September 2024: Blue Mountains, NSW

The Grand Cliff Top Walk

For outdoor enthusiasts and nature lovers, the Blue Mountains offer a treasure trove of hikes, enough to keep anyone occupied for years. From easy strolls to adrenaline-pumping extremes, this region offers endless exploration. Yet, despite all this variety, I’d only scratched the surface. That was until the news of the Grand Cliff Top Walk popped up in my social media feed, igniting my curiosity and sparking the idea for a hiking weekend with friends.

Opened in early 2024, the Grand Cliff Top Walk is not entirely new but a combination of pre-existing tracks that have been stitched together into one seamless trail. Although it’s promoted as a two-day experience (perhaps to encourage overnight stays), the 20-kilometer route can easily be conquered in a single day—at least, that was our plan!

Our adventure began early in the day at Wentworth Falls. Following the distinct black cockatoo emblem on the wayfinding signs, it wasn’t long before we found ourselves on the edge of a towering precipice, gazing down into the breathtaking Jamison Valley. The vastness of the view is humbling, a sheer drop of ancient sandstone cliffs leading to a sea of green treetops stretching to the horizon.

While the Grand Cliff Top Walk strives to be a unified track, it’s still a work in progress. Some sections are closed due to recent flood damage, and parts of the trail require detours onto nearby roads. Even the cockatoo symbols that guide the way seem to lose their sense of direction at times, with confusing or poorly marked sections testing our navigational skills. But for hikers, these challenges are part of the fun.

Sometimes it is the detail that makes hiking special with the native flora and fauna putting on a show.

The trail isn’t only about sweeping views of the Blue Mountains. In several parts, it descends into lush, rainforest-clad gullies, with waterfalls both near and far to admire. We were treated to the sights of Wentworth Falls, Gordon Falls, Bridal Veil Falls, Katoomba Falls, Empress Falls, and the ever-serene Leura Cascades—each one offering a moment of tranquil beauty amidst the rugged bushland.

Although much of the hike allows you to immerse yourself in the beauty of the Australian bush, the proximity to suburbia is never too far away. Emerging from stretches of dry sclerophyll forest, we would sometimes hear the unmistakable sound of “Fore!” as we passed by the Fairmont Resort and the Leura Golf Course. These reminders of civilization are even more pronounced as the hike ends, transitioning from tranquil bushland to the throng of tourists snapping selfies at the Three Sisters lookout. The paved viewing platform, large enough to land a jumbo jet, is a stark contrast to the quiet solitude we experienced earlier on the trail.

Despite a few closed sections and the occasional suburban reminder, the Grand Cliff Top Walk was a great way to spend time with friends. And it also allowed us an excuse to relax and enjoy some heard earned drinks at the end of the day.

June 2024: Bali, Part 3

While it could be easy to spend the next three days between the pool and cocktails, this was not the reason we chose to come to Nusa Penida.

As I descended into the blue depths, my heart pounds with a mix of excitement and nerves. This isn’t just any dive—this is my first dive in almost 20 years. As I manage to equalize and settle into a steady breathing rhythm, a dark shadow looms in the distance. Mesmerised, the extra air bubbles floating to the surface provide a clear indication of my increasing breaths.

As the shadow draws nearer, it transforms from what appears to be a rubberised jet fighter plane into an organic form, resembling a bird flying underwater. Finally, the full majesty of the manta ray comes into view. It glides directly towards me, requiring a slight duck of the head as it passes above. I can see every detail—the intricate patterns on its belly and the serene, almost wise expression in its eyes. Time seems to stand still as we share this moment.

 

When we first set out to go to Bali, snorkeling with manta rays was always a priority on the agenda. However, I hadn’t considered using this opportunity to refresh a long-lost hobby: diving. With some prompting by Kathy, I did a refresher course in the pool the day before to prepare me for today’s unbelievable experience.

Sitting on the edge of the boat moored at Manta Bay, the heavy weight of diving gear adds to my nerves about getting back underwater. However, the tension disappears in seconds as I watch the calming giants of the sea glide into the cleaning station, allowing the next manta to arrive.

Reluctantly, we leave the mantas behind and move on to another dive site where I plunge myself among thousands of fish and coral. Like riding a bike, the muscle memory of diving returns, however I barely manage to emulate the graceful turtle floating from coral to coral in search of food.

Another day, another adventure. Extracting ourselves from the water, we set off to explore a couple of the well-known coastal beaches Nusa Penida is famous for. Our first stop is Angel’s Billabong, a rock pool not unlike many you would encounter along the NSW coastline. The difference here is the hordes of tourists standing around the edge, with a few brave souls venturing into the pool, waiting for the rogue wave to wash them out to sea.

