Bungle Bungles (2) - Oh, my [gasp]. I mean, WOW!

Crawling out of the car into the cold, crisp air of our first morning in Purnululu National Park, my heart was warmed to see our kettle being heated on the gas stove and cereal being heaped into bowls. A quick breakfast later and a few rounds of sandwiches made (quickly thrown together and tucked into a backpack, along with several litres of water for each of us), then we were off.

With so much ground to cover in a couple of short days, there wasn’t time to hang around – “come on boys, lets hit the road!”

Our first stop was the car park that led to both Mini Palm and Echidna Gorges. Heading down the rough trail, we turned right at the intersection between the two gorges and moseyed down to spend a few hours checking out Mini-Palms first.

Crossroads between Mini Palm and Echidna Gorge

In the hot morning sun, half leaping, half trudging, we made our way down a wide river stone trail. In the distance, we could see a bend in the trail. At this point, the path turned steadily and then headed down a shady lane straight along the centre of a high walled gorge.

Entry way to Mini Palms Gorge

We quickly made the hot-footed dash across an exposed path, directly into to the mouth of Mini-Palms gorge. Upon arriving at the other side of this scorching beam of sunlight, we were rewarded for our early morning efforts by being bathed in cool damp air.

The walls of the gorge were sheer, with the sun only just able to peek over the rim of cliffs stretching up hundreds of meters above us. Colossal boulders of conglomerate rock were strewn across the valley floor, with trees of all sizes creeping their way around the massive stones towards the dappled sun far above.

Moving a little further into the gorge, we soon found why it was named ‘Mini Palm Gorge'. Turning yet another corner, we found ourselves wandering amongst a handful for palm trees; which seemingly survived only by stretching their slender trunks up towards to sunlight at the top of the gorge.

This handful of tress soon thickened, until we entered a wide expanse that was filled to the brim with such palms. These thin spindly trees clung on tightly to the rocky floor with roots of iron. Their magnificent fronds spread widely overhead. Allowing only dappled sunlight to reach the ground below. Each frond fought with its neighbours to soak up as many of the sun’s rays as possible – it was survival of the fittest, albeit on a languorous time scale.

Mini Palms Gorge – pretty cool, huh?

At the end of the trail, the gorge terminated in a high, wide platform overlooking an empty plateau. This led, in turn, to a narrow crease, which crept its way deep into the rock. Any movement past this platform by the general public was forbidden – but, from this vantage point, we were more than satisfied by the what we had been able to see.

Taking time for a spot of lunch and a well-earned drink, we watched butterflies, bugs and birds winging around the shady glade, and enjoyed the serene peacefulness of this area.

Wandering back down the stony river trail, we soon reached the end of the path and made it back to crossroads (where we had stood a few hours before). We caught our breath, then turned our heels in the direction of Echidna chasm.

The entry to Echidna chasm was similar to that of Mini Palms gorge: big river stones created a path towards a narrow chasm in the rock.  After this morning’s walk into Mini Palms Valley, the loose rocks of Echidna Chasm played havoc with our legs and ankles – but not to be deterred, we pressed onwards.

Entrance to Echidna Chasm

Slipping into the gorge, Echidna Chasm soon revealed itself to be something ‘a little bit special’.

Of all the gorges we’d been lucky enough to encounter on our trip, this one certainly took the prize for having the steepest and narrowest ravines.

Echidna Gorge

The thin path wended its way down a curvy route through the rock. High walls enclosed us on all sides and the trail continued to grow narrower and narrower. Eventually, the path erupted into a wide chamber, where sunlight poured down from a thin aperture in the ceiling high above. In the eerie light that flooded the chamber, it felt like we were so far removed from the rest of humanity- who seemed to live in some-off, distant land.

Echidna Gorge - WOW!

But this wasn’t the end of the trail. Oh no, onwards we trekked. Squeezing our way through narrow passageways and clambering over giant rocks. Yes, onwards we pressed, onwards towards the end of the path. Along the route, we were treated to some awesome sights. Chief of which were the giant boulders that had haplessly fallen into the abyss. These gargantuan balls of rock had toppled into the gorge, only to be caught in the clutches of the chasm; where they had been suspended eternally in a tight grip arresting their fall. These oversized rocky-billiard balls had come to rest just meters above the bottom of the ravine, and seemed to beckon explorers to step beneath to chance their luck at not being crushed into pulpy wafers…

Echidna Chasm – suspended rocks

Having explored the full length of the chasm, we began making our way back. With such steep terrain, there were a few minor injuries along the way (mainly from the boys who wanted to press the limits of the human body and climb into the uncharted crannies of this site). But, soon, all aches and pains were forgotten, as we burst forth once more into the light of day once more.

Echidna Chasm – how far do you dare go?

