With the laptop on my lap, feet firmly planted in pristine white sand and the sound of turquoise waves lashing at the beach, I think its fair to say it is the perfect time to be writing this blog. You may wonder how we actually get time to write. The truth is we don’t… well the majority of the time we don’t. We tend to sit up late one night and play catch up, which I must add is hard to get the energy to do at times. Or we wait for a rare opportunity like today when for once nothing is scheduled for the rest of the afternoon. Apart from, I’ll admit to a stroll along the beach and soaking in a fresh burst of vitamin D from an un-spoilt blue sky. So I write this for you from one of the most beautiful places on the planet, Broome. So without further ado, I bring to you, our day at Bell Gorge.
Wednesday 29
Tired once again due to the pesky overly large sized rats (quoll’s and bandicotts) keeping me up all night, Cath boasted of a deep full night sleep. Not that this makes her any more pleasant in the morning. We were feet first into the walk to Bell Gorge, in the King Leopold Ranges Conservation Park.
The water from a small creek banked up to create a small knee deep pool that slowly trickled over a wide face down below like an infinity pool. Standing at the top and observing down to the pool below, clear waters gave me a great advantage to scope out the rock formation under the water and spot any shallow places. I calculated all of the spots I could jump from. Not many. Directly under the waterfall was dark and just off to each side of it. Unfortunately due to the rock formations elevating up and out on both sides made for an almost impossible climb up unless you happened to be spider-man or a well practiced climber.
I knew from this it was going to be a challenge, but me being me, I wasn’t going to let it defeat me. I was going to find a way up!
We made our way down as the rocks sloped down diagonally into the water. Covered with a thin layer of algae, it made for an extremely difficult slippery entry. It was either get on your butt and slide in, or jump in a deep spot. We chose the second of choices. As usual, Cath tested the water first with a little help from myself, providing a gentle un-expected push. “Its fresh” she exclaimed. I shortly joined her with GoPro in hand. We swam around the soothing waters getting relief from the sun that had made itself high in the sky and providing that ever-building heat. We tried scaling a slimy rock on the far side of the gorge. It was nearly impossible to get up. Flapping around like sea lions we eventually made it out of the water. We sat and took in the spectacular orange rocks that had been cut out by the flowing waters that scaled up above us. A goanna was swimming in the cool pool too, on the hunt for prey. “That’s mad. I never knew goanna’s could swim!? Farr out”. I said. We watched it as it stopped swimming and bobbed about in the water with only its head sticking out. With arms and feet tucked into its body, it raced off over to the other side of the pool, its tail and body swinging from side to side, motoring through the water.
I swam under the waterfall that was flowing down from above. The rock that formed the falls dropped off into a cave just above the water. There was nowhere to perch a foot onto for a way to climb up. I swam the length of the fall and I found no advantage point. The flowing water had dug a void underneath the rock as it had eroded over millions of years. I knew it was going to be tricky to get up it. But I had no choice; I had to scale the falls. I found a ledge I could power out of the water and up to. I managed to get a hold of it with a couple of fingers. With the GoPro still in between my thumb and index finger on my right hand, my middle and remaining fingers latched onto the ledge. I saw another small crack in the rock-face; I swung across the water, legs kicking propelling me along I managed to get my other fingers in the crack. Knowing I could not scale the face with only my arms, I needed a position for my leg. There was nowhere apart from a small lip on the rock far over to my right. With the rock already being raised above the water, I didn’t have enough hold to help aid my legs up and out of the water. I tried several times. My arms lifting my body weight up and out as I swung my leg out and across. I was close but not close enough. I moved across the face, attempting other positions but there was just nowhere to drive my legs too. I wasn’t going to let it defeat me. With the whole gorge of spectators watching on, I was going to conquer it. I moved back to my original spot. Another young lad was there giving it a crack too. I treaded water watching his moves. He had the exact same position as I was in previously. With longer legs he managed to get his leg onto the lip and use it to drive his body weight up and onto the top of the first tier. “Good work bruv!” I shouted. He lent over reaching an arm out.
