Date:
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08 - 09/05/2017
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Location:
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Edith Falls (Northern
Territory)
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Distance Travelled:
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275.2 km
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Temperature:
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Min:
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16.1
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Max:
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34.0
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hours spent swimming under waterfalls:
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16(ish)
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It was certainly good to get back on the road again and
shake off the unfortunate events of the past 24 hours. So it was, that with
high spirits, we bumbled down the road to our next destination: Edith Falls. We passed the time driving
down the road with more audio books, moments of quiet contemplation (i.e.,
shouting at the kids when they started fighting with each other), listening to
music and chatting. I can’t really remember much of the journey, but the sun
was out and the scenery drifted by from one perfect scene to another.
Around early afternoon we pulled into the Edith Falls
campsite. This was one of those places that you aren’t able to book in advance.
So, you just have to just turn up and take your chances (God only know what you
do in this neck of the woods if you turn up late and there are no sites left…).
Luckily, we were counting on the fact that most people were still either in
school or at work. As it turns out, our hunch was correct and the camp site was largely
unattended – save for a few wanders like us and a handful of folks who had
retired and could meander around the country to their heart’s content.
The campsite at Edith Falls was lovely - at least half of it... Hot showers
and a basic amenities block. There was no power or water, but with solar panels
on our roof and water tanks topped up in Darwin, we were self-sufficient and happy
as Larry. Pulling up to the reception (a small kiosk, staffed by an abrupt and
cantankerous middle-aged women), we were summarily allotted a campsite with
little more than a spindly sapling to provide a smattering of shade. When Nat
indicted to the kiosk lady that she wasn’t overly chuffed with this allotment,
particularly as 90% of the park was currently vacant (indeed, there were many
better sites staring at her, almost mockingly, from where she stood), the denizen of
the kiosk wielded the power of her check-in register and suggested that this
would be a perfect spot for us to charge up our solar batteries, with
the ample unimpaired access to the sun that this space would provide. Having taken a
wander around out the allotted site, we pretty quickly determined that this
was (how might one say this to say this delicately) a bunch
of arse.
As a whole, the camp site had been set out in a series of meandering circuits. The few caravans and camp trailers that were already in residence had been parked on the treeless, gravelly outer edge of the park, and a smattering of tents sitting like Smurf houses, appeared within the inner circle. This latter part of the park (aka, the inner circle) was sheltered from the beating sun by lush foliage, and had soft clay and abundant grasses growing underfoot.
As a whole, the camp site had been set out in a series of meandering circuits. The few caravans and camp trailers that were already in residence had been parked on the treeless, gravelly outer edge of the park, and a smattering of tents sitting like Smurf houses, appeared within the inner circle. This latter part of the park (aka, the inner circle) was sheltered from the beating sun by lush foliage, and had soft clay and abundant grasses growing underfoot.
Directly opposite our assigned plot, we spied what we
believed was an ideal place to park out van – cool, shady, spacious and
inviting. It backed onto a large grassy area that stretched out in all
directions, with a quaint serpentine path winding its way towards the best
amenities block on the site (i.e., the one tucked away from the day visitors who
would come to play in the falls, but quickly leave before the sun went down).
Not content with the seemingly arbitrary site allocation,
I returned to the kiosk to lock horns with the Grinch who held tight to her allocation
book.
“Sorry love,” she began, after I made my opening gambit, “we
reserve the inner sites for tents only… they need the shade you see”
“Sure,” I replied, “but we quite like a bit of shade too. Any chance of us shifting across the road?
“No!” she said, holding fast to her previous doctrine.
We stared at each other for a few moments, until it was
clear I wasn’t going anywhere. “Oh, ok, hang on a sec.” she moaned. And with that, she thumbed through
her site allocation book, furtively glancing up at me every now and then . “Look”
she eventually declared, “I can probably move you to number 72. That’s got some
shade. It’s the best I can do.”
“Great, I’ll go and check it out” I said.