Feeling exhausted, we took a few moments to catch our breath. Then, it was time to make the journey home again to our campsite. Stopping briefly at the Ranger’s Station, we picked up some fresh ice and a ‘flavoured icy treat’ for the boys (aka – for Aussies an ‘Icy pole’, for Kiwis an ‘Ice block’, for our UK readers a ‘lolly ice’; for the rest of the world, please insert your own words for a cool blob of flavoured sugary ice on a stick… or simply take your pick from those above).

The last couple of hours of daylight were spent around our humble camp. Not being entirely exhausted from this morning’s exertions, they boys took themselves off on an hour-long hike around the campsite. While Nat and I cleaned up and prepared dinner, the boys saw a bunch of wildlife stopped and chatted to a few fellow travellers along the way. Upon their return, they excitedly told us about all of these encounters one-by-one.

As for me, with dinner on the stove, I spent the rest of the hour searching every inch of my air mattress for the puncture that had plagued me the night before. Luckily, I was able to spot the offending hole without too much difficulty. So, I duly pulled out the repair kit that came with the bed and attempted to patch it up. Cutting a nice piece of material from the spare rubbery-cloth I found in the pack, I then cut the top off the glue and began squeezing the tube. I squeezed somewhat gingerly at first, for fear that it would spray out all over the bed. But, with nothing forthcoming, harder and harder I squeezed, but - alas - nothing came out. Eventually, in the hopes of finding at least a dab of adhesive hidden in the dark recesses of the tube, I cut it open so I might eek out the smallest drop to plug the hole. But, lo and behold, there was nothing in there – nope, not even residue of dried up glue. Surely, this must be one of those hundred to one occasions where the machine (or possibly, person), which was meant to fill the tube with glue, must have missed. So, I grabbed the second tube and tried again. But once more, I found the tube empty. “What the?” I cursed, and threw the patch repair kit aside. Recalling my 1980’s boyhood love affair MacGyver, I dug out my trusty roll of duct tape. "Ahhh, you silver goddess, is there nothing you can’t fix?!?" And so, without fuss or further mess, the mattress was sealed and re-inflated. And you know what – I actually slept until morning.

Legless lizard – spotted in Mini Palms Gorge

Now, an interesting fact I learned during these wanderings in the southern part of the park, was that the Bungles only came to the attention of ‘Australia’ (take that as you will), in the 1980’s. Although they had been known to the aboriginal people of this area in years gone by, they had been largely forgotten for a variety of socio-political reasons (that I will leave well alone in this blog [‘Oh, Google… can you fill us in please?”]). Even so, it seems that due to the location of these rocky gorges, as well as their and lack of flowing water, this region of Australia was little visited by aboriginal people in times of yore, other than as a way-point along the path to richer regions of land.

Our final day in Purnululu National Park was spent in the southern part of the Bungle Bungles, along the Piccaninny Creek trail. This is a length of path that stretches for many kilometres, along harsh rugged terrain, which and can be wandered for days if one so desires. But for us, time was of the essence. So, we needed to explore as much of this exposed trail as we could and get out before the sun climbed too high in the sky (i.e., before it fried us to a crisp).

Piccaninny Gorge – now this is what the Bungle Bungles is meant to look like!

Take the first gorge on the right and keep flying ‘till morning (with apologies to J.M. Barrie)

With a quick breakfast put away, we made the 30km journey from our campsite to the Piccaninny trail (an hour and a half, with corrugations...). Arriving at Piccaninny Creek, we heading out of the car park and turned a sharp left at the first sign post, where we headed towards Cathedral Gorge.

Oh, so many choices

The trail to Cathedral Gorge was pretty cool; not only for the scenery, but also for the number of dead or dying Cane Toads that we spotted along the way. For the uninitiated, cane toads are an immense problem in the northern parts of Australia. Native to both south and mainland America, cane toads were introduced to Australia from Hawaii in June 1935 by the Bureau of Sugar Experiment Stations (aka, the government), in an attempt to control the native grey-backed cane beetle (Dermolepida albohirtum) and Frenchi beetle (Lepidiota frenchi) that was reducing sugar production. However, the cane toad is renowned for being tough and adaptable, as well as being poisonous throughout its life cycle, and has few predators in Australia. As such, they have now ballooned in numbers – far beyond that which can be controlled (either naturally or by hunting). And so, coming across sink holes and steep gullies filled with cane toad carcasses was a shamefully pleasant sight (if not a little pongy).

Leaving the massacre of cane toad behind us, we continued along the trail until we came to the eponymous gorge shaped like a massive Cathedral. This place was very, very cool indeed. Here, over hundreds of thousands of years, water had carved an enormous amphitheatre out of the mountain above. As we entered this place, we were confronted by loud echoes of the travellers who already have beaten us there. Thankfully, however, there were few people ahead of us. And once the small clutch of other travellers had left, we had Cathedral gorge to ourselves (at least, for a moment of two of blissful silence). And so, after a few echoes had been cast by the kids in this awesome space of aural wonders, we wandered around this site until we felt we had drunk in the spectacle enough to leave.