“If you can grab my wrist I can help pull you up”. This guy was a champion. I swam down below and speared up and out of the water, managing to grab his hand only. Losing grip as our hands were both wet we persisted on. “Mate its not going to happen hey,” I told him. But he also did not want to give up. He found a long stick that had washed over the falls and was residing on the ledge. He lowered it down to me “Climb up that mate, iv got my feet anchored in so I cant fall”. With that I was up, pulling my body weight as I lent back and walked up the face. “You’re a legend mate, thanks so much” I said as we shook hands.
“What was the aim of climbing up?” he asked.
“I’m going to jump off” I said.
“What up there?” he pointed.
“No, up there” as I pointed even higher. With that, we climbed up two more tiers of the waterfall and sat up high above the gorge looking down into it. Perched on the side of the rock ledge as everyone in the gorge below watched, we sat and got talking. Twenty minutes or so passed till we finally took the plunge. A super interesting guy, we conveyed stories with each other. Him having plenty of rock climbing experience definitely helped him and myself out today.
Making our way back up to the car park, Cath used what she described as the ‘worst toilet in the world’. We had planned on having lunch, but she quickly explained how she was not hungry anymore as her visit to the toilet was so scarring. We headed onto find a spot for the night.
Crossing a river, we noticed a couple of tracks off to the sides of it. We turned around and drove down them, exploring potential spots to spend the night.
We made our way down the sandy river bed as far as the track went coming to a dead end. I reversed out and felt the back end of the rig sink. “Tyre pressures” I told Cath. I jumped out and aired down. 14psi in the front and 16psi in the rear we walked straight out of the bog we were in. “Amazing how easy it is with the right pressures hey darl!” I said.
We managed to find an epic spot right in between two large willow trees that hung down either side creating a wall and shelter within. Unable to see us from the road, we set up camp. Another couple pulled up a hundred meters or so down from us. Without them, we would have had this spot all to ourselves. I ran around collecting firewood and managed to fling a few arrows. Having time I took a stroll up the rivers edge and came across what looked like a crocs nest with drag marks leading down into the water. A guy was swimming around in the water one hundred meters down stream from it. I yelled out. “You know there’s a croc nest here?” He was oblivious to the crocs living here. He replied in a French accent. “A crok nez?”
“Yeh a CROC nest!” I replied. Once again with a front row seat to a stupid foreigner, I watched as he continued wading in the waters with no worry about the nest, or the things lurking in the clouded waters below. Disappointingly he got out later with no attack coming to fruition.
It was perfect. With the river flowing next to us, we lit the fire and whipped out the barbie plate for the first time. Cooking up dinner over a real fire, what better way to end a cracker of a day.
We peered up at the stars as we sat up late that night next to the glow of the fire exchanging old stories of younger times with mates. Our four wheel drive has definitely taken us to some of the most magical places in the world.
Thursday 30
“I got a crap night sleep with all that splashing. Did you hear it? I know it was crocs!”
“Nope, slept right through babe” I replied.
We took a walk around to the nest I had found the day before. There was another nest right next to the first and slightly further along was a slide mark running down into the water. “See I knew something was going on with all that splashing!” Cath explained.
It was a short drive to Windjana Gorge NP; we had found the perfect spot last night with only a 30 kilometres drive in. This time without having to pay the expensive camp fees.
Black reef’s from an ancient ocean stood vertically one hundred meters up and out of the ground, resembling a scene from Lord of the Rings like the walls into Mordor.
I had never seen anything like it before. It was jaw dropping. “I have been looking forward to this one, saving the best till last!” Cath said.
We made our way down through a crack in the reef that lead into the entrance of what was called a gorge. An ancient reef made its way tall and proud along both sides. The sea floor had once filled the spot where we were walking – formed 360 million years ago, in the Devonian period, when a large part of the Kimberley was covered with a tropical sea. Ancient fossils perfectly preserved in the reef walls where sea creatures had made their home here. Small caves and passages carved through the reefs wall all the way up as it towered above us.
