Karijini - Day Two

Putting aside our celestial disappointment from the night before, we were up bright and early the next morning to get ready for a big day of exploring. The next few days were going to be jam packed with spectacular scenery and many, many hours of wandering through magnificent gorges. Today, our destination was going to be pretty close to our campsite, needing only to wander 500 meters down the road to begin our adventure in Dales Gorge.

Dales Gorge was a spectacular trail that followed a babbling river through steep cliffs. It stretched from Fortesque falls at the top of the gorge to Circular Pool at the bottom.

Dales gorge - step right up!

Arriving at the entrance of Dales gorge, we found ourselves peering down one of the steepest sets of rough iron stairs I’d ever seen. The boys soon started bouncing down the steps like A.A. Milne’s Tigger, as Nat and I cautiously plodded behind.

Bouncy, bouncy, bounce!

Trudging down, we occasionally caught a glimpse of the gorge itself and several of the waterfalls that were crashing and cascading down below.

This way to Dales Gorge

Arriving at the bottom of the gorge, we took a quick jaunt to the right and passed under flock upon flock of bats. Seriously, these guys were hanging off every available tree branch, far above our heads. Passing through the thick undergrowth beneath these avian mammals, we soon burst into a clearing alongside Fortesque Falls. This area had been ravaged recently by bush fire and there were still remnants of burnt wood and ash scattered across the ground.

Near the wall of the cliff, there was a handwritten note that had been scribed by the local rangers. The note implored visitors to help with the clean-up effort by collecting any hitherto undetected nails from the burned wooden jetty that once stood here. It didn’t take long for our boys to find a nail or two, which they dutifully placed in the makeshift bin for the rangers to dispose of.

Bats of Fortesque Falls

Turning away from the sign at the bottom of the cliff, we were able to take in the full splendour of this valley oasis. A large lake, filled by a constantly churning waterfall, filled the entirety of the gorge. Hemmed in on three sides, the lake bubbled away from the water pouring in from above. Occasionally, little white patches could be seen floating on top of the waterscape, which (it soon became apparent) were made by a gaggle of galahs perched high in the trees above. Yet, not a drop of this nutrient rich effluent was missed by the many hungry fishy mouths that inhabited the waters below.

Making our way down to a little jetty, which jutted out a meter or so into the water, we could see throngs of fish schooling around the sturdy ladder that plunged into the crystal waters. These were very curious fish, which seemed to eat everything and anything that ended up in their pond. In fact, when we dangled our feet in the water, we soon found that some of the braver fish come up to take a nibble on our toes. While this started off tame enough, it didn’t take long for one fish to sink its teeth into our tender digits a little too hard… then another… and another... What!?

Despite the lake being filled with what turned out to be some form of carnivorous fish, the day was too hot and the water too lovely to not have a dip! So, one by one, we striped off and swam the 50 or so meters to the other side of the lake. Once there, we were able to bask under the pounding waters of the waterfall. As we’d found at several places along our journey, the water streaming down the falls was much warmer than that which had pooled in the chilly lake. So, it was nice to wash off and have the warm beating waters drum down on us. Who needs a shower when you have natural wonders like this…

Dales Gorge - Fortesque Falls

After a while we decided to say goodbye to Fortesque falls and continued our way down the length of Dale’s Gorge. As we dried off and got dressed, we watched as a gaggle of new visitors arrived and dangled their legs in the water… “Ouch” came one voice, whose owner had just realised that the fish bite pretty hard here. “Owww”, “Ouch”, “What the”… echoed her companions voices around the clearing. We wandered away with a little smile on our face.

Dales Gorge was pretty nifty. The river that flowed from Fortesque Falls meandered its way along the bottom of the ravine all the way to the end.  As we walked, we found that the walls of the gorge were reminiscent of large bars of chocolate, which had been stacked up high into the air. They were so smooth that they almost seemed unreal.

Dales Gorge - Stepping Stones

Picking our way down the gorge, we encountered many strange sights: water monitors scrambling over rocks, trembling piles of rocks holding up great swathes of cliffside, and huge trees stretching far out into the slowly meandering river. All along the journey, the rocks changed as well. They turned from blocks of chocolate into the finest and most interesting sedimentary rocks I’ve seen (and that includes the semester I spent studying rocks in my undergrad degree many moons ago). Seriously, look closely at the photo of the monitor lizard below to see what I mean!!

