Category Archives: Western Australia

As always, there’s a strategy. This time, the strategy was to make it to our next campsite early enough to snag a good spot, then head  up to Bells Gorge. Not far from Lennard River is the aptly named Queen Victoria’s Head which forms part of the Napier range.  We couldn’t resist a photo as we drove past!

On the way Kris checked Wikicamps en-route and spotted a free camp with the rather unappealing name March Fly Glen only a few kms from the turn off into the gorge. Hoping it was not literally named, we pulled in to check it out.  It was neat and tidy with picnic tables and fire BBQ plates, so we decided to stay in this delightful little camp and save Alice another 60 km of corrugations in and out of Bells Gorge and its campsite, the ever busy Silent Grove.

March Fly Glen

After a quick setup and an early lunch, we locked up the van and drove into Bells. This stunning gorge is fed by a modestly flowing river which disappears over an infinity pool style edge before tumbling down a 10 meter cascade into a huge and very deep pool at the bottom.

The bottom of Bells.

We walked to the bottom of the falls first, had a swim in the warm water (25 C), then spent a lazy hour chatting to fellow travellers lounging in the top infinity pool whilst the boys busied themselves building a stepping stone access route across the river. A really top spot that you could easily lose a day in.

The view downstream walking back up to the top.

The view upstream from the top of Bells Gorge.

Relaxing on the edge.

Back at the campsite, the new moon brought out a brilliant jewel filled sky, with an eerie sound track of dingoes howls as the fire cooled and the kids fell asleep.

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With much trepidation, we bravely made the turn left onto the Gibb River Road. About twenty kilometres in, the sealed road ended and the dirt started. We stopped to drop tyre and van pressures (to about 75-80% of road pressures is the rule) and proceeded forth. The pleasant surprise was that the road was actually not too rough, certainly nothing like the Cape Leveque road last week.

This is our favourite road sign.  We have spotted this version since the Nullarbor. Australians are so funny! Julian’s personal faves are the ‘Straya’ signs with added bullet holes for the animal’s eyes.

Thanks to Wikicamps, our first stop was a free camp 128 km from Derby at Lennard River. This proved to be a pleasant enough camp overlooking the few remaining water holes in the river. Just enough water to supply the hordes of Correllas (a large white bird resembling a cockatoo but without the yellow crest) and other birds that screeched incessantly from 5am until dusk every day!

Next morning, Monday 15th June, we locked up the van as best we could and headed off to Windijana Gorge along a rough corrugated road. This wide gorge has sufficient permanent water to make it home for about 150 resident ‘freshies’. Julian is always curious to watch young European tourists to see if they will actually grab a croc by the tail – just to get a good selfie! They were certainly getting closer to the basking crocs than we were.

Windijana Gorge.

We walked about 4 km along the gorge floor in the 33 degree heat before deciding to turn around at a giant boab tree. A lovely walk, with the crocs, some finches, a crane and plenty of fish. One ominous sign was plenty of bubbles rising to the surface from the water holes. These are crocs lying in wait on the bottom trying to catch an unlucky fish swimming close to their mouths. With a slowed down heart rate, they can apparently do this for hours.

Next stop along the same road towards Fitzroy Crossing was Tunnel Creek. A 700m underground river running through a cave system complete with the remains of stalactites and even a shawl. This years not very wet, Wet Season meant the walk was only knee deep, not waist deep as per previous years. (Julian: I asked one bloke on the way in how deep it was – he said it was waist deep – I quickly realised he’d gone the wrong way!)

The start of Tunnel Creek.

With just the four of us remaining relatively quiet, we managed to spot fish, cherubin (basically a yabby), three fresh water crocs, a 3m+ long python and an enormous huntsman spider. All very exciting.

Half way along there is a roof collapse.

At the end of the tunnel the creek opens out to a stunningly picturesque view of gums and rocks lining the creek. I found a quite spot to reflect on the view whilst the boys busied themselves trying to dam the creek – as you do!

View at the end.

We followed a small tour group to see some aboriginal art on the wall about 5m from the opening. We must have been there at peak time as during our walk we encountered no less than 4 tour groups walking through. Poor Julian had to work hard to take photos without the hordes visible. Needless to say none of the groups realised they were sharing the water with the snappy wildlife!

It was then an hours drive back to camp along the same rough roads, though now Julian had to contend with both the setting sun and lots of cattle on the road as well.  Luckily we made it back unscathed.

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After a detour into Broome to pickup a new gas regulator (our third on the ‘lap’), and a quick overnighter just outside Broome, we cruised into Derby. This was to be a refuel and resupply stop. Apart from the pretty line of boabs along the main street and an interesting jetty, there is not much to sell it as a destination. Kris took the boys to some local Saturday morning markets (K – here we learnt that if you feed frozen mango pieces through a sausage/meat mincer you end up with soft serve mango – Yum, yum, yum!) whilst I did some consulting work. We also visited the local museum (which was okay for the gold coin entry fee) and watched our last sunset over the Indian ocean from the Derby wharf at King Sound.

Boabs – iconic of the Kimberly.

