I am sitting on the balcony of a ’safari tent’ listening to the babble of the creek not twenty metres away. The sun is setting, a cool breeze is blowing through our tent (a structure the size of a small apartment with a hard elevated floor, canvas and flyscreen walls, with en-suite, bar fridge and queen size bed) and the finches dart to and fro amongst the riparian foliage. It is very relaxing (at least until the credit card bill comes in as I had to leave a testicle as a deposit).
The day began with a sleep in, followed by the 7km drive back to the roadhouse. A quick check of vehicular fluids showed that the batteries really did need to be topped up every two days, but the oil being at half full could las a few days more (at least in a hire car). No sooner had our journey commenced, when we stopped at Galvin Gorge, “the most accessible gorge in the Kimberley”. Clearly it was. An adventure bus tour group had arrived before us but were leaving by the time we reached the pool under the waterfall, (standard fair for Kimberly gorges). With the duties clearly divided between Sue swimming and me taking photos, the time flew and soon almost everyone from the previous nights campsite was also in the pool.

We returned to recommence our journey, crossing the Adcock River (the Adwater River would have been a more appropriate name),which flowed into Adcock Gorge. The gorge was a 5km detour off the main road and not sufficiently different to any other gorge to really make it worth the effort. We next passed the road to Charney River Station (formerly Beverley Springs) and although we weren’t staying there, saw something called the “Frank Hann Boab Tree” marked on the map. We figured if a single boab tree was marked on the map it must be a very special tree, so we detoured 7km to see it. The reason it is called the “Frank Hann Boab Tree” is the prick who carved his 1.5 metre high initials into the trunk of this beautiful specimen. Maybe in 100 years tourists will flock to see the “AJ” carved into the back of the dunny door in Katherine, who knows.

From here it was not far to the turn off to Mornington Sanctuary. The Sanctuary itself is an 88km drive off the Gibb River Road and about 200m along the track is a small shelter where you radio through to see if they have vacancies. They did and we decided to stay two nights in the luxury tent and slum one more night in the car. About 55km along the track is the remains of the Glenroy Meatworks. Back in the 1950s, the cattle were slaughtered here and the beef flown out in refrigerated planes to market. The venture is long gone and only a shed, windmill and some cattle yards remain.

From here the track got rougher. We had been told the 88km would take two hours and including the time taken to change a flat tyre, that is exactly how long it took. We were worried now since we travelling without a spare, but the parks handyman has taken it away to fix it and hopefully all should be well.

There are two gorges on this property, both on the Fitzroy River and we will probably tackle one each day. We have a day up our sleeve in the schedule and will use it here (unless plans change).

Manning Gorge is a seven kilometre drive into the backyard of Mount Barnett Roadhouse (a place where the list of rules is longer than the list of goods available for sale).

We had an early start this morning, leaving El Questro just after 0600 to beat the crowds to Zebedee Springs. One couple were there before us and they had taken the top pool. This left the middle pool to us. The soft morning light filtering through the palms was perfect for taking photos and before I knew it, an hour had passed and Sue had finished her swim. Apart from when I was standing in the 32C water to take photos, I hadn’t had a swim.

We rejoined the Gibb River Road and set off on the longest section without available fuel. The road is mostly gravel although some steep sections have been tarred. There were many floodways and creek crossings but the majority were dry. The Pentecost River was the biggest crossing at about 100m wide, but the water was never more than axle deep. The Durack River was not as wide but just as deep. In the dry these are easy to negotiate, but it wouldn’t take too much rain to make them difficult or impossible to cross.

We stopped at Ellenbrae Station for morning tea. It sits about seven kilometres off the Gibb River Road and is a working farm. They welcome visitors and sold tea, coffee, cold drinks and scones that were fresh out of the oven (with more being baked as we watched). In their backyard was a boab estimated to be 400-700 years old. Its truck formed one wall of their bathroom and the plumbing for the shower was attached to the tree. They had bird feeders which were attracting zebra, double bar and crimson finches. These little birds were delightful to watch and I have sat there for hours.

Near the gate of the homestead was a plaque commemorating the lives and achievements of the former owners of the station. The two brother had died five years apart. The one who loved to fly had died in a plane crash and the motorcycle lover had crashed his Harley on a ride to Lake Argyle.

The rest of the drive was remarkably uneventful and lacking in points of great interest. After 350 km of corrugation it was a relief to finally stop driving. Although we have completed more than half the Gibb River Road in one day, the countryside becomes more interesting between here and Derby with mountain ranges and gorges to explore. But all this awaits us.