Cathedral Gorge

Boys harmonizing(?!) at Cathedral Gorge.

For me, however, having been known to tread to boards a few times in my life, I just couldn’t bring myself to leave until I’d uttered a few words from the Great Bard. So, summoning words of the St Crispin Day speech from Henry V (that’s the ‘we band of brothers’ speech for those who weren’t sure – Oh, such awesome writing...) I gently let the verses echo themselves gently around the chamber. That done, I felt satisfied enough to trot along behind Nat and the boys.

The remainder of the morning was spent wandering along Piccaninny Creek. This was a splendid trail, with all manner of biomes and vistas to satisfy the weary traveller. Indeed, the scenery changed so often that it was hard to decide when the turn around and make the return journey back to the car park.

Piccaninny Gorge

I’m not exactly sure how it happened. But one minute we were talking to some fellow travellers; the next we were sitting down for a drink of water. The boys continued walking and talking with the other walkers; Nat went after the boys and I was left minding the bags…

“Ummm, Helloooooo?” I murmured plaintively into my knapsack.

Thirty minutes later, having decided that the others weren't coming back any time soon, I moved myself and the bags into a cool shady spot (where I spent my time examining the various foot prints left by a curious plethora of animals in the sand). Some time late, Nat and the boys did in fact reappear from the desert – puffing, panting and sweating – having made it all the way up to ‘The Window’ and back.

Piccaninny trail – ‘The Window’

“Oh, hi guys,” I said, feeling suddenly a little like our recently abandoned trailer. “What was it like?”

The boys gleefully regaled me with tales of their wanderings up the last kilometre or two of the canyon.

As the sun was well on the march towards its zenith, we turned on our heels and headed back the way we came.

Making a brief detour into the Piccaninny lookout, we stopped for a family photo overlooking several of the beehive-shaped rocky domes of the Bungle Bungles; before making our way down the Domes Trail and back to the car.

Piccaninny gorge – family photo!

Heading back to the camp site, we hurriedly packed up our tent and other belongings before beginning our long drive out of Purnululu National Park.

Having forded many rivers and navigated all the nasty terrain that we had encountered on the way in, we eventually picked up our trailer and set our sights in an westerly direction once more.

It was our intention to pull up for the night at Halls Creek… but arriving there in the early evening, we were pretty nonplussed by the thought of a night in this little back water. So, we filled up on fuel, gave the windscreen a jolly good clean (those decaying bugs sure hold on tight). We grabbed a couple of pies for the servo to sustain us on our journey, before we drove another hundred kilometres or so to a free camp along Mary River.

We arrived at Mary Pool free-camp well after dark. Top our dismay, the site was already pretty much full. This was one of those places along the road, where you can pull up, pitch your tent/trailer, spend the night (free of charge) and then leave.

Being dark, it was hard to get a lay of the land. I mean, it was obvious where the toilets were – you could smell them a mile away – but finding a suitable place to park the trailer was a different story. However, with the help of a few fellow travellers, we found a spare patch of earth; cleared away the broken glass that was lying in the grass and set up our trailer for the night. Dinner was a blur, but without much time wasted, bellies were filled with omelettes and bread; then we all hopped into bed for a well earned sleep. To be honest, we were all entirely exhausted from our whirlwind tour of the Bungles – but we knew we had covered a lot of distance and had been able to see a great deal of what was on offer.

Feeling tired, but completely satisfied, we all slept soundly until the engines of all the free campers parked around us revved up at the crack of dawn… Ah well, on with the adventure!

But for now, that’s where I’ll leave it.

Bye ‘d bye,

Gregg

Bungle Bungles - The journey to the heart of Purnululu National Park

Date:	23 - 25 /05/2017
Location:	Bungle Bungles [Purnululu] (Western Australia)
Distance Travelled:	307 km
Temperature:	Min:	15.0
	Max:	35.5
Water crossings:	80+!!!!
Corrugations:	Countless…

Having cleaned, stocked and packed our car, we were nearly ready to head out into the wilderness once more (i.e., camping without the safety and comfort of our camper trailer). We woke early on Tuesday morning and spent another hour making final preparations. It always amazes me that, no matter how much we get ready the day before, it still takes us one to two hours to actually get on the road the following morning…

… But, eventually we were all set.