Wandering across the camp grounds to site number 72, we meandered
through the lush interior for a few minutes, until we emerged once more into another
dry and barren wasteland that was dotted with caravans and other trailers. I
was beginning to think this Kiosk Troll had some personal vendetta against
people who had lowered themselves to sleep in anything more sturdy than a tent.
OK, I may be editorialising
here…. (Just a little bit)
And so, back to the kiosk I went…
“Hi there,” I chirped, with my best smile plastered across my face. “So, look, I checked out number 72 and – to be honest – it’s no better than our first site. I’d rather just move into number 14, across the way from where you first put us”
“Sorry love,” she began “we like to keep those free for tents.”
“Sorry love,” our kiosk lady began. “We never know
when we’re going to get a run of people turning up with tents”.
At this point I made a slow and dramatic turn (with my whole body, no less) towards the nearly empty
campsite and raised an eyebrow. I could almost hear my 7th form
drama teacher in the back of my head saying, “count to three and, oh so slowly, I want you to turn around and fix her
with a steely gaze”. Following the little voice in my head, I followed the
stage directions to a tee and we soon locked eyes and stared at each other for
a moment or two.
She was the first the break….
"Oh, just take number 14”, she snapped, taking an eraser
out of her desk and vigorously rubbing out our registration number from site 13
and transferring it to 14.
“Thanks,” I replied, possibly in a tone that was too good-humoured
to be believable, and turned quickly and headed back to the car.
The magnificent
Edith Falls… Oh my, were they ever magnificent!
As the name suggests, the major draw card for Edith Falls is visiting Edith Falls.
These are a series of waterfalls, pools and rapids, stretching along a lengthy
expanse of river. This vast body of water culminates in a large circular lake
near the campsite. Unfortunately, the main lake wasn’t yet open for swimming (i.e.,
snap, snap, there goes your leg – you know the drill by now). But the river upstream (above the falls),
was waiting for us to plunge right in! It seems that crocs are, by nature, particularly lazy creatures;
who aren’t overly inclined to traipse across miles of steep terrain, circumnavigating waterfalls and sheer cliff faces…
…we on the other hand, we were up for the challenge! So,
at this stop, it looks like our watery fun-times would be hard earned (once
again).
Lake next to our
campsite – shame there was no swimming there until they'd cleared the crocs.
Over the next two days we hiked along a couple of rocky
and dusty trails in search of the perfect
swimming spot. Luckily, in the end, we were rewarded bountifully for our
efforts!
On the first afternoon, we elected to head directly to
Edith Falls. After a 45-minute walk, we crested a large hill, atop a steep
trail, hemmed in tightly by tall tinder-dry grass towering over our heads. We peered
down a steep incline, through massive boulders and smooth pancaked rocks, to
one of the most picturesque sights we had seen so far on our trip. A crashing
waterfall, easily 20 meters wide, churned into a deep and clear pool, before filling a giant
basin carved from the sandstone rock. The torrent then funnelled its way
passed over a series of water polished rocks adorning the
river’s edge. At its narrowest point, this body of water pushed through a gap
no more than a meter or two wide...
...and here, it picked up speed! Through a narrow crevice it flowed, before bursting into a large lake once more.
For the brave of heart who dared to cross the fast-flowing
channel of water, the other side of river greeted the courageous rambler with a
smooth plinth of rock – thrusting its way up from the depths. A handful
of plants grew here on the slick surface; clinging on for dear life with
roots that seemed to be made of steal.
Inhabiting the waters were fish of many sizes. There were
also bizarre-looking fresh water crayfish with long spindly claws that
protruded far in front of their heads. Ben and I donned our mask and snorkels, and spent a happy half and hour chasing these little critters around the bottom of the pool.
On the other side of the lake, the water split off again into a series of shallow
rapids, crossed by fallen tree branches and a heavy metal bridge. Eventually, the
separate tendrils gathered together into a fast-flowing river once
more. All at once this newly formed torrent of water plunged suddenly over
another cliff, where it crashed down into the lake beside our campsite far below.
