It’s happened to most of us; you come back from a great holiday and a friend asks whether you’ve seen that unmissable amazing highlight and you go, ‘uhm, really? what? where?’
Well, the legendary Gibb River Road is so packed with highlights you can be sure to miss a few, unless you have a lot of time on your hands.
Claimed as one of the last serious wilderness adventures in Australia, the largely unpaved 700 Kilometre long Gibb River Road (GRR or the Gibb) cuts straight through the heart of the Kimberley. It is a long stretch of red dirt, with tire spiking crossroads to reach its gems, those who bring their vehicle across, will get rewarded with remote gorges, blue tropical pools, distant waterfalls and million-acre cattle stations under endless blue skies.
The road is closed in the wet season and can even be closed randomly in the dry season due to flooding. The original purpose of the Gibb is to provide a stock route and today you still see giant cattle-roadtrains. But nowadays you’ll also see many four wheel drive adventurers, slow rattling caravans, and even some totally mad cyclists.
This is true wilderness with minimal services, so good planning and self-sufficiency are vital. After crossing the Great Central Road, we’ve got this ‘downpat’ and start our adventure from the Western end of the road, coming from Broome (downpat: having mastered the skill).
Our first stop is Windjana gorge, created by the ocean, more specifically by an ancient Devonian limestone reef. This was a glorious great barrier reef millions of years ago and I can only dream of what it must’ve looked like under water. As I am walking through the gorge, the era of dinosaurs fits the scenery better, the numerous freshwater crocs feed my imagination, but it’s possibly the shrieks and cries of countless birds bouncing off the 100 metre walls of the gorge that cause me to think that the characters of Ice Age will be coming around a corner anytime soon.
What happens here is quite extraordinary. The millions of fruit bats I’ve seen, smelt and felt (guano!) earlier, venture out at sunset, flying through the gorge where the ponds are jam-packed with freshies, waiting for their fly-by-dinner.
So we sit and stare and wait and stare until the sun has set and the skies are dark blue when suddenly this squeaking mass of millions of bats approaches us. They pass over the gorge in a massive snake-like movement which never seems to stop. None of them thirsty or all simply too fast for the freshies today. We head back to camp through the magnificent gorge to prepare ourselves a dinner from the grill under the bright stars.
The next favored spot to have a peek is Tunnel Creek, a gorge turning into a cave loaded with bats and freshies. Armed with my torch and proper footware, I wade through the first pool to get a glimpse, but when another couple comes out saying they just sent all the freshies into the water from the banks, I get discouraged. I’ve been hit by bat-guano before and have seen a fair amount of caves and freshies, so I turn around.
We continue our dusty-Gibb-travels and spontaneously take a turnoff to Bell gorge. A quick peek in my guidebook reveals that this one is not-to-be missed, so I’m excited. It fails to describe the grade of the walk, which turns out to be a steep rocky climb followed by a steep rocky descent. The trail leads to the pretty Bell’s waterfall and pool. When Bob makes it down for a glimpse of the place I’m already paddling back and forth in the beautiful fresh water, GoPro in selfie position, me wickedly smiling and waving at it.
For our lunch break we’re headed to Manning gorge, halfway down the Gibb, where we find a shallow plunge pool and angry staff so we continue our way as soon as we’ve washed down our food. Later we’re told that the real beauty is just around the corner, a massive waterfall plunging into crystal clear waters. I’ll be damned! Just don’t tell me about the uhmaaaaaizing places we didn’t see, alright?
It’s almost sunset when we find a lovely camp spot at Mount Elizabeth Station (so there, we couldn’t even have squeezed in more uhmaaaaaizing places for the day). We quickly set up camp and drive back the way we came to chop-up (well, the chainsaw does the work) some firewood for the night.
Mount Elizabeth Station is a destination by itself; as it is a working cattle station, you get the true feel of being at the heart of the Kimberley. Our very spacious and quiet camping area in this rustic bushland is shared with hundreds of inquisitive wallabies, a bold peacock, a dozen jumpy horses and who-knows-what-else…
For the full-on bush experience, we go to Wunnumurra gorge the next day. The rugged ten kilometre ride to the gorge is not for the faint-hearted and only accessible with a big-boy-toy that has lots of clearance and serious low range gears. Bob steers us skilfully across the tire-pinching rocks and squeezes the 4WD through narrow corners. After being shaken for over an hour -like an iPad used by a toddler- we do a steamy wilderness walk through pandanus lined bush and get to a sheer drop and big waterfall. The better option than jumping straight into the water is climbing down two unsecured ladders, or is it? Reaching the pools, I truly appreciate the beauty of Wunnumurra gorge, as it’s secluded and we had to cross a very remote area to get here. Australia offers the comfort of parking lots very close to most gems in national parks, making it accessible to all public. All mortals that is, the screaming kids, the wankers, the slow grey nomads, the seriously sweaty obese, well, just saying, it can get kind of annoying at times, so I prefer the secluded ones, requiring an effort to reach to such a degree that ‘the public’ doesn’t get there.
Apart from the glittering waterfall and pool, there’s wandjinas to be found. Wand-your-what? Wandjinas are figures in rock art, deeply spiritual to the people of this area. To them, the Wandjina is the supreme creator and a symbol of fertility and rain. It is actually the oldest continuous sacred painting movement on the planet. (damn, you just learned something by reading my blog, didn’t ya?)
Then, Home Valley Station is quite shocking, in a whole different way than Mount Elizabeth Station. With a huge dining area, live music, a pool, shops and heaps of extraordinary activities, this supposed station has quite the commercial feel to it. We have been at so many remarkable remote rural places, that I’m a bit stunned by this change of scenery.
On the other hand, it is the scenery surrounding the station that gets my full attention over the next days as I do multiple hikes to the gorges, hills and riverbeds. There’s nobody else on the trails and the views from the ledges are breathtaking. And to be honest, you won’t hear me complaining about an arvo at the poolside with a cold drink.
By now the climate is perfect for sleeping with the swags open, so every dayt, I happily wake to the first rays of sun shining on my face. At famous and upscale El Questro, there’s numerous gorges, we simply pick the two most famous ones we figure are not-to-miss; el questro and emma gorge. The dirt road to the questro gorge is good fun, driving a boggy sandy road and crossing the Pentecost river where the water reaches the doors. We’re amazed to see rental-campervans and low two-wheel-drives attempting this and severely shake our heads when we see a moped headed for the croc-filled-dips.
The challenging hike to el questro gorge turns from swampy to riverbed and makes you hop across rocks in the water, I love it. The red walls of the gorge are draped with bright green tropical vegetation and the sound of the clear running water and singing birds makes it all the more heavenly.
The next gorge is supposedly the most spectacular of all gorges along the Gibb, another fun walk jumping from rock to rock gets you up there. It’s scorching hot now, and I can’t wait to make it to the water. It’s not until you’re actually standing at the bottom of the waterfall that you realize how spectacular it actually is. And when I find myself just there I see how people can write that this is true heaven on earth. Emma gorge doesn’t fail to impress. Her 65 metre high red slopes covered in green are in an oval shape, slightly hanging over the pool causing for the droplet-waterfall to continuously create a rainfall into the blue pool underneath. When I get into the fresh waters, I get this slice of heaven all to myself. It’s one of the places words can’t describe, you’ll have to be there with all your senses.
We leave Emma behind us and drive the last kilometers of the Gibb, the bitumen leads us back to civilization and Darwin is back on the signposts. It’s all good, we’re gorged-out for a while…
Planet Bubbles 