Dales gorge - water monitor, sedimentary rocks, rocks holding up cliff and tree over water

After an hour or so, the landscape changed once again. At first it opened out into a red rocky plateau that was strewn with boulders and stacks of rocks piled high by previous wanderers, and then it converged into a thick jungle of trees and saw toothed grasses.

Dales gorge - stacking rocks...

After making an obligatory contribution to the stacked rocks, we forged on further down the river. At this point, it was a little like walking out of a jungle and arriving on the set of Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom.

The walls of the canyon became nearly vertical, and the rock at the bottom had the appearance of several swimming pools which had been carved directly from the rock. However, the water in the bottom of each ‘swimming pool’ did not seem to have seen much swimming for several months. Algae clung to the sides of the naturally carved lidos, adding to the Indiana Jones-esque appearance.

Dales Gorge - Indiana Jones Rocks

After scrambling over rocks (and avoiding slipping into the acrid waters below), we eventually arrived at our reward for the hard work we’d put into this hike. The trees became thick again, signalling that we were approaching a water hole of some magnitude. And, sure enough, pulling our way through the vegetation, we glimpsed a sparkle of water ahead of us. This was followed by a burbling and gentle crashing of water from somewhere through the trees ahead of us. Hearing this, we knew we had made it!

Pulling ourselves through the last of the vegetation, we emerged into a broad clearing. Steep rocky cliffs plunged down to a deep circular pool at their base. Thus, we arrived at the aptly named Circular Pools.

Dales gorge - arriving at circular pool

However, as we were traversing the Indiana Jones portion of the trek, we happened to bump into Nat’s Play Group Buddy from the night before. Their family had started their trek at this end of the trail and had been making their way down to Fortesque Falls, from which we had just come. We gave them a few warnings about not keeping their toes still for too long in the lake, and they shared their knowledge of Circular Pools. Amongst their descriptions of the beauteous wonder that awaited us at the end of the trail, they also noted that we should be on the lookout for LEECHES. Yup, leeches! Apparently, the lake was filled with them…

Images flashing through our minds about the Leeches that awaited us!

 So, as we made our way over the last rocky berm and into the cool shade of Circular Pool, we were all a little hesitant to strip off and face the toothy annelids (Haemadipsidae sp) that inhabited these waters…

…that is, until the boys started egging each other on to see who would be the first to take the plunge. After all, these little lads had braved the croc infested waters of Lake Argyle… so why would they let a few leeches get in their way?!?

Dales gorge - circular pool

Unfortunately, try as I might, I wasn’t able to get a photo of the hundreds of leeches that were coiling their way through the waters near the shore. But, if you squint and turn your head to one side, you can just about make them out…

Leeches at Circular Pool

Emerging from the water, both boys were thoroughly checked for blood-sucking stowaways. To their disappointment, there was only one little blighter found on Ben’s ankle – which (to his dismay) popped off with little more than a flick of my finger. So, unfortunately, they didn’t have any great stories of horrific blood loss to share with their friends in school… 

After sunning themselves on the rocks for a while, the boys were ready to continue our journey back down the gorge and up the steep path to the top of the cliff. Climbing the sheer rock face, we eventually made it (somewhat breathless) to the top of the cliff. Fortunately, we were paid off tremendously for our efforts and were greeted by a magnificent top-down view of the ravine that we had spent the day navigating. From this vantage point, it was clear how rugged and vast this hole in the ground truly was.

Dales gorge - top of the cliff

And so, with the sun about the set, we made our way along the cliff top path towards home once more. Back home, we remembered the chip in our windscreen and decided it would probably be best to take a trip to the nearby visitor’s centre to make a few calls to find a place to get it fixed. Unfortunately, arriving at the visitor’s centre, being the weekend, we found that it was closed. So, hopping over the fence, I took a quick jaunt up the long driveway towards the only pay phone for many, many miles around (about 80 km or so). Thinking it would be a quick covert mission, I was surprised when I heard my two lads trotting up the path after me. So, with a quick lesson in how to appear like you belong in a place where you shouldn’t be, we soon arrived at the deserted centre and made a few calls. I managed to find a place in the nearby town of Tom Price, which would be able to fix our window first thing on Monday morning. Mission complete, the boys and I high tailed it back to the car and zipped off back down the road to our campsite.

Arriving back at camp, we found that the star gazing had unfortunately been cancelled for a second night in a row… so, we had dinner and headed back to our friends’ van for a proper catch up and to swap tales of our respective adventures. As we were heading in different directions, several useful tips were able to be garnered by both parties, while the kids played cards in the background.

