25 May, Manning Gorge
We decide to take a looks at the Barnett River Gorge along the way. It is a 3km detour and then a walk to get there evidently. Turns out that the drive was not quite as easy as we imagined and once at the car park, the walk was even more difficult. It was poorly way marked and we fairly quickly became bushwhacked. The rough stone cairn markers we were following petered out, so we decided to concede defeat and head back. The only problem was that when we turned around, there was not a stone cairn to be seen, and none of us was entirely sure how to retrace our steps. As luck would have it, nobody asked me to lead us out of this predicament, and Beth and C (S had wisely stayed with the car due to a dodgy ankle incurred from his recent tumble) managed to guide us back to the cars.
We know that Manning Gorge is open and easy to find, so hopefully our luck is about to change and the gorge and waterfalls here are full of water. To get to the Mt Barnett roadhouse, which is the booking point for Manning Gorge, you need to ford the Barnett River. I don’t remember this being a difficult thing 7 years ago, but this time a hole seemed to emerge almost at the end of the sandy crossing, and into this hole the poor Jeep plunged. Happily the hole was not so bad that it impeded our progress or caused any damage. Having negotiated the water hazard, I mopped my brow and drove on to the Mt Barnett Roadhouse and pulled in behind a Jeep almost identical to mine, too identical as it turns out. The driver of this Jeep noticed mine and wandered over. “So you lost your number plate too”, said the Jeep man, and sure enough I looked down to see that my front number plate was missing, as was his, presumably swallowed by the Barnett river. I looked around and saw that there were several cars sans number plate. After booking in we drove back to the river and Beth had a bit of a paddle to try to find the plate, but to no avail.
Manning Gorge is a beautiful place, but like most good things, you need to put in a bit of hard work to achieve them. In this case you need to swim the river, then take a 3 km walk over fairly harsh terrain to get to the gorge. When we were here last there was a little boat attached to cables that you pulled yourself across the river in. But evidently that boat was stolen, so the only way to cross the river now is to swim. Half barrels are provided to put your walking boots, camera etc into, and then you jump in the river and tow the barrel to the other side and don appropriate footwear. Happily we negotiated this without incident, but just to be safe, Beth made sure everything was in dry sacks before going into the barrel, and C was appointed barrel mule. It appears I have form with dunking things which don’t really like water.
Although the walk covers harsh terrain it is very interesting in its own right, with lots of diverse vegetation (including one delightful Kimberley rose), plenty of interesting rocks to hop over, and a final scramble down rocks to descend into the gorge. Thankfully Manning Gorge was a delightful as we remembered, beautiful thundering falls, a lovely swimming hole and the grandeur of the rocky gorge. What was even better was that we had the gorge almost to ourselves. The campground was very busy, but clearly very few were prepared to set out for the gorge early in the morning as we did. We had a lovely time swimming, climbing up into the waterfall and taking photos before heading back.
Just as we started ascending out of the gorge the hordes started descending. A tour bus load had just arrived. On our return journey we must have encountered 100 more humans of vastly diverse shape, size, capability and demeanour. Note to self, the way to avoid tourists is to set out early.
At last, we have seen what we had come to see, and it was as beautiful and rewarding as we hoped it would be. Now to pack up, head off and hope for more of the same.
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| C swimming at Manning Gorge |
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| One of the rock cairns misleading us at Barnett R gorge |
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| Another wildflower meadow |
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| Bushwhacked |
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| The bathers |
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| Rock art Manning Gorge |
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| Climbing out |
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| Manning Gorge |
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| And again |
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| Kimberley rose |
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| Manning Gorge |
26 May, Silent Grove - Bell Gorge
Our planned destination today is Mornington Wilderness camp, which is a lovely place owned by the Australian Wildlife Conservancy. It has gorges, heaps of birds, and some lovely scenery.
Before heading off we pop into Mt Barnett roadhouse in the forlorn hope that our number plate had been added to the array of lost plates displayed in the window. No such luck unfortunately.
En route there are two non-camping gorges close to the road which we decide to visit. Galvan’s gorge is a lovely little swimming hole complete with waterfall and rock art at the end of a delightful walk along the creek through palms and paperbarks. Very nice, but our visit is early afternoon and the place had already been overtaken by the hordes, who detract only slightly from the splendour.
Adcock’s Gorge is a little further off the road, so we figured it is a little less likely to be busy and warrants a visit. Unfortunately halfway down the access road was a pretty ugly looking big boggy hole. Fresh from a dunking in the Barnett River, I decided to err on the side of caution and miss out on Adcock’s.
Mornington Wilderness Camp is about 80km off the road along a fairly rough road, and last time we were here we just rocked up to the two way radio located at the start of the access road and advised Mornington that we were coming in to camp. No problems. So this time we do the same, but the answer that came back was very different. Sorry, we are booked out until August. Curses. Another one to add to the list of “reasons to return”. A quick conference between ourselves and C&S decided that we will continue on to Silent Grove, which is the camping ground for Bell Gorge. The only problem is that all these closures and book outs means that we have time up our sleeves, so we need to figure out what comes next.
