Beth and Mark's Gap Year 2014: June 2014

Sunday 22 June 2014

Sweeping down the coast - 6th - 21st June

We arrive in Broome about a week earlier than we had scheduled way back in January and are a little fearful that we may not get a caravan park site because of the stories we had heard of Broome being oversubscribed by tourists. The explosion we had seen in tourist numbers over the past week did little to allay those fears, however, after what seems to be the obligatory caravan park proprietor frown after ascertaining that we have not pre booked a site and then being told that it will be a struggle to fit us in (a claim which never seems to be backed up by the number of vacant sites), we secure a site and set ourselves up for a 5 day stay. A stay of more than 3 days means that as well as the standard setup we feel we can invest the time in also erecting our annexe and putting down mats to provide a little more comfort and living space. The only problem with doing this at Broome is that our allotted site is so small that fine engineering is required to fit trailer, annexe and car into the space but somehow we manage to squeeze it all in without encroaching on the neighbours.

After setting up and spending the night at Broome, we head to Cape Leveque the next day (about 200km of diabolical road north of Broome) where we do a bit of snorkelling and marvel at the beatiful contrasts of red rock, white sand and turquoise sea (don't look too hard for a reflection of this beauty in my photos, remember I still only have my iPhone). Rather than make this a rushed day trip we spent the night camping in the traditional manner in our 2 man tent. I expected to endure an uncomfortable night and to wake up with multiple aches and pains, but to my surprise I slept and woke up hale and hearty. I suspect however that night after night of this would test me, so I am not planning to sell the trailer and its super comfy bed just yet.

I expected that our stay in Broome would focus on lazy relaxation, but I had not properly anticipated the impact of a little dynamo called Maria. Maria is a friend and ex colleague of Beth's who has recently moved to Broome to live. Beth had arranged some time ago to catch up with Maria when we got to Broome, which I understood would involve dinner, reminiscing, catching up on gossip and Bon voyage. I anticipated correctly except for the Bon voyage bit. Despite busily preparing to fly to Darwin in a couple of days to meet up with her husband who was slowly working his way up from Melbourne to Broome, Maria generously spent a lot of time with us during our stay acting as tour guide. We visited Point Gantheume, walked and swam on Cable Beach, visited the markets, attended the crab races, enjoyed the best eateries, window shopped at soooo many pearl boutiques, and much, much more. Being busy like this was actually wonderfully relaxing and just what we needed. We really appreciated Maria giving up her precious time to spend with us. Once again our holiday has been made more special through sharing it with friends.

Our next destination is Port Hedland, which is a six hour drive from Broome. Pt. Hedland has never really been on our list of must see places, but Beth's brother Lyle who is based in Perth works for the Pt. Hedland Authority and Beth managed to coincide our visit with a visit by Lyle to attend meetings, so that we could spend some time together in the afternoon. We had a brief tour of the town, which is trying very hard to jazz itself up a bit with new parks and housing developments and refurbishments, but at its heart this is an iron ore port, shipping something like a million tons of ore each day, and while that is impressive, it is certainly not my idea of pretty. If I were cruel I would say that these improvements are akin to applying lipstick to a pig. Despite its cosmetic flaws though, we enjoyed Pt. Hedland and catching up briefly with family.

From Pt. Hedland we travel to Karijini NP (formerly Hammersley Range NP). We have heard so much about this National Park and have been very much looking forward to the visit. Karijini has two main claims to fame, the rolling spinifex covered hills that just seem to go on forever, and a series of seven gorges concentrated in the southern end of the park. Yes, more gorges!!! You would think that we had seen enough gorges on the Gibb River Rd to last a lifetime. Not so, I suspect that Beth could spend a lifetime just visiting gorges around the world - she is quite taken by them. In the course of our 3 days at Karijini we managed to visit (and climb down into) every accessible gorge in the park, each of which had quite distinct characteristics despite their close proximity to one another.

