Snap goes the kingpin and swagging it at the Gibb River

Scratching madly at our sandfly bites we headed back to Drysdale River and then out to Miners' Pool again for an overnight stop. It was just as lovely as we left it - and this time no techno music to lull us to sleep.

Next morning we headed back to the Gibb on our way to El Questro - one of the hot spots of the East Kimberly region. But... as we were driving along we noticed that the car was pulling to one side a lot. Bill, who was driving at the time, was kept busy wrestling the car into a straight line and one time we even swerved frighteningly towards an oncoming vehicle. Fortunately we stayed safe - until we were crossing the Gibb River when the steering stopped working altogether and we slowly swung to the right and stopped in the middle of the river. It didn't take long to work out that the kingpin (rod connecting the front wheel steering) had come off and we wouldn't be going anywhere soon... Fortunately there was still enough room for other vehicles to cross the river - although pretty much every vehicle stopped and people kindly kept asking if we were OK or offering to tow us out. An incredible number of blokes hopped out of their cars and gave us all sorts of advice - some of them even disappearing under the front of our car. Many of them offered to do a quick fix but at this stage we were trying to get hold of the RACV to tow us to Kununurra to have the steering fixed, so the last thing we needed was a dodgy job done by a well-meaning bush mechanic. Weirdly, it turned out to be quite a nice day because so many people stopped to chat and to offer help, and the kids spent the entire afternoon swimming in the river which was shady and cool. A couple appeared out of the bush - they had set up camp a little way off the river - and offered to make us coffee while we waited on hold for the RACV to sort things out. But my favourite encounter occurred late afternoon when a couple pulled over and gave us a pumpkin (turns out they were locals who knew of a wild pumpkin patch on the other side of the river - they had been for a raid and offered us some of their loot)! We finally got onto the RACV on the satellite phone and were informed that a tow truck would arrive for us the following day. We were particularly thrilled with our choice of breakdown location and had a lovely evening in our swags under the Kimberly moon.

Next morning we set up our table on the shady riverbank and did puzzles until the tow truck turned up. It was a bit of a complicated manoeuvre - two dudes hauled our car onto the tow truck then one guy went back towards drysdale to pick up someone else's trailer. Meanwhile we hitched our trailer to a hire car to make the 5 hour trip to Kununurra. Unfortunately the RACV hadn't been able to hire the car to us without our drivers licences so we had to be driven to Kununurra by Tim from the tow truck company. Sadly, Tim was sexist, racist and generally obnoxious so the 5 hours seemed like 10 hours - particularly for poor Bill who was forced by Kate to sit in the front seat. The one good thing was that Tim taught us the phonetic alphabet - a new skill that we are all immensely proud of and that we display at every given opportunity - except that we can't remember what S is... Anyway, the eastern Kimberly scenery was pretty stunning - almost beautiful enough to enable us to block out Tim's monologue about Aboriginies, refugees, cars, women...

After 5 hours of Tim torture we arrived - somewhat tense but in one piece. We set up in Hidden Valley Caravan Park and cooled off in the pool. We were a bit sad to have missed the last section of the Kimberly but knew that we could do some day trips back there. We were pretty thrilled to go and buy some fresh food after a month in the Kimberly - and we made up an enormous salad to have with our fish for dinner. Despite our odd method arriving in Kununurra, we felt it would be a good place to be for the next few days.

Not a bad place to break down

Rock art nearby - this place has it all...

Sunset swimming in the Gibb River

Dusty family coming out of a month in the Kimberly

Catching up on our Womens Weekly, avoiding the crocs and hooning around on the quad bike

We all felt in need of a rest day after all the bumping and setting up and toilet-hopping. Kate and Bill settled into their camp chairs under the mango tree and spent happy hours reading the stack of Women’s Weekly mags we pilfered from the toilets and scratching our bites. Kate suggested to Bill that he may enjoy the back issues of Adventure 4X4 but he was content with his WW… 

