Beth and Mark's Gap Year 2014: Bungles, Creatures, Shudders and Falls

Our last day in Kununurra is devoted to purchasing provisions for the next few weeks as we take on the Gibb River Road, where opportunities to buy food are infrequent and very limited and expensive where they do exist. Beth sees this as an opportunity to be frugal and make serious inroads into our stock of vegan surplus, so the trolley is not weighed down quite as much as you might imagine for 3 weeks of eating by two hungry travellers. My recent significant losses of expensive consumer goods has left me in no real position to object, so I have braced myself for a diet of Dahl and mung bean stew for the foreseeable future. Yum!! I try hard to help with Beth's push for austerity and seek out the big bargains at Coles Kununurra, but Beth is not impressed by my efforts and explains that although the chocolates are massively reduced, they are not good for us and we do not need them. I was only trying to be helpful.

After what seems to have been an eternity in this neck of the woods we bit adieu to Kununurra (and the Wild Mango) and head down south to Purnululu NP (aka the Bungle Bungles) for 3 days, which is something that Beth in particular has been looking forward to this whole trip. Since a fleeting visit to Purnululu a few years back Beth has harboured a strong desire to return with a 4wd and explore this park more seriously. I doubt that we could have timed our visit any better. Recent rains have been enough to really brighten up the grasses (which contrast rather nicely with the red rocks) but have not affected the roads or any attractions in the park.

After travelling the rough 60km 4wd track into the park (good training for the Gibb River Road) we broke up our stay at Purnululu by spending one night at the campground at the northern end of the park and close to Echidna Chasm and two nights at the smaller, but more popular camp at the southern end of the park and close to Piccaninny Creek and Cathedral Gorge. Over the course of the three days we completed every walk on offer in the park except the multi day Piccaninny Gorge walk. Yet another return visit assured. I am growing a little bit concerned by all these multi day hikes queuing up. A frightening prospect for someone who dislikes carrying stuff whilst hiking - and I don't think that Beth is planning to be my Sherpa.

Purnululu lived up to all expectations. The landforms are truly remarkable, and it is really easy to just sit gazing at the beehive formations for hours. Although there did not seem to be any apparent aboriginal dreamtime stories associated with the Bungle Bungles, Beth is convinced that there must be some stories, because each of the domes looks like a person or an animal. When she told me this I looked again, and I could see what she meant, the only problem is that to me they all looked like characters out of The Simpsons. I sort of doubt that Homer and Bart feature heavily in aboriginal dreamtime stories.

In my last post I think I made some unkind comments about cane toads, in fact I think I called them odious creatures. Unfortunately these creatures now inhabit Purnululu in very large numbers and are a serious problem. Given my outspoken dislike for cane toads you would think that I would be quick to respond to any call to arms against this foe. Shamefully I was not so quick and was more conscripted than enlisted in the battle by our friendly volunteer campsite host Gene, an American chap who is waging a full scale war on cane toads and claims to have been responsible for disposal of over 40,000 in the past 6 weeks. We, along with most of our fellow campers were ordered to report for duty at nightfall. Our weapons of mass destruction? Our (gloved) hands, a torch and a plastic bag. Our mission was quite simple, spot a toad, grab it and stuff it in the bag. It was made clear to us that we should be able to bag 50 or so toads a night. A mixture of ineptitude, squeamishness and a propensity to chat to other collectors and forget the job at hand meant that we fell considerably short of our quota. Gene thanked us for our efforts but added that he had higher expectations for the next night. Although our collecting skills were greatly improved the next evening we were even more inclined to be diverted from our work and our numbers were only marginally better. Again Gene thanked us in a resigned way as he clutched his bagful of 200 odd toads. Clearly we are not made of the right stuff when it comes to cane toad warfare.

