The Gibb River Road, Part 1
Our journey started at Birdwood Downs Station, a peaceful station stay just outside of Derby. We’d chosen Derby over Broome to shop for Gibb River Road provisions but all advice warned against staying in town due to high tourist targeted crime rates. So we enjoyed the lush grounds and free ranging chickens of Birdwood Downs and went into Derby for a day trip. The town was underwhelming, though full of history and some good iron artwork. By contrast, the food shop was totally overwhelming. Snatching together three week’s worth of supplies an hour before closing time with two trollies and two tired and hungry kids will go down as one of my worst shopping experiences.
We had a minor heart flutter the morning of our departure out of Birdwood, noticing that our oil leak had worsened. Was it folly starting the Gibb with this known handicap? A consultation with a friendly local mechanic allayed our concerns and we made a slightly delayed departure for Windjana Gorge.
Windjana Gorge felt like the real start of the Gibb for us. The campground was open and dusty and alive with other travelling families. We did the short Savannah walk to take in our new surroundings and heard agile wallabies agitating the tall crackly grass well before we saw them shoot across our path. The air above us was filled with circling birds of prey soaring over the ridge of the towering Devonian reef. As the moon was rising and the sun was throwing red across the cliffs, we walked into the gorge itself, entering through a dramatic narrow gap in the rock wall. Within minutes we’d sighted our first fresh water croc and there were many more to come. As the light faded, out came the bats and the cane toads.
After waking to a resplendent Kimberley sunrise on the cliffs behind our camp, viewed from the snug comfort of the camper, we drove the 37km to Tunnel Creek. We learned the legendary tale of the indigenous freedom fighter Jandamarra and the violent demise of him and his people at the hands of colonial settlers. With Jandamarra's story in mind, we braved the awesome subterranean walk through the creek, in waters that are allegedly visited by fresh water crocs. The crocs remained elusive but little frogs, cherabun (crustaceans) and fish fled before our feet and a colony of ghost bats escaped under our torch beams. Emerging into the light upstream we were greeted by huge water monitors basking in the sun and found our first examples of indigenous rock painting.
The following day was marred by a nasty accident where one of the kids we were playing with fell with his hands into the previous night's fire pit. He and his family raced back to Derby, leaving the rest of us feeling shellshocked and ultra aware of the everyday dangers we face, made worse by our geographical vulnerability.
The following day we encountered a bit of our own drama, firstly driving off with the jockey wheel still down. We were lucky to get away with minimal damage and with a few tweaks the wheel is still functional. We continued on what was a beautiful drive, climbing up onto the top of the Wunaamin Miliwundi (King Leopold) Range. We enjoyed the first of some Kimberley classics including yellow kapok flowers, the occasional red Kimberley Rose and three elegant Brolgas that we stopped to let cross the road.
Our second dose of drama ensued when we stopped at Lennard River Gorge. We decided to leave the trailer behind for the reported short but rocky drive in, but for some reason we struggled to get it unhitched. Blocking the road, when another car drove up behind us, we panicked, gave the trailer a good hip and shoulder, and snagged Matthias's thumb in the trailer coupling in the process. Blood poured out of poor Matthias who was otherwise completely composed and simply said, "Beck I can't carry on, get help". Luckily we had the best help on hand. Barry helped me get the trailer sorted and car out of the way while Maggie applied her cool head and nursing skills in patching up Matthias' sliced thumb.
Ironically though, the whole saga was in vain. Patched up we followed our friends up the gorge road only to have a message passed back to us that the creek crossing ahead was likely beyond the Touareg's capabilities. So around we turned! We re-hitched the trailer, me having to step up to duties that until then had been Matthias's domain. After a brief lunch and recovery stop at the peaceful and very beautiful Dog Chain Creek we made it into Silent Grove.
Silent Grove was home to the beautiful Bell Gorge where we had a great day swimming and hiking around the spreading pools and waterfalls.
The campground was buzzing with kids and Hugh wasted no time throwing himself amongst them. He was the youngest by almost two years but he was warmly included and made to feel one of the tribe. They moved through the campground like a swarm of bees on their bikes, Hugh generally bringing up the rear on his tiny blue machine.
There was also a group of older kids who, clearly moved by the environmental crisis caused by the cane toad, had taken it upon themselves to eradicate the campground of the warty pest. They could be seen after dark, hauling a bin bag full of their victims as they scoured the camp on their killing spree. I actually recruited their services after I collected two toads in a bucket but was too squeamish to do away with them myself. Hugh and I watched intrigued as our young pest disposal expert grabbed a leg of each toad with his bare hands and smacked them swiftly, no nonsense over a rock. Lights out toad!
Claire and I had a much more pleasant wildlife encounter when we spied a little sugar glider in the tree above our camp. We watched it scramble up the branches then throw itself through the air to the next tree.
The next day we had a brief stop to dump five days worth of rubbish and refuel at Imintje Roadhouse then pitched up camp at Roger's Hollow, a free camp just off the road and opposite the entrance to Adcock Gorge.
Adcock was a beauty. The walk in passed beautiful lily pad covered clear water then opened onto a gorgeous pool with trickling waterfall. We'd heard reports of a resident croc but that didn't stop anyone swimming and the croc remained out of sight while we were there.
We hit another lovely gorge the next day, Galvans Gorge which was a short walk to a round pool with a good waterfall and rope swing. It was a favorite spot for people to launch themselves from great heights into the water. Despite the crowds, the water was home to turtles and sizeable fish that kept to the fringes and a water monitor that swam right across the pool between the swimmers.
Lunch plans were quickly changed when we reached Mount Barnett Roadhouse only to find it closed. Wraps made a poor substitute for burgers and chips, but a brief call into Mum and Dad on the Telstra (former) pay phone was a good treat.
We didn't know it at the time but Manning Gorge campground was the last of the big campgrounds for our Gibb trip. It was the biggest and busiest yet. The crowds were starting to get a bit much for our otherwise reclusive family. It was however a paradise for the kids. It had a fabulous little lagoon with sandy beach, rope swing and hand operated rope and pulley boat crossing. Hugh was quick to muck in with the other kids and as a family we got to ride the novel ferry when we set out on the walk to the falls.
We had a cracking day at Manning Gorge Falls. We ignored all the advice to set out early to beat the heat on the long and unshaded walk and instead set out when most people were returning to camp. "It's definitely worth it" was the catchphrase of every returning hiker, but our trail-hardened kids didn't seem phased by the apparently gruelling walk. None of the accounts of the gorge itself were exaggerated. It was superb. And given our relatively late arrival we had it almost to ourselves for the rest of what was a glorious afternoon.
And so we closed out our first week on the Gibb.
