To the Kimberleys and the West

It was in the horribly early hours then, that I found myself outside the hostel in Darwin the next morning, happy to have my key deposit in my pocket, a little mournful to leave my new friends behind, and awaiting the four wheel drive which was to be my home for the next 9 days as I travelled to Broome, and then further down the west coast to Perth.

The monster of a vehicle did eventually arrive, and I was later told it bore the nickname ´hell on wheels´ (2 of which had to be changed incidentally), and would somewhat live up to its name as the trip progressed. Our guide gave a whole new meaning to the term multitasking, and was not only informant on all the places we visited and sights we saw, but also driver, mechanic and cook (with 19 lackies) for the stretch.

We travelled (once again for me) the Adelaide River and then continued to Nitmiluk gorge and a pre-lunch swim in Edith falls, which had fresh water crocodiles lurking in its midst. (we were assured these variety are very different to saltwater crocodiles, but the signs of caution meant most of us didn’t swim too far out from the edge)

A quick stop in Katherine (which still played its eerie dated music in the streets) for any supplies until the next day, and then on to our camping ground at Victoria falls, a fair good drive away, but well worth it when we wandered to the bridge crossing the river, trying to spot some ´salties´ as the sun went down.

Day two began with a drive to the stunning shore of Lake Argyle. The weather was perfect and as blue a sky as I have ever seen. I would have stayed to swim in its waters, but the sun was also beating it down in the middle of the day, and with an hour to wait I chose to stay in the shade! That afternoon was our last stop in civilisation for another 7 days, at Kunnunura, so you can imagine the main priorities were sweets and beer!

The next day started off on a slightly more impromptu note, as the tyre which had been replaced the previous day needed to be stocked up with a new spare. A little bit of waiting around for most of the morning, but the wait seemed to have slipped my mind by the time we found ourselves having lunch next to the most gorgeous and secluded waterhole in the middle of the outback, and knowing we would be back to reside the night there after our journey into the heart of the Bungle Bungle ranges.

Lunch was followed by a very jumpy ride into the Purnululu National park also known as the Bungle Bungle range. As I watched the dust cloud over the tracks we left behind, I realised this ride was the promise of more to come, as we delved further and further into ´the bush´.

Our guide told us of three possible theories behind the odd-sounding name of ´Bungle Bungles´:

1. The ozzie definition of a mistake is sometimes referred to as a ´bungle´, and the area has known two of such ´bungles´, the first being a farmer who attempted to farm cattle, and failed miserably due to the conditions and the impeding wet season. The second bungle being another entrepeneur who attempted to mine nickel, again, with no luck on his side. the double failure to coin to term ´bungle bungle´.

2. Another theory derives from the bundle bundle grass which grows in the area, with a similar sounding name to ´bungle´.

3. And finally, the name bungle bungle could also come from an incorrect pronunciation of the aboriginal name for the land, Purnululu.

I personally, like to first option. always nice to have a bit of history, even if it was a run of ´bungles´! (a word i think we should all add to our dictionaries, as it hasn’t been part of mine)

The next day was our first proper walk, and in the heat it was certainly something of a trek!

Considering its unique landscape of domes and ´beehive´-shaped mounds, its fairly surprising that the bungle bungle range was only ´discovered´ as a place of visiting interest as late as 1987, almost accidentally in fact, by a film crew during  the filming of a documentary. On the other hand, however, it is important to note that much of the area is practically submerged in water for around 6 months of the year during the wet season, and a very different, and difficult range to venture into. The region is completely closed off to the public during the wet season, but luckily there were still a few weeks of dry left, and we were able to walk freely among the huge domes and dry riverbeds.

Termites manage to survive the wet season by building their nests on top of the domes, accessible from the ground by a maze of intricate trails. They were furiously at work scurrying up and down these paths – preparing for the rain to come, and signs throughout the area cautioned you to watch your step lest any of the trails were destroyed.
Apart from our walk around the domes, we clambered through Echidna Chasm, so-called from the Aboriginal name, and the story that the chasm was created by the snout of an Echidna foraging for food. The walk involved climbing over numerous boulders and through narrow spaces, squeezing between huge towering walls of rock that made you feel miniscule in comparison. It was glorious to enjoy the walks virtually by our group alone, whereas earlier in the season would have brought queues of other visitors alongside us in the cramped spaces.

Relief from the heat (which a passer-by informed us was 45 degrees in the shade, at which point I used my towel as a kind of cape around my shoulders. I may have looked like a bat, but I didn’t get burnt!) was also incredibly welcome, and we stopped for a rest and a biccie in Cathedral gorge. Although we couldn’t swim in the then ´puddle´, it was serene beautiful and majestic all at once in there and I for one simply enjoyed basking in its atmosphere and wondering at the reflections in the water.

In order for us to have as much contact with water as possible in the fierce temperatures, we left the bungles and returned to our waterhole lunch spot of the previous day to spend the night. On the way, we drove past a bush fire in full blaze alongside the road. We couldn’t really tell if it was naturally instigated or man-made in the outback cycle of burning or ´cleansing´ the land to allow for re-growth. I slept the most soundly in my swag under the stars at the waterhole that night.

More gorges followed the next day, our fifth of the trip, as we made our way to El Questro station, originally owned by the (i think) Burrell family and the site of some outstanding gorges, two of which the father named after his two daughters, Emma and Katherine. As for the name of the station itself, its origin is something of a confusing one, and the name doesn’t appear to have any meaning at all, though the stories trying to figure it out are always interesting ones. This was the one we were told:

Feeling that the area resembled a kind of mexican landscape, the spanish term for ´beautiful´, or ‘gorgeous’ was sought, only for the handwriting to return so illegible, that the closest resemblance of ´el questro´ was settled on. I suppose it must have seemed spanish enough for them at the time, and I can picture the family peering seriously at a scrap of paper and finally coming to the conclusion ¨it´ll do¨, with a shrug of the shoulders.

Emma gorge was stunning, and involved criss-crossing over streams and hopping from rock to rock among bush and trees. Another swim in the gorge waters, and back for lunch at the station. I, of course, managed to get lost on the way back when I got distracted taking photos. If anybody had asked though, I would just have pretended I was doing some ´creative shots´ (with my ankles submerged in dead leaves and brush).

El Questro gorge was to follow, the path of which wound its way into a much deeper valley, and over more boulders, but with much more shade as you walked further in. Ferns and palm trees seemed to have found their roots even in the rock faces around us, and the more humid atmosphere in the shade created something of a tropical atmosphere. On reaching halfway pool, most of the group continued on to the end of the gorge, the start of this section involving wading through the pool and climbing up and over a fairly massive rock to continue onwards. I wasn’t sure how much clambering and scrambling I could manage at this stage, and opted out of the rock challenge for one day!

Our home that night was the El Questro camping ground, where I made the mistake of placing my swag too close to the water and consequently being devoured by ants and mosquitoes the whole night long. It was pretty unpleasant to say the least, and I had caused something of an ant massacre when I got up and looked back at where I had lain the next morning… although.. I was honestly a bit too grumpy and disgruntled to care too much.