When we were last in Kununurra (a week or so ago), we had made a series of rushed phone calls to our Jayco dealer in Melbourne. Early in our trip, we noticed that the latch on our door lock was weak and likely to break. Unfortunately, the flimsy plastic finally gave way as we arrived in Kununurra the first time. Still being under warranty, they agreed to 'express post' a replacement part to our Kununurra campsite, which we hoped would arrive while we were in El Questro. Sadly, a week and a half later, there was still been no sign of the new door lock arriving from Jayco. So, with some last-minute instructions given to the caravan park reception to forward the part on to our next port of call with an actual postal address (Cable Beach, Broome), we trundled out of the caravan park and onto the Great Northern highway (a pretty good road, but a much better beer!).

While I was tootling around on my own last night after the kids went to bed, I uploaded all of our photos from the camera to computer (making sure to also create a spare backup USB , like a true nerd, ready to be send home the next time we hit a major town with a half decent post office… Sure I could upload to the ‘cloud’, but, MAN, that takes a hell of a long time when I'm in the middle of nowhere and have to chase the 3G signal around the caravan park!!). The other thing I did whilst sitting under the stars, was to download a couple of audiobooks from our public library back in Melbourne. I had hoped to get the ‘Magician’s Nephew’ (the first of the Narnia Series), but unfortunately all the copies had been checked out to other lucky people. So, I settled on a couple of books that I hoped the kids might like. These included: ‘N.E.R.D.S.’ and the first book of the ‘Series of Unfortunate Events’ series by Lemony Snicket. As it turns out, N.E.R.D.S (a story about a group of high-school aged spies), did the trick. And so, the journey down the Great Northern was passed in blissful silence – save for the twang of an American accent chittering at us from the stereo. At least the voice actor had a smooth cadence to his voice – which was far better than sudden shrieks from the backseat that typically happen when one of our boys cops a foot, elbow or some other body part in the face from the other… or worse (believe me, it can get much, much worse…)

So, before we knew it, the main protagonist of our N.E.R.D.S. tale had been fitted with a mouthful of nanotechnology braces (which could shoot out of his mouth at will and perform all sorts of magical mischief) and we had hit the turn-off from the smooth gliding road of the Great Northern. Yup, we were about to set our wheels onto the harsh unforgiving off-road track that led to the Bungle Bungles.

Road into the Bungles – actually, this stretch wasn’t too bad…

At this point, we still had our caravan doodling along behind us. But, like a pet that we were surreptitiously taking to the vet (where it would likely endure some rather unpleasant operation), we had also kept it quiet from our trailer that it wouldn’t be coming with us for the next part of our trip. Unfortunately, having purchased an on-road trailer, this little fella wasn’t going to be up to the challenge of the heavily corrugated adventure we had planned for the next few days. So, about a kilometre up the road, we pulled into a largely desolate caravan park at the entrance to the Purnululu national park. Checking in, we found a nice grassy spot on which the trailer could sit and mull over life for a while. Then, no sooner had we arrived, we were waving farewell to our dear (albeit ill-fitted and shoddily constructed) friend. We wouldn’t be seeing it again for a few days – along with its comfy beds, ample battery-power, 80-litre water tank and clean spacious cupboards. No, it was tenting all the way for us. Ahhh, tenting, "Oh, joy!"

So, off we went. Nothing but 52 kilometers of bumpy road, water-crossings, steep inclines and blind corners to navigate… and that was just to get us to the ranger’s station so we could register that we had arrived. From there it was another twenty-odd kilometres to our final destination in the southern end of the park. As the afternoon progressed, we hoped we’d be able to make it in time to pitch our tent before the sun went down (and in WA, that’s about 5:00 at this time of year).

Purnululu National Park – Road to the Bungle Bungles

Having taken an acting class or two in high school, let me see if I can recreate the journey for you:

"Behold! Dim the lights and let me take you on a marvellous journey through brilliant green grasslands, vibrant orange weather-worn rocky hills, dusty-sand and loose rock roads. Onwards, dear adventurers, onwards; up hills and down dales… but mostly over horribly corrugated lanes of gravel and sand that went: Bumpity bumpity bumpity bump, bumpity bumpity bump. Bumpity bumpity bumpity bump, bumpity bumpity bump. Bumpity bumpity bumpity bump, bumpity bumpity bump. Bumpity bumpity bumpity bump, bumpity bumpity bump. Bumpity bumpity bumpity bump, bumpity bumpity bump. Bumpity bumpity bumpity bump, bumpity bumpity bump. Bumpity bumpity bumpity bump, bumpity bumpity bump…"

…you get the picture.

Oh, my... was it ever bumpy!

For the most part, we were lucky enough to have the bumpy trail to ourselves. As such, we were free to travel at whatever sedate pace we desired. However, occasionally a car with sturdier off-road wheels would come up behind (not caring one jot about the sharp stones that could rip out flimsy factory fitted tyres to shreds), and would hound us with lights and dust until it eventually barrelled by us. Completely unphased by this, I would always simply pull to the side and happily let these cars with their behemoth wheels careen passed us. However, I couldn’t helping think (as they churned their way passed) that these sods were also responsible for chewing up the road and causing the corrugations for the rest of us who were content to plod along.