Edith Falls – just,
WOW, ok? WOW!
During our first afternoon at Edith Falls, we spent hours exploring
the nooks and crannies of the natural playground. To be fair, much of the time
was spent clambering over the smooth sandstone rock, picking our way back to the mouth of the fast flowing portion
of the river and jumping in to get gap between the rocks to be swept downstream
like an amusement park ride (think log flume, but without the log to
ride on).
Riding the rapids
at Edith Falls
Being surrounded by tall, steep cliffs, we knew that the
sun would quickly disappear – so, we plucked ourselves from our nearly private
watery-fun-land with about 20 minutes to spare. As we ambled down the mountain
path, we watched the sun set on the horizon and made it back to our trailer during
the brief period of twilight, which came before darkness settled on the land.
Edith Falls -
sunset on the mountainside.
Up early the next day, we had a hearty breakfast of devilled
ham and eggs on toast. We quickly made sandwiches for a picnic lunch, then headed
off once more along the mountain trail.
This time, instead of journeying along the right-hand trail towards
Edith Falls, we turned left along a less trodden path; picking our way upstream
to a second perfect patch of paradise. Having hiked for an hour or so (under a sun
that was so hot it baked the land to a crisp - even at this early hour), the trail
eventually burst out of the dense scrub and back alongside the river. The
ground underfoot turned into clean yellow sand, dotted with smooth rocks
and boulders lining the riverbank. Moving a hundred meters or so further
upstream, we came to a natural rock wall, with a wide waterfall flowing noisily
over it.
The river was deep here, but it was also crossed with barely
submerged rocky walls - parts of which jutted out of the water and segmented the river into sections like a giant centipede.
Sandy riverside
beach, upstream from Edith Falls
Finding a small, shady patch by the water’s edge, we
spent almost the day alone on this stretch of the river. Other than a pair of
rangers who were passing through, and a small group of 20-somthings who stopped by our patch of river for 40-minutes or so,
we had this sandy beach to ourselves pretty much all day.
So, with Lilo’s inflated, snorkels and masks donned,
rocks climbed and jumped off, and sand played with, we had a magnificent time.
The water was cool and refreshing, with small eddies near the shore warming up
in the heat of the sun. Taking a break from the water, the boys worked
industriously making a sand barrier on one small corner of the beach, vainly trying to trap a
bath sized portion of river water to laze in.
… Speaking of lazing around; in the shade of the tree,
with the white noise of the waterfall and gentle birdsong in the background,
Nat and I also took it in turns to have a nap in the afternoon sun.
Our perfect patch
of paradise
All too soon the afternoon came to an end. We knew we had
a long hike ahead of us to get back to camp; so, we packed up our gear and began
the return journey home. About an hour later we came upon the path that lead
back to Edith Falls (where we had played so merrily yesterday). As the sun was
still a long way from setting beneath the horizon, we decided that we just had
time to cool down again after out strenuous walk.
Unlike the day before, Edith Falls was now teeming with
people (well, maybe teeming is a little bit of an exaggeration – there were
probably 20 souls there at most). But, fighting our way through these throngs of bodies, we found a spot to dump our gear and
went off exploring once again.
As the sun sank on our second night in Edith Falls,
we traipsed back to our campsite (stopping for a quick game of ‘Pooh Sticks’ at the bridge
over a river near our campground). We showered and doused ourselves in mozzie spray,
before settling down to cook and eat our dinner under the stars. Tomorrow, we knew,
would be an early start and a long day filled with driving. Our path would take
us to Lake Argyle, which lay across the Western Australia border. So, packing
up as much of the van as possible, we threw away any errant fruit and vegetables
that could land us in hot water with border security, and enjoyed the last few
hours in the lovely Edith Falls.
A hint of things to
come.
Bye ‘d bye,
Gregg
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