Home Valley Heaven

Leaving Drysdale at 7.30 am the temperature began to rise, and for the first time we were wearing shorts in the evening rather than 3 layers. As I type this we’re in our ‘tented camp’ with fan going full-blast, and it’s in the upper 30s outside and too hot to do anything much – except the blog. We next tackled the infamous Kalumburu Road to Mitchell Falls, and after the previous day’s tyre disaster we were a little nervous. There were indeed many sections that were ‘pretty average’ but it was more to do with deep and bone-shaking corrugations than rocks and stones. Being a passenger is almost as tiring as driving, as you can’t help keeping an eye on the road for hazards such as sharp rocks, disguised pot-holes and wandering cows. We got to the Mitchell Falls site by lunchtime, which like our next night’s camp was a ‘bush camp’ – ie the only amenities were non-flush loos and hot and cold running spiders.
Highlight of the camp was the little Boobook owl, who flew from tree to tree around us as we played Scrabble by the campfire. Next thing he was on the ground, just a couple of yards from Nick’s chair, watching us. He was small and tubby with a bossy expression, and if you’d been told to draw a cartoon of a ‘cute’ owl, he would be it. For the rest of the evening he teased us, suddenly appearing on the ground near our fire, then flying off up into the trees before we could reach for the camera.
Because the temperature had really climbed, we decided to set off for Mitchell Falls at 7 am next morning. It wasn’t too difficult a walk, and only took about an hour but the peace was shattered by the helicopters that started up at 7.30, flying people in or out, or sometimes both ways. The falls were on Nick’s ‘must see’ list, and really were worth the day’s driving. We found another wonderful swimming place, with larger pools and warmer water than at Bell Gorge, and had it completely to ourselves (bar the air traffic overhead). The walk back was much harder because of the heat, and packing up camp in the noon-day sun nearly did for Nick, who was fighting a bit of a throat bug.
The next stop was just a couple of hours down the road, at King Edward River. Again bush camping with very few other tents. We found a site right by the river and so had our own private piece of river bank. Unfortunately there were also the worst loos of the trip so far, but this was outweighed by the peace and beauty of the place (even the wandering bull was friendly). As P G Wodehouse’s character Anatole would say, you have to take the roughs with the smooths, and I’ve found this is particularly true of the camping life.And then it was time to move on to Home Valley, which marks the half-way point of our trip. We found a camping ground that was green, with soft newly sprinklered grass that saw us kicking off our dusty shoes and wiggling our toes about in pure pleasure. We camped here in our own tent the first 2 nights, and then last night moved to one of the spacious ‘safari tents’ with a bed, electric light and a fan! Two nights of luxury that Nick had booked for my birthday, and it is indeed a treat and a chance to relax, as well as unload the car, dis-inter things from the layers of dust, and just enjoy the lush spaciousness of the campsite. The first night at dinner at the homestead we both remarked on how completely surreal it seemed after a month on the road. The previous night at the King Edward site I’d jumped fully dressed into the river, as this seemed the quickest and simplest way of getting the dust off me and my clothes. Now here we were, freshly showered and wearing the pale-coloured clothes we’d mistakenly packed for the trip, eating salad from a buffet someone else had prepared and listening to a man playing the guitar. I’d even uncovered what Nick has been known to refer to as the ’30-lb make-up bag’ (what an exaggeration, it is in fact just a lipstick, eye pencil and mascara). This hadn’t yet seen the light of day as I’m afraid to say nowadays my toilette is complete if I can find a tap to run my feet under, and manage to get a comb through my hair – the best campsites have hot showers and no mirrors in my opinion. I do however always slick on the lip salve in these dryer than dry conditions – an unfortunate side-effect is the dust that sticks to the lips after this. However, who needs lipstick when you can have lips that are Road-train Rouge or Kimberley Crimson for free?