Today has been a day of leisure and exploring. We woke early but laid about trying to get motivated. It was about 0730 by the time we got going and headed straight for Zebedee Springs. These hot springs are open from 0600-1200, after which they are for the exclusive use of the ‘discerning guests’ from the homestead. We were about the fourth vehicle there and found a small warm pool in which to relax. About ten minutes later two 4WD buses turned up with about 30 passengers so we were soon overrun.

It became particularly unpleasant when several of them lit up cigarettes. I suppose I should have sympathy for these poor drug addicts who cannot go more than a few hours without polluting themselves, those around them and the environment in general. We were breathing some of the cleanest air on the planet and these idiots can’t wait to fill it with the incomplete combustion of a feral weed. And of course what doesn’t go up in smoke or into their lungs gets spread about on the ground until the butt (which takes over 5 years to break down) is crushed into the ground and then ignored as if it never existed.

We quickly left Zebedee, promising ourselves we would return early the next morning.

We then headed off on one of the 4WD trips on the property. This took us to a place called Tier Gorge. The gorge is on a side track from the large loop track and we though it would be more popular. We were the first to arrive at the gorge and took advantage of the shaded pools reflecting the screw palms and eucalyptus. The water was beautiful to taste and reminded me on the spring water in Llangorse in Wales.

Having such a stunningly beautiful place all to ourselves has been the highlight of the trip so far. We spent about one and a half hours swimming, sitting, lying on the cool rock and listening to the hypnotic gurgling of the water cascading down the rocks as it has done for millions of years before today.

Part of the safety of driving in these parts is to drive with your headlights on. This enables you to be easily seen through the dust clouds that envelope your car when another car passes. Having your headlights on prevents accidents and saves live. That is one side.

I haven’t seen any statistics on people who have perished in the desert after leaving their headlights on after they stopped and not being able to start the car again. One and a half hours of swimming is about the right amount of time to get two or three promising but ultimately unsuccessful turns of the engine before dying completely.

Luckily the car has two batteries. One for the engine and one for the fridge and interior lights. It should have been as easy as swapping the battery leads, except the leads wouldn’t reach. It was then necessary to swapp the batteries themselves, but the nuts on the battery clamps were 9mm and the cheese spanners provided with the vehicle only had even numbers.

The second battery was a deep cycle battery designed to give the slow steady output required by the fridge, not the big single bursts required by the starter motor. However it worked and once the engine was going, I swapped the batteries back and left it running for about 20 minutes to get the charge back up. All was well after that.

We finished that 4WD circuit and headed to Moonshine Gully which was a varied drive through rock, sand and three interesting river crossings. The walk at the end of the drive was long and the middle section not recommended in the heat of the day. Luckily there was a swimmable stretch of water within 200m of the car park. We took our chairs and sat in the river reading our books for an hour. The only disturbance was the occasional gentle plop as a fish surfaced to grab an insect. This was another blissful moment. Two in the one day!.

As a spot of luxury we are having dinner in the restaurant. Until then we are watching the sunset, listening to the birds, feeling the air cool against our skins and having a cleansing ale or two to settle the dust in our dry throats.