The kids meanwhile were thrilled to play all day with the 2 granddaughters of the property owner – Nara (10yo) and Little Ruth (5yo). Nara rode expertly around the property on a quad bike while the others piled on the back and had the time of their lives – even the dog. Bill and Kate decided to turn a blind eye to the apparent dangers of this activity – after all their fun gave us peace and quiet to catch up on Kerri-Anne Kennerly’s latest exploits and Joanne Lees latest tell-all. Eventually Nara and Zara teamed up to cruise around the property, while Little Ruth and Sash played husbands and wives with a saucepan full of green mangos as their ‘babies’. In between articles, Kate checked out the beach but felt slightly nervous about getting too close to the water – we had been told by other travellers about seeing the red eyes and dark shapes of salties in these very waters. We met another (retired) couple who come to Honeymoon Bay from Mildura (4 day drive) every year and stay for three months, just fishing, exploring the islands and relaxing. They had seen a massive dark shape floating past their boat just a few days previously...

We bumped into a couple who we had met at Mount Elizabeth Station and then again at Mitchell Falls, Margaret and Ivan. They joined us under the Mango tree and we chatted about life, camping and kids. Next day, Ivan and Bill jumped on a boat with George, the caretaker of the place, for the cheapest and most successful fishing charter ever, pulling up their quota of Mangrove Jack and Trevally. Needless to say, we enjoyed fresh fish for the next few night - expertly cooked by Bill with green mangos from the tree above us. Bill considered squeezing the abdomens of some green ants onto the fish for their bitter lime flavour - but our hunt for the ants was not fruitful! 

Zara and Sash were sad to say goodbye to Nara and Little Roo, Bill was sad to say goodbye to George and his excellent fishing - but none of us were sad to say goodbye to the nasty nasty sandflies...

Back in Kalumbaru, Bill went to the Police Station to check his emails, while Kate, Zara and Sasha did a tour of the Mission museum. One of the priests from the mission had been a keen collector of stuff - from the local community, from the mission and indeed from all over the world. The museum itself was interesting, but the tour was startling. The young man who showed us around spoke about the excellent work of the mission in turning around the lives of the Aborigines who had previously lived a life of fear and violence etc etc. The kids were kind of interested in looking at the museum and then lying on the floor below the fans, but I was quietly horrified at what this young man was saying. His stories were ignorant and ill-informed and I was surprised that he was so enthusiastic about the work of the mission in the 1930s and 1940s. His manner was paternalistic and inappropriate and I was left with a nasty taste in my mouth.

 

A toilet tour of Kalumbaru - and reaching the very top!

Sorely missing fruit and vegetables and running out of many basics, we headed to Kalumbaru and the very northern coast of Australia. We had made sure we had enough fuel to make it the couple of hundred bumpy kms from Mitchell Falls NP to the little mission settlement of Kalumbaru but our mouths dropped open when we arrived, a little hot and bothered, to discover that unleaded was a whopping $3.10 per litre. Understandable considering how remote the town is, but still hard to stomach paying over $170 for 55 litres! We purchased a few groceries from the mission café before learning that the town had a larger store which even had fresh fruit and veggies brought in from Darwin via a 40-hour barge journey. However we spent an insane amount of money on a few bits of fruit and veg ($2 per apple and orange!) and wondered how the local community survive when employment opportunities would be severely limited and they have to spend that much money on basics. Kate asked one of the women in the store and she just rolled her eyes resignedly and told me they had no choice – the road in is ok but not good enough for trucks and so they pay through the nose for goods brought in by barge or plane. Kalumbaru was a mission until the 1970s when the fed govt handed back management of the area to the Aboriginal Land Corporation. The town has between 350-500 people at any time. The locals were friendly and Sash’s slightly upset stomach had us using various toilets throughout the town which gave us the opportunity to chat to some of the locals. We visited the clinic toilet and chatted to a woman there with her grandson Michael who had a nasty ear infection. Then we visited the police station cum community centre to use the toilet there and chatted to the local Department of Child Protection worker who gave us an interesting although somewhat bitter version of the challenges of working with the local community and for the government. She mentioned that a whole generation of people who had been bought up by the mission without any parental role models were now struggling with being parents themselves. She said that the community is screaming out for parenting programs but the government refused to fund any up here. Then she kindly gave the kids a massive coloured lolly ring each (much to our dismay as they had just had an ice-cream from the store).