Soon, it was time for bed and we made the 100 meter dash in the dark back to our home on wheels for the night. As we wandered home, we found that the stars had come out in force again. As such, we spent a little while gazing at the heavens before turning in for the night.

Tomorrow would be another big day…. Time for a kip.

Bye ‘d bye

Gregg

Karijini - first night

Date:	13 -17 /06/2017
Location:	Karijini National Park (Western Australia)
Distance Travelled:	1123 km
Temperature:	Min:	15.4
	Max:	29.9
Windscreens cracked	1… (Oh, bugger…)

In my last post, I said that there would be a few kilometres to cross before we got to our next destination… and, oh boy, I wasn’t kidding! In the three days that it took us to arrive at Karijini National Park we covered over 1100 kilometres – and, I might add, all this was done without too much huffing or puffing from the kids (they’re angels, really, they are!).

 Having left Cape Leveque bright early, we picked up our van from Broome and made our way down the Great Northern Highway (following the Western Australia coast for 646 kilometres) to a little roadhouse in an even littler town (a collection of buildings at best… some may have even possibly been houses), named Pardoo. 

Sunset outside of Pardoo

I tried to find some interesting facts about Pardoo to inform and educate the masses who are now flocking to read this blog (thanks to both of you for tuning in!!). But, sadly, the most interesting fact I could find about this gem of a town, was that if you booked site at the road house and cancelled it 14-days prior to arriving, you would be charged a $25 cancellation fee… Fair enough, nothing unusual there… However, a shrewd reader of the cancellation policy would find, if you were to cancel within 10 days of arriving, you would be charged 50% of the fee. Now, here’s where it gets really interesting…. (Oh ho, tally ho, does it what!?!). Since a powered site costs $30, by these rules, it would actually cost less to cancel at the last minute – than it would if you were being a good citizen and gave plenty of notice…

…Even worse, if you booked an unpowered site ($12), by these rules you would pay twice as much by cancelling a couple of weeks early. So, in that case, it’s probably best to simply just not turn up…

Pardoo Roadhouse cancellation policy - it might need a bit of a rethink...

Other than that, there’s not much else to say about Pardoo. We arrived, we ate, we slept… (Oh, and we avoided the showers like the plague – mainly because they looked like they might well give us the plague if we went anywhere near them!).

Road to Karijini National Park

Moving on the next morning, we hit the road hard once more. A further 400 kilometres were added to the odometer before we finally pulled up as Auski Tourist Village. As with Pardoo, this was a stop with a purpose; a place to lay our weary heads before we ventured into Karijini national park. A quick check of Google Maps confirmed that, yup, we had finally reached the middle of nowhere…

Thanks to Google for showing us exactly how far we are for anywhere...

The Auski Tourist Village (chuckle, village, oh yeah… pull the other one!), was a nice and tidy collection of cabins, amenities and grassy lawn. All of which just seemed to materialise out of the Great Northern Highway as we trundled down the road. Situated on the outskirts of Karijini National Park, Auski wasn’t so much a destination in itself, but rather a cosy place to visit on the way to somewhere else.

The boys, however, took full advantage of the almost empty campsite. Running amuck without anyone to say ‘shhh’ or ‘watch my car’, they could zip around about the grounds like crazy until dark. The only thing that slowed them down, at least for a little while, was the curious sight of a young women wandering through the caravan park with a tiny little wallaby hopping along behind her.

The boys gawped in awe at this wallaby whisperer. Whenever she stopped, the joey stopped. Whenever she moved forward, the joey hopped after her. After a while, the boys approached her and asked how she had cast this magic over the small bundle of fur. It turns out, the little Joey had been rescued from birth when its mother had been killed by a car (a very common story, unfortunately). They joey-whisperer had reared it since then and she would do so for the next few months before it could fend for itself and go back to the wild.

With a nod from their dad, the boys followed the lady and her joey back to their home and gave it a bottle before tucking it up into bed. As Daniel returned to our campervan, gleaming with excitement, he told us all about his time swaddling the joey and rocking it to sleep.

Soon, the boys were in bed too. And so, that was the end of our Auski experience.

The next day, we were up early so we could head into Karijini National Park before the rest of the travelling folk woke up. It was a short journey, only 80 Kilometres or so; which was a walk in the park after the last few days.

Welcome to Karijini!!