On the way to Bell Gorge we pop in to Imintji, which is an indigenous run roadhouse, for sandwiches and ice creams (to salve my Mornington disappointment I think) and to have a look at the aboriginal art gallery. The lady behind the counter suggests that there is plenty of room at Mount Hart, which is about 60 km off the road beyond Bell Gorge. Sounds good to us.
The last time we were at Silent Gorge it was really busy and campers were squeezed in, this time believe it or not, it was very quiet. I am not sure how that works. The dynamics of tourist flow is something well beyond the limits of my tiny brain to comprehend. Bell Gorge is a short drive from Silent Grove, and then it is a short, but very steep walk down from the car park to the gorge. Again, thank goodness, Bell Gorge lives up to the hype we have given it. I think this is the most beautiful of the gorges on the GRR and it is flowing very nicely. Again we have timed our visit very well to avoid the tourist throng, which makes our visit even nicer. Lovely swim (as under the falls as we could get, me limited by my swimming ability and the push of the falls, and Beth limited by her need to leave spectacles on), then a sit and scramble back up the hill just as the tourists come scrambling down.
We have been warned by several folk to watch out for so called Bali bogans. Western Australians who would normally holiday in Bali but have been deprived of that opportunity this year, and so instead are holidaying locally. Now coming to a remote area, no matter how well you are pampered, is going to be quite different to going to a resort island, but apparently the Bali bogan expectation is to get that Bali experience up here. I think that in general the Bali bogan classification is perhaps a little harsh, but it has been amusing watching some who would be so classified, clambering over rocks and through scrub. Definitely not their native habitat.
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| The falls at Bell Gorge |
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| C&S at the water’s edge |
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| Beth & C |
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| The falls from the top |
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| Galvan’s Gorge |
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| Rock art Galvan’s Gorge |
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| Approaching total eclipse - from Silent Grove campground |
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| Descending into the gorge |
27-29 May, Mt Hart Wilderness
I think the place Beth was most looking forward to seeing again this trip was Mitchell Falls. For me it was Mornington Wilderness Camp, so I am definitely swallowing a bitter pill as we turn into the road to Mt Hart Wilderness lodge, so as Beth ooh’ed and ahh’ed about the scenery I just scowled and simpered. But after a while I sort of warmed to the interesting dolerite outcrops and frequent creek crossings. It wasn’t Mornington, but I guess it was sort of ok. The road into Mt Hart was certainly interesting. Bumpy and bendy, but also with lots of changing landscape. When we arrived we were surprised to find a little oasis. Mt Hart really is a proper little resort out in the middle of nowhere. Thankfully though not yet discovered by the Bali bogans.
When presented with a resort you need to take advantage of it, and the three obvious ways to do that are to eat out, to drink coffee and to wash your clothes. And we managed all those things. Fish and chips was the fare for our first night, and it was really very good. Coffee was a daily routine, and we managed to put a mountain of washing through the FREE washing machines (and dry them in the abundant sunshine). Bliss.
As well as resort facilities, Mt Hart also boasted some natural attractions. The lovely rocky Dolerite Gorge which was a fun skip over boulders for a couple of kilometres to reach a beautiful tranquil little gorge which we had all to ourselves. There was also a sunset viewing spot, which like Saddleback Ridge at El Questro involved a drive up to a tight parking area on a ridge and finding a spot on the viewing platform. Also like Saddleback Ridge, it seemed essential that one should bring up drinks and nibbles to assist in one’s sunset spotting. We of course had not received that memo, so found ourselves ill provisioned, but despite the obvious overcatering by others, leftovers were carefully packed up and taken away rather than offered as morsels to us poor foodless folk. Annie’s creek was a lovely little spot, again there almost for our own personal use, and again very tranquil. None of these attractions were as splendid as the GRR gorges or as exhilarating as El Questro, but they were very nice nonetheless, and together with our morning exercise walks and resort indulgences helped us to enjoy a very pleasant stay at Mt Hart.
Whilst in years to come we will talk about the pleasantness of Mt Hart, C&S will talk of the miracle of Mt Hart. C&S, as you may remember were very lucky to have T-Van man come to their rescue at Ellenbrae to disable their struts and allow them to continue their journey with their pop top still attached to their van. Well, here at Mt Hart Topaz Man came from out of the shadows with some spare struts which he just happened to be carrying around with him, and offered them up to C&S. Not only that, but he also fitted them (no mean feat), and refused payment. S was so taken by this gesture that he handed over his best bottle of wine (one trod by those Jesuit priests back at the Sevenhills winery) in gratitude. Divine wine in exchange for a caravan park miracle.
