Waterfalls (Mitchell Falls/Punami-Uunpuu, Little Mertens Falls, Big Mertens Falls, WA)

The day commenced dear reader with the sternest warning to date about the difficulty of the walk, sorry, hike, in front of us. As usual I had my doubts about the accuracy of the alarm bells being sounded, but it was sufficient for three of our group, Jayne included, to opt out of the walk. Instead they would arrive on the plateau, where we were to have lunch, by helicopter, and return to the car park in the same fashion.

We began early to beat the heat and were bouncing around in the truck by 7am. The first part of the walk is quite steady on an open sand track through heath or across areas of rock. It is well signposted by metal posts that have a depiction of a Wandjina on top. It would be difficult to get lost. There was a variety of wildflowers and evidence, from tracks to scat, of the animals that live in the area.

Follow the spirit ancestors.

Our first destination was Little Mertens Falls. I am uncertain as to how it acquired the name. There was enough water for a reasonable flow and the drop was not insubstantial. Perhaps it was because the next waterfall is named Big Mertens Waterfall.

The pool below the falls.

The falls.

Below Little Mertens Falls and behind the falls is a series of rock overhangs that contain depictions of Wandjinas, messages to denote the area as a place of rest and other pieces of art that relay details about the first inhabitants of the area. The water falling from the pool above kept the space quite cool and it was obviously a shelter from the sun as well a classroom.

The crossed legs showing a place to rest.

Hands showing the visitors and Wandjina.

A depiction of a basket used to explain its manufacture.

The sun was quite strong by this stage and the shade and the water made for pleasant relief from the walk. It also afforded the opportunity to play around with the camera.

Not bad without my glasses.

After the respite of the falls, we made our way back to the track and re-commenced the journey to Mitchell Falls/Punami-Uunpuu. The next water crossing was at the top of Big Mertens Falls. It was certainly a much larger event than the previous waterfall and there was a substantial drop to pool below. The gorge itself was quite narrow. 

Much more impressive than its little brother.

Most of the walking was now in full sun and it had definitely warmed up. Hydration was important as we meandered our way across the plateau, passing other Aboriginal rock art sites and numerous wildflowers. It really is unique country and at every turn there is a spectacular view framed by blue sky or rock formations or tranquil pools and natural vegetation.

The plateau soon opened out and the vegetation disappeared as the raging waters of the wet would tolerate no stronghold on the rock. Mitchell Falls/Punami-Uunpuu is a dramatic and eye-catching in every way. I don't understand why Paul McCartney warned people not to chase waterfalls in his 1980 song Waterfalls. It is not possible for me to resist. The sight and sound of any falls is captivating and mesmerising. The falls are four separate drops and you can understand why the Wunambal people are/were drawn to this area.

The first drop.

The last part of this walk was a water crossing. It was far enough back from the falls not to pose a problem except for slippage. Although the dip would have been welcome, cameras, phone and boots were not items we would prefer to have wet. A wet-bag was provided for those less certain on their feet and we were advised not to remove our socks because it makes gripping the slippery rocks much easier.

Heading down to the water crossing. 

Crossing negotiated, it was time to re-unite with the group members who had flown in and enjoy lunch in the shade overlooking the plateau and falls. We walked along the top of the plateau to the cliff edge to enable more complete photos of the falls to be taken, showing the four different levels.

Who doesn't love a waterfall?

While the plateau is an expansive area of generally flat rock, seating spots and shade were at a premium because we were sharing the space with an APT cruise group and a rival land tour company group. Waiting to take the chopper to the top of the Falls, unavoidably, Jayne had become acquainted with several members of the land tour who, led by a formidable lady, let's call her Irena. They occupied their wait time by discussing a wide variety of gripes about their experience thus far. First and foremost, they were singularly unimpressed with the condition of the roads - they had not been prepared for the rough ride that they were being forced to endure. Laughable really, this is remote country and nothing happens easily or quickly.

Next the quality of the two guides' driving was scrutinised and found to be a contributing factor to their discomfort. They also questioned the frequency of breaks, deciding their safety was being compromised by driving stints that were too long. Finally, they were also not happy that they had been made to come to the helicopter landing area at the same time as the walking party set out. They should have been able to stay at the lodge until the appointed time for the flight to the plateau. Not sure who would have been driving the vehicle since both guides were required to accompany the hiking group.

Stunning scenery in very direction.

Irena had just begun to analyse the upcoming itinerary, offering her considered assessment of potential sources of future discontent, when one of their party was assisted back to the waiting area after the hike had proven too much. The lady was quite distressed about her poor judgement of her capacity to complete the hike. Ironically, Irena took charge of the situation, offering her comfort and wisdom about adopting a positive attitude to the lady's unsuccessful attempt - apparently negative thoughts just breed more negativity that helps no one ...