Pics: Mitchell Falls

Pentecost River crossing

Birthday breakfast, safari tent Home Valley

Kimberley Capers

A long time – almost a fortnight – since our last blog but here in the outback there has been no mobile coverage, so no Net. Finally arriving at Home Valley we were able to drive up a nearby hill to receive Telstra, so made phone calls, read e-mails and did a bit of banking perched on a huge flat boulder. Several people turned up to do likewise – a good business op. for an Internet café if ever I saw one. It was great to get our e-mails (many thanks, afraid there wasn’t enough battery to reply to them) but strangely up until then we hadn’t missed the Net, living in the parallel universe of camping, so totally removed from our everyday world.
After the spectacular Cape Levique we finally hit the Gibb River Road, and much of it hit us as in places the road can only be described as ‘pretty average’ (local speak for rough as a goat track). The dust was well and truly with us once more, finer and slightly less staining than the Karijini dust, but as pervasive as ever. The inside of the car has a continual coating, as does everything in it including us. As Nick said if ever one of the punters renting our house complains of dust we’ll say “Dust? DUST?? You don’t know what dust is until you’ve camped in the Karijini or crossed paths with a road train on the Gibb River Road.”
This was the start of our meandering through the Kimberley, taking in more truly amazing gorges. Windjana Gorge was our first stop – not a particularly interesting one but we did see our first crocs – Freshwater, the shyer less dangerous cousin of the Salty. Freshies are also much smaller (clutch-bag rather than Mulberry tote) and in one place alone Nick counted over a hundred, sunning themselves on the far bank.
Next day we moved on to Bell Gorge, which has been our favourite so far. A steep clamber up and then down over huge boulders took us to beautiful deep pools with small cascades (and no crocs). The water was icy to get into, but wonderfully refreshing after the first gasp and we spent several hours there swimming and watching the birds and wildlife, including a 2-ft long monitor lizard sunning on a rock. Several people made the steep walk down, only to turn round and walk back up as they hadn’t got bathers with them, so for most of the time we had the place to ourselves. On the way back I managed to fall in while crossing the river and I’m sad to report that all Nick did was laugh till he cried and take pics of me flailing around trying to get back out. This was to the complete bewilderment of a Scandinavian couple who stood looking embarrassed at the lack of English chivalry.
Then it was on to Mornington, where they’d thoughtfully provided a radio at the turn-off so you could check ahead to see if there was room at the campsite, before embarking on the 80+ km drive in. Mornington is 312,000 hectares of wilderness owned by the Australian Wildlife Conservancy, so a haven for animals and birds, including some on the endangered list. We had a wonderful campsite amongst tall trees, and even more wonderful hot showers. We spent 3 days here exploring gorges, canoeing on the mighty Fitzgerald River and had the feeling that we had the place almost to ourselves with so much space and so few people in it. Walking down to the gorges we stepped down over huge slabs of rock, that changed colour with each layer. As we descended Nick wondered how many millions of years we were walking through with each step.
In the afternoons we’d pootle slowly back to camp along the backtracks, me driving and Nick yelling ‘Stop!’ every few minutes. This wasn’t a comment on my driving but because we were looking for the multicoloured endangered Gouldian finches. No luck there, but plenty of other birds to see – one of my favourite was the tiny Spinifex dove, tiny pigeons with important chests strutting along the road, crests like Centurions’ helmets.
In the Kimberley we are also in Boab tree territory, with their enormous bulbous trunks tapering into spindly branches which are bare at the moment, save for a few large yellow flowers and fruit like small green mangoes. We feel they’re definitely the Ents out of Lord of the Rings. Leaving Mornington was not such a good day for me. I began by spilling both our coffees, and my premonition that this was to be the day of our first puncture while I was driving proved to be correct on both counts. I was pretty fed up that it happened on my watch as the road was comparatively smooth and rock free (certainly compared to the rocky stream bed I’d driven through in full 4WD mode the previous afternoon). However, in mitigation m’lud the grader had just been through, which always turns over sharp bits of stone. Apart from being extremely hot and dusty work, partic. of course for poor Nick, there was no problem changing the tyre for one of our two spares, although the damaged trye was split down the side and had to be replaced at Drysdale Station, our evening stop. The replacement wasn’t as exorbitant as we’d feared, given that petrol is $2.50 a litre out here, and with the hot showers at Drysdale the day ended much better than it had begun.