El Questro is derived from the Spanish phrase meaning faux outback. It is a millions acre cattle farm that found out very early that tourists earn more per head than cattle ever will. It is situated at the start (or end) of the Gibb River Road and is what I would call ‘accessible outback’ or ‘easy adventure’. The sign at the start of the Gibb River Road says the whole road is open and although it says 4WD is recommended, the space where the ‘4×4 only’ sign slots in is vacant.
We awoke with the sparrows and took a short drive to Echidna Chasm. This is definitely a whitefella name as there were any ants in the chasm and therefore the echidnas (if there were any) would starve. The chasm was absolutely beautiful and reminded me of Claustral Canyon. At points you could touch both sides of the chasm, but the walls were 200m high.
We went right to the end and had the place to ourselves, partly because we had come so early, but also becuase many people turned back before the end. the chasm opened briefly at one point at which there were several benches. Where the chasm continued was a sign warning of the risk of rock fall. It didn’t say you couldn’t go there, merely that if a rock fell on your head you couldn’t say you hadn’t been warned. The path continued through ancient rock falls and up two ladders before reaching its dark narrow conclusion. We detoured to a lookout on the way back to the car, but by them we were all Bungled out.
We left the park with the initial intent of returning to Doon Doon for the night. The 2-3 hour trip back to the highway took 1 hour 10 minutes (five minutes faster than on the way in).
We headed for Doon Doon but just before we got there we saw some activity on the road ahead. Several cars had stopped and people were running about frantically. At the side of the road was a 4WD on its side, which had gotten there by tumbling on to its roof. In front of it was the chassis of a caravan recognisable only by association than by any distinguishing features. Strewn across the roadway were the shattered holiday dreams of an elderly couple who stood dazed and confused, looking at what until a few moments before had been a source of such joy. We slowed down, but having determined that those who had stoppped already had the situation in hand, we continued on.
We arrived at Doon Soon for lunch and decided to press on the extra 110km to El Questro which would then put us one day ahead of schedule.
We reached Emma Gorge Resort (belonging to El Questro) about 1445 and set off to do the Emma Gorge Walk which closed at 1500. The walk got progressively harder, while the temperature got progressively cooler. We reached the end in less than an hour to find a group of people waiting for help for one of their number who had dislocated a shoulder. They had sent for a stretcher, but carrying someone over 1.6 km of rock and bounders didn’t seem like the easiest rescue plan. About half way back down the gorge, one of the resort staff come past with a 2-way radio and so we deiced to leave the situation to the locals.
We reached the station township of El Questro just before dark and secured a camp site. It is 60m to the showers and toilets and 80m to the shop/bar. It is the remote/outback equivalent of camping on Coogee Oval with the Coogee Bay Hotel in easy staggering distance.
there are local singers from Kununurra (and Darwin) putting on a show and they are fantastic.
There are springs and gorges and 4WD tracks to explore, but we are here for at least one more night, so all that exploring comes tomorrow.
And so to bed.

The sun has set and dinner has been eaten. We are in the ‘Quiet Campsite’ as opposed to the ‘Generator’ campsite. This is a source of confusion as people interpret ‘Quiet’ as meaning ‘I don’t have a generator’. Therefore the generators are in one camp and the crying babies, screaming children, boom boxes and guitar playing Jesus freaks are in the other.
We left Doon Doon at about 0800 and soon got stuck behind the skinny dog that had left Doon Doon a few minutes before us. It in turn got stuck behind a caravan whose driver thought the 80 km/h limit on the single lane bridges applied to the whole country. The skinny dog turned off at the Aregyle Diamond mine and we soon left the caravan eating our dust.
The turnoff to Purnululu followed quickly once cruising speed was established and the start was a parking lot for discarded caravans. The road to Purnululu is 4WD only and not suitable for caravans. The 53km entry road is meant to take 2-3 hours. As soon as you enter the gate at the start (the beginning of the road goes through ‘Mabel Downs’ station) you are advised to engage 4WD. I thought I would leave it to see how far I could get in 2WD and so far I still haven’t needed to use the small gear stick.
We arrived at the visitors centre in 1 hour 15 minutes wondering what the fuss was about. There were three creek crossings which might present a challenge in the wet season, but the closest it got to hard driving was putting it in 1st to come back out of one creek.
Once in the park we headed for the ‘Southern Walks’. These all start at the Picaninny Creek car park and include the Dome Loop, Cathedral Gorge, Picaninny Gorge and the lookout. All of the walks can be covered in succession with very little back tracking.
The sandstone domes of the Bungle Bungle range are amazing. If the pagodas around Newnes are the plasticine works of kindergarten kids, the Bungle Bungles are the Year 12 final HSC project. The cool shady gorges serve as a welcome respite from the blazing sun and the colours of the rock glowing in the sun is magical. The grotto at the end of Cathedral Gorge really does have a kind of spiritual feel to it and it seemed somehow wrong to talk in anything above a whisper. I took a few photos but they were unable to capture the experience. It reminded me of a quote from an Arrernte elder on the wall of the visitors centre at Uluru. He said “People come here in buses and they stop and take lots of photos and I say to them, you don’t want to remember what it looks like, you want to remember what it feels like.
We ended our afternoon walk at the lookout which provided a view out over part of the remaining domes. Well, it was not quite over. It was still about 1.5 km back to the ar, through the hot afternoon sun.
We drove to the campsite via Walanginjdji Lookout to catch the lowering afternoon sun turn the whole range a brilliant orange.
The Kurrajong Campsite is closest to the Echidna Chasm and the Mini Palms Gorge, one or both of which we will attempt tomorrow, well before the sun gets too hot.
The long drop toilets here have a scrubbing brush and a bucket of water to clean the toilet after each use. The one nearest us had a green tree frog in the bucket.