Meanwhile, on top of the plateau, post lunch it was time for a swim and a chance to locate the little wallaby that lives amongst the plateau rocks. It usually makes an appearance after the crowds have thinned, to scavenge for any edible scraps that have been left behind.

Petrogale - brush-tailed wallaby.

Getting into the water was easy enough but the rocks were all covered with algae and were slippery wherever you tried to put a foot. The water was quite shallow and subsequently warmer than anywhere we had swum to date.

Our ride home.

It didn't take long to dry off in the sun and shade was a definite requirement as we waited for our turn in the helicopter to be transported back to the car park and bus. The trip lasted only 6 minutes and gave you an excellent view of the track we walked in, past the Merton Falls. 

Merton Falls on the left, Mitchell on the right.

Even more spectacular from the air.

Interestingly, the choppers did not have doors in the rear section which made photography quite simple, if a little hair raising. 

Back at the Wilderness Lodge, after a shower, it was time to wind down with a drink at the bar before dinner. We were all sitting around chatting and trying our luck with the wifi roulette when a massive black bull trotted through the campsite. There are many wild cattle in the area and this dominant male was just letting us know this was his place. There was no argument from me.

A flower on the kapok tree.

Until next time.

Many Rivers To Cross (Wunambal Gaambera country, Mitchell Plateau, King Edward River, Mitchell Falls Wilderness Lodge, WA)

Despite the thin walls, dear reader, we had a relatively good night's sleep. The continuing issue is connectivity. Even in areas that profess wifi internet access, the speed is reminiscent of the old dial-up days and not commensurate with NBN or satellite speeds. Access may be available but the bandwidth was as narrow as my appreciation of country music. Actually, no, that's non-existent. It was as narrow as Dutton's vision for Australia, no, also non-existent. As narrow as a racist's understanding of Indigenous culture. And as frustrating.

By now, my astute reader, you will have realised that I am in fact not in the wilds of Western Australia, admiring the endless blue sky of the Kimberley. I am sitting in the comfort of  my own home in Sydney. The long days, lack of connectivity and the corrugated roads severely limited my ability to blog on a daily basis. Now that I am home and following my own timeline, I am catching up with the blog.

There were flowers everywhere.

The first stop today was at Munurru campsite for morning tea where we met some very cheeky pied butcherbirds who were so tame as to expect to be fed by passing tourists. As soon as they saw us eating, down they flew and waited expectantly until they were fed by hand. Sorry, no pictures.

Zarieka explaining the story.

This is Wunambal Gaambera country and we were here to visit the Wandjina rock art site through which we were escorted by a local indigenous ranger.  It is quite amazing the number of 'indigenous experiences' we have had over the years that were conducted by non-indigenous guides. As Capes (our indigenous guide) said at Monkey Mia when telling his story, only those from country have the right to tell their story, so it was gratifying to meet Zarieka (I hope the spelling is correct) and hear some of the stories related to the art.

Of course the Bradshaw art movement was named by a white fella, after himself, because he was the first European to see this particular style. He wasn't an artist, just someone with a big ego.

Wandjina. Spirit beings.

Zarieka told the story of how the scaly-tailed possum got his scaly tail and how the echidna got his spikes. As always there is a lesson behind the story and the moral of this one is not to steal. The echidna was trying to steal the possum's food and was caught and pushed from the pandanus tree. As he fell he gripped the possum's tail and tore the skin from it. He landed on his back on the spiky pandanus. These became his spikes and he was destined to walk the ground and never climb again - as punishment from the Wandjina.

The echidna.

After an informative tour of the rock art site, we went to the Ranger Station where we were able to purchase books about the artworks and dreaming stories as well as T-shirts. We already possess a book on Gwion Gwion Art so we bought an illustrated version of the possum and echidna story and a T-shirt. You know I can't resist.

Back in the truck we drove back to Munurru campsite for lunch by the King Edward River and the mandatory refreshing dip. The King Edward was just one of multiple river crossings spawning today's title from a favourite, Linda Ronstadt from her 1975 album Prisoner in Disguise. There was even a metal pool ladder attached to the rock ledge to allow for easy access between the water and land. It was another beautiful vista which we shared with three families travelling together and one unfortunate couple who were invaded by the rest of us. Jayne sat down to enjoy lunch and was asked by the couple next to her where we had been. I could see the questioning look on her face and told her that they were not a part of our tour. "Oh," she exclaimed laughing. "I thought it was strange that someone from our group would ask where we've been." 