Pics: Pool, Bell Gorge

Airport lounge at Mornington airstrip

Internet cafe

Cape Levique

We're now at the top of a peninsula but are amazed to find that we're still in mobile, and thus internet, contact. Cape Levique had been recommended by several people as one of the most beautiful spots in Australia, and it truly has lived up to its star billing. On the way up from Broome - only half of the 200 km was on dirt roads and so a much easier journey than we'd anticipated - we stopped off at the famed shell church in Beagle Bay. It was a Friday morning and we parked in front of the primary school where lessons were in progress at a table outside the Principal's office. As we and a group of others stepped into the church we realised a service for some of the schoolkids was in progress. Three tiny kids in school uniform but bare feet were given rewards of red footballs for clearing up litter (without being asked to). Then a young visiting African priest in immaculate white robes sang two hymns and the whole congregation was held spellbound as his voice filled the little church. Plastic rosary beads were handed out to everyone, including us, and the service was over. The church is famous for its altar made almost entirely of shells and mother of pearl, but it was a nice to find it is also part of the community and not just a tourist attraction.
On to Cape Levique, and we were lucky enough to find we had a western facing campsite, and were able to watch the sunset turn the rocks a deep deep red. As the sun set the moon, which is full tomorrow, rose and shone straight into our tent. However, there has been a down side to Cape Levique and that has been the 30+ knot winds which got up at about 3 am on the first night (and so did we, to check the tent) and have hardly died down since. I found it quite alarming being rocked by the gale which made the car sway from side to side,and had to get reassurance from Nick that the car and tent wouldn't tip over. We do wonder if in a sudden gust the whole apparatus will snap shut and we'll be a tent sandwhich though. But at least we were too high for the tent to fill with sand/dust, which happened to our neighbours. Apparantly the wind will die when Perth gets a good bit of low pressure (sorry to be sending you bad weather wishes down south).
It's a friendly campsite, and each night we've built a fire in the BBQ (a big pile of wood nearby with a Beware of Snakes sign) and have chatted into the small hours (ie 9 pm bedtime). A very useful way of getting to know the best things to see and places to stay, and also the condition of the roads. I'm amazed by the whole Grey Nomad thing, and not a little impressed. I'd thought that grey nomads just took off in smart caravans and ventured from one powered site to another. But there are also those who have been travelling for months, following the warm weather in an anti-clockwise direction to us. They are the true nomads, staying sometimes for weeks in a spot they like, particularly if the fishing is good, and know a thing or too about surviving both the dirt roads, and camp life (have picked up some good recipes for camp-oven scones and the best batter to fry your freshly caught fish in - a recipe I fear we won't manage to use...).
Yesterday we tagged along on a tag-along tour - six 4WD vehicles, with Eric guiding us - an Aboriginal whose great grandfather hailed from Manchester. Because Cape Levique is Aboriginal owned he was able to take us to places that we wouldn't normally have access to, and a lot of soft-sand driving was involved. Great fun, but quite skiddy and slidey and we had to lower the pressure in our tires. The scenery was truly breathtaking, he took us to pristine beaches where we snorkelled and tried our hand at fishing - Nick got the hang of casting into the sea eventually, whirling the line round like a lasso, but I just hooked my own hat. No fish though. We finished with a meal of billy tea, damper (Eric claimed his wife had made it, but it was suspiciously uniform and round, and came in plastic bags) and BBQd turtle. I tried some and it was delicious, a bit like chicken, but wasn't at all sure if ethically I liked eating it. Today we've tried unsucessfully to dodge the wind, and will be heading out and north tomorrow. Several fellow campers are also leaving, as there seems to be no sign of the wind abating yet.
We'll travel along the Gibb River Road for two weeks, into the Kimberely, the idea for this part of the journey was the seed that germinated into our own grey nomadic experience.

Pics: Church, Beagle Bay

Sunset, Cape Levique

To Broome and back

Not sure when we will be online again - maybe in 4 days' time, maybe not until the end of the month. So thought I'd continue with a little bit more about life under canvas and atop Prado. Following our stay in Broome Motel, where I think we washed enough red iron ore out of our clothes and ourselves to supply a small steel mill in China, we took another red road to the Broome Bird Observatory, just out of town. A very charming, albeit fairly basic bush camp amongst the stubby trees, and sand underfoot. We're getting quite adept at setting up camp (striking it is much more of a pain) so it was down to the lookout at the beach - the most amazing greeny turquoise sea and pale orange sand. I got out the paints for the first time and Nick did what he came here for, ie watched birds. Back at camp we had tea in the communal camp kitchen where we watched wallabies drinking from the stone bird baths just a few yards away, while a sparrowhawk looked imperiously on and frightened all other birds away. We were able to cook supper in the kitchen, a friendly place which reminded me of the 6th form common room at school (but without the illicit smoking). Lots of birding talk, but also got good reports on Cape Levique, which is where we head out to tomorrow. There was one place left on the mangrove swamp tour for this morning, so Nick signed up. After explaining to him that he'd need footware suitable for wading up to his thighs in mud, plus plenty of mozzie repellant, they then very kindly said that they could squeeze me onto the tour as well. I felt I just had to turn down this generous offer, tempting though it was. Nick enjoyed his swamp, and got duly covered in mud (he abandoned his shoes - or they abandoned him - and squelched barefoot). Meanwhile I set up the computer with the phone connection at our camp table under the trees, and felt like a foreign correspondent typing in a report from the African jungle. All was hunky dory until I discovered that Google seem to have hijacked the site, and spent all the computer battery life trying to log on to my own blog.