Walks in Karijini are graded as class 2 through 5 with 2 being easiest and 5 being the toughest. We are very pleased with ourselves for managing to negotiate two of these class 5 walks which included relatively long vertical sections and narrow, high ledges. The official blurb suggests that "These trails are difficult and a high level of fitness is required". I would like to claim super fitness as a result, but what my body tells me after these walks by way of aches and pains would suggest otherwise. In my case I think I have substituted perseverance and steady effort for high level of fitness, and this seems to have worked ok. You would think that being able to put Class 5 walking trails on our resumė would be enough for Beth, but no, she is already making plans to come back here some time and do some of the permit only class 6 trails which involve dangling off ropes and the like to make your way deep down into canyons. I doubt that perseverance and steady effort will get me through those ones, so I guess I better start working on high level of fitness..

Karijini was really amazing and for us more than lived up to expectations. We had spectacular views, brilliant layered and twisted rock formations in many hues of red, green, blue, yellow and grey, gorgeous pools, cascades and waterfalls, and to top it all off magnificent cool clear days to enjoy it all in. Beth may disagree with this last bit and suggest that it was cold, but I really enjoyed some relief from the constant 30+ days which seem to have been our staple for a long time. I guess the cooler weather dissuaded us from getting wet, which did mean that we missed the many opportunities for a swim or to wade along creeks. Oh well, next time we may need to do this to cool off from our Class 6 efforts.

The mining town of Tom Price is our next stop. My father worked up here for a few months about 40 years ago when work was hard to come by in Victoria. It was interesting to see the single mans quarters in town, which I suspect is where he lived when he was up here, and to tour the iron ore mine just around the corner which is gradually dismantling Mt Tom Price at the rate of about 250,000 tons a day. We also took the opportunity to climb Mt Nameless, which overlooks both the town and the mine pit. The tourist blurb suggests that this is the tallest peak in Western Australia, which is interesting, because back in Karijini we climbed Mt Bruce, which claimed to be taller but still only the second highest peak in WA (behind Mt Meharry). Never let the truth get in the way of a little marketing I suppose. Regardless of its ranking, I can confirm that it is hard work walking to the top of Mt Nameless, which I presume was named such (or is that not named) because what is the point in naming a mountain which will probably be dug up anyway. As it turns out Mt Nameless ore does not appear to be worth digging up, so it is likely to remain standing tall without a Name for the foreseeable future. I was a little surprised by the town of Tom Price. I had expected a dusty, dirty mining town, but in fact it was quite a pretty, well established and generally pleasant town. Which is possibly why we left later than we had hoped for the long trip to Dampier on the coast.

Our trip to Dampier involved travelling on a permit only mining road which ran alongside the railway line on which the 2.5 kilometre ore trains travel. It was quite something to watch these monsters snaking along the tracks. In all we encountered 7 empty "up" trains and 4 laden "down" trains. I deliberately said encountered rather than saw, because late departure plus westerly travel (sun in the eyes), plus dusty dirt roads, plus more traffic than you might imagine meant we didn't actually see much at all and were largely driving by Braille. Nice even corrugations were comforting because it was a good indication that we were actually on the road. Despite these challenges we did make steady progress, but it become obvious to us that we would not reach our intended destination of Dampier by nightfall, so we chose instead to stay at the larger town of Karratha which we hit just as the sun disappeared beyond the horizon. Karratha was another surprise. Again a mining town (this time gas), but nicely laid out and quite pleasant.

Karratha is our base for a couple of days to explore Dampier and the Burrup Peninsula which is home to an extraordinary collection of ancient aboriginal petroglyphs (images etched into rocks) on thousands of red rocks scattered across the peninsula. Beth decided that we should take an advertised, but fairly remote walk (albeit in the shadow of a gigantic gas plant - not me by the way) to discover some of these artworks. But rather than take the path in the suggested direction, we decided (of course) that we would do it backwards. The walk was meant to be about a kilometre, so after 40 minutes of walking we figured that maybe we had missed a branch in the track, but do we turn back, of course not, instead we headed down what I am sure was an animal track and in no time at all we were in the middle of nowhere, but we were reasonably confident that we were heading in the right direction, all we had to do was climb up the wall of the gorge that we were now in and down the other side to where the car was parked. Getting to the top was ok, but I think that we may have blazed a new Class 5 trail getting down the other side. Eventually after about eight kilometres we got back to the car (a little weary) only to realize that we had not actually seen a single petroglyph, so off we went and did the trail in the right direction. By doing this not only did we see some amazing artwork, we also saw the very indistict point where the trail branched and our adventure began. All good fun.