As we sip the last of our Mt Hart latte and head for our car to leave, we strike up a conversation with a caretaker, who tells us about the Mt Hart crocodiles. Apparently there is one resident just around the corner from where C&S enjoyed a dip the day before, and we were told that if we looked left at the 3rd creek crossing back from the GRR, we would likely see a croc which is usually sitting on a big rock. Given that we were heading out, it was a little difficult to determine which was the third last creek crossing, but we kept looking. There were plenty of candidate creeks and rocks, but no crocs. I suspect the caretaker may have been having a lend of us.
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| Dolerite gorge |
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| Sunset from the lookout |
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| I like grasses too |
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| And red dragonflies |
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| Our morning exercise walk |
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| Annie’s Creek |
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| I had to be a grass wren doesn’t it? |
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| Dolerite gorge |
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| Beth was intrigued by the Dolerite, stacks of boulders |
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| Dolerite gorge |
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| Annie’s creek |
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| Dolerite gorge |
30-31 May, Windjana Gorge
After the relative calm of Silent Grove and Mt Hart, we expected the same of Windjana, but of course that did not come to pass. It was very busy, and finding two spots in the “no generators” campground was proving difficult. As we eyed off one site which looked promising we drew the ire of a resident camper who felt we would be crowding him. He was so angry he turned red, his bulbous nose shook, and the hairs in his ears stood on end. I thought his head was going to explode. Rather than be responsible for the explosion of another campers head, we decided to try our luck at the “generators allowed” campground, and what a stroke of genius that was. Not only were the sites larger here and not a generator to be heard, but we also found a prime position right near the path to the gorge, and it was only a half day hike to the amenities block.
Windjana is an amazing place, and quite different to any of the other gorges on the GRR. It is the remnant of an ancient reef system into which a gorge has been carved. Outside the gorge is a dry and desolate place, but once you pass through the small gap in the rock you enter a different world. It is lush with paperbarks and Palms and much more temperate than outside. The water is calm with big sandy beaches and the sawtooth walls of the gorge burst into colour when hit by the sun. Idyllic, except maybe for the crocodiles, which seem to think that this is a pretty cool place to live, because they are here in abundance.
The crocs are the freshwater variety, so although they are still big and mean looking, they are not all that keen on eating humans, which it turns out is pretty lucky for me. Whilst walking, in my normal trying-to-catch-up-after-a-photograph mode, I may have gone a little close to the edge of the water, whereupon said bank gave way and caused me to slip. With great skill and dexterity though, I managed to right myself and make my way back up the bank without getting my feet wet. Beth & C who were further up the track were looking back with their hands up to their mouths. Quite reasonably, I thought they were simply amazed at my prowess in scaling the crumbling bank. But no, it appears I had almost trod on a crocodile and caused it to make a fair old splash as it moved away. Apparently Beth & C had seen the crocodile, whispered a warning to me from afar and then watched me stumble past oblivious to the danger. I gave the waters edge a bit of a wider berth from then on.
I think we walked the length of the gorge and back three times during our stay and each time was a different experience.
A little down the road from Windjana is Tunnel Creek, which as the name suggests, is a creek running through a tunnel. In this case the tunnel goes under the same Devonian reef system as Windjana for about a kilometre and emerges on the other side of the range. Equipped with a waterproof torch and water shoes you can paddle and swim the length of the creek. Unfortunately, we were less well equipped for this than we should have been, but we did manage to rustle up some torches and improvised foot ware to give it a go. The last time we were here the entrance to Tunnel creek was being guarded by a rather large python, but much to S’s relief, this time the only sentinel we saw was a large lizard sitting on a rock.
As we entered the mouth of the tunnel, returning adventurers regaled us with tales of the crocodiles they had seen. One man insisted he had seen five. Luckily our torches were not very powerful, and we all know that what you don’t see can’t hurt you, so all was well. Tunnel creek was a lot of fun, but next time we will wear proper shoes, and we will bring more powerful torches, because I am sure that we missed some interesting sights in the tunnel, not just the crocodiles.
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| In through the keyhole |
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| Crocodile rock |
1 June, Derby
And so to Derby, which marks the end of our GRR adventure . Although it was disappointing that too many attractions were closed, it was still a lot of fun, and missing out on things does give us an excuse to come back again.
The GRR was actually in pretty good condition. There were corrugations and plenty of red dust, with which we and our equipment are now impregnated, but by and large there was nothing very challenging. Many of the gung-ho 4wd set find this distressing, but I am happy not to be challenged too much driving from place to place. What distresses me more is those very large caravans trundling along the GRR. They are a lot more frightening than the corrugations. My observation (which is wildly generalised and unfair to many) is that the bigger the rig, the bigger the attitude, and the bigger the sense of entitlement. I am very happy with my meek unpretentious ultimate, elite, gold.
Derby is a nice little town in which to put our feet up after a big adventure. We had intended having fish and chips on the jetty, but the fish and chip shop is closed for renovations, due for completion last year sometime. So instead we venture into town to what seems to be the only take away hereabouts. This amazing little place made and sold almost any type of takeaway your heart desired. Fish and chips, with a little baklava for dessert was our poison of choice, and it was quite passable.
