Tales from the Gibb River Road Part 4: The end of the road to Derby and beyond

The time had come to drag Cheryl kicking and screaming from her beloved swimming spot and move on. The sweetener was that we had booked a trip out of Derby to see the Horizontal Waterfalls – more on that later. I had travelled part of the last section of the Gibb River Road (GRR) five times now – twice on the mission for a new battery, twice to see Bell Gorge and now our exit trip. The road itself was akin to the old curate’s egg, good in parts. There were still your bone-rattling corrugations but then strangely you would happen across a stretch of super-smooth dirt road and you find that your speedo had leapt up to 100 km/h. Of course reuniting with the real GRR could come as a surprise if you weren’t watchful and you could find yourself airborne no matter what sort of rig you were driving. Speaking of camping rigs, just sitting in one spot like Mt Barnett gave us the opportunity to watch lots of people move in and out around us, in every conceivable mobile home ranging from “take it all with you” super-big caravans to camper-trailers to tents to minimalist swags, and not least the Britz and Apollo hire motor-homes, so favoured by Germans in a hurry (they mostly swoop in to Mount Barnett, see the gorge, tick the box, and then move on at speed to the next Lonely Planet attraction). Seeing all these rigs, I don’t believe that there is any perfect camper – all have flaws and fall short in places, but work well in other situations (you just don’t want to have the one that shakes itself apart and you leave it twitching in its death throe on the side of the GRR).

Aerial view of the tidal flats out of Derby

It’s about 340 km on to Derby, a town that appears to me to have been unduly maligned over the years and the word you hear down the road is to avoid Derby because of this issue and that problem, but it seemed quite a neat little town, well stocked and with good facilities - and no more or less issues than any other northern town that we had been in. It’s not worth starting a world movement over, but Derby deserves a fair go!

One of the horizontal falls from the seaplane - lot of turbulence there!

We waited outside of our caravan park on Friday afternoon, to be absorbed into the well oiled machine that is the Horizontal Waterfalls tour; a bus to Derby Airport where a seaplane whisked us north to Talbot Bay, the site of this remarkable phenomenon. The landing was nothing short of spectacular as the aircraft followed a path between steep hills (much like landing at the old Kai Tak Airport in Hong Kong) and then onto the bay itself. The seaplane taxied up to the large pontoon complex where we were welcomed, shown our cabins for the night and then invited out to feed the sharks and have a swim (in cages). Maurs and Cheryl were the first ones in swimming of course. The group (about 20 of us) then boarded a large and zippy speedboat in which we toured the bay and the horizontal falls. Safety is the tour operator’s main priority and we were issued lifejackets for the trip. Some of the more “age-challenged” guests did have a little difficulty working out the intricacies of donning the garment for some reason. It did amuse to watch the struggle.

Women swimmin' with sharks!

                                                           Lifejackets for the gifted!

The shore - Talbot Bay

I should explain that the falls are a result of the large tidal variation in the area (up to 10 or 11 metres) with water rushing in and out of three adjoining bays as they drain and fill. There are two narrow openings between the bays and the water just can’t leave in an orderly fashion. This results in “jumps” in the water levels between the three bays causing the water to rush through the narrow gaps. Apparently David Attenborough coined the phrase horizontal waterfalls many years ago and it stuck. They can be quite dangerous to negotiate when there are really big tides but we were able to jet through them several times much to the thrill of the passengers (although the next morning was considered too dangerous for the smaller falls).

                                                           "Yesh! That is a fast ride!!!"

                          The Horizontal Waterfalls with one water level higher than the other

Back on board the pontoon we pondered the sunset with the aid of a glass of wine - barramundi for dinner. The waters around the pontoon were floodlit allowing an intriguing variety of sea life to be observed all night long.  We spent the night in air-conditioned cabins (the first time we had slept in air-conditioned anything for months!) and after breakfast and the second trip to the falls area it was back on the seaplane for the trip back. Well recommended.

We had all agreed to give Broome a swerve as we had all been there before and we knew it was full of “snow geese” from down south who sit out the southern winter by the beach. However the vehicle was crying out for a service so we booked into Broome for two nights in order to achieve an oil change. It gave us an opportunity to catch up with old friends Kevin and Shirley G who also had no intention of staying in Broome but who had lost their caravan door on the way north and had called in for possible repairs. If anyone does happen to spot a door without a caravan attached out on the highway, let me know and I’ll put you in touch with Kevin.

With clean oil and a full mainsail this reprovisioned unit wheeled out of Broome heading south in pursuit of Vic and Cheryl – first stop would be Barn Hill.