Dampier helped to restore my image of mining towns which was shattered by Tom Price and Karratha. There was the statue of Red Dog, which was a must see, but apart from that not much that we found endearing. Pretty much in the same mould as Port Hedland. Maybe it is not mining towns which are unattractive, only the railheads and ports. Whilst in the vicinity, we also called into the Woodside North West Shelf Gas Facility visitors centre. The facility is a hulking monstrosity, but you could not help but be intrigued by the scale and complexity of the operation, and to marvel at the engineering and project management skills required to build the gas platforms this plant is fed by. They can do this and we cannot build a simple rail ticketing system - go figure....

I think I must be feeble minded because I struggle to have a strong opinion on mining. On one hand I see an industry that without doubt employs a large number of Australians and helps to keep this country relatively affluent, on the other hand I see a giant scar where once was Mt Tom Price, I see habitats destroyed, culturally significant aboriginal sites damaged, water tables polluted etc... I guess mining is a destructive and ugly thing, but in the whole grand scheme of things, this destruction and ugliness is pretty small scale and it does keep the wolves from the door.

From Karratha we have another long road trip to Cape Range NP and the Ningaloo reef. You really have to travel long distances to get anywhere over here. Ningaloo is quite amazing. It is a coral reef which basically runs for about 250 kilometres along the North West Cape and is never more than about 500 metres from shore. Which means that from the beach you see massive waves crashing in from the Indian Ocean over the reef, but almost still water on the beach, which is quite weird. It also means that the weeds and coral outcrops in this still water are a haven for some wonderful sea life. This of course in tun means tha we need to see them. A glass bottom boat seems to me to be the best and safest way to see these beasties, but I am led to believe that snorkelling is a much more engaging, and it turns out cheaper way to go.

I have mentioned earlier in this blog that we went snorkelling at Cape Leveque, and whilst this was certainly true, I may have neglected to mention that proficient or even capable are not words which would describe my mastery of this art. I was literally all at sea, and here I now was with a snorkeller's paradise in front of me, but a dread fear of trying to work this apparatus for any length of time. Although I somehow summoned the courage to have a go, it was not a pretty sight. Me putting my flippers on must have been particularly amusing for those watching. Putting them on onshore means that you get them filled with scratchy sand and also risk stumbling as you make your way to the water (and certain guffaws from onlookers), so I choose to put them on in the water, which only serves to make a more comical spectacle. I still get scratchy sand, and falling over in the water is much more hilarious than falling over on the beach. Once I am on my flippers, I then need to get my mask and snorkel organised, which seems simple enough, but when I launch myself into the water I find that my current dishevelled look which involves long hair on my head and a little bit under my nose is not useful for keeping water out and in no time I see a rising waterline inside my goggles. A few hair adjustments remedies this situation somewhat, but then I find that if you actually want to breathe, the snorkel must remain above the waterline, and by the way you can only breathe through your mouth, not your nose. And while you are trying to get this breathing thing right, you need also to move about and keep mindful of where you are in the water. And last of all you need to enjoy the spectacle. For my first few forays I have to admit much nervous energy was spent on technique, and enjoying the spectacle did not really happen. By the end of our stay at Cape Range NP my technique had improved and our last snorkel at Osprey Bay was actually quite enjoyable, although it is safe to say that water is clearly not my natural element. While we were on the beach we saw a pod of dolphins and some turtles bobbing up and down, unfortunately once we got in the water they were gone, but there were plenty of tropical fish, giant clams and coral to marvel over.

We are now in Coral Bay, still on Ningaloo Reef but about 100 kilometres south of Cape Range NP. We are here for three nights, so I fear that more snorkelling is inevitable so I am bracing myself for that. Coral Bay is a small town with a distinct focus on tourism. It is amazing how many things can be dreamt up to take money out of tourists pockets. It is unlikely that we will be contributing to the Coral Bay coffers in a big way, and hopefully we can enjoy this place (which is quite beautiful) without doing so.

From here we will make our way fairly quickly down to Perth to catch up with family, then to catch a plane home to celebrate Beth's father's 80th birthday, check that our house is still intact, catch up with more family and friends, and then finally head off on the European leg of our adventure. Our blog will now take a little vacation as well and I am anticipating that my next post will be the first week in July when we arrive in Germany. Our son will be travelling with us to Munich where we will meet up with our daughter who is working there, and we will then take a whirlwind 3 week tour of Munich, Paris, Barcelona, Rome and Verona. We are really looking forward to a family holiday, something we have not had for quite a while.