Big treat later, our neighbours from our block in Perth, who winter up in Broome, invited us over to lunch - really great to see them, and wonderful not to dig about in our fridge in the car for lunch. They told us of the webcam set up on Cable Beach, so at sunset we hurtled over there, phoned Simon and Kate and told them to log onto the site. Amazing being able to wave to S in Greece and K in Adelaide, and they could describe what we were wearing/doing.

In case you're wondering about the photos, the third is how the car looked for the first 10 days, until we managed to hose it down at our last station stay (it now looks marginally cleaner). The last one is me (with essential miner's headlamp) rootling around in one of the plastic bins we keep our clothes, books, and everything else in. At least the bad language was muffled as I toppled headfirst into its depths. Also essential have been the Crocs, and having been pretty rude about these strange looking shoes in the past I now admit to owning 2 pairs, both in traditonal clog and jazzier thong style. They are in fact the d's b's when it comes to camping and are the footwear of choice for the discerning camper. Oh, and Simon and Kate, you might be pleased to know that the Hong Kong Taplight has really come into its own.

Pics: Sunset, Cable Beach, Broome

(very) Agile Wallaby

Spot the car

Bin there

....Because you're Gorge-ous

You might be wondering how we're surviving life under canvas and on top of the car, almost 2 weeks into our safari. There are definitely one or two downsides to the camping life, perhaps the biggest being the dust. We found when we got to the Karijini site that not only were we and the car already covered in a thickish layer of the red Pilbara, but that the site was made up of it too. So no respite where we could lay things out on grass, we just had to get used to it. We thought that the Karijini itself was so spectacular that when we were last there in 2005 we vowed to come back and spend more time, so that meant putting up with being a fetching shade of red - like everyone else. The showers were tepid at best, but by the 2nd day we worked it that we arrived back at camp while there was still enough heat in the sun to make this bearable (almost).

The other drawback to the Karijini was that it was 3 degrees C when we got up in the mornings - getting out of the cozy cocoon of duvet into the cold carapace of dusty clothes took almost more willpower than I was capable of. But here Nick's years of experience came to the fore, not so much camping experience as knowing that I could only be enticed outside by the early morning cuppa. Good on that man! There was a small bar and restaurant there which made it much easier to endure the cold cold evenings, and we were lucky enough to catch the whole of the stunning Olympics opening ceremony.

So not a good camping experience, but it really was worth it for the Karijini itself. Once the sun came up we enjoyed temperatures in the mid to high 20s, just perfect for walking and scrambling up and down the gorges. Or rather down and then up, as the Karijini is flat as you gaze into the distance, but has spectacular gorges plunging at your feet to a whole other world of trees, palms, waterfalls and pools. Some of the climbs down were almost vertical, but it was worth it for the landscape of fantastic colours, and the complete peace in the more remote spots. Nick's promise that it was easier climbing up than down proved to be true, and I'm pleased to say that there was no more mention of me taking a jump off a cliff (or as Nick more politely put it, abseiling).

In contrast to the National Park campsites, we've found that the places we've enjoyed staying at the most are on the working stations (livestock, not trains, we're not that desperate yet). Our favourite site so far was outside Exmouth at a sheep station where we were the only campers (3 caravans were plugged into power on the other side of a stand of trees) and had a vast vista of open bushland in front of us. And grass to camp on! At sunset we took a walk down the long red earth airstrip with countless wildflowers growing alongside it, and on the way back gathered brushwood for the campfire. We buried spuds to bake in the coals (something I haven't done since I was 10) and cooked our chops on top of the fire, and realised that camping is all about being a kid again. And of course we washed the meal down with lashings of Cab. Sav.

