramer starts prepping all his food in the shower.

One thing you need when camping are some beers to enjoy at the end of each day. We had forgotten to get get beer back in Broome and the lone, sad looking liquor store in Hall Creek was empty except for two coolers full of a suspicious-looking beer, so we picked up a six-pack from the hotel's sports bar. Things increase in price the farther you get from Broome, so this six-pack set us back a cool $34. We got yet another dinner at the hotel's sports bar and turned in for the night.

Mi Casa

Many of you may already know but Adam and I moved apartments earlier this year. Mostly because our landlord was going to raise rent but also just because we wanted a change of scenery and an apartment with outdoor space.

Apartment hunting is never easy but Adam was able to find an amazing one on Domain.com.au, the go-to apartment listing website here in Australia.

After a few house guest, a trip to Tasmania and a trip to Western Australia, we were finally able to get it into picture taking shape.

We are a couple blocks farther from the water but have way more space, a parking spot, outside storage space, a proper laundry room and best of all... an awesome balcony that looks over Bondi.

Living Room

Kitchen

Master Bedroom

Guest Room

Bathroom