The reason for the early start was that the Dales Campsite at Karijini was not able to be booked. At times, getting in here can be a bit of a gamble (like the proverbial snowball, who decided to roll through the netherworld…). But, fortunately for us, since it was the beginning of the season there were still a few camp sites free at this early hour of the day. Mind you, it was by no means empty. Rather, this spacious campsite, was filled nearly to the brim with trailers, tents and caravans, of all makes, models and descriptions – with half a dozen or so sites free for those of us hoping to turn up and stay.

However, before I get ahead of myself, there is a little factoid that I should probably share at this juncture. On our way, driving south between Auski and the Dales Gorge camp site, we happened to chance upon a patch of road works along the Great Northern Highway. Now, road works were nothing new on our travels… In fact, a day without slowing down to pass a line of bollards was simply unheard of. But, on this fateful morning, all those road signs indicating flying rocks suddenly came back to haunt us.

Uh oh... where's this going?!?

There we were, merrily wending our way down the highway; slowing down here and there for the many stretches of road works on the main byway. Traffic was crawling in both directions and we settled down for a family chat about the splendours we had encountered over the past few days. Then, as the traffic got rolling again, there was an almighty “CRACK” from the windscreen.

"What was that” Nat and I both exclaimed, as we fervently scoured the windscreen for any signs of damage. Unfortunately, it didn’t take us long to spot the sizeable gash in the bottom half of the window, right between passenger and driver seats.

“Oh, bugger”, we both exclaimed, knowing there was little we could do about it right now.

The crack itself was more akin to a meteor crater than an immediate shattering of glass. The wayward stone had left a decent chip in our windscreen – but luckily it was holding… for now.

Unfortunately, we wouldn’t be in a place where we could get the chip repaired for a few days. So, for now, we just had to make the most of it and hope the crack didn’t spread. As such, we continued down the road until we reached the Dales campsite of Karajini National Park.

~~...~~

Set in the Hamersley Ranges, in the heart of the Pilbara region, the Dales campsite was just a stone’s throw from Fortescue Falls and Circular Pool. Both these bodies of water were collections that had formed along the length of the Fortescue river.

Pulling into the campsite, we were greeted by the camp hosts – an odd match of an elderly German women and a middle aged Australian man. The Aussie gentleman was keen to chat and seemed ready to help with any queries or quandaries we might have regarding the area (although, he didn’t have a whole lot of answers to these enquiries – save for botanical and animalia knowledge of the region); whereas das fräulein had much knowledge – but getting it out of her was not an easy task. She ran the camp with an iron fist, and shortly after arriving we watched her lock horns with a few fellow travellers whose sites had been given away because she hadn’t expected then to extend their stay before the required 9:00am deadline (…it was 7:39am when we arrived: ‘Oh, no”, I thought, she was one of those… a regular “Hör auf die Macht meiner Zwischenablage”)

Still, the newly found clip board grinch seemed to be swayed somewhat by our two little lads and their earnest curiosity about the area. And so, we were duly granted entry into her park. “Have a great time” called the rotund Aussie chap, calling out to us from the shadows of the camp hosts’ hut. “Look out for those Dawson's burrowing bees near the entrance to the park. Oh, and the fruit bats are roosting and ready to leave. You’ll find then at the entrance to Circular Pool”, the Aussie bloke called.

Turning one last time at the door, I wanted to make sure the Aussie bloke wasn’t trying to signal me in some surreptitious way that he was being held prisoner by die Frau mit der Zwischenablage.

“Entrance to the park…”, my memory echoed. “Ready to leave…”, it came again…

But, turning to the squat Aussie camp host, he gave me a cheery little wave and turned back to his books on the flora and fauna of the region. Ah well, if he was indeed facing his last days on this earth, he seemed happy enough to be doing what he was doing… I’ll check in on him in a few days and make sure he’s still flicking through those books (fingers crossed, right?)

And so, with site number in hand, we made our way through the maze of dirt tracks that led across this vast camp ground. The Dales Campsite was certainly spread out. I believe it might have been designed this way, so that travellers are able to get a sense of what it is like to park up in the middle of nowhere and truly experience Karajini National Park.

Eventually, we stumbled across the wee space in which we were to park our trailer. It was a cheeky little number, tucked in amongst some low-lying scrub; and only 20 meters or so from the nearest toilet. Not a bad little place to plonk ourselves for a few days.

Being early in the morning, we were able to set up and get going before the sun rose too high in the sky. So, knocking together a picnic and filling a few bottles with water, we set off.