We finally made it out to the coast – to the very top of Australia looking out on the Timor Sea. We stayed at Honeymoon Bay – a beachside property owned by a local family who allow people to camp on the beach. On our way into Kalumbaru we had passed a friendly fellow in a road grader who had asked us where we were headed. When we told him we were headed for Honeymoon Bay, he promptly told us he owned the place and to make sure we asked George to take us fishing. Naturally this got Bill’s attention and he started gazing eagerly into the distance. We drove into the campsite, quickly checked in with George to arrange a fishing trip, set up camp and then got bitten by hundreds of tiny flying insects…

A chopper ride, white-knuckle views and ancient rock art

A day to remember. Woke at 5am to the howling of dingos. Then at 8am we reported to the helipad for our safety briefing before being weighed in and taken to our helicopter. Kate quickly put her foot in it by announcing to Zara that she should sit up the front and learn how to ‘drive’ the helicopter. Duncan our friendly pilot looked at Kate witheringly before pushing and pulling 100 different leavers and knobs (probably just pretend to make us feel both impressed and safe). We were in the air for only 18 minutes (for which we had to re-mortgage the house) – but what a spectacular ride. The helicopter was doorless so the view over the plateau was magnificent – rivers, waterfalls, pools. We orbited around the Mitchell falls before landing at the top of the falls for our walk back to the campsite. Duncan told us that a large population of Aboriginal people were living on the land here until the 1940s when they were rounded up and pushed out ‘in order to protect them from a Japanese invasion’ – which of course never happened - well not here anyway. Now there is a small community living nearby – and supposedly the elders have a big say in the management of the national park – maybe? The Mitchell Falls are pretty incredible – second highest in WA (by half a metre…) – they usually keep flowing through the dry season due to the incredibly high rainfall in the wet. We would love to see a Kimberly wet season sometime – even if we had to come in at the start and leave at the end. The humidity must be insane but the storms and floods would be something worth seeing. 

The Mitchell Falls area is quite tropical with palms and jungly roots and dense, quite lush vegetation.  The drop offs around the falls were a bit scary and while we are usually pretty relaxed with our kids, we found ourselves gripping their wrists ferociously at some points. We had been told that numerous tragedies have occurred – the most recent being only a few months ago when a tourist fell to her death down Little Merton falls. Horrible. But the walk and the views were spectacular – photos will never do it justice. It was hot and somewhat exposed walking but made easier by the opportunity for regular dips in rivers, billabongs and waterholes along the way. We picnicked beside a particularly beautiful billabong and laughed at how much simpler our lunches have become – homemade damper rolls (B becoming a real dab hand at damper) with one little can of tuna or some dregs of ham, followed by half a muesli bar each and a handful of almonds. But it tasted delicious to us! The billabong was a great place for swimming and a friendly couple who had brought along blow-up mats let the kids paddle around on the mats which was great fun for them. The kids also made friends with a nice 20-something guy called Cameron who patiently tickled and chased them for ages. Climbing up around the back of the billabong we found some incredible rock art – kangaroos, boomerangs, strange skinny figures and handprints. According to our notes, some of these paintings are at least 17,000 years old. It’s kind of difficult to comprehend. We arrived back at camp in the late afternoon tired but satisfied with a pretty amazing day. 

