The Gibb River Road, Part 2
Mount Barnett Roadhouse was open as we left Manning Gorge campground. We refueled and stocked up on the only items I'd under catered for; onions and bread. And of course the kids got an ice-cream. When I asked for information about the seven day forecast the woman looked at me askew and said, "it's The Dry love, it'll be the same tomorrow as it is today until it's The Wet".
Looking to step back from the crowds, we pulled up that day at an unofficial camp at Hann River Crossing. It was busy when we arrived and near chockerblock by the evening, but still a beautiful spot. Set on the banks of the shallow and shady Hann River it was the perfect playground for kids - particularly as others had confirmed the absence of crocs.
Charmed by the opportunity to simply stay put and immerse ourselves in the Kimberley, we decided to stay another two nights but we shifted camp to a more private spot on the other side of the river crossing. Sadly, Hugh’s bike was sacrificed in the rushed move when it snagged on a too-close tree, bending the handlebars beyond repair.
The sun hadn’t set before we found ourselves sharing our new "secluded" spot on the river. An old campervan-cum-bus pulled in and promptly got itself bogged in the soft sand. Matthias reluctantly went over to offer a hand and I followed with the kids. Our new neighbours were a classic Ma and Pa Kettle couple, touring from Tassie, both deaf as old boots and comically cantankerous. They’d apparently stopped in at "one of those places people call gorges" and "didn’t think much of it". The gorges, they said, are much more impressive in Tassie. Ma didn’t even bother going in for a look, "not with my bad back".
It was now crunch time whether or not we take on Mitchell Falls. I'd always had it in mind that we would do it but Matthias was much less enthusiastic. It's a huge detour off the Gibb, the return drive equalling as many kilometres as the Gibb River Road itself. And the last 80km was supposed to be rougher than any stretch we'd expect to see on the Gibb. We'd agreed to go to the turn off and speak to people on their return to determine just how bad the roads were. There we heard reports of a tow truck driver who'd towed four trailers out in the last week, at a cool $4,000 a pop. That was enough for us to close the book on Mitchell Falls, at least for this trip. We only slightly started to reconsider our decision when a young German couple driving an almost identical Touareg as ours pulled into our camp to regale us with their successful trip out to the falls. If they could do it then surely we could too. But hey, they didn't have two kids and a trailer in tow. I was just happy in the knowledge that someone else was out there killing it in a Touareg!
Content with our conclusion to skip Mitchell Falls, we decided to drive a few kilometres up the Kalumburu Road and enjoy another couple of quiet nights soaking up the scenery, this time on the banks of the Gibb River itself. Ironically the Gibb River never actually intersects the road to which it gave its name. It was here that we saw some of the best rock paintings to date. They were only a small sample but striking images of white and red crocodiles and spirit figures.
After five nights in the wilderness it was a treat to pull into Ellenbrae Station and enjoy their famous fresh scones jam and cream in the beautiful homestead garden. Hugh, starved of playmates after our last two bush camps was quick to make new friends playing in an old bull catcher and sandpit. I perused the bird book and read picture books to Claire while Matthias avoided society by busying himself with setting up camp.
We checked out the station's Sandy Gorge in the afternoon and had the small waterhole to ourselves for the first half hour. Matthias had to make a dash for his clothes when his nudy swim was interrupted by another party coming up the track.
Just as we were pulling out of the Jackeroo camp the following day, one of the other late-leaving parties waved us down looking for a jump start. An hour later we still hadn't got them started and we left them in the hands of one of the mechanically inclined station employees. While Matthias had been playing amateur mechanics with Geoff, Lynn and Lexie indulged their inner grandmothers playing with Hugh and Claire. The kids were treated to piggyback races and 20 minutes of luxury inside the trio's caravan drinking cold cordial and eating Tim Tams.
As we'd anticipated from reports from westbound travellers, the stretch of road after Ellenbrae was the pits. We took it slowly averaging 40-50kmph and we believe we've come away unscathed.
We stopped for a late lunch at the dry Bindoola Falls. Hugh was impressed to find some sharp flint, which he recognised from our cultural tour with Bolo, as making excellent cutting tools. He learned just how effective they are when he sliced open his little finger when chopping up his apple.
Not much further down the road we made it to the Pentecost River. For me this marked a successful crossing of the Gibb River Road. Yes, we still had El Questro Station ahead of us, but to me El Questro was like the after party. We hit our first spot of mobile reception (though only fleeting) as we passed over the range. That and crossing the broad shallow Pentecost River felt like we'd emerged from the wilderness. I had a moment of serene happiness as I sat on my camp chair over looking the river. Matthias was preparing the camp fire and the kids were playing happily in the sand. I had a Scotch and soda in hand (the first in 8 months) and a bowl of cheap salty salad olives. I felt glowingly content.
It turned out that we missed the full extent of said El Questro afterparty. We'd been warned that camping was at capacity, and that is exactly what we found. I think if we'd been super keen we could have secured an unpowered site, as others who arrived before 11am attested to. But instead we decided to pack three of El Questro's beauty spots into a single day visit and leave it at that.
We started with Zebedee Hot Springs, which was really beautiful though chockerblock; then we walked out to Amalia Gorge. It was quite a hike to get out to the furthest pool and I was impressed to see another group doing it with four small kids, all incredibly capable. We didn't have the patience and took it in turns to walk out to the end. The flowering grevillias were fabulous and we found an impressive example of the Kimberley Rose.
Finally we did Emma Gorge, starting late in the day and subsequently finishing just on sunset. It was a beautiful walk through a towering gorge to arguably the best waterfall on the Gibb. We were lucky to spot (have pointed out to us) a small fresh water crocodile in the first swimming pool. It's incredible camouflage confirmed that there could easily have been "freshies" lurking just as well hidden in the other pools, like Adcock and Galvans, that we swam at.
Tired, hungry and with no planned camping spot, it was a tough end to a long day. Luckily we found the Cockburn Rest Area a short drive down the road on the intersection out to Kununurra. A couple of cans of baked beans quelled our hunger before we all crawled into bed.