The night was slightly more peaceful than the previous night but not by much. The architecture of the motel had a heavy Japanese influence insofar as having walls made of paper. This enabled us to hear the TV in the next room as well as all other noises made during the night. The room next door was seemingly occupied by a one lunged, smoking asthmatic with Tuberculosis. Once I had got used to that, someone let off some fireworks at midnight. The fireworks might have been even bigger since they were let off on the forecourt of a petrol station between the bowsers and the bulk LPG tank.
We left Timber Creek and pulled over almost immediately to see the beautiful morning reflections on the mirror like waters of the Victoria River. From here it was a long drive to the Keep River National Park where we took a 30 km detour to walk 1.5 km down the Keep River Gorge to an old cave shelter. The locals used to use it during the wet season and thousands of years of past meals were contained in a midden on the floor. The cave is looking a bit worse for wear and a large section of the roof had caved in. I didn’t see any feet poking outfrom the rocks, so I guess no-one was there at the time.
We continued our ‘mad dogs and Englishmen’ activity in the 30C+ heat to return to the air-conditioned comfort of the beast. Once back on the highway, the Western Australian border loomed quickly. In return for surrendering our remaining fruit and vegetables, the quarantine officer made our day 90 minutes longer as we were now on Western Standard Time.
Another detour saw us driving 35 km off the highway to the dam on the Ord River which forms Lake Argyle. When full this dam is over 50 km long and holds 12 million megalitres. The dam is primarily for irrigation and was completed in the 1960s before  a lot was known about the relationship between irrigation and salinity. Water an tropical warmth are just two of the ingredients for farming tropical fruit, the other is good soil. I am not sure if good soil is in abundance here. Although there is a lot of food produced here, it is still thousands of kilometres from major markets. I don’t know that you would call the scheme a raging success, although I am prepared to be told otherwise.
We had prepared to stay in Kununurra, but all of the caravan parks were full. Besides Kununurra didn’t strike us as being the nicest town around (even though it was the only town around). With a couple of hours of light left we opted to get closer to Pernululu and drove another 100 km to Doon Doon Roadhouse and caravan park (no bar, no motel).
This might turnout to be a peaceful place to stay, once the local kids and their dogs finish their competition to see who can make the most noise.
“There’s nowt so queer as folk” as they say in Yorkshire (or some other place where they talk strangely). The lady in the campervan behind us has just finished cleaning every interior surface of the van, twice, while wearing rubber gloves and has now started to do the ironing. She’s clearly having a great holiday (in an obsessive compulsive kind of way).
Beside us are some Europeans of indeterminable accents. They arrived after us and are sharing the power pole. Their van and ours are parallel with the noses in a line. He has parked only two metres away. When he first pulled up I suggested that if his cord was long enough, he could park on the other side of the grass verge. Now I know Europeans have a different sense of personal space to Australians and figured this was more polite than saying “Mate, this country is 4000 km wide, do you have to camp in my back pocket?”. However since he was only staying one night he declined my suggestion and proceeded to set up a table and chairs for dinner about 1.5 metres from our back door. No wonder they have so many wars.
Also amusing were the five couples from Victoria who had hired 4WDs and were off on a big trip. They were all wearing identical camouflage shorts and had green tops screen printed with the details of the trip. That IS keen. We met the female contingent in the laundry where ten identical sets of clothing (undies possibly excluded) were being fed into the washing machine. We got talking and were told all about the trip by a woman who apologised because she was wearing the top from the 2006 trip. Don’t ever let me go on a trip like that.

Today I was sent an email from Kane (last name provided) who had received one of the these letters and gave me the list of addresses on it. I have added them to the David Rhodes shame file page.

Thanks Kane.

We headed off to Katherine and took a 40km detour off the highway to Leliyn (or Edith Falls as the whitefellas call it). The falls aren’t very high or wide, but there is a lot of water coming down them, opening out into a pool about 150 metres across. The water was cool and inviting but there were still signs saying estuarine crocodiles might be there and to swim at your own risk. This was better than all the previous water holes we had seen that said not to go into the water.

Katherine became a quick stop to get a new shirt after my favourite one tore across the back. We decided to push on towards Kununurra. The original plan had us staying in Katherine and going to Kununurra the next day. This would have been a drive of 520 km so we wanted to break it down a bit.

We returned to Katherine railway station to grab the cache (The Ghan) we had previously missed coming through on the train. The sun was getting hot and the breeze was dropping. This was the sort of weather we were expecting, but had luckily avoided in the previous few days.

The road passed through a lot of flat sparsely vegetated country with lots of termite mounds. Around Gregory National Park, the country changes to a mix of high cliffs and narrow chasms. We had thought of staying at Limestone Gorge but this was a 30 km detour and further away than the next town if we went straight ahead, so we continued to Timber Creek.