Beagle Bay church - on the way to Cape Leveque

Cape Leveque

Gantheume Point - Broome

Sun Outdoor Theatre - Broome

Dales Gorge - Karajini NP

Circular Pool - Dales Gorge - Karajini NP

Fern Pool - Dales Gorge - Karajini NP

Kalamina Gorge - Karajini NP

Joffre Gorge - Karajini NP

Joffre Gorge - From the top

Hancock Gorge - Karajini NP

Knox Gorge - Karajini NP

Mt Bruce - Karajini NP

Mt Bruce - Karajini NP (Class 5)

Mt Nameless - Sunset - Tom Price

Hammersley Gorge - Karajini NP

Hammersley Gorge - Karijini NP

Red Dog - Dampier

Blazing a new trail - Burrup Peninsula

Petroglyphs - Burrup Peninsula

Sand dune - Ningaloo Reef

Sunset - Kurrajong campsite - Ningaloo Reef

Sunset Yardie Creek campsite - Ningaloo Reef

Cape Vlamingh lighthouse - Ningaloo Reef

Sunday 15 June 2014

Gorging ourselves - 29th May to 5th June

Beth has a book which spells out all the delights that the Gibb River Road has to offer and she is determined that we will cover off all of them, so after leaving Mitchell Falls I brace myself for a gruelling schedule. So far the only highlight from the book that we have missed is Ellenbrae Station, which is reputed to have the best scones on the Gibb River Road, but I am not too distressed by this because I suspect that just means they have the only scones on the Gibb River Road. Over the next week or so from Mitchell Falls we intend visiting Mt Elizabeth Station (Wunnumurra gorge), Barnett River Gorge, Manning Gorge, Galvin's Gorge, Adcock Gorge, Mornington Wilderness Camp (Dimand Gorge and Sir John Gorge, Imintji, Silent Grove (Bell Gorge), Windjana Gorge, Tunnel Creek and then on to Broome.

Mt Elizabeth Station is about 30 Km off the road, and we foolishly thought that this would dissuade most visitors from making the effort and we would have the place to ourselves. In fact when we arrived and asked for a campsite for the night frowns ensued from the proprietress which we knew foretold bad news. It seems that the Variety Club 4wd rally of about 30 vehicles (which we had previously encountered at Mitchell Falls) had booked out the campsite for the night. We were offered a spot on the fringes of the camp area at half price (on the basis that we were unlikely to get a look-in-see at the toilet and shower facilities and we would need to tolerate the inevitable rowdiness of the group). Our previous experience of the Variety folk at Mitchell Falls wasn't so bad so we decided to stay and take our chances. As it turns out everybody was well behaved and our 2 nights stay at Mt Elizabeth was very pleasant.

To register we needed to note our details in a visitors book, and Beth noticed that the entry before us was made by some Swiss folk, one of whom had the given name of Lisbeth. Beth was unusually excited to find another Lisbeth and determined that we should seek her out and chat. This was an interesting exercises which involved staking out the other campsites to look for telltale signs of a Swiss Lisbeth within. Just what these sign were I don't know, but we looked nonetheless. Finally we decided that the most likely suspect was a small Apollo motor home, which we proceeded to circle until one of the inhabitants showed themselves. Eventually a portly grey haired chap stepped out (probably to see what these two suspicious looking Australians were up to). Beth was perplexed. All the Swiss we had encountered to date were super fit and slim, surely this could not be a Swiss? I think our circling, pointing and staring gave away the fact that we were not casual passers by and engagement with the portly grey chap was inevitable. Are you Swiss? - Ja. Is your wife's name Lisbeth? - Ja. At that point it became clear to us that we had indeed found the right place, but it was also clear that unlike other Swiss we had met, English was a bit of a problem for this chap - who was starting to look a little concerned (understandably) about the line of questioning. Somehow we managed to put him at ease and through a mixture of sign language and simple words to convey our mission, whereupon he summoned his wife Lisbeth who thankfully spoke better English. Once we were all on the same page we had a good old chat.