Heading noisily to the top of Australia and enjoying a Kimberly burger

We tore open the muffler on the rough(ish) road out of Mt Elizabeth so the car started making an awful sound. We drove on to Drysdale Station, making everyone laugh and cover their ears as we drove past them. We stopped for lunch on the way in and chatted to a friendly tanned and heavily tattoed guy who warned us to go slow on the rough road ahead, and to make sure we have the Drysdale River burger for lunch rather than dinner (same burger for very different prices!). He was very passionate about the burger advice and repeated it a couple of times before we assured him we would heed his warnings. We arrived at Drysdale River Station which has a mechanic, petrol, a restaurant/bar and a small store and spoke to the mechanic who advised us to live with the noise and wait until we reached Kununnara - he assured us that although the noise is slightly embarrassing it is doing no further damage. We did however agree to buy a new (very expensive) tyre – having blown one on the Gibb. Bill valiantly tried to plug the hold but the tyre was pretty stuffed so we decided a new one would be safer. Rather than staying in the campground in town, we headed out to a place called Miners Pool – a peaceful spot with a lovely waterhole for swimming. Waking up early in the morning in this area is truly magnificent as the trees are brimmimg with birds between about 6-7.30am. Then to come back and enjoy a scolding hot coffee in the relative cool of the morning – magic. We drove into Drysdale to wash our filthy, filthy clothes, sample the famous Kimberly burger (well Bill and Sash did while Z & K had veggie options), do some shopping, and pick up our new tyre. Drysdale is a pretty friendly place with lovely shady places to do school (Zara and Bill) and puzzle after puzzle after puzzle (Sasha and Kate). We drove back for a swim (saw a freshie) and a not so peaceful night (fellow campers decided to pump up the doof doof dance music). Seriously running out of fresh food – ate our last carrot with relish.

Next morning we filled up again in Drysdale, waved goodbye to Chris the friendly mechanic and headed towards the Mitchell Plateau. We had been warned about the dreadful roads but we didn’t think it was so bad – considering how corregated the road into Drysdale had been (half the people at Drysdale were nursing broken axles and busted tyres). We bumped into the Mitchell Falls campground in the late afternoon and set up in a lovely shaded campground. 

Peacocks, smoko and scrubbers at Mount Elizabeth

Leaving Manning Gorge (rather reluctantly) we headed on to Mt Elizabeth Station - a large working cattle station which, like many Kimberly stations, now relies heavily on the tourist trade to supplement dwindling income from cattle exports. Mt Elizabeth was started by a Frank Lacy in the 1940s and is still owned by his son and daughter-in-law. We set up camp under a couple of shady mango trees and were surprised to spot a very elegant peacock in the tree above our heads. In the afternoon we drove out to a sandy river on the property to swim and play in the shade on the river beach.

Next morning we got ready to visit the gorge that draws many tourists to Mount Elizabeth. However we were told that the road was closed due to an out-of-control 'controlled' burn lit by the people on the neighbouring station and allowed to cross into the Mount Elizabeth property. The Mt Eliz folk were understandably NOT impressed and we were a bit bummed because we had been looking forward to seeing the gorge. Pat Lacy, however, gave us permission to drive to the old homestead and feed the peacocks and so we set off with our container of wheat. We had a fair bit of trouble finding the right road and passed some trucks and tough blokes out working in the heat who looked at us suspiciously even when we told them Pat had given us permission and directions. We got the impression that although tourists were so important to the running of the station, they find us generally pretty annoying and don't appreciate us getting in the way of running their cattle business. The old homestead was pretty run down and fun to explore. Peacocks came running at us in a gang demanding loudly that we feed them our wheat - which we did. Then we wandered over and checked out some sad new graves of a couple of people who were too young to die. We guessed they must have been station hands or people who's lives had been spent working at Mount Elizabeth.

In the evening we went and had dinner at the homestead. We were sat on a table with a couple who were staying at the homestead. Turns out they are helicoptering around Australia - covering vast distances and enjoying all the amazing scenery from the air! They were a bit stiff and difficult to talk to - but nice enough and it was certainly interesting to hear about their travels. The dinner was what we assume to be a typical station meal. A big chef came and banged a heap of overflowing dishes of country fare on a wooden table and then told us what was on offer. We stacked out plates high and tucked in while the rest of the station staff came and helped themselves. Kate and Zara's request for vegetarian meals had been met with polite disbelief (bit embarrassing to be a vegetarian on a cattle station) but the chef had come through with the goods - quiche and pasta with veggie sauce.