Despite the knowledge that we would probably arrive late in the afternoon, we were happy to soak in the opulence of the journey. The best part about travelling at a pace slightly slower than a rocket, is that you really get to enjoy the view along the way. And enjoy it we did! I mean, this place is magnificent. The road took us through sights that were a cross between many of the locations we’d been before (a touch of Uluru here, a smattering of Kata Tjuta there, a bit of Kings Canyon around that corner, and the dark grey-green slopes of Kakadu around the next…). Then, whenever a water crossing appeared before us, even the most horrific corrugations were forgotten for a while as we braved the unknown depths. In all, we counted 27 water crossings on our way into the Purnululu National Park. But, by the end of our two nights around the Bungles we had forged our way across over a total of 80 of the blighters… so much for, "let’s take it easy!"

As we approached out campsite, we were treated to what can only be described as a magical view. Our dilly dallying had meant that we arrived about an hour before the sun set. So, as we set up our tent, we were treated to a colourful display; while the sun marched onwards towards the horizon. The already magnificent red-orange-grey monoliths, which thrust out of the ground like

Tolkienesque towers, were supercharged with the brilliant vibrancy of the dying sun. In this light, they slid from being simply stunning, and entered into a whole new spectrum of awesome. While the rocks themselves were a sight to behold, mother nature had kept a rare treat for this little patch of the earth (almost like she knew people would be coming in droves to gawp at her creative majesty). Instead of leaving her work on a bare oily canvas, she had chosen to frame it with brilliant blue skies amidst a foreground of lime green plants dotted in tight clumps throughout the rocky middle distance. My goodness, no wonder there were such vivid dreamtime stories created by the original inhabitants of this country. As a confirmed atheist, I admit that even I can be drawn to such fancies when faced with such awe-inspiring sights – so, it is not surprising that those with less of a bee in their bonnet about the idea of there being a great creator out there, would seek to imbue this patch of geology with creation tales befitting of such splendour.

Red rocks, blue sky, green grass: Purnululu National Park

Driving the last few kilometres to the Walardi campsite (at the southern part of the park), we turned our attention towards finding to best campsite for our brief stay. We eventually settled on Lot 24. A single campsite surrounded by trees. This place was a stone’s throw from the nearest toilet, and presented us with a small patch of solitude, far away from the hubbub of other campers. As it turns out, there was actually very little hubbub from any of our very distant neighbours; and at this time of year we were quite far away from any neighbours at all. The night brought a little chill to the air, especially without the blazing fires we had been so lucky to have in El Questro (sadly, no fires have been permitted in Purnululu National Park since 01/04/2015). But, I quite like the cold. If nothing else, a bit of a chill means I actually look forward to my coffin shaped sleeping bag at the end of the day (well, perhaps, not look forward to it… but if I’m cold enough, it drags me inside before it gets too late).

What a wonderful spot – and at this time of year, we had our very own private toilet as well!

Having set up camp, we jumped back in the car and took a tiki-tour back down the road to the Kungkalanayi lookout point.

The Kungkalanayi lookout point provided a great view of the southern end of the national park, and was a superb place for a few snaps as the sun went down.

View of Purnululu National Park from Kungkalanayi lookout point

Returning to our camp, the rest of the evening was passed eating dinner (BBQ’d pork sausages in hot dog buns, with coleslaw, hot sauce and cheese – yummy!) and chatting away under the stars. Heading to bed, I found to my misfortune, that my air mattress was a little lower than I remembered it had been a few hour earlier. “Bugger,” I thought “I hope there’s not a leak…”

As it turns out, my sense of foreboding was correct…

I’m not sure if the mattress popped on purpose (y’know, just to get mentioned in my blog), but I must say, it was not the most comfortable experience waking up an hour later; lying on the cold hard floor. Since I didn’t fancy trying to find the leak in the middle of the night, I grabbed my sleeping bag and pillow and plodded out to the car. I spent the rest of the night trying to squeeze my large frame into the back seat; in the hopes of finding a position that didn’t threaten to cripple me if I stayed still for more than a few minutes. I eventually did fall asleep; only to be woken all-too-soon by the need to use mother nature’s little boy’s room. With such biological imperatives out of the way, I shuffled back into my silky coffin - fussed and fumbled in my confined metal igloo for the best part of an hour - until I finally falling asleep again.

And sound asleep I lay…

…that is, until a knock, knock knocking came from my window pane (Nevermore, cried the Raven, Nevermore!!)

But, alas, the knocking kept on knocking, and the rapping kept on rapping, and pretty soon I knew my fitful slumber had come to an end…

Looks like it’s time to start the day…

YAWN!!!

Let’s see what today has install for us.