There is a gorge on Mt Elizabeth Station about 10 Km beyond the camp area and we resolved to pay it a visit despite the potential for it to be overrun with Variety folk. We were told that the track was a rough 4wd track which would take about an hour for us to traverse and would require the use of low range (technical 4wd speak for the gear that you engage to climb over very rough terrain). They were right about the rough track (which the Jeep took in its stride), but the good news was that it was off putting for all but us and we had the gorge all to ourselves. We had a lovely afternoon swimming under the falls, wandering along the creek, climbing rocks and marvelling at the beautiful rock art on the gorge walls.

Barnett River gorge is a stopover en route to our camping spot at Manning Gorge and involves negotiating a reasonably rough 4wd track and then a short walk to the gorge. All we find at the end of the track though is a quite nice but piddly little stream. After much head scratching we and others who had walked with us conclude that something is not quite right. Eventually we figured out that some cleverdick had flipped a sign over on the track so that instead of pointing right it pointed left. A kilometre or so of walking along the rim and we found the real waterfall and gorge and it was much more satisfying. As we were making our way back to the car we spied in the distance what looked very much like three clowns heading in our direction. As they got closer they did not look any less like clowns and I think that I may have expressed out loud my delight at the subtle and understated choice of attire for strolling in the bush. It turns out that they were three ladies from Derby who had recently competed in the Gibb River Road Bicycle Challenge (a 700km charity bicycle ride along the Gibb River Road over 5 days) and were on their way back home to Derby (also by bicycle). They had nominated every third day as clown day, which involved frocking up in full clown regalia over the Lycra and pedalling away. Despite their obvious lunacy, it was nice chatting to these clowns.

One disappointment with Mt Elizabeth was despite a very strong whiff of scones baking whilst we were in the reception area, we were informed that refreshments were not available. This of course was quite distressing for me and I thought it shameful that people with a coffee and cake disorder should be taunted so. Mt Barnett Roadhouse (the gateway to Manning Gorge) helped to ease my distress by providing espresso coffee and cake. The coffee was average and the cake was a chunk of Sara Lee carrot cake. Not haute cuisine, but very satisfying and at $2 per chunk a tremendous bargain. Ten kilometres drive beyond the carrot cake was the Manning Gorge campsite, and another two kilometres walk further lay the gorge itself. The campsite was quite full, and yobbish behaviour by some of the campers meant that we went to bed that night feeling a little disappointed. Disappointment evaporated though during the night and we set out early the next morning to visit the gorge. The walk (which also involved a dinghy ride across the river) was enjoyable and the gorge and associated waterfall quite beautiful, although not as secluded as Wunnumurra. We bumped into one of our fellow head scratchers from Barnett River gorge (who we had actually been bumping into since Purnululu) and we all took a swim together under the falls and I think that we each gave each other the courage to venture a little further than we would normally. With this adventurous spirit kindled under the falls fresh in our hearts we observed a young bearded chap leap out of the water at the base of the falls and clamber up the falls right to the top. We looked from the bearded one to each other and no exchange of words were necessary. "We can do that", said our eyes, and so we did. Once at the top we wandered about quite elated and proud of our feat. Then it came time to clmb down again and guess what? Things look different and a little scarier going down than they do coming up, and the bearded one had well moved on so there were no footsteps to follow. Gulp!! Eventually we manged to descend, but not in quite so nimble a fashion as we had ascended.

As we drove out who should we bump into but our clowns riding into the gorge, this time bedecked in less frivolous and more utilitarian costume. Ever the thoughtful one, Beth helped them to take a rest break by chatting and not allowing them to pedal on. Eventually we let them go and promised to look out for them along the road. Our next destination was Mornington Wilderness Camp where we intended spending 2 nights, and there was a good chance that our paths would cross again after that.