This place is beyond fascinating.
If you ever make it to the Gibb, you have to come and pay a visit.
We made our way up the gorge, a river cut right through the middle. Unable to swim in the waters, many freshwater crocs littered the banks opposite to us called this place home. Further into the gorge it opened up and right in the centre was a large quartz rock that looked so out of place in the black reefs that stood looking down on either side. It was named the fertility rock by the native clan that once lived in the area. A large sandy beach took centre position around the bottom of the fertility rock. We walked its edges and came across two freshwater crocs. I managed to get within meters of them to take a couple of pictures as they lay carelessly basking in the sun. Small in size, I would of loved to of grabbed one to take a closer look, but opted not to just in case I met the not-so-friendly side of it.
As we made our way back to the car we chatted about the lack of ‘cool’ wildlife we had seen. Just as we did I heard a rather peculiar noise that came from the bush off to our left. I stopped and took a few steps back to take a better look. Here was a bower bird and its nest. I had been explaining it to Cath a while ago how it has to be one of the most fascinating birds on the planet, after the Liar bird of course. In front of us, was a male and his nest. Scattered around it were different coloured objects, stones and litter he had found and placed around it. His nest made from grass with a passage through it like a tiny cathedral. He hummed and danced on one side as a female bower looked on. She wasn’t impressed and took off. I was stunned in what I had just witnessed and stood in awe of it. I edged closer checking his nest out. He looked on at me, making sure I was not going to touch anything. We walked on as I repeated what we had just seen to Cath, fascinated and shocked I continued blabbering on about it till we arrived at the next site for that afternoons excursion. Tunnel Cave. If you get the time google about the bower bird, and what the male does to win courtship.
As the name suggests, Tunnel Creek is a creek that runs through a large development of rock. Not far from the towering black rock of Windjana, Tunnel Creek National Park also had its fair share of soaring rock and escarpments. This location is known for its place in history for sheltering Jandamurra, the Bunuba man who led an armed rebellion against European settlers in the 1890s. Again, another fascinating moment in history if you have the chance to Google.
Unsure of what to truly expect, we took our best torches. Well, myn consisted of a cheapy headlight and Johny’s a slightly better one. Without the long walk this morning, the tunnel began close to the car park. It didn’t come without difficultly however, and the large entrance boulders proved a little challenge on the way in. I was already keeping my nerves down as my fear of the darkness was ever-knocking, I dubiously climbed over the entrance way and headed in. Wading through water in a 750m dark tunnel isn’t really my sound of fun, but with Johny’s enthusiasm and my stubbornness, we continued. A family walked towards us and I asked, “How deep is the water?” The father with a small child looked at me blankly, yet thankfully his wife spoke English and replied “Not deep” and pointed to her lower calves. Phew. Travelling in the dry season has got us out of many predicaments before, and this was no exception.
Johny continued his tirade in thongs, yet I decided as I wont be able to see most of what I’m treading on, I’ll risk wearing my favourite huaraches.
If I was going to step on a croc, I may as well do it in style!
Our torches were dismal. I couldn’t see a thing! Sliding over sandy rocks Johny offered to swap. “A little better, thanks” I said. We came to our first water bed and I grabbed Johny’s hand. The water was cold and as our ankles sloshed in the sandy wet, it luckily wasn’t far. We made it to the sand bank and continued as we passed more travellers. The second water crossing was a little deeper, yet with an opening in the tunnel, light flooded in showing an amazing roof full of stalagmites and bats. We stood and watched as our eyes re-adjusted to the light. Another family with two children were also watching as their kids splashed and jumped in and under the water. Later, Johny and I would agree we would be very hesitant to let our kids do the same with all those bats around. You could hear their droppings as we moved further into the cave. Yuck.