Tales from the Gibb River Road Part 3: Mount Barnett

Most of us thought that we were only going to spend one night at Mount Barnett before moving on to other spots. How wrong most of us were! The campsite  at the Lower Manning Gorge sports probably the best swimming area along the whole GRR and Cheryl (who is searching warmth, sun and water away from the southern winter for her well-earned long service leave) was not about to let this slip through her fingers. We hiked to the (upper) Manning Gorge on the first day, which also boasts a magnificent stretch of water and falls. As the days passed by, the cool, clear waters of the swimming hole and the fact that we had found a little path down to the river at the back of our camp that led to a private stretch of deep water beckoned us to stay. Talking to a few other people, it was apparent that the other places that we had planned to visit were not as good as where we were. Our campsite was shady and well positioned and we figured why not use Mt Barnett as a base, visit the other sights, and keep swimming for as long as our provisions held up. We managed 15 nights! Most people only stay one night and move on.

Lower Manning Gorge swimming pool

Maurs and Cheryl checking out the swimming area from on high.

Maureen and Cheryl love to pad around rivers and creeks to check out wildlife and just...be. They think they are alone but they rarely are. On one field trip they found a Bower Bird's Bower. On another they had to gingerly tiptoe around a couple of rather large station bulls who believed that stretch of river to be their own bit of turf, and later they were checked out quite closely by a wild dog/dingo who looked hungry enough to have a go at anything. It eventually sloped off again into the bush and the ladies resumed their romp up river to our private beach behind our camp.

The Bower - this bird uses shells and vertebrae to attract its mate

Manning Gorge Falls

 

Close encounter of the dingo kind, and don't he look starved!

 

While they are away on these river trips Vic and I busy ourselves by talking about them, making cups of tea and eating our snack of choice up here, Black and Gold brand fruit cake. Cheryl and Maurs attempt to bake cake for us, but they only use healthy ingredients while the B&G cake contains ALL the food groups! Heaven...

The ladies a baking a cake camping-style...

The clear winner in cakes though...mmmmm!

We did a day trip (240 kilometres) to take in Galvans Gorge and Bell Gorge – both quite beautiful. Bell Gorge is spectacular with a cascade of waterfalls emptying into a big deep swimming area. We swam, but not alone. I noticed a splash from a rock ledge into the water where it took shape into a rather large python that swam to shore and slithered out of sight into the rocks. Headline would read – “Women Swimmin’ with Serpents”! The rest of the trip that day was relatively uneventful until we were about 200 metres from the Mount Barnett turn-off. I had slowed right down to make the turn and yet I managed to collide with and despatch a small (apparently suicidal) wallaby that leapt out of the long grass on the side of the road and under the vehicle before I could react. So much for the “Shoo Roo” I had fitted! I now call it the “Here Skippy!”

Bell Gorge from above

The punt across the Barnett River - spills and action aplenty for those who wish to stay dry but generally don't. It's much better to just swim across.

Hauling water from our "private stretch" of the river.

Every morning I wake up and suppose, “What is going to try to bite me today?” and up here in the Kimberley that can range from a sizeable crocodile through to dingoes and snakes right down the food chain to ticks, mosquitoes and sandflies with the smaller denizens mostly succeeding with their aftermath displayed as spots and welts on the legs and arms of numerous happy campers walking around the campsite. It may be a truism that human beings have a primal need to leave their perfectly comfortable surroundings from time to time to spend periods walking around in the dirt, foraging for firewood, living quite ferally really, and presenting their nether regions as a target for voracious insects. One day I may find that need also...

Our campsite - Lower Manning Gorge

 

Tales of the Gibb River Road Part 2: El Questro to Mount Elizabeth

We called in to Home Valley Station, which is another cattle station with a resort – all very nice and comfortable – before heading up to Ellenbrae Station where we spent the night. The owners do a good scone with jam and cream too. The Ringer’s Camp, where we stayed had an interesting bath and toilet system. The builder was obviously unschooled in conventional building techniques and the plumbing and the electrics were...rustic to say the least. Still, we had hot water for a shower that night, and the toilet flushed on demand.

                                    Crossing the Pentecost River - a road with few bridges

                                                                 Kimberley Country

From Ellenbrae we plugged along to Mount Elizabeth Station, only 40 kilometres off the GRR to the homestead. It’s a sizeable station running about 6000 head of cattle, although there are some smart cows that have never been brought into the yard and so never counted – they evade mustering every season. The station people offer a tour that takes you to see a few interesting features including some excellent aboriginal rock paintings, both Wandjina and Bradshaw – distinctly different styles of art laid down thousands of years apart. Wandjina is the more recent style of the last few thousand years while Bradshaw is dated back as far as 18000 years. Today’s indigenous people only recognise Wandjina and apparently have no affinity to Bradshaw art at all. A puzzle for the anthropologists amongst us. The tour also gave us the opportunity for a cooling dip by a waterfall and a cup of traditionally brewed billy tea.