 

As always, our first stop was to check out the local visitor’s centre; in the hopes that we might gain a little knowledge about what we were getting ourselves into. The Karijini Visitor Centre was quite cool. Lots of displays about the flora and fauna or the region, as well as tales about the local peoples who made this fertile patch their own. Unfortunately, we didn’t get to take advantage of this until our second or third day. As it turns out, there had been some visitor centre catastrophe, which meant it wouldn’t be open until mid-morning. And so, lacking the maps or local knowledge we’d hoped to acquire, we returned to our car empty handed – save for a quick soccer lesson from a group of South American tourists who were also waiting for the centre to open too (man, do these guys know how to wait… never a dull moment with our Brazilian friends!)

However, unlike the Latina chaps and chapettes, we were not inclined to wait patiently – the day was quickly burning away and we wanted to get moving. So, we turned our wheels in the direction of the Kalamina gorge and zipped back down the road.

Arriving at Kalamina, we jumped out of the car and set off to explore the wilderness laid out at our feet. Scrambling down a rough-cut flight of rocky stairs, we eventually made our way to the bottom. The view on the way down was gorgeous; so too were the sights that awaited us at the bottom. Lush vegetation was interspersed with rocky outcrops and cascading waters. What more could an intrepid adventurer want?

Kalamina gorge - the path begins...

Hitting the bottom of the gorge, we were given the choice of two directions in which to wander… left or right. From our vantage point, we could see that the river ended in a shallow waterfall to the right – so after checking that out for a few minutes, we continued downstream to the left.

Kalamina gorge

The path through Kalamina Gorge was mostly flat and smooth. Apart for the occasion boulder to hop over, there was little more to do than enjoy the scenery. Unless, of course, you’re a wee lad named Daniel; who decided that every pond needed to be livened up a little by having a rock thrown into it.

Other than the occasional ‘plop’ or ‘sploosh’ (depending on the size of rock Daniel had selected), the canyon was quiet and serene.

Kalamina Gorge, the path continues...

The rains hadn’t been through this way for some time, and great mats of algae had managed to take root on the bed of the river that ran through the gorge. At times, these ochre mats seemed to be alive, particularly as the gentle waters of the river undulated them in its current. The kids gave these amoeboid structures a wide berth, and watched them closely as they move by some arcane sort of magic… Definitely bad juju!

Bad juju algae in Kalamina Gorge

After fording our way across several streams, the gorge soon came to a sudden halt. No more path meant no more wandering. So, we sat down to have a slice of Coles finest Madeira Cake, then turned on our heels and wandered home. The boys were a little disappointed that there was no swimming hole at the end of the gorge, particularly as we had been spoiled by the resplendent water holes encountered in every gorge on the trip to date… But, alas, this algae filled trench was not destined to be one of those…

Kalamina Gorge - the end of the path...

And so, we wandered home for our first night in Karijini National Park. As we were setting up the last remnants of our trailer, we heard a screech of brakes and a grinding of gravel coming from somewhere nearby. On the road in front of us was a huge trailer, the likes of which our boys had only dreamed of towing. Out of the front passenger seat of the suddenly halted car came a sun-kissed women, who approached our trailer with a cautious, yet assured demeanour.

She named us one by one, and then introduced herself as one of Nat’s playgroup friends; harking back to when Daniel was a newly hatched bundle of joy. Fiona and her partner, Peter, along with their two kids (G and C; names omitted in case their parent don’t want them to soar to internet fame after appearing in this blog) had been on the road for the past 6 months. They still had another 6 months to go, and Nat had been in contact with them while they had been away. We had a vague idea that they would be in this neck of the woods and Nat had hoped to catch up with them. But, as it turns out, die Frau mit der Zwischenablage had done the work for us. They have been assigned a plot of earth less than 100 meters away!

Raiding the fridge for a bottle of wine and the pantry (such that it is) for some nibbles, we quickly mooched off to spend the early part of the evening with these newly formed/long lost friends. However, unfortunately we had already booked ourselves in for an evening under the stars with a local astronomer touting his wares in this neck of the woods. So, we scoffed dinner, had some hurried drinks and nibbles, and zipped off down the road to join in with the astronomical wonderment that we had signed up for. Sadly though, when we got to the proposed site of our star gazing, we found that it had been called off due to cloud cover (I had driven down to the site less than an hour ago and the sign still said the observation night was still on… ho hum!)

So, forlornly we returned to the campsite, were we found the mother’s group party had retired for the night. So, we headed to our trailer to get some sleep; ahead of our next big day of gorge wandering tomorrow.