Before the peace was shattered.

Downstream from the swimming hole was another waterfall and the evidence of the impact of the wet season on the surrounding area. Sandstone rock polished smooth by the relentless force of the water.

The falls beyond the pool.

The other entertainment for the afternoon was a Wedge-tailed Eagle slowly climbing the thermal air currents high into the sky, being pursued by two ravens. It was amusing because the ravens appeared to be quite earnest in their attempt to drive the eagle away and it was totally unconcerned and leaving their airspace anyway.

I heard something in there ... no I did not investigate.

After a relaxing lunch and swim, we boarded the bus to once again re-acquaint ourselves with corrugated roads and red dust as we drove to Mitchell Falls Wilderness Lodge, another tented, glamping accommodation site owned by APT. The wifi proved as woeful as we all expected, but, just over the ridge was an Aboriginal community and they used Optus. As do I. Happy days, I could at least hotspot in our tent.

Until next time.

Shooting Star (Galvans Gorge, Manning Creek, Drysdale River Station, WA)

Another early start, another seat rotation, another long trip down the corrugated Gibb River Road to another gorgeous gorge for another swim. It's easy to be dismissive of the current itinerary as more of the same. To a certain extent it is, but every gorge is different and offers its own spin on the startling beauty of the Kimberley. From the ever changing colours of the rock walls, the meandering creeks, the different vegetation to the immaculate, cloud-free blue skies, the Kimberley is breath-taking and stunning.

An Olive-backed Oriole, an excellent singer.

The car park was much the same as the others we have encountered. Dusty with pockets of shade, populated by 4WDs attached to caravans. The walk to the gorge was exaggerated in difficulty and much of it was along the side of the creek on rock or in soft sand.

A silky grevillea.

Every bend provided a kodak moment.

The pool at Galvans Gorge was at the base of the falls and was supervised by a Boab Tree on the cliff top marking the difference between here and Dalmanyi. The water was unsurprisingly fresh and crowded with people. There was a tree with a rope swing for the more adventurous and a ledge beneath the waterfall for those who wanted to experience a water spa and massage.

Beside the swing tree was a rock overhang that protected some Gwion Gwion art, a depiction of a Wandjina, one of the spirit people.

The Wandjina watching over the pool.

Given where we were and the relatively early time of day, the pool was quite crowded. Everyone up here is ready for a chat and experiences are readily shared. I met a woman on the track in to the pool. She was wearing thongs, not quite sensible footwear. The track was easily negotiated, but thongs? I think not. As we fell into step she informed me that they had come from Emma Gorge - we were heading there in a few days time. The walk to Emma was quite difficult she explained and should be avoided if possible. Jayne had decided to opt out of this walk so I knew the Emma Gorge walk would be out of the question. She went on to say that the reason they were heading to Galvans Gorge so early was because the Manning River road had been closed at 8:30am and wasn't re-opening until nightfall to allow for some urgent repairs in response to the recent flooding rains.

It appeared we would have to alter our agenda as the Manning River was our lunch destination.

Back at the car park, Jayne, who was attempting to catch up on some blogging, had found it was impossible to be on your own in the Kimberley. Everyone stopped for a chat as she sat in the shade of our bus. She too had heard that the Manning River Road was closed. More interestingly, she reported that there was a large black snake in the car park. It was underneath a caravan and had startled some young girls as they alighted from their car. WA does not have the red-bellied black snake we have in the east. Research reveals it was probably a whipsnake.

We paused for morning tea at Mt Barnett Roadhouse before our guides received the news that the road to the Manning camp ground was indeed closed. Lunch would be at the Hann River crossing. It is a beautiful spot. The water was shallow in the river and still flowing quickly through the grove of Melaleuca trees. The river crossing, however, was not as shallow and there were some deep holes in the middle of the causeway and some even deeper soft sand either side.

The road is closed at the 1 metre level.

The Hann River.

This proved to be an excellent place to have lunch. We had a refreshing swim before our meal and then cars, attempting the river crossing, provided entertainment while we ate. One superstar 4WDer came down to check out the crossing. Serious discussion ensued as he directed one of his travelling companions to take a particular course across the river. He then drove his 4WD straight off the edge of the causeway into the soft sand to become bogged, much to the amusement of our tour group and his friends. A snatch rope was attached and he was towed out of his embarrassment.

Major amusement.

After the luxury of the Bell Gorge Wilderness Retreat, our next overnight stay, the Drysdale Station, was somewhat of a shock. Accommodation was in portable buildings, probably old mining dongas. We had single beds and an ensuite and there was a verandah that we all made good use of prior to dinner. Photographs were shared and we laughed about our lunchtime entertainment.