 

Not far from the rock pool lies Broken Beach, a picturesque cove eroded out of the cliff face with a single archway allowing water to flow in and out from the ocean. However, all I can muster is a feeling that it’s a lesser version of the stunning coastline in Victoria, Australia.

As you can tell, I am probably at odds with the hundreds of blog posts that gush about how amazing these places are. It’s a reminder of how fortunate we are in Australia to have such majestic coastal scenes that are unrivalled in the world. While Nusa Penida offers its own unique charm and beauty, it also underscores the sheer magnificence of the coastal landscapes back home.

20 years ago, little more than locals or the intrepid traveller was aware of the golden sands below a shear horseshoe cliff line, adjacent azure blue waters. Now, because of the photogenic nature of the beach, Kelingking Beach has become another ‘insta’ landmark loved to death.

Arriving at Kelingking Beach, it is as though the crowds have magically materialised from nowhere. The parking lot is bigger than that of Bunnings Warehouse.  Reaching the cliff edge, visitors clamber for that perfect shot (that everyone else already has), jostling for an uninterrupted view. Women dressed in large floppy hats and flowing ballgown dresses, more suited to a nightclub, pose while photographers climb trees and perch on makeshift timber ladders, straining for ‘that shot.’ The surrounding area is part construction site, part tourist trap, obliterating what was once a pristine coastline.

I recently read that the ongoing construction aims to build a glass cliffside elevator down to the beach. I fear that the continued demand for social media posts and the need to build infrastructure so people don’t have to ‘walk’, will ultimately destroy the natural beauty that draws visitors in the first place.

As I quickly capture some images, I can’t shake the feeling that I am no different from the other tourists contributing to this decline. We retreat swiftly, hoping to find some sites more untouched by the ravages of popularity.

While the last week has been filled with stunning beaches, iconic Instagram spots, and vibrant marine life, the true essence of Bali lies not in its famous landmarks but in the rich tapestry of daily life. From the heartwarming welcomes of its people to the smiling faces of the children, the simplicity of local stalls, and the roadside warungs selling street food, it’s hard not to be captivated by the array of colors, scents, and sounds.

Walking through a local village, you’ll notice the narrow streets clearly designed for scooters, the main mode of transport. On these scooters, you’ll see all manner of items being carried—from multiple family members to a bathtub—proving that nothing is too large or unwieldy. The constant friendly hoot of the scooter horn warns the numerous dogs that roam the streets to keep clear. Behind the row of ramshackle stalls, the land opens up to fields of vegetables, with chickens and pigs searching for any food scraps of value.

Bali’s spirituality is also deeply woven into its daily life. The island is dotted with temples, each with its own significance and rituals. Every house has a colorful shrine, with the sweet smell of incense always filling the air. On every corner you come across ‘Canang sari’, intricate daily offerings crafted by the Balinese people as a symbol of gratitude and respect to the Gods. These beautiful woven bamboo baskets hold a vibrant array of rice, flowers, incense, sweets, fruits and spices.

While Bali’s scenic beauty and famous attractions are undoubtedly alluring, it’s the everyday life of its locals that have left a lasting impression on me.

As the sun drops below the horizon on the last day of our trip, I am grateful that we chose to avoid the well-trodden paths of Kuta, Sanur, and Nusa Dua. Instead, we ventured further afield to discover the true heart of Bali.

June 2024: Bali, Part 2

While we could have spent all week snorkeling at Amed, it was decided we should venture out and dedicate a day to discovering new landscapes and experiences beyond the enchanting waters of this seaside gem.

Driving through the interior one defining feature is the green terraced fields against the backdrop of towering palm trees, creating a checker-board pattern in the landscape. As farmers tend to their crops and the cows quietly graze, it is hard not to reflect on the madness and noise and of City life back home. It’s a reminder that amidst the rush and chaos of city living, places like this exist, where time seems to stand still, and nature takes its own leisurely course.

Searching Amed on Instagram, it is not long before you come across hundreds of photos of the gates of Lempuyang Temple, perfectly framing Mount Agung in the background. The white painted split gates, known as the “gates of heaven” date back to the 13th and 14th century. But like many beautiful places, they have become ‘insta’ honey pots as people flock to capture the same image as thousands have before them, involving someone striking all manner of poses between the gates.  

 You may have heard the stories: queues of over three hours, high entrance fees and mandatory shuttles to get there.  And yes, it is all true. Even the pictures you see of what looks like a reflective pool in front of the temple is not reality. Instead, one of the temple workers sits in front with a mirror and will take pictures for you with what looks like the perfect reflection.