En route to Mornington Wilderness Camp we called into 2 gorges which were only short detours, Galvan's Gorge which was close to the road and very popular, and Adcock Gorge which involved quite a testing 4wd excursion which made it a little less popular. Galvan's Gorge provided us with our drama for the day. After we parked the car, we overheard a tour bus driver on his satellite phone asking their next accommodation provider whether they had any medical services available as one of his clients had fallen and suffered an injury whilst walking. The walk into Galvan's Gorge is about 1 kilometre and when we were almost there we encountered the lady who had fallen. She appeared to have injured her arm and was probably suffering a little bit of shock as well. She was being comforted by others but we did ask if we could be of assistance. The issue it seems was that she was in too much pain to be assisted walking out of the gorge, so the thinking was that the rescue operation would involve bringing a 4wd vehicle down the walking track as far as possible to ferry the woman back to the bus in the car park. Evidently the bus driver was looking for someone willing to perform this errand of mercy. You could see Beth's eyes light up, and although using our vehicle for this would involve disconnecting the trailer, Beth was clearly keen and we hurried back to volunteer. Sadly for Beth, about half way back we saw a 4wd ute heading towards us with about 5 children on the back imitating an ambulance siren. Clearly we had missed our opportunity, but I am not sure that the back of a ute surrounded by 10 year old nurses was the sort of ambulance the poor injured lady was expecting. Hopefully it turned out well for all. We didn't hang around to see how it all played out.

There are 2 gorges to visit at Mornington Wilderness Camp and abundant bird life to spot (including the rare and beautiful Gouldian Finch), so 2 nights are required to do this place justice. Mornington Wilderness Camp is an 80 kilometre detour and again we make the mistake of assuming that we are the only ones prepared to go this far off the beaten track. No problems with getting a camp site but we are far from being alone. MWC is part of the Australian Nature Conservancy which is a private not for profit organisation which has bought up large tracts of land across Australia with a view to reducing numbers of introduced plant and animal species and returning the land to its natural state, particularly to restore populations of endangered native animals. Mornington is one such property where they also welcome visitors. They appear to have done quite an amazing job of rehabilitating what was until quite recently a pastoral lease.

In the spirit of the old adage "if you fall off a bicycle, you should get straight back on again"' we decided to hire canoes for the day to explore Dimand Gorge. No photos I am afraid, because I am still banned from carrying expensive electronic equipment near water. We had a great morning on the canoe paddling the length of the gorge and back again. Not as long or strenuous as the Ord River. But no mishaps either. I was quite relieved to arrive back dry. Sir John Gorge was the other one we visited here. There was an option to do this by canoe as well, but it was quite expensive so we chose instead to walk along the gorge as the sun was setting. This was quite beautiful and for me a highlight of our stay at Mornington. As for birds, we saw a few, but certainly none of the rare ones. Bird watching is a little like terrestrial fishing I think. You find the good spot, set up your equipment, then sit and wait until the birds come along. Nice reward at the end, but I struggle with the sitting and waiting patiently bit. As well as lacking patience, I cannot discern a tern from a turkey and lack the technical competence to be a serious bird watcher. I must say though that we did enjoy the birds that we encountered on our rambles, and although there were no Gouldian Finches, we did spot some Purple Crowned Fairy Wrens and some nice little red birds (whose name eludes me at present), both of which are endangered (perhaps in the same way as the Lamington Blue Crayfish).

From Mornington we head for the Silent Grove campground which is our base for exploring Bell Gorge. A stopover at the Imintji store to fuel up, restock our larder and indulge in coffee and cake was quite pleasant despite the cake being a close contestant with Tennant Creek cupcakes for worst on tour. As we travel we scan the horizon hoping to spot our clowns, but alas they were not to be seen this day.

Silent Grove is a pleasant little National Parks campground, but on this night it certainly does not live up to its name. All of a sudden I think that the tourist season has started, and it seems that a large number of these tourists are overweight elderly gentlemen with snoring problems (I exclude myself from this group by the way because I have never heard myself snoring) and young children seeking attention the only way they know how (howling). I guess they couldn't really call it Silent When Devoid of Fat Old Men and Infants Grove, but be warned, never judge a campsite by its name. Whilst Silent Grove did not enthuse me, Bell Gorge certainly did. Quite a rough and rocky and at times steep walk to get there, and the a bit of swimming and clambering over rocks to make our way down the gorge which was all good fun, and once again, the falls and the gorge were just beautiful. Bell Gorge is certainly one of the most picturesque falls we have encountered,and swimming in the gorge was as real treat (except when Beth spotted a snake in the water, which greatly improved our stroke rate).