The dividing walls of the rooms was so thin that you could conduct a conversation with the people next door from the comfort of your bed. Thankfully our tour group is well behaved.

Almost like a demountable classroom.

Well, it's a place to sleep.

The night sky in the Kimberley is another astonishing feature of the area. The lack of light pollution at night allows for the most amazing light show in the sky. Sorry no pictures, just memories of the thickness of the Milky Way and the shooting stars. Which brings me to today's title, Shooting Star by that excellent New Zealand group Dragon, all the way from 1978. If you've never heard it, have a listen.

Until next time.

Always Look on the Bright Side of Life (Bell Gorge/Dalmanyi, WA)

The morning commenced with a most raucous racket, dear reader. The likes of which we had never heard before. I thought it was the end of days. It continued for a number of minutes, ensuring everyone at the lodge was awake. "What is that?" croaked Jayne from her side of our king bed, sometime around 4:30 am. It was a bird, or more accurately birds, but I had no idea what variety. Needless to report, sleep did not fully return. Breakfast was at 6:30 anyway and the light arrives later up here in the north. So we dozed for a while until breakfast where the disruptive bird was named as the Blue-winged Kookaburra. It's like our Kookaburra in the east except it just can't get the laugh out and keeps repeating the beginning sounds. A veritable cacophony of squawking. Not quite music to my ears at that time of day.

A juvenile pied butcherbird near the food tent.

Although we did not spot them at Bell Gorge they made their presence felt regularly. Today we headed for Dalmanyi, the gorge area and swimming spot after which the wilderness retreat is named. It was back into the truck searching for our seats after the daily rotation.

Resting on the drive to the gorge was not on the agenda due to the corrugated nature of the Gibb River Road and the fact that, Kylie, one of our guides felt compelled to provide information about the area.

Debris in the tree from the wet season.

Of course there was the regular hyperbolic description of the walk to the falls. Except the word 'walk' was replaced by 'hike'. This was accentuated, significantly and unnecessarily, ad nauseum. While I understand the reasoning behind the exaggerated description and overt warning, I don't believe it is effective. The people it should apply to always believe the warning is for someone else. I've seen it previously. Besides, everyone on this trip was capable of completing this walk, sorry, hike.

How blue is a Kimberley sky?

Dalmanyi is part of Bell Creek and is located on Silent Grove Road. The creek system is fed by water from the Wunaamin-Miliwundi Ranges and it is a beautiful spot to swim and relax in the dry season. There is a pool above the falls for those who feel the 2km walk, sorry, hike, from the car park is sufficient exercise on a hot day.

The pool above the falls.

For the more adventurous, me, there is a short walk across the escarpment and a bit of a rock scramble to access the pool below the falls. The water in both pools is quite refreshing, or cold as it was described by others.

The falls and pool below.

The walk from the carpark, although quite picturesque, was challenging in parts, not because it was particularly arduous, but because you were walking on the creek bed. It was predominantly river rock, unstable, difficult to negotiate at times, and hard on the ankles.

A Kimberley Rose or Sticky Kurrajong.

After admiring the view and enjoying an energising swim, our time in Dalmanyi ended all too quickly. It was back along the rocky creek bed to the car park and lunch at Silent Grove (Dulmundi) Camp Ground.

A Rainbow Bee-eater. 

This is an APT tour where too much food is barely enough. Lunch was wraps, fruit and juice. I snapped a few bird photos while Kylie led us in a name game to ensure that we all remembered each other's name. Any teacher would be familiar with this game where everyone sits in a circle and the first person says their name and the next person repeats it and states their name. The variation to this was the requirement to attach something to your name. For instance, we had Ken who became Ken and Barbie, and Brian who became the Life of Brian and Teresa who became Mother Teresa. You get the picture and now understand today's title. It became a bit of a them for us. Remember it, from the Monty Python movie of the same name.

Peaceful Dove

After lunch, it was back to the wilderness lodge to rest for a while before dinner. We arrived around 4 pm and dinner was set for 6:30 pm, a pattern that became quite familiar over the next few days. Dinner was a typical APT affair, three courses although, unlike the overseas tours, wine was at your own cost.

The morning light comes late and the night arrives early in the Kimberley. After a lovely dinner, it was time to return to our tent and get some much needed sleep.

Until next time.

Ring My Bell (Broome - Derby - Dalmanyi/Bell Gorge)

After setting our own agenda for the last 11 days or so, the alarm going off in the dark was quite confronting. We had organised our bags the night before so we really only had to deal with an early breakfast and then be on the bus by 7am. In what would become routine, we placed our bags on the front porch and walked to the restaurant.