From Purnululu we head north again to commence our assault on the Gibb River Road. We resist the temptation of a quick detour into Kununurra and the delights of the Wild Mango and instead push on, fording the majestic Pentecost River on our way to Home Valley Ranch. The name conjures up images of Indiana Gene, toad hunter, but although we were not spared the toad here, we were spared the hunter. We passed a very pleasant and deliciously cool evening and settled into bed feeling very comfortable. As you all know by now, feeling comfortable is generally a harbinger of something unpleasant, and sure enough.... About 3 am I heard a bit of chatter outside which I initially mistook for a cockatoo and wondered what manner of insane cockatoo was moving about making a noise at that time of morning. Soon after the lone cockatoo was joined by another, then another and so on. By 3:30 the tree above our trailer was screaming, not with cockatoos but with bats who seemed to be feasting on the flowers in the tree. Beth is not fond of bats, and from time to time she has been openly offensive to them, commenting on their noisome nature and smelliness in particular. These bats clearly knew who was in the trailer under their feasting tree, because not only did they create a din to keep us awake til dawn, they also took delight in dropping their food scraps and foul smelling discharges onto our roof. We now have a spotty and smelly trailer which I am hoping time will heal.

Upon cleaning up as best we could following the bat-tle, we head for Drysdale River Station on the Kalumburu Road en route to the Mitchell Falls. Everything that we have read has suggested that the Gibb River Road is a real test of both man and machine, but apart from the Pentecost River crossing the road has been quite benign, presumably a legacy of its growing popularity, but also I guess because we are tackling it early in the season when it has been freshly graded. The Kalumburu Road also seems a smooth as an airstrip to Drysdale River Station and that nasty comfortable feeling starts to grab hold again.

After overnighting and refuelling at Drysdale River Station, we continue up the Kalumburu Road to the Point Warrander Road which takes us to Mitchell Falls. Needless to say the road degraded significantly beyond the Drysdale River crossing and the last 80 rattle and shaky Kms to Mitchell falls took more than 2 hours to complete. It was however a very interesting drive (the highlight of which was 2 dancing brolgas on the road as we crossed a small creek - a very impressive display but unfortunately no photos) through which both car and driver came though unscathed.

The Mitchell Falls campground is about 3 Km from the falls and the only way in is to either walk or catch a helicopter. At $130 per person each way we decided that we could do with the exercise. The only hitch with walking in is that to see the falls you first need to cross the Mitchell River just above the falls, and no bridge is provided. This exercise involves wading waist deep for about 100m across slippery rocks. Not a big deal under normal circumstances, but I had just recently consigned my phone and camera to a watery grave, and was under immense pressure to make sure this did not happen again (particularly given my refusal to leave the phone - doubling for now as my camera - at home in the dry). I am sure that as soon as these thoughts enter your head signals are sent to you feet to seek out the slipperiest and unsteadiest rocks of all. Despite this I managed to slip and stumble my way across the river with all valuables (including lunch) dry and intact. Pheeew!!!

It is pretty hard work getting to Mitchell Falls, but well and truly worth the effort. This has to be one of the most beatiful places on the planet. Not only are the falls stunning, but the vantage points for sitting and watching them are equally beautiful. Beth and I sat for ages on a rock on the gorge wall shaded by a lovely fig tree basically hanging over the falls. Magnificent. After a swim in the rapids at the top of the falls (not as dangerous as it sounds but wonderfully invigorating) we need to negotiate the river crossing again to make our way home. As we approached the crossing point a group from a tourist coach arrived on the other side, so we decided to wait and let them cross first. This of course was a big mistake because it caused Beth to laugh fitfully at some of the misadventures of these tourists who clearly had no idea how to cross a fast flowing stream on slippery rocks. Whilst I performed the same slapstick manoeuvres on my return journey, Beth made it about seven eighths of the way across in typical sure footed fashion at which point Karma got her and in she went. Luckily there did not seem to be an audience on the other side holding their bellies laughing, and I also was careful to say nothing until I had reached dry land, at which point we both had a bit of a chuckle.

A wonderful day at Mitchell Falls, but time to move on again and in the morning we head back to the Gibb River Road to continue acquainting ourselves with every gorge and waterfall in these parts....