When I say head to bed, I mean Nat and the boys got some shut eye. I, however, stayed out to chip away at this blog. After an hour or so of collating photos and coming up with the most witty of prose, I happened to look up (searching for my next quip or hackneyed metaphor). When I did, I was left gob smacked! The clouds had lifted and the full explosion of stars appeared in the firmament. Such a shame, it really would have been wonderful to see then through some powerful telescopes. Ah, well, there’s always tomorrow!

But for now, it’s time for me to get some shut eye of my own.

Bye ‘d bye

Gregg

Cape Leveque - more beachy goodness

Date:	10 - 12 /06/2017
Location:	Cape Leveque (Western Australia)
Distance Travelled:	208 km
Temperature:	Min:	9.6
	Max:	27.0
days ‘cihillaxing’ on the beach:	3

Today we would be heading away from our comfy little trailer, and heading off with our tent, for one last time. Whenever we transfer our lives from the van and ‘go bush’ for a few days, it always amazes me how much we can fit into the boot of our car. In these moments, I am very thankful for the 20 minutes we spent before leaving Melbourne; during which I took out the third row of seats from the back of the car and stowed them away in our spare room. I’m sure these extra seats will come in handy in years to come, particularly when we’re providing a taxi service to our kids and all their mates; but now they would have just been extra weight to lug around this vast continent. What’s more, with the seats gone, a whole chunk of extra boot space appeared (including a compartment in which to store those items that only reared their heads once in a blue moon). Under the floor of the boot we had stowed all the camping beds, along with a pump to blow them up; a handy spade for digging us out of tight spots (or building sandcastles on the beach, when not otherwise engaged in saving our lives); an air compressor to pump up our tyres (see Darwin Post for more on this); my tool box and fishing gear; as well as an assortment of other bits and pieces that just didn’t quite fit anywhere else.

With our car crammed full to the brim, we made our way a few kilometres down the road to a trailer storage facility. Pulling up, we noticed another family was also waiting to drop off their own trailer. Having a quick chat to these folks, we learned that they had been waiting for a while and there was no sign of the facility owner turning up. So, after a few phone calls, we were able to drag the manager out of bed and had him open up so we could lock away our trailer. As soon as we were done, we snuck off before the trailer knew what was happening...

Heading out of town, we followed the same route out of Broome by which we’d arrived a few days earlier. However, this time we were heading towards the turn off to Cape Leveque, only a few kilometres up the road. The road started smoothly enough and there was even bitumen for the first 14km or so… But from there, it quickly turned a little, errm, troubling. Hitting the end of the paved road, we pulled over and let down our tyres. As usual, this was pretty much guess work, but whatever PSI we ended up at, we were glad we did. Moving up the road, we found it to be littered with remnants of many tyre carcasses and bits of old rubber. That’s never a good sign…

Cape Leveque - Road Information

But onwards we pushed. The track that lay before us began reasonably enough. A few bumps here, a bit of sand there. But very soon these small bumps turned into ever bigger and more incessant contusions. At times, the furrows subsided for a while, but in their place the sand grew ever deeper and clawed at our tyres. The road also started to bank up on either side – in places, we found ourselves driving on slopes of at least 30 – 40 degrees. But, despite the precariousness of these steeply banked roads, they were still preferable from driving on the heavily corrugated soft sand down in the valley floor of the track. On the odd occasion that we did pass a car travelling in the other direction, we weren’t always certain if either vehicle would be able to maintain their trajectory on the sandy walls, or if one would come careening down towards the other…

Bumpy banked roads

…but, two and a half hours later, we arrived at the end of Cape Leveque and turned into the driveway of the remote Kooljaman wilderness camp. This little gem was owned and run by the indigenous Bardi Jawi communities. It was a perfect spot, tucked up against the shores of ocean, for a few days of swimming, fishing and exploring an untouched marine wilderness. And there we stayed for three long, blissful days!

Kooljaman campsite

Having arrived late in the afternoon, we only had time to wander down the beach to explore a few kilometres of seascape. This stretch of beach was magnificent. Slowly curling waves crashed languidly against the white sandy shore.

Knowing that it would soon be sunset, we also took a few drinks and nibbles (as well as our camp chairs) down to the beach to sit and watch the sun head towards the horizon. The brilliant red sunset glared down on the equally dazzling red rocks of the cliffs behind us. Soon, the whole landscape was enflamed by a ruddy glow. And so, with beer in hand (fruit drink for the kids) we marvelled at the solar light show that was put on just for us.