When planning the trip we did allow oursleves one or two luxuries - Nick's being a supply of Sharwoods mango chutney to feed his addiction, and mine fresh coffee, and Clinique factor 25 moistuiriser (both of course essentials rather than luxuries). However, after a rather disastrous experiement balancing mug and coffee filter on the sloping bonnet of the car (a definite design fault in the Prado I feel) I have had to lower my standards to instant coffee when actually travelling.

Now we're up in Broome enjoying a night in a motel (the best shower I've ever had), and after a night at the Bird Observatory will head up to Cape Levique, Aboriginal land and what the guide describes as 'a remote wilderness paradise' by the sea. Then it's on to spend a fortnight or so travelling the Gibb River Road - 4WD only. Easily one the of the best bits about camping has being able to decide what we want to do, change our minds, and not stick to a schedule. So far we've managed to see most of what we planned, but not necessarily in the order we originally thought. Another has been the people we've met - we've discovered Grey Nomads come in all sorts of guises, most are a decade or two older than us, but with a wealth of advice on the best campsites, and the places not to be missed, and we've enjoyed evening round campfires swapping stories.

Pics: Hammersley Gorge, Karajini

Millstream, Chichester National Park

Wildflowers at side of road: Sturt's Desert Pea (red)

Joffre Gorge, Karijini

Perth and on our way

Hard to believe it was only a week ago that the tent was raised (many thanks to all the support - physical and moral - Banjo and I dedicate the poem just to you) and that we've been on the road for a whole 5 days. Camping going surprisingly well, tent is comfy and easy to put up - easy for me, ie as Nick does most of it. Living out of our car, which is loaded to the gunwhales, is a test of ingenuity and patience and we've got used to being covered in red dust every time we lean against the car to dig for something.
The 2nd night, after hours of exciting dirt-track driving (the 4WD course came into its own when I nearly bogged the car down in deep mud) we didn't make it to our campsite. You really don't want to be caught driving at Skippy o'clock, when roos line the side of the road with the express purpose of jumping under your wheels. So as dusk fell we made camp in the back of beyond (or was it the back of Burke?). Highlight was watching stars appear while sipping a G&T with just the vast Aussie landscape for company. Or almost. Lowlight was a large bull screaming at us from a very few yards away - Bill Bryson obviously forgot to include bulls in his long list of Australia's dangerous wildlife. Eventually the bull plucked up courage to cross in front of our car and join its mate and I plucked up courage to get out of the passenger seat and rejoin my G&T.

We made it to Mt Augustus, the world's largest rock, next morning and spent a magical day there. We scrambled over boulders up a gully to look at Aboriginal rock carvings, and decided to follow the trail upwards. It's not easy to describe the beauty and feeling of timelessness, red ochre rocks and white gum trees silhouetted against the deep blue sky. Then a gentle (comparatively) walk down through scrub dotted with wildflowers.

One thing we're realising is what a vast and unpopulated land this is. Next day we drove towards Coral Bay - 5 hours of dirt roads - and saw just 3 other vehicles. The Coral Bay night was in a vast caravan site, but we were glad of the hot showers and found a good place to eat (yippee! no washing up in a tiny basin).
We're now in Exmouth, having a night in a motel while we sort out the car and get to the laundrette tomorrow (my jeans are so stiff with dust they can walk by themselves). Had a windy night by the beach (had to get up at midnight and take down the awning but the tent stood up to the gusts well - thanks heavens), and in 24 hours saw echidna, goanna, rock wallabies, dolphins and whales, and of course roos - most of the wildlife here seem fatally attracted to the wheels of our car but have so far avoided adding to roadkill. The wildflowers that WA is famed for are just coming out here - just amazing colours and variety. We went snorkelling in the truly eponymous Turquoise Bay.
Tomorrow we're off to a bush camp for a night or maybe two, and then on to Karajini National Park. Nick told me that he thinks I might enjoy some of the guided walks abseiling down into the gorges and climbing back up again. When I stopped laughing I pointed out that living on the roof of our car for two months was just about all the excitement I needed right now.

Up up and away

The Poms from Swanny River














(with apologies to A.B. (Banjo) Paterson)
There was gossip at the Hub, for word had passed around
That the man from B&V had got away,
And had joined the wild Grey Nomads - he was worth a thousand pound,
So all good blokes had gathered to the fray.
All the tried and noted expats from the suburbs near and far
Had mustered at the homestead overnight,
For strong men were sorely needed to set the tent up on the car,
And the Sheilas supped the bottle with delight.