The morning brought with it a surprise, dear reader. The sunrise in Broome is also beautiful and worthy of a photo - if only I'd had my camera and been alert enough. True, it may lack the colour of those ripping beach sunsets, but I'd rate it.

The bus or truck, seats 22 passengers with our 2 guides up front. There are 21 guests on this trip. The seat rows are numbered, not numerically, and each day we need to move to the next number up. We sat in seat 5 so tomorrow we'll be in seat 6. The abstract allocation of the seat numbers and the rotation means that everyone sits in all positions on the truck. We later found out why this was so important, and it wasn't just the view.

It's good not be driving.

Like many large vehicles the steps for access and egress were built for or designed by Brobdingnagians. For someone of my height, it meant that each step had to be negotiated separately. The seats were comfortable and the windows expansive to ensure nothing was missed. There was also a small screen TV attached to a camera that filmed to the never ending road before us.

The Boab Prison Tree

Our first stop was the aptly named Boab Prison Tree. It was, unsurprisingly used to imprison people. Well, that's the legend. Apparently there is no proof to support this theory. However, it is a registered Indigenous site of cultural significance. The story goes that the tree was used to house Aboriginal people who were being transported to jail at Derby.

The Prison Tree.

The boab tree is quite a feature of the land out here. It's distinctive bottle shape is easily recognised and unlike other trees has managed to escape the pillage and plunder of white colonialists. So far. Why? Excellent question my curious reader. The interior of the tree is quite fibrous and is therefore not particularly useful as fire wood or for building or, I imagine, pulping for the Japanese market.

The tree is fenced off today to dissuade visitors from getting too close but the fence is merely a suggestion. The sign warning of snakes is probably more convincing.

Dimulurru

Our next stop was to have been Tunnel Creek or Dimulurru, a 750m long tunnel carved out of the limestone by water courses in the Napier Ranges. Sadly this was not possible as the recent rain has swollen the waters of the tunnel to the extent that it required us to swim not wade through a section in the dark and this was deemed to be too risky. I mean, a 40 metre swim in freezing water in the dark, where's the risk?

Willare Road House

The Road House is most important out here given the massive distances that can be covered each day. And not just for fuel. Many have tourist parks or picnic grounds attached to allow travellers to stretch their legs. Willare was no different, except it had a couple of Boab trees that still held a single flower.

Unusual to be in flower at this time of year.

Derby

Instead we headed to Derby for a tour of the Norval Gallery, where local First Nations artists' work is promoted and you can actually watch art being created as you wander through the studio. After a brief introduction to the local style of painting, we browsed and then headed out to the jetty for lunch and a wander to view the mud flats, exposed by the huge Derby tides. Some locals were fishing and had a catfish, among others. The water was a fast moving, swirling mass of silt. Most attractive.

The swirling expanse of the Fitzroy River.

Wandjina by a local artist.

One of Mark Norval's pieces.

The mudflats.

Bell Gorge Wilderness Lodge

After the break, we set out for our accommodation, Bell Gorge Wilderness Lodge, for our first night of glamping and outdoor dining.  The lodge was in the middle of the national park with a central dining and bar area surrounded by tents, each with a deck, a bedroom and an ensuite bathroom and pathetic internet connectivity. I know, I know, first world problems, dear reader.

Home for the next two nights.

After settling in for the two night stay, it was time for pre-dinner drinks with our travelling companions as well as another APT group who were staying at the lodge. Recurrent crossing of paths with different tour groups was to become a feature of the trip, as a fleet of APT and other tour operators roam around the Kimberly following variations of the same itinerary.

One traveller from the other group, a fellow Bunnies supporter, expressed her grave disappointment that, due to the rain,  their group had not been able to reach the Bungle Bungles. This was her main reason for the trip and justifiably, she felt cheated. They did fly the group over the range as a sweetener, but she had already ticked that box and wanted to walk amongst the domes. Of course the reality is that so much of these itineraries is at the mercy of nature. We weren't sure we would even leave Broome given the Gibb River Road had been closed as we drove up the coast.

No babies here. Move on young fella.

Anyway, a pleasant evening was had and then to bed, after the temperature took a notable dive post sunset. We slid under the multiple layers on the bed, alarm set for an early rise to set out on the first real day of the "inland adventure".

Are you being slightly critical of toady's title my dear reader? That is a tad harsh. It is difficult to get a blog finished with photos in a climate of narrow bandwidth and questionable connectivity. The early mornings are dulling my usually razor sharp wit. Anyway, it's a disco classic from my youth. Anita Ward from 1979.

Until next time.