Bye ‘d bye

Gregg

Kununurra - second stop

Date:	18 - 22 /05/2017
Location:	Kununurra (Western Australia)
Distance Travelled:	110 km
Temperature:	Min:	13.1
	Max:	35.0
Bucking broncos ridden	0!

During our last day in in El Questro, after we’d packed up and said goodbye to our little campsite, we spent the remainder of the day at Emma Gorge (see last post for details). Having explored the gorge fully, we then drove the 110 kilometres back to Kununurra, where we arrived just after the sun went down. Luckily, the campsite reception was still open and we could pick up a swipe card for the boom gates and rescue our little trailer from its holding pen at the back of the site. Picking our way slowly through the throngs of caravans and camper trailers, we arrived at the foreboding hidden lots (tucked out of sight from the rest of the campers), where forlorn vehicles are sent to rest while their owners are away.

As we pulled up, I swear I could hear the faint muffled sound our little trailer saying: “SPUNGLE THUMBLES… UMM, NO… JUNGLE RUMBLES… ERRR… WOT WAS IT? BUNJIL FUMBLES…”.  As we appeared from the darkness, our little camp trailer almost seemed to smile at our friendly – albeit dirty, stinky faces. “OH, UMM, HI GUYS. HEY, WHAT WAS THAT THING YOU WANTED ME TO SAY?”

“G’day old chap,” I replied, with a twinkle in my eye (perhaps betraying my need for a decent night’s sleep) “Don’t give it another thought”. “Let’s get you hooked up,” I cooed, as our trailer lowered gracefully onto the towball of our car. “You look like you could do with a change of scenery”

“OKEY DOKEY”, replied our little trailer. And so, in the dark, we hooked our little home on wheels and dragged it through the campsite to our allotted spot.

As we would be staying for the better part of a week, Nat had booked us a site right on the banks of Lake Kununurra. Unfortunately, there would be no time to enjoy the view of this splendid lake until the next day, as we had a bit of work ahead of us to get the trailer ready before we could prepare dinner and get the boys into bed. Being late, dinner consisted of a precooked chicken from the local supermarket, along with some salad and crusty bread… Driving back from Emma gorge, we had thought of treating the kids to ‘proper takeaways’; but in Kununurra, the options were pretty limited… not to mention exceptionally deep fried and a little too yucky for our liking.

The next day, having slept like logs on soft comfy mattresses, we woke up from a perfectly tranquil rest in our wonderfully darkened trailer. To hold back the offending daylight, all the curtains had been drawn tight, in the hopes that we may sleep until the semi-decent hour… We made it to 7:08. Not bad!

Bleary eyes, we drew open the zippered curtains and gaze out at the world that was hidden from us in the dark of night when we arrived. In the bright light of day, we were pleasantly surprised to find ourselves looking straight out over Lake Kununurra. The view from the boys’ window was particularly spiffy. A short, manicured lawn led to the banks of the lake. From there, lifting one’s gaze upwards, we were treated to about 50 metres of lily pads; floating near the edge of the lake (many of which were in full bloom). From there, the water stretched out to the horizon and wa punctuated here and there by skeletal fingers of submerged trees branches, like hands grasping towards the sky from the depths of the lake.

Lake Kununurra – not a bad spot to park your camper trailer…

We didn’t have much planned for today. But, that suited us all just fine… In fact, the majority of our day was spent cleaning, sorting, restocking, car washing, reading/playing, and generally chilling out.

Coffee in hand, I headed outside and took a look at our sad little car. It was a just a tad on the dusty side and could probably do with a wash. Draining my cup of Joe, I grabbed a bucket and a couple of rags from our utility box and gave the car a sound going over. After such a short time on the road (at least since its last wash in Lake Argyle), it was amazing how deeply the red dust of Australia had penetrated every nook, cranny and hard to reach crevice of our poor vehicle. Every seat was impregnated with the stuff. Hinges and locks were caked. Doors squeaked and groaned in protest when they were opened. The boot, where our most prizes possessions were stored (i.e., our food), was covered in a patina of red on all surfaces.

Filthy, simply filthy!

Once I cleaned away this red vail from our car, it quickly became apparent that some feathered beast had left a calling card for us on the roof. Unfortunately, this splurge of nature had been quickly covered by the red dust and therefore was surreptitiously hidden from sight. As such, by the time I’d found it, there was now a nasty bird-poo stain that had eaten clean through the paint, leaving the bare metal exposed. “Bugger…” I thought to myself, as I gingerly cleaned the now permanently embossed mark on our new paint work. “…What the hell do these Western Australia birds eat?”