Sunset at the Kooljaman Campsite

After a hearty meal and retiring to our tent for a good night’s sleep, we woke the next morning ready to head off on an adventure of a lifetime. One of the big draw cards that had brought us to Cape Leveque was the chance to go on a tag-along-tour with a local aboriginal guide. In this part of the world, the name Brian Lee is synonymous with an awesome day out! For a small fee, Brian takes out a group of people deep into the traditional lands of the Bardi Jawi people. He is known for the stories he tells, his knowledge of the land, as well as for relating the traditional stories of his people and giving a glimpse into their way of life. Being a tag-along-tour, you take your own car and follow him through some rather inhospitable terrain. For me, I was keen to use this as an opportunity to expand my knowledge of driving our little Pajero through some areas that I wouldn’t have been confident to attempt on my own.

Along the way, there would also be opportunities to fish at secret fishing holes and Brian would take his tag-alongers to his favourite mud crab hunting grounds. The day was set to be topped off with a big feast of all the sea food we’d managed to collect over the day; before heading home as the sun went down.

But, alas, turning up to reception at the crack of dawn, we were sadly told that the renowned Brian Lee had injured himself whilst walking over a bed of oysters during a recent tour. His feet, we were informed, had been cut to shreds and he couldn’t walk or drive his car. As much as I felt sorry for Mr Lee, we were all deeply disappointed that we weren’t able to go ahead with what would have been an awesome experience. As for me, I was particularly sad that I wouldn’t be able to get the tips and tricks I’d hoped to learn about driving through some very inhospitable conditions.

Standing forlornly at the reception building, we realised that we had to come up with a plan for the day we didn’t expect to have free. Together, we studied the hand-drawn map we of the Kooljaman area. Being on a peninsula, there were beaches all around us; but on closer inspection there were a series of arcane signs drawn on the map; some had symbols of fish, other indicated swimming, but many also had warnings about sharks and other deadly wildlife.

Chatting to the helpful ladies behind the reception desk, we decided that the best course of action would be to follow a chunk of the trail that we would have covered during the Brian Lee tour. However, this would take us down a narrow sandy path, as well as over a few sand dunes, onto the beach to the south of the campsite. Fortunately, the crew at Kooljaman were well prepared for this and an air compressor had been set up for travellers to reinflate their tyres after they had taken a spin down the track and along the beach. So, determining that this would be our destination for the day, we made our way down the coastal track and dropped our tyre pressure to 18 PSI. This was the lowest I’d dared go throughout the trip to date; but one of the friendly folks at reception had cheerfully told us that her husband was down on the beach today – so if we got stuck, we could flag him down to help get us out… Now that’s an insurance policy, WA style!

Sandy road to beach

With our tyres deflated as much as I dared, we faced off against the sand dunes and gritted our teeth. It was a case of either do or die (well, do or walk back with our tail between our legs and get some help… but, sitting behind the wheel, it felt a little more epic than that!). Revving the engine, I made sure the car was in a low gear and faced off against the sandy nemesis. Getting a good amount of speed up, we started floating over the sand. Onwards we travelled. Bumping our way along on top of the white powder, until, FINALLY, we reached the other end.

Having made it to our destination, we unpacked our chairs and the beach umbrella that we’d hired from a little café / shop / book exchange run by a woman from a local community, as well as our snorkels and fishing gear.

The day was passed either casting a line into, or frolicking amongst, the waves. Sadly, there was no great catch pulled out of the sea that day (although the bloke next to us pulled in a few… just bad luck, I guess). Having grown tired of trying to catch a fish, we decided to go and look at them instead. So, having donned masks and snorkels, we plodded into the waves. Despite a few little nippers near popping up the shore, we didn’t see a whole lot in the crystal-clear waters of the bay. The water was warm and the surf was fun to play in, so we didn’t feel too hard done by for our lack of any bites in the morning. Nat stayed out of the water, and for most of the day was found on the beach reading a book under her umbrella; however, she also took time out of her busy schedule to wander down the beach and collect a few shells to arrange in a pretty design.

Over the course of the day, the tide rolled in (causing us to move the car a fair bit higher up the beach on several occasions) and the out again. It was amazing how far the ocean moved between high and low tides. At one point, we were pinned against the sand dunes at the top of the beach, the next we were wandering many meters down to the low tide mark. As we explored the newly exposed sand left behind as the tide receded, we also picked up many meters of lost fishing line, sinkers and hooks that had been discarded by other people fishing. It soon also became clear as to why so much fishing tackle littered the beach. Hidden amongst the waves were columns of razor sharp oysters, clinging to rocks like some crudely made defence against intruders storming the beach.

