nick_sky
030703f1
Cockburn Range. WA.
"...It was one of the reasons why I'd come back and the raison d'être for Brad (our 4WD Mitsubishi Pajero). The Gibb River Road is a 700km gravel track running through the very centre of the Kimberley; a rugged, scenically spectacular area at the very top of Western Australia.
Built originally to transport supplies and cattle and to and from the remote stations, the Gibb River Road links several homesteads. In the last decade the road has been adopted by tourists seeking to experience the interior of the Kimberley.
Two years ago I got a taste of the Kimberley when I cycled from Broome to Kununurra via the sealed highway, which skirts around the region's southern edge. On a bike the Gibb River Road is a formidable challenge and at the time I was not sufficiently experienced, equiped or prepared to attempt it.
For the trip, we teamed up with a German couple called Uta and Patrick, who, like us had bought an old Pajero in Perth. Even if we'd joined, the RAC don't come up here, so this gave us some security, if, in Australian-speak, the car 's**t itself'.
At the end of day 1 we camped at Windjana Gorge. Early the next morning at sun-up we walked along the gorge and sat on the sandy, shady banks of one of the pools filled during the last wet season, and watched silently as fresh water crocodiles (known as 'freshies', these are smaller and almost harmless cousins of the larger, man-crunching saltwater croc) hauled themselves out of the water onto a sand island to warm up in the sun.
Day 3 started with a short drive then a long swim mixed with some extreme 'uphanging' (German for 'relaxing' I'm told though I wouldn't trust the spelling) on the sun baked rocks of Bell Gorge. I also managed to summon enough courage to jump off a very high ledge into the deep plunge pool of the gorge, much to the amusement of the group of children who had showed me what to do. Also saw some water monitors basking on the rocks.
The road was starting to take a toll on the German's car--the indicators, either side of the headlights, broke their mountings and popped out like eyes on stalks. A few strips of Duck tape later and the lights were re-seated.
Day 4 proceeded much as day 3, except we'd moved onto Manning Gorge, midway along the Gibb River Road. At the nearby Mt Barnett roadhouse I filled the now empty gerry cans strapped to the roof rack and replenished the tank in preparation for the second half of the journey.
That night we camped at Mt Elizabeth Station, one of a few homesteads that have responded to the popularity of the Gibb River Road with tourists and diversified accordingly by offering accomodation facilities and holiday opportunities. Arriving at Mt Elizabeth Station, I felt quite jaded and very dusty from the viscous 30km track in. I had followed Patrick who weaved wildly across the road trying the avoid the evil corrugations that stretched right to the very edges of the track.
There was nothing to see on day 5. The spectacular scenery mentioned in the Lonely Planet never materialized. We drove all day. Back down the 30km track from Mt Elizabeth, then about 200km along the Gibb River Road. This section was more heavily corrugated than the last, probably due the road train traffic which we saw en-route.
The driving was draining and demoralising. You're constantly looking for for the smoothest line, but that's what everyone before you has done, so usually it doesn't exist and your efforts are rewarded by vibrations and white noise from everything shaking violently.
The scanky campground at Home Valley Station added to the group's sullen mood. It was a real low point. Everyone wanted to be alone. Uta stormed off and lay in her hammock all evening. Patrick sat dejected in his car. Alicia went off to read. I walked up the stagnant creek and collected a few bits of fire wood. Soon after dark I climbed into my tent and slept. I couldn't even by bothered to take my clothes off.
Next morning spirits had risen and were bolstered by a fun rocky river crossing and few kilometres along the track. We then left the Gibb River Road 100km from where it meets the sealed highway, and travelled by a small 4WD only track that arches around the northern tip of the Cockburn Range and acts as an access road to the Pentecost River (good barramundi fishing) and a shortcut to Wyndham.
Here I encountered another Australian phenomenon--bull dust. It looks like sand, drives like sand but feels like talcum powder and gets into everything. It blows through the vents and seeps through the door seals. Not that it really mattered because after 600km of dirt road, everything was covered in red dust anyway.
A third of the track, or roughly 30km, crossed an expanse of mud flats, baked hard by the sun and cracked into a massive monotonous mosaic. We immediately left the track and raced the two cars across the baked earth. In a car, even a 4WD you become accustomed to following some sort of road and it felt strange but liberating to suddenly be without a guide.
In Wyndham we washed everything.
On reflection the Gibb River Road had not met my (admittedly high) scenic expectations and in my mind the grimness of day 5 cancelled out the fun of the preceeding 4 days.
Luckily day 6 was worth driving 600km for."
