Lake Argyle. A place that had become a pinnacle for our big trip – well, to me it had anyway. The Kimberley’s had been on my bucket list for many years and Lake Argyle was just the beginning.
After spending extra time in Darwin, we were keen to get back to the trip. Lake Argyle Resort is a large caravan park with an even bigger personality. The place was humming as we pulled in. A man on a pushbike was to show us our spot for the night and as we drove past the swag of caravans packed in like sardines, we were taken down to the lower section of large grassy sites for the unpowered. “Take whichever you want, just not the one with the firepit,” he said. Great! We parked up and aimed to get her level. It already was an emotional return into WA, but there was something else about being in Lake Argyle – a friendly kinda place that you felt welcome.
Sunday 19
Johny and I had agreed to spend some time here. After arriving late in the day, we agreed on having a rest day. I could catch up on my book whilst Johny could check over the Steed. It was bliss! Whilst Johny spent a good 3-4 hours washing her over, I finally spent some time using my exercise mat and doing some much needed stretching and attempted skipping.. hmm its been a while since a decent cardio session!
We had a proper chill day – and it felt good. The time difference of 2 hours had seen the sun jump up before 6am and made lunch feel like it should be at 1030am! By noon, I had finally summoned the courage to get up and go and book the boat tour for tomorrow. Lake Argyle itself is a spectacle, and we surely didn’t want to miss the opportunity to cruise amongst it. I went up to reception to secure us in. “The last two spots!” the receptionist noted as she calculated the numbers a few times. What a relief I stopped being lazy and got in before we missed it! Feeling happy I went back to camp to tell Johny the good news.
Our camp spot was to the south of the reception entrance and was open to the cliffs of the Lake. The scenery here was spectacular and our grassy patch looked onwards to the orange and red rocks of the cove below, unsheltered. The day’s here were blissful with light winds, however the night brought a current from the Lake that was indescribable. Our first night, the RTT and awning flapped excessively and Johny climbed down to put the awning away despite its strong hold build. It was nothing compared for what was to come. Our second night we decided to put the guides to the awning and struts up for extra support – how we were wrong. I imagined the winds whipping and circling through the large cliffs of the Lake, lit up like ancestral snakes of the area and blasting the cove with all its might. Johny and I huddled together as we woke again to the noise. “Oh my god,” Johny expleted and set out to turn down both the awning and the annex. The whole car shook as I lay there helpless. The wind flapped the RTT dramatically and I wondered if it would spin off like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz. Johny returned to the bed, and we again laid there in disbelief. The waterproof shell that lay over the RTT still loudly flapped and it was almost painful to hear. “I’m wondering if I should take it off, but I’m worried if I start to, the whole thing will be ripped from my hands” Johny said. We sat upright unsure. Within a few moments Johny was up and making way. Despite our differences, I really wouldn’t want to do this trip with anyone else. It’s the reason I married him – always keeping me safe. Within a few minutes, the waterproof shell was off and the noise of the RTT was reduced.
The ancestral snake still breathed a force of reckoning, but for now, we’d done all we could to secure our little home.
Monday 20
After our windy nights, we woke in a slumber. The sun still rising before 6am, the Grey Nomads chatted and made cups of tea as we, seemingly teenagers, pried our eyes opened. I had decided to wake myself by a jump in the pool whilst Johny checked over the nuts and bolts of the Steed. The pool, was nothing short of icy. Lake Argyle Resort is renowned for its Infinity pool that overlooked the blue Lake Argyle waters – and the view did not disappoint. However one by one, the guests took a breathless leap into the pool. As the water dropped off the side, it was cooled by the winds of the Lake. Unable to keep it’s warmth housed in the foundations of the pool, the water definitely reminded you it was still Winter.
With days pushing mid 30s, it was easy to forget it wasn’t Summer.
By afternoon, we were all ready for our boat tour. The café showed a short film of the building of the Dam wall and coincidentally how it became the Lake it is today. By 2.15pm, our bus had arrived and all 50 of us excitedly piled on. The bus took us the scenic route showing us the dam and references to the construction itself. We made our way down to the water where Kimberley Durack awaited. The Durack Family paved the way for the agricultural land the Kimberley’s is today. With a vision of creating a dam that would supply these vast areas with water, the Durack’s accomplished an amazing feat of not only engineering, but of persistence and forward-thinking that would drive the land for centuries to come. If you have a moment, please stop to Google and take a read – a fascinating story. Our cruise set off through the cliffs and ridges and made it’s way to Crocodile cove. Freshwater crocs inhabit this area and despite how many times you see these pre-historic animals, they still fascinate beyond control. With information rolling off the tongue of our guide, we all sat there easily pleased. The size of the Lake is not one to be sneezed at – our 4 hour tour only saw us 5% of the area… just stunning beyond comprehension. We crept up speed and after a good cup of tea made way for the swimming spot. I was super keen to jump from the highest point. The water and surrounds were just magical and I couldn’t wait to get in. I began to climb the ladder to the boat’s roof – and then had a reality check and wondered what the hell I was doing. I’m not a jumper and wondered who the hell I thought I was?! Mid-ladder I hesitated, and with the boat now full of happy hour, I needed to just jump. The water was cool and refreshing as I jumped in and I suddenly felt alive. I was actually IN Lake Argyle! The sun setting turning the cliffs golden red and purple, swimmers bobbed up and down the waters taking it all in. I returned to the boat and it was Johny’s turn. Without hesitation, he dove from the roof half a dozen times and again proved his Peter Pan ability. We returned to our seats as the sun was setting on the horizon and rugged up for our journey back to shore.
It was a beautiful moment watching the waves lap the boat as we made our way to night. One I will not be forgetting soon.