                                                        The bath and shower at Ellenbrae

                                                         Ringer's Camp - Ellenbrae

A minor drama occurred when Vic’s car battery decided to give up the ghost. He got the vehicle started off his battery charger but decided it prudent to replace the dead battery so off he and I set for points west (as far as Derby if necessary, that’s a 740 kilometre round trip) in search of a new battery. Mount Barnett had nothing so it was either Imitji store (320 kilometre round trip) or on to Derby. Fortunately Nev at Imitji happened to have a couple that would suit the Tojo and one was duly purchased and installed. We got back to Mount Elizabeth just before dark. There are no corner shops on the GRR.

                                                Rosella plants - the fruit makes the jam

                      Pedestrian on the GRR - rather large goanna lazing his way across the track

Wandjina art at Mt Elizabeth circa 5000 years old

Lunch break at Mt Elizabeth - great swimming hole too!

Bradshaw art circa 17,500 years old

Creek scene from Mt Elizabeth - there's a small freshwater crab in there if you can spot it

Nicky swimming Mt Elizabeth  - you just couldn't stop them!!

Next up - Mount Barnett Station and the Manning, Galvans and Bell Gorges.

Tales from the Gibb River Road - Part 1: El Questro

I had long maintained that, many years ago, I flew over the little town of Wyndham at 2,500 feet and that was as close as I ever wanted to go. Now here we were in Wyndham confirming that thought. It’s a hot, humid little mudflat clinging to dear life as a port of a sort. Enough said. El Questro Station on the other hand sits on the Pentecost River and is a nice place to just hang out. We booked for four days and chose one of the more remote, private campsites spread along the river away from the other campers. Mindful of a heavy rain event unfolding at the other end of the Gibb River Road (GRR) and after further checking of the same we extended another two nights.

                                          Our campsite at El Questro - six days of seclusion

The campsite was not only picturesque and serene; it had its own entertainment channel. There were at least two resident crocodiles (freshwater for the most part, but possibly a small salty in there too) and, on the opposite bank to us, a colony of bats. Every morning the bats would settle into their Pandanus tree perches just above the water line and sleep for the day. Unfortunately, bat families being what they are, little disputes would break out and occasionally, some pushing and shoving would occur resulting in a hapless bat losing its grip and plummeting into the river. Instantly there would be a splash and a wily old croc would have his breakfast. We could sit and watch for hours! And no shortage of bats on the menu! It was hard to feel sympathy for the bats as they were in the habit of conducting night-bombing missions over our camp, showering our campers with guano and keeping us huddled under cover as well.

 

                       Crocodile breakfast bar - Kimberley style! (just shake the tree for a snack)

Gus and Cheryl at Zebedee Springs. Best hot springs we've seen on this trip.

There are some wonderful gorges and places of interest around El Questro. After a stop at Zebedee Springs to luxuriate in the thermal waters we went on to tackle the El Questro Gorge. It was not an easy amble by any means with some challenging sections to scramble over (Maurs in fact lost her grip at one point and fell, wedging herself between two large rocks until she got herself out. She was bruised but not bloodied and got home under her own steam). Next we tackled Amalia Gorge. Halfway up the gorge is a swimming hole – irresistible to Cheryl and Maurs – they had to take a dip. I climbed up to a rock ledge to grab a photo of them, which I did, but when I looked down to the pool below, looking up at me was a nice sized freshwater crocodile. “Worried who you’re swimming with?” I shouted. “I’m not too bothered” called back the croc, “they seem okay sheilas to me.”

Water hazard at El Questro Gorge - a trifle tricky but worth the effort

 

Maurs and Cheryl having a dip in Amalia Gorge (with a friend)

 

"Bluddy women spoiling a guy's peace!!"

Back at the campsite, night time activities included cane toad busting (yes they have invaded as far as El Questro and we managed to hand in a couple for, er, processing), and snake spotting (we saw a beautiful black and white banded variety one evening). Despite the peace of the camp, the bar and restaurant at the resort itself and the bats, it was time to move on and tackle the GRR in earnest. The road out to the Pentecost River is sealed now but after crossing the Pentecost it was a little bone-jarring as we got personal with the famous corrugations and ruts that make the GRR some sort of rite of passage for over-age, over-testosteroned males (“you’ve got your 4WD mate, but have you done the Gibb River Road?!!”)

In the country it is traditional for driver to wave to fellow driver as one sails past. It is also fair to say the (usually) female passenger never waves in this situation but looks impassively ahead. Not so here; at the impending end of the GRR, the female passengers in passing vehicles were joining in, waving frantically as we passed them, such was their obvious relief to be nearly over the ordeal and back to smooth roads with bitumen, shops, mobile phones working, electricity and television, and thinking “Thank god he’s got this out of his system!”

Our journey was just beginning...