With the car and trailer all spruced up (I even took a few moments to drain and refill the water tank, which had become inhabited by ants - probably while sitting in storage over the past few days), we sat down to enjoy an afternoon by the lake. As the day went on and evening began to approach, the peace and tranquillity was soon marred by an onslaught of Kununurra bugs. Living just a stone’s throw from the lake brought with it incredible beauty during the day. But as the sun went down, the beauty was quickly replaced by relentlessly marauding critters. Every lily pad and picturesque clump of reeds suddenly revealed themselves to be the trojan horses that they were. Not only were they exquisite treasures, but they were also filled to the brim with a crepuscular payload of itching and biting doom!

Draining the water tank - a bit of a soggy situation...

Being built of sturdy stuff, we took up the gauntlet and fought back against the invading armies for some time… However, after a while, Nat and the boys threw up their hands in surrender and went to bed. It was a shame, as the bugs did eventually die down (but not until about 10:00). Yet, there were audio books to be listened to (“House at Pooh Corner” made an appearance tonight) and the lure of warm PJ’s soon became too strong to ignore.

The next day we determined that the Lake and Its hidden bugs need to be tamed by any means necessary. And so, like all true explorers, we marched up the office and hired a couple of canoes. Yes, we decided to venture out and met our night-time foes head on. Donning life vests and grasping paddles firmly in our hands, we set our sights in the direction of the hidden hoards, and trooped bravely towards the boat ramp to pick up our magnificent (albeit soggy) vessels.

Avast, ye flying scum. We’ll send thee to the bone locker!

Dodging a pint-sized fresh water croc which made the boat ramp his home, we stepped aboard the canoes and pushed off to explore the grand lake.

We spent many hours tootling around; exploring the byways and side branches of this massive body of water. Aside from the occasional speed boat, which cast an unnerving bow wave in our direction (made ever more hair raising by the knowledge that this body of water is home to many a snappy freshies – and perhaps a salty or two – lurking among the thick throngs of pandanus along the banks), we had a lovely time/

Lake Kununurra was, it must be said, a little eerie in parts; particularly given that it had been flooded in the recent past by the construction of a dam wall (“DAMN WALL” chirped the kids – “Oh, be quiet, will you?!?”). The resulting rise in waters smothered massive trees, which once grew quite merrily where the lake now sits. Their formerly glorious branches were now dead and bare – yet they still stretched upwards towards the sky, seemingly trying to claw their way out of this watery tomb. Still, it made for interesting canoeing. We meandered for hours through what would have once been the upper canopy of this underwater forest.  In the end, we had covered a vast distance – more than I imagined when we first set off. But, as our arms grew tired, and the speed boats continued to pummel us with rocky waves, we decided it was about time to head back to shore for lunch.

Petrified trees of Lake Kununurra – clawing at the sky

While there was still more of the lake to explore (although, not too much; given the distance we’d travelled in the morning), our desire for further exploration was quelled by the promise of an altogether very interesting night. For this evening, dear readers, we were heading to a real live rodeo.

Yup, in our carefully planned itinerary, Nat had managed to weave her magic and ensured that we would arrive back at Kununurra just in time for the Ord Muster. This annual event is the highlight of the Kununurra calendar. Cowboys, and cowboy wannabees, flocked from rural towns throughout Australia, to compete to see who was the ‘bestest cowboy’ of all.

Ord Valley Muster - Rodeo!

I remember, when I was a youngster in New Zealand, I went to my very first (and, until now, only) rodeo. I went along with my folks, my brother, and mate Kelly (I originally thought it was another awesome friend of mine, Vidaal; but I’ve since been corrected! [see comments, below]). I’m a little sketchy on details, but I do recall heading out of Auckland to somewhere dusty. I know that I’d also been excited and curious to see what it was all about. However, I remember having woken up on the morning of the rodeo feeling a little under the weather… And, by the time we arrived, I was feeling absolutely awful! Now, when I say awful, I mean migraine awful – the first of just two migraines (thankfully) that I’ve ever had in my life. Light was unbearable. Sound grated on my very soul. And, the musty smell of horses made me run back to the car as quickly as my wobbly legs could carry me. Yup, that’s where I spent my first rodeo – probably 20 years (or more) ago – while my family and best mate ate hot dogs and cheered the lads and lasses as they were put to their paces by rage filled steeds and bulls.

This time, however, I was determined to see it through…

Heading out of town in the late afternoon, we arrived at Kununurra’s dedicated rodeo stadium. Well, stadium may be grand word for this modest venue. But, dedicated it surely was. So too, were the locals and tourists that came to gawp at the bulls and horses trying their best to free themselves from the cowboys who clung to animals which had no desire to take their burdensome passenger for a ride.

Hang on there cowboy!

Heading for the family section of the arena (i.e., no smoking, no alcohol, and definitely no overly raucous Whooping or shooting of guns into the air allowed [you know, al la Yosemite Sam]), we took a seat in the bleachers and watched a bunch of dudes and dudettes race horses around barrels placed throughout the arena. They moved their steeds quickly through this obstacle course and the crowd seemed to love them.