Derby jetty at low tide.

Crane to nowhere.

Boabs in the main street.Saturday morning markets.

Next morning we topped up the tanks and headed east for the first time in 5 months towards the Gibb.

Leaving Derby to start the Gibb River Road!

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On the advice of another Big Lapper family who we’ve kept in touch with, and I guess with a sense of wonder from some early research about the Cape when we were back in Newcastle, we teamed up with Peta and Darren again and headed towards Cape Leveque.

The corrugated road into Cape Leveque.

We had been forewarned that the road in was awful, and we thought we would treat it as a litmus test for the GRR – Gibb River Road – if anything major broke, we were relatively close to Broome for urgent repairs. The first 90 km or so lived up to expectations, with unforgiving sand corrugations shaking us up all the way to a brief spell of bitumen as we passed Beagle Bay (apparently it is paved here as the TO’s, Traditional Owners, have better funding for roads than the local shire). We turned off the black stuff and were rewarded with another 30 km of pounded suspension before arriving at Middle Lagoon.

Campsite views – Middle Lagoon.

The camp overlooks a pretty beach with rocks exposed as the massive seven meter tide ebbs away. The next day, my fishing buddy Darren was keen to drop a line. So, with the boys playing monster trucks on the beach, and armed with coordinates of a bombie from a fellow camper that allegedly promised big fish (a rare thing apparently, as fishermen rarely relinquish fishing hot spots), we headed off in his tinnie.

A few joy rides before the serious fishing began.

James parked his monster truck in the sand and joined us briefly for the morning in-shore session. We caught plenty of little fish and I lost some tackle. After lunch, and with just the big boys in the tinnie, we headed off to the secret coordinates. It took awhile to find, but once the sounder picked it up, the screen lit up with big fish blips all over the place! Within minutes, I had a ripper bite that I fought for about 30 minutes before it severed a 100 kg trace – probably a shark. Darren soon nailed a monster Giant Trevally, which tipped in at 98 cm. After I proved that complete incompetence is the best way to lose a few poppers and lures, Darren nabbed an 88 cm Spanish Mackerel. I stuck the GoPro in the water to watch this unlucky fish be pulled in, and caught a glimpse of a very large shark just below the boat. This reinforced comments from locals that sharks were eating most of the catches as they were pulled in. Darren also nailed a 55 cm Trevally.

GT in hand – a whopper at 98 cm.

Happy fishermen!

After the tedium of putting his tinnie back on rock crusher’s roof and the fish were cleaned and bagged Darren very graciously donated half to me (5 meals). I learnt a hell of a lot about ‘proper’ fishing and had a brilliant day. When the Lonerghans left the next day, we decided to move on a day early as well, giving us room to move as we neared Derby and the GRR. On inspection, the van held up well to the 260km of unrelenting punishment, giving us confidence that we could tackle the GRR – a road with a fearsome reputation for eating tyres, breaking suspension and emptying wallets of multiple thousands in recovery fees.

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Broome was our ‘holiday within our holiday’, a break within a year of constant travel because instead of spending the week in the van we were staying in a three bedroom villa close to Cable Beach. I realise this sounds greedy, but the reason for the flat was that Kris’s parents, Sue and Geoff, were coming to stay with us for a week. So on Tuesday, 2nd June, with 14,205km travelled since leaving home, we parked the caravan, unpacked, switched absolutely everything off, and spread out into our new palatial dominion. The boys were ecstatic, not only were Grandma and Grandpa there but we had free WiFi and a big TV with Foxtel. They are now well versed in useful things such as off shore game fishing, aircraft crash investigating, breaking out of maximum security prisons, restoring various old cars, and the love lives of salt water crocodiles! Thank you National Geographic channel.
Our week in Broome was simply divine, a real holiday. We caught the eery stair case to the moon on two nights, perused the night markets, saw 120 million year old dinosaur footprints at low tide at Guntheaume Point, wandered around Old Broome, popped into the museum, watched camels on Cable Beach, got up close and personal to some very large crocs at Malcolm Douglas’s Croc Farm, and indulged in Broome’s excellent restaurants every night of the week!

Staircase to the moon over Roebuck Bay

Camels fleecing some tourists

Broome Port – showing the massive tide range

120 million year old therapod foot print versus 10 year old hand print

Taking in a little Japanese.

Each croc tooth can be replaced up to 20 times… tops!

The best view of a salty – Malcolm Douglas’s Croc Farm

Sadly, jobs also had to be done, and pretty much everything was either scrubbed, mopped or washed. I managed a day of fishing off Guntheaume Point with one of our temporary travel companions, Darren. A few measly and barely legal Rock Cod were all we had to show for our efforts, which went back to temp future anglers.

Fishing with Darren – no luck this time

All too soon we bade a sad farewell to Geoff and Sue with a final coffee at a posh café overlooking Cable Beach. Then it was time to head into the relative wilderness of Cape Leveque.

We spent plenty of time in the resort’s heated pool

Cemetery for Japanese pearl divers.

Our first Boab tree – Broome museum

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