Unfortunately, I too fell victim to this defensive outpost, and I managed to slice open one of my toes whilst swimming around the rocks. I suddenly developed great empathy for our would-be-guide, Brian Lee, and the multiple cuts he had all over his feet. I mean, these little suckers are so sharp that I didn’t even feel the cut (but was only alerted to the damage when I noticed the water turning bright red). “Bugger”, I thought, “That’ll hurt in the morning…”

Our final day on Cape Leveque was spent back at the same beach we had navigated to the day before. This time, however, we came prepared with our reef shoes (to fend off the razor-sharp oysters), a bag full of plasters (aka band-aides), and a spade (for some serious sandcastle action).

Having tried our luck again (unsuccessfully) at fishing and had and taken our fill of the ocean from under the waves, we turned our attention to the hitherto unadulterated sand that lay all around us.

When I was a kid, I remember building a gigantic car out of sand with my dad and my brother… I think this might have been on a trip to on a summer holiday in New Zealand (possibly on the Coromandel peninsula). But what does stick out for me was the car. All day long I remember having spent crafting that lovely sandy automobile; until in the end, we had a sculpture to be proud of!

And so, when my kids said, “let’s build a sandcastle, Dad”, that’s what came flooding back.

For many hours we toiled away at that beast. In the end, we stood back and admired our creation; and felt proud that we had even added a trailer on the back as well!. Looking a little like ‘Herbie´ from the 1968 film ‘The Love Bug’, in the end our little car was big enough for Ben and Daniel to take the front seats and I was dragged along behind!

Our fabulous ‘sand car-stle’

We got a few smiles as people passed us on the beach and were even asked if we could take some folks for a spin up and down the beach (the boys swelling with pride as the compliments came). But, as with all sand sculptures, in the end, the tide began its indifferent procession back up the beach – and it was time for our awesome creation to meet its soggy end. However, rather than allowing it to be slowly consumed by the ocean, Nat and the boys took great glee in crumbling the short-lived car into a pile of flattened sand once again.

Before the sun fully set, we made our way back to our real car and headed to the campsite once again. A block of cheese was pulled from the esky (aka Chilly Bin) and we made our way to the top of the cliffs to watch the sun go down.

Cape Leveque - final sun set

Dragging ourselves out of bed the next morning, we were sorry to leave this amazing slice of paradise. If time had been permitting, we could easily have stayed much, much longer.

And so, with great sadness, we packed up our tent and shoved our belongings back into the car. With everything stowed away, we began the return journey down the formidable track that brought us to Cape Leveque. There was, however, an altogether too brief moment of excitement when we passed a huge snake sunning itself in the middle of the road. Two ‘Steve Urwin’ imitators had already pulled up and were using their jackets and spare shoes to try and shoo it off the road. For a while the serpent headed towards our car, which gave ample opportunities for a few awesome snaps, but it eventually made its way across to the sunny side of the road opposite us.

Snake-based excitement over, we continued to battle our way down the tilted sandy track, back to the end of the Cape Leveque road. With a little good fortune, we managed to make our way the end of the road without incident once more. Pumping up our tyres and refuelling at a nearby service station, we were ready to roll! All we needed was our ever-faithful trailer, which we subsequently picked up, then we were away.

Our destination for the next few days was to be Karijini National park. However, there were a few miles to cover first …

As much as I truly loved Cape Leveque, I must admit that I was glad to see the back of our tent for a while. It was therefore a pleasure to be able to store the green and red beast under the front seats of the van once more, as we continued our grand tour of Australia back down to Victoria. Don’t get me wrong, I am eternally grateful for the warmth and protection that this little dome of wonder has provided us from the elements. I am also exceptionally grateful to Nat’s folks for lending this mini-marquee to us!! But, squeezing Nat, I, and two growing lads into a two-man tent has been a bit of a push at times. Then again, without this cloth carapace, we simply wouldn’t have been able to behold some of the most spectacular sights we have seen on this journey.

So, with a bit of perspective, I shall wrap up our fabric igloo, our silken cottage, our clothed dome, with the reverence and respect it deserves (I might even find it in my heart to scrap off some of the bird poo it has accumulated along the way) and store it as one would a fallen solider awaiting a return to its home soil…

Bye ‘d bye

Gregg