Just one more gorge to go (Windjana) to finish off our adventure. Again no sight of our clowns. We were beginning to think that we had lost them, but just before our turnoff to Windjana we saw their trail of dust ahead of us as they sped towards home. After finding that they intended having a rest break at Lennard River we promised to go ahead and have a cup of tea waiting for them. When we got to Lennard River though we bumped into another couple we had seen on and off across the GRR and who also had been following the fortunes of the clowns. We got to chatting of course which meant the cyclist arrived and tea was not nearly ready. This was soon remedied though and we all sat down to a very civilised morning tea, during the course of which we learnt a little more about the clowns including that they actually had names, not Larry, Moe and Curly, or Huey, Duey, and Luey as you might expect, but Wendy, Sam and Beck. Disappointingly normal names don't you think?

The other thing that we started spotting on the road to Windjana were some very peculiar vehicles, which if you were kind you would refer to as vintage cars. It turns out that these were part of a 250 vehicle strong event called the Shitbox Rally (a more appropriate description than vintage). The Variety rally of days gone by paled in comparison and I got the impression that the vulgarity of the event's name had attracted not only questionable vehicles, but interesting participants (I am being kind again).

We set up our trailer at the Windjana Campground and then travelled down the road to visit tunnel creek, which is a really interesting underground creek which basically runs from one side of the range to the other, and so long as you have a torch for the dark parts and are prepared to get a little wet you can actually walk all the way along the creek. On our way we passed many of our SB Rally friends going the other way, and when we got to Tunnel Creek the car park was a full of them. Luckily they seemed to be in the process of leaving as we arrived.

Tunnel Creek was great fun, and even the presence of a 15 ft python sitting curled up near the narrow entrance to the creek did not put us off (again the water rule prevents photos). Beth in fact was quite interested in having a good look at the reptile and showed no fear at all. Perhaps this trip has cured her if her fear of and dislike for snakes? As we were returning to our camp site a horrible thought occurred to us. What if the SB Rally folk were heading for Windjana. If we thought that Silent Grove was unpleasant with a few snorers and babies, imagine Windjana with 500 odd interesting people. I felt sick just thinking about it , and sicker still when we turned into Winjana to see wall to wall SB Rally cars. Luckily for us they were not staying, and in fact they were not supposed to be there at all, so the ranger had set up a barricade and was not letting them out of the car park until they handed over their National Parks day use fees. A windfall at Windjana it seems. Windjana is a very different gorge from the others we have seen but spectacular nonetheless and we really enjoyed discovering every inch of it. Windjana is the best place to see freshwater crocodiles and generally on a warm day you can see large numbers sunning themselves on the riverbanks. The only crocs we saw though were in the water. We did not contemplate swimming at Windjana.

The GRR has been a tremendous adventure and one we will never forget. The road itself was quite benign and uninteresting but the stops along the way are really amazing. Apart from the scenery though there is a camaraderie which builds amongst the folk effectively travelling together as they bump into each other again and again at different campsites. Many of the people that we met (young , old and in between) also contributed to our delight in making this trip. We pack up at Windjana happy to be heading for Broome but sad that our GRR adventure is over.

As we head for Broome we see a speck on the horizon and as we get closer it becomes clear the the speck is Beck the perennial tail ender of the clown trio decked out for the final push in her clown finery. We pulled up to say hello and farewell and coincidentally so did the couple from Lennard River who were travelling just a ahead of us. We hurry to catch up to Wendy and Sam to also wish them farewell and catch them (also clowned up) just a couple of kilometres before they turn off to the cattle station which is their finish line (Wendy lives on this station). After a brief chat and farewell, the clowns suggested that we should meet them at the finish line and Wendy would make us a cup of tea. So off we went to the station and made ourselves known to the folk there who fed us tea and cake as we awaited the clowns who arrived soon after looking tired but elated. We had a great time just sitting and talking with these wonderful crazy people. An invitation by Wendy to stay on and watch the final result of mustering as cattle (lots of them) are loaded onto trucks the following day is seriously considered by Beth. I am glad she declined. Not because I wouldn't like to watch this spectacle, but because I fear that Beth would have found a way to volunteer our services long term as roustabouts, and whilst I have loved our travels, I am not sure that I have an abiding love of the red dust which is an inevitable part of life up here. So we farewell our clowns and continue down the road to Broome. Needless to say if any of the clowns are ever in Melbourne, they should get in touch, and we would love to make them another cup of tea.