“Look, up there, see it?!” Johny exclaimed as he pointed out an inlet in the outside rock high above and an eagle perched inside. He sat regal and still, almost hoping no one would notice him. We continued our trek in the water, however this time it was a lot deeper. Reaching to our upper thighs, the cold water was unpleasant. I keep telling myself that earlier in the dry season, travellers have to wade much deeper and even at times swim through here. I focus on the small opening at the end of the tunnel and thank my lucky stars. Both Johny and I read that on the far side is Aboriginal artwork and we go on a hunt to find it. Fellow travellers have also said it was here and Johny is keen to leave no stone unturned. On the right we find paintings that have since faded and are hard to make out. We wonder if over time, erosion, water or the sun has peeled away the layers of these artworks. With no clue to how old these remnants are, we peer at them trying to make out the stories. On the far left are more rock paintings, but again they are painfully faded and we take pictures in a hope that back home we can study them further. “I don’t think many people see these,” Johny says excitedly. I agree as with the first opening of the cave, many people would think that was the end and turn back.
We think of Jandamurra and his hideout, living in these rocks and again take in this exceptional history that, like those paintings, fade with the winds to modern times.
We begin to make our way back through the tunnel, “Gosh is this deeper!” I shriek as the water laps up at my shorts. The return journey is made quicker as the cold water is bitter. As we make it to the large opening in the centre, those Grey Nomads appear. The tour guide shines her industrial sized torch up at the Ghost bats “Woah.” Johny and I wonder if this is her first time too as she leads 20 others with her. “I thought you weren’t meant to shine direct lights at the bats” I asked Johny. He shrugged his shoulders, as we both knew what the answer was.
My huaraches were soaked and now covered in sand as we make our way back over the entrance boulders. “Is this the right way?” an older couple ask perplexed. “Yep, keep coming. Would you like a hand?” we ask, as the lady looks unsure at both of us. We explain the tunnel in an effort to put them at ease and send them on their way. Back out at the car park, the sun is tirelessly hot quickly and we jump in the car happy with our efforts. Originally thinking we would spread Windjana Gorge and Tunnel Creek over two days, we now still had the afternoon despite conquering them both in one day. “Right, supplies!” I said as we agreed to drive to Derby to re-stock our dwindling food stocks.
“At least they have a water cart,” Johny notes, as again we travel the long road into Derby featuring more road works. With our busy morning, we haven’t taken lunch and are now starving. I stare out the window imagining burgers and wonder if the town has any sneaky fast food. We pull into the BP to fuel up and my stomach growls. “I wouldn’t be hungry if you hadn’t mentioned burgers to me!” Johny declared. “Sorry!” I replied sheepishly and hoped he fuelled up quickly before I run on foot to Woolworths.
With no golden arches in site, we do a full food shop and inhale a bag of chips between us before we’re out of town.
With a quick call home, we decide to stay out of town and hit the road. A Prison Boab tree is signposted and we make a quick stop to pay respects. With the sun low, the tree provides a moving place to yet another moment in time. Prisoners captured and kept here to work on the pearling boats. Its extraordinary what some people’s lives bring to them.
We continue along the road and hear from my auntie “You should see the sunset, it looks like someone has poured a bottle of orange juice across the sky.” Shocked even with my own explanation, Johny chuckles. We make for a pull off stop, roughly 80-90km from Derby and are greeted with a packed lay-by. Almost without an inch to spare, caravans, rooftops and campervans litter the site. We thankfully find a small space and pull up. Turning off the engine, Johny and I sit in silence together. Not saying a word, we know that sharing sites is not as charming as it seems and we were hoping for somewhere quiet. After gulping down chips and half a roast chicken in the car, Johny unsurprisingly isn’t hungry for dinner. He sets up our little home as I find something quick and easy, then we pile into bed exhausted. As slamming car doors, rustling and chattering seeps into the night, we close our eyes in hope of sleep.
(No pictures of Tunnel Creek as we didn’t want to risk ruining equipment through the waters)
The Cooks.
TotallyCookd. 