Next morning we rallied early for a tour of the station. A number of other visitors chose to tag along and listen to the commentary through the CB radio but we decided to ride in the front vehicle so we could ask questions and not have to concentrate on driving. Phil was our guide - a tough bloke who worked with the cattle on the station - sometimes staying with his wife as the only two people on the station during the rainy season - watching amazing storms and suffering the humidity. We got the impression the Phil didn't suffer fools gladly but he gave an informative and interesting commentary - and lots of insights into life on a cattle station - and working on the cattle mustering in particular. The kids were excited at the prospect of stopping for 'smoko' and we were all thrilled to have juice and a sweet biscuit whilst watching a couple of graceful brolgas by a stream. Phil showed us some amazing rock art and talked about it in a manner that was sort of in contrast to his tough-guy drover persona. We ate lunch and swam at a lovely waterhole, which Phil informed us was an ancient Aboriginal burial site and indeed we could see a skull and some pretty amazing art. It made us feel slightly uncomfortable because we probably shouldn't have been at such an obviously sacred site. Phil assured us that he had sought permission from local people, but we were not so sure... During the trip we spotted heaps of 'bully boys' - or so Phil called them - in other words huge angry looking bulls that had never been rounded up in the muster. Some of them had escaped year after year and so remained unbranded and untouched by human hand. These are the bulls to be scared of and Phil entertained us with a tale of a drover who only a few months earlier had been gored by one such bull on the station. A horn had gone in his stomach and up. Amazingly they managed to fly him out quick smart and he lived. However these stories made us city folk feel a bit nervous and pathetic and we huddled close to Phil on our numerous stops on the station. And the snorting and puffing made by a rogue bull who found his way into our campsite that night was enough to have us shaking at the bottom of our sleeping bags until he stomped angrily away.

The beautiful Kimberly Rose

Feral campers - time for a haircut?

Sad farewells, another gorgeous gorge and chocolate marshmallow damper

After such a lovely time in the Kimberly it was time to say goodbye to Sasha, Jane and Nina. They were heading back to Broome via James Price Point (to check out and support the protest - but unfortunately thwarted by a road block) and the Broome Bird Observatory (to camp next to serious twitchers and birdos and spot even more fabulous birds). The separation of food and belongings took an incredibly long time but eventually everyone was packed up, many hugs were had, and we all hit the road.

It was strange being back to just the four of us. It was oddly quiet and the kids talked longingly about when they would see their grandparents back in Melbourne. We squatted next to the side of the road and ate our standard order lunch of tuna and biscuits and cucumber and then pushed on to a lovely campsite at Manning Gorge. The campsite was right on a lovely swimming hole and an hour or so walk from an amazing gorge with waterfalls and rock holes and all sorts of wonderful things. We headed to the gorge the following morning with fishing-starved Bill dragging his rod all the way. The walk began with a deep water crossing which required putting backpacks and hiking boots into plastic boxes and then swimming them across. Zara, who is a regular little fish these days, swam easily across, but little Sash was very reluctant to jump into the cool waters and be dragged to the other side. Eventually we all managed it and we were all dripping wet, keeping us cool on the hot walk ahead. The walk was pretty scrambly and hilly but well worth it. Not only did we have a great time swimming, jumping into the icy water and sliding on our bottoms down little trickly waterfalls - but Bill caught a black bream which he carried bobbing up and down on his rod all the way home for dinner. On a roll, Bill outdid himself in the kids' eyes by concocting the most delicious and indulgent dessert known to campers. First he made damper laced with drinking chocolate, into which he inserted pieces of swiss chocolate and marshmellow before folding the dough over to make a sort of calzone-style piece of deliciousness that was cooked in the camp oven and then devoured by four hungry beasts...

We liked Manning Gorge so much we decided to stay another day - relaxing and swimming in the waterhole. The kids met yet another friendly family with four similar aged kids and spent happy hours playing hide and seek, collecting treasure and climbing trees. The family joined us around the campfire that night and told us tales about traveling Australia in their converted bus. Bill continued his baking frenzy by making damper rolls for lunch - a tradition which really kept our lunches afloat during our time in the Kimberly - right up until we had nothing left to put on them!

water crossing on the way to Manning Gorge