Soon, these racers were replaced by burley men riding heaving bulls. These chaps tried to stay on for as long as they could. Until, inevitably, each rider was emphatically thrown aside. At this point the hapless riders hoped to be rescued by a trio of rodeo clowns, before they were trampled to death by hooves (attached to tonnes of angry beef) raining down on them from above. Soon, the bulls retired for the night, clearing the stage for the Bucking Broncos. These were followed by the whip-crack broncos, rope-tie races (resulting on one unlucky competitor needing medical attention and being whisked away in an ambulance), and then the finals of each of the earlier competitions took place before the evening drew to a close.

A night at the Kununurra rodeo.

All in all, it was an interesting night (yet slightly confusing at times). None of us knew any of the rules, and Nat and I couldn’t quite answer the boys’ questions about why the animals were so mad (Ropable, one might say). But, I’ll leave that to you and our old pal google to figure out… all I know is that there was a lot of rope and strings of cow bells left of the field after each animal left.

With our nostrils filled with the smells of the rodeo (which we much more pleasant than I remembered from my first migraine-filled rodeo experience), as well as bellies stuffed with hamburgers, chips and multicoloured slushy drinks, the boys both had a good time. I was somewhat surprised to learn that there was a rodeo school for kids (as young as 6 years old) in Kununurra… but, for a community where this is not only a big deal, but also a way of life, I guess it made sense. However, I tried my level best make sure the boys didn’t get wind that this school existed – otherwise we may never have left!!

Our last couple of days in Kununurra were spent exploring the Mirima National Park, as well as a couple of dried up water holes, and visiting the treacherous Ivanhoe Crossing.

Situated only about 1 – 2 kilometres from the heart of Kununurra, Mirima National Park was really impressive. Stacks of rocks towered around us like piles of thick pancakes. We made our way along an impeccably constructed and maintained boardwalk, which raised us off the canyon floor and allowed all manner of wildlife to roam freely underfoot. The raised paths meandered alongside groves of native trees, river beds and cliff faces. Unfortunately, no live specimens of native fauna were spotted – but there was a plethora of freshly laid tracks to hint at what had passed this way recently.

 

Tracks left by all creatures, great and small...

Leaving the well-constructed boardwalks behind, we ventured up the tall hill at the centre of the park. Along the way, we were treated to grand vistas overlooking rock faces that hinted at the beauty in which we would be immersed a few days time. That is, when we arrived at the Bungle Bungles (aka Purnululu) national park.

Mirima National Park – So delightful

Leaving Mirima National Park, we headed towards Ivanhoe Crossing (the site of many a car disaster), to see if anyone was attempting this fool’s errand of a voyage tonight. Ivanhoe crossing, it turns out, was a road submerged under a ridiculously fast flowing river. During the late part of the dry season, the river is purported to dry up enough to allow vehicles to cross. But, at this time of year, the crossing was blocked by a couple of concrete blocks, with all manner of warning signs posted to herald the dangers ahead.

Not being a draconian road lord, Western Australia has made the decision to leave the choice of whether to pass this treacherous stretch of river (or not) to each individual driver. As such, the traffic sign pointing to the watery confluence proudly stated that it was “Open”.

Parking up our little grey chariot along the banks of the river, we had a chat to a few of the locals who were casting a line into the fast-flowing river. When asked if anyone had crossed here today, they all laughed and simply pointed towards the water with a knowing glance. No one seemed to be game to take up the challenge of fording this river tonight. For all I knew, there may have already been a fleet of cars down there waiting for the flood waters of the wet season to subside so they could be pulled out.

Ivanhoe Crossing - a road for the brave!

Our final day in Kununurra was spent exploring a few of the short gorges and water holes of the region. Unfortunately, these were not a highlight of the trip. Heavily corrugated tracks led to boggy and sandy tracks (one set of which just caused us to turn around and head back the way we came). Unfortunately, most of the waterholes at this time of year were either dried up or presented a stinky morass of mud and or scummy water. In the end, we found a river where a few others were swimming. Checking it out, we decided to let the boys plunge in. They roamed together around the pool for an hour or so, exploring the rock islands that had been exposed by the shrinking waters. But, soon enough, it was time for us to head home and pack the car for our next off-road trip – deep into the heart of the Bungle Bungles (Purnululu national park).

Drawing on our experience of our previous tenting trips, we now had packing down to a fine art. However, it did take us the better part of the evening to rearrange things to optimise our humble possessions and fine-tune the ratio of ‘useless to useful stuff’ we decided to take.

But for now, as the sun sets on Lake Kununurra, we are content to chink together a glass of wine and enjoy some nibbles as the sun goes down.

Tomorrow will be a big day!

A taste of things to come...

Bye ‘d bye

Gregg