Tuesday 21
The next day we were up early and ready to conquer our next destination – the Bungle Bungles. If we weren’t already in awe of this country, our next place certainly brings it in spades.
I have a feeling I saw this once on a kids show when I was younger – and holding it as a place that would be the ultimate excursion to the real Australia. It could have been something as silly as Saturday Disney, but despite its original reference, a definite bucket list destination.
As we began to drive south to Purnululu, the landscape – as it was the days previous – continued its incredible scenery on the road. We drove parallel to the Rugged Ridge and with a few Boab trees and grass fires, the landscape opened up to make way for the Bungles in the distance. We sat in silence as we drove the long road down in anticipation of what was to come. Occasionally we would imagine features within the shapes of the rock – a fist pump was a memorable one. There is the south and north features of the Bungle Bungle ranges and we decided to head south to Cathedral Gorge. The road into the national park felt like it could be second home to the Dakar rally. Long, windy with mixed terrain, river crossings and corrugations. Johny loved pulling and pushing the Steed in every which direction, attempting to pass slower travellers that failed to install a two-way. The road had it all and only excited us more for what was to come.
We made it to Walardi camp, albeit a little car sick. The usual travellers surrounded us – some foreigners, some Grey Nomads and some just getting away from the winter cold of the lower states. We set up camp and as the routine becomes life, looked forward to tomorrow’s hike.
Wednesday 22
Morning broke, and again, so did our eyelids. The sound of slamming car doors becomes the norm in a caravan or camping site, and this place was no exception. The night’s are variable in temperature, and even with our gradual trip around, they can vary a lot from site to site. Last night was bitterly cold, and despite our friends and family on the East coast of Aus currently shivering, last night we knew we were in single digits. We had no windows in the tent open all night and by morning, the cold had crept in. I made my way down the ladder unenthusiastically, yet was surprised by how warm the morning sun was already. “Babe, get out of the tent. It’s warmer out here!” I said to Johny. “Really?” he characteristically disbelieved. Whilst the foreign family ran amok as if two in the afternoon, and girls in the distant bus tour giggled loudly, we made ourselves ready for the day.
It was a short drive to the Cathedral Gorge car park but the scenery had nothing short about it. The “beehive” mounds of the Bungle Bungles stand large as we wind our way to the entrance point. They call them “beehive” due to their dome shape, and the layers of dark brown and orange due to different oxidation processes millions of years ago. The 2.6km return trek is mostly shaded and we again say hello to fellow travellers in each direction. We are visiting this region late in the tourist season and it shows. Once we make our way to Cathedral Gorge, only 2 or 3 sets of couples roam the area. We had it all to ourselves at one point – our voices echoed off the walls of the cathedral shaped cave. A small inlet of water sat still and murky in the centre as the large cliffs of the cave shot up dramatically. If only we were opera singers and could take effect of this natural acoustic wonder. The cooling breeze was a welcomed relief to the hot sand outside and we sat and breathed in this magical wonder. This place is definitely worth the long winding drive to see this world heritage listed site. How lucky we are. Some travellers weren’t so lucky and without enough experience, or perhaps time, didn’t take the necessary requirements for this track and ended up with flat tyres or overheated engines. Always stopping and asking if people have enough water and if they need any help, we wish them well on their journey and continue on our way. We would want the same in return.
Back north to the main highway, we spot more bushfires that had extended up the hills. We knew we needed more fuel and debated where to get it from. Our destination was El Questro station, however we knew it would be expensive at over $2 per litre. It was the same distance to Kunanurra or Wyndham and their diesel prices were $1.53 or $1.58 respectively. We had just been from Kunanurra which had roadworks all down the highway, and we knew we didn’t want to track through them again. Johny was keen to see the Prison Boab tree close to Wyndham on an old 4WD track – however I wondered with all the extra miles, if we were really saving ourselves or should we just fuel up at El Questro.
The prospect of seeing something new was too great so we decided to make our way to Wyndham and tick another Aussie town off our list.
How we were fooled. The highway was no more and 28km of road works made for a very slow drive into town. As we sat behind a road train at 40km/hr the dust blocked our view from our surrounds and oncoming traffic. “Where’s the bloody water truck?” Johny asked on the two-way. We knew the supervisor of the area would be listening and with an almost blackout view of the road, we wondered how it was legal! Our trusty Steed inhaled the dust and we regretted coming down the main road. Some workers weren’t even wearing dust masks, and we wondered again where the OH&S was.
Finally we pulled into Wyndham and refueled. We had another look at our maps and negotiated the 4WD track. The woman at the service station said it was a decent drive and the last section got a bit rocky, but she’ll be right! With our destination El Questro we set off for the Boab tree. The sun was setting fast and we were realizing we had lost a lot of time with our long roadwork trip into town. We knew we were no longer going to make it to the Station by light. As we pulled up to our first cattle gate, another Hilux was doing the same. We alternated turns opening and closing the gates for each other until they turned off the track to camp for the night. Johny and I decided to push through a little longer as the fellow couple had said there were camp sites down by the river. Large cattle stood by the side of the road while the pink and purple sky lit up the hills and ridges of the landscape. The day was turning to night and the track became more arduous. We finally spotted the river and turned into a bay to find somewhere to pull up. “I’m too scared of snakes to camp here!” I said as we stopped in the grass. Johny looking anxious, we lost our way a few times on the track as it winded its way around the trees. We pulled back out to the sandy road and made our way further down. We again turned into a bay that led closer to the river and finally we had found a clearing. “This’ll do!” we both agreed as Johny tried to make our home level. Jumping out of the car we glanced around and took one final look at the last light of the day. In the distance a large orange glow was on the horizon – another bushfire clearing the land. It’s funny what becomes normal in different environments. And with that, dinner was on our laps as we say cheers to another day.
The Cooks.
TotallyCookd. 