030703f1
Cockburn Range. WA.
"...It was one of the reasons why I'd come back and the raison d'être for Brad (our 4WD Mitsubishi Pajero). The Gibb River Road is a 700km gravel track running through the very centre of the Kimberley; a rugged, scenically spectacular area at the very top of Western Australia.
Built originally to transport supplies and cattle and to and from the remote stations, the Gibb River Road links several homesteads. In the last decade the road has been adopted by tourists seeking to experience the interior of the Kimberley.
Two years ago I got a taste of the Kimberley when I cycled from Broome to Kununurra via the sealed highway, which skirts around the region's southern edge. On a bike the Gibb River Road is a formidable challenge and at the time I was not sufficiently experienced, equiped or prepared to attempt it.
For the trip, we teamed up with a German couple called Uta and Patrick, who, like us had bought an old Pajero in Perth. Even if we'd joined, the RAC don't come up here, so this gave us some security, if, in Australian-speak, the car 's**t itself'.
At the end of day 1 we camped at Windjana Gorge. Early the next morning at sun-up we walked along the gorge and sat on the sandy, shady banks of one of the pools filled during the last wet season, and watched silently as fresh water crocodiles (known as 'freshies', these are smaller and almost harmless cousins of the larger, man-crunching saltwater croc) hauled themselves out of the water onto a sand island to warm up in the sun.
Day 3 started with a short drive then a long swim mixed with some extreme 'uphanging' (German for 'relaxing' I'm told though I wouldn't trust the spelling) on the sun baked rocks of Bell Gorge. I also managed to summon enough courage to jump off a very high ledge into the deep plunge pool of the gorge, much to the amusement of the group of children who had showed me what to do. Also saw some water monitors basking on the rocks.
The road was starting to take a toll on the German's car--the indicators, either side of the headlights, broke their mountings and popped out like eyes on stalks. A few strips of Duck tape later and the lights were re-seated.
Day 4 proceeded much as day 3, except we'd moved onto Manning Gorge, midway along the Gibb River Road. At the nearby Mt Barnett roadhouse I filled the now empty gerry cans strapped to the roof rack and replenished the tank in preparation for the second half of the journey.
That night we camped at Mt Elizabeth Station, one of a few homesteads that have responded to the popularity of the Gibb River Road with tourists and diversified accordingly by offering accomodation facilities and holiday opportunities. Arriving at Mt Elizabeth Station, I felt quite jaded and very dusty from the viscous 30km track in. I had followed Patrick who weaved wildly across the road trying the avoid the evil corrugations that stretched right to the very edges of the track.
There was nothing to see on day 5. The spectacular scenery mentioned in the Lonely Planet never materialized. We drove all day. Back down the 30km track from Mt Elizabeth, then about 200km along the Gibb River Road. This section was more heavily corrugated than the last, probably due the road train traffic which we saw en-route.
The driving was draining and demoralising. You're constantly looking for for the smoothest line, but that's what everyone before you has done, so usually it doesn't exist and your efforts are rewarded by vibrations and white noise from everything shaking violently.
The scanky campground at Home Valley Station added to the group's sullen mood. It was a real low point. Everyone wanted to be alone. Uta stormed off and lay in her hammock all evening. Patrick sat dejected in his car. Alicia went off to read. I walked up the stagnant creek and collected a few bits of fire wood. Soon after dark I climbed into my tent and slept. I couldn't even by bothered to take my clothes off.
Next morning spirits had risen and were bolstered by a fun rocky river crossing and few kilometres along the track. We then left the Gibb River Road 100km from where it meets the sealed highway, and travelled by a small 4WD only track that arches around the northern tip of the Cockburn Range and acts as an access road to the Pentecost River (good barramundi fishing) and a shortcut to Wyndham.
Here I encountered another Australian phenomenon--bull dust. It looks like sand, drives like sand but feels like talcum powder and gets into everything. It blows through the vents and seeps through the door seals. Not that it really mattered because after 600km of dirt road, everything was covered in red dust anyway.
A third of the track, or roughly 30km, crossed an expanse of mud flats, baked hard by the sun and cracked into a massive monotonous mosaic. We immediately left the track and raced the two cars across the baked earth. In a car, even a 4WD you become accustomed to following some sort of road and it felt strange but liberating to suddenly be without a guide.
In Wyndham we washed everything.
On reflection the Gibb River Road had not met my (admittedly high) scenic expectations and in my mind the grimness of day 5 cancelled out the fun of the preceeding 4 days.
Luckily day 6 was worth driving 600km for."