Timber Creek has another all-in-one centre and we decided to go for luxury and get a room rather than sleep in the ‘Bushcamper’ again. Most motor homes are like caravans to sleep in, relatively comfortable and enough room considering the circumstances. The Bushcamper on the other hand is exactly like sleeping in a car except….. well, there are no exceptions. It is exactly like sleeping in a car. It has two bed areas. One just above floor height that is about 3/4 of the width of the car (a Toyota Troop Carrier) and not big enough for two. The vehicle has a high-top and this transforms into a bed with the use of some wooden panels and a  three-part mattress. It is possibly big enough for two, but very claustrophobic. If you lie with your legs bent, your knees hit the roof. So we have been sleeping with me on the top bed and Sue down below. Every time she rolls over the vehicle rocks a little bit and the top section moves even further. The vehicle isn’t insulated either, so between the cold, the thin mattress and the rocking, the sleep is not as deep as it might be. Hence, the motel room tonight.

We need to buy some more 15A fuses as the Cig/Radio conitnues to blow periodically. We took all that Mary River had and Victoria River roadhouse had none. We ended up taking the fuse for the defog out. I hope Timber Creek has some.

It is just like being at home on a Saturday night as we are watching “Australia’s Funniest Groin Injuries”. What we don’t have at home are the community road safety advertisements with such good advice as “Don’t sleep on the road”.

Tomorrow should be more site-seeing and less driving. At least it should be a more restful night.

Ah -  the joys of caravan park plumbing. None of this fancy one drain per shower business, just have one drain for all the showers and slope the floor accordingly. Rule number two of caravan park shower blocks is ‘Try to get an upstream shower’. The closer to the drain you are, the more soapy water, mucus, wee, and the odd turd you get floating through your cubicle.
Rule number one is ‘Always wear thongs’ (flip-flops, jandals, etc) so your feet don’t come in contact with the breeding grounds for tinea on which you walk.

Mary River roadhouse is an all in one motel, caravan park, service station, cafe, shop and bar. What more could you ask for?

Last night we ate chicken schnitzel while having a beer and watching ‘Friday Night Footy’. This place really is an oasis.

To get here we came by another oasis called ‘Yellow Water’ or Ngurrunggurrudjba

It is a billabong off the East Alligator River and it is teeming with water lilies, birds and crocodiles.

At one point in the cruise we came around the corner to see thousands of whistling ducks. Periodically a larger bird would swoop into one area of them sending hundreds into the air at once. As they started to settle again another area of birds would take flight.

The crocs around here were small and probably females, with the largest one being about two metres. Not huge by croc standard, but too big to go swimming with.

On the way between Yellow Water and Mary River disaster struck. We were put in a very perilous position for the want of an 80 cent part. The 15 amp fuse for the cigarette lighter AND radio blew.  This meant the iPod, the FM broadcaster and the radio were useless.

Britz (noting by now that the Br is pronounced as an Sh) had not included a spare, so I am glad it was nothing more serious. The lighter had cam loose and somehow shorted out. The replacement fuse blew when the lighter moved so we ended up putting the double adapter into the lighter and taping the whole lot to the dashboard with elastoplast . I wonder how long we will have music for.

Now we must away to Katherine.

Shade - a cool breeze and an ice cold Coopers - if there weren’t 100 other people sharing the experience this might be paradise.

The grey flying blood sucking pests of the previous night had gone by morning. Replaced by light orange-red flying blood sucking pests. We returned to Ubirr to see the art in a different light (literally). Having thought it opened at 0800 (and not 0830) I had time to bag a cache (Uber Ubirr) located just outside the gates. We were the first people in and had the place to ourselves for a brief moment.

We then went down the road for a walk through some magnificent sandstone pagodas. The name of the walk (Bardedjilidji) has a significant meaning in the local language. It means a walk. We returned via the boat ramp hoping to see some crocs, but we were out of luck. The day was warming up, but a breeze and lots of shade cut the impact dramatically.

Next stop was a series of incredible rock art galleries at what the whitefellas mistakenly call ‘Nourlangie Rock’. It is really called Anbangbang and features pictures of the powerful lightning man.

The road south from here began with a warning that the road was unfenced and to watch for wandering stock. To emphasise the point the sign was only 100m before six different sets of skid marks heading wildly off the road.  From there we headed of to the Yellow Water cruise which leaves (via shuttle bus) from Cooinda. We were early hence the Coopers etc.