Despite what appears to be an important religious space turning into a theme park, is it worth it?  Definitely, Yes.  In a surprising twist, the day was foggy obscuring any views of Mount Agung.  But this brought its own unique atmosphere where repetitive insta photos was replaced with a more tranquil place in keeping with the most sacred place of worship in Bali.

Ujung Water Palace is a former King’s palace, now a serene garden (although the serenity was broken by some locals doing very bad Karaoke). Its name means "Garden at the End" or "Garden at the Edge". Built in the 1920’s, it was almost entirely destroyed by the eruption of Mount Agung in 1963, later rebuilt in 1998. We spend the next hour wandering around the gardens and explore the buildings that seemingly float on the ponds, their distinct Dutch colonial white façade, reflecting off the water.

Our next stop is Tirta Gangga, a royal water palace and Hindu Temple devoted to the Dewa Tirta (the god of water).  Built in 1948, but destroyed almost entirely by the eruption of nearby Mount Agung in 1963 (seems to be a reoccuring theme). It has been rebuilt comprising lush gardens, intricate stone carvings, and an arrangement of tiered pools. Translating to “Water of the Ganges”, luckily it is cleaner than the Ganges, being fed by natural springs.

We join the hordes of both tourists and locals alike, hopping across the stone steps in the pond, with hundreds colourful koi fish looking up pleading to be fed. There is a legend that rats living in the surrounding area were once transformed into golden fish which now inhab the sacred pools.  If only this was possible in the Ganges.

Not being a coffee drinker, the idea of visiting a coffee plantation was not high on my highlight list of things to do.  Even less so, finding out that it is coffee that has been retrieved from the poo of a Luwak. This shy creature has a love of eating the fruit from coffee plants.  The beans pass through its digestive tract and, like a coffee percolator, out comes coffee (well, almost). This has been given some mythical power which supposedly result in a smoother flavour creating the rarest coffee (read this as most expensive) in the world. While the tour of the plantation was fascinating, and the tasting plate of numerous types of flavoured tea and coffee was ok, I think I will stick to my drinks without poo.

Later, I found a study that reported more than 80% of all coffee sold as Kopi Luwak today is fake. So that expensive coffee we drank was likely to be just a warm cup of placebo.

While the day exploring the east of Bali and the various temples and tourist stops was fascinating, it is the simple things that captivate me more. Among all the wonderful experiences, none is as pure as the simple innocent pleasure of watching children play.

Nusa Penida

While we could have spent our entire week in Amed, the adventurous spirit in us meant it was time to explore another part of this paradise.  So, jumping on a boat we take a short ferry ride to Nusa Penida for 3 nights.  This undeveloped island is not famous for its night clubs (there are not any) but the ability to swim with the Manta Rays (more on that later).

Settling into our hotel, I soon realised I could get very used to a day that looks something like this:

  • wake up and step out of the room directly into the pool for a quick refreshing swim

  • jump out of the pool and walk the 5 steps over to the outdoor restaurant for a breakfast fit for a king

  • Step off onto the sand and directly into the ocean to snorkel amongst the tropical corals and fish

  • Return to the restaurant for Nasi-goreng with its fragrant kecap manis sauce, loaded with chicken, shredded omelette and chilli

  • Alternate between pool and beach

  • Complete the evening with dinner of juicy skewers of Indonesian chicken satay

  • watch the sun go down with a pina-colada cocktail (or two) in hand - two for one is very dangerous

  • Start over again the next day.

Part 3 HERE

June 2024: Bali, Part 1

For years, our close-knit circle of friends had dreamt of celebrating our collective milestone—turning 55—with an unforgettable overseas adventure. After sifting through several travel options, we decided on Bali, not for its famed nightlife or bustling party scene, but for the promise of adventure and tranquility.

Determined to avoid the chaos of Kuta, we set our sights on Amed, a hidden gem on Bali's northern coast. Here, far from the madding crowds, we sought a different kind of excitement—a journey into Bali's serene and unique landscapes.

The journey to Amed, a village on the eastern coast of Bali, began with the hum of anticipation. Leaving the bustling streets of Denpasar behind, we wind our way through the mountains, the landscape transformed into a picturesque blend of emerald rice terraces, towering volcanoes, and rustic villages. The winding road to Amed offers glimpses of Bali's beauty that many Australians do not experience, a stark contrast to the island's more commercialized areas.

As we near Amed, the peaks of Mt Batur and Mt Agung stand proud looking out over the vast expanse of the Bali Sea. The first sight of the coastline is mesmerizing—black volcanic sands meet turquoise waters, and traditional jukung fishing boats dot the shoreline. This idyllic village, famous for its snorkling and laid-back atmosphere, promises to be an escape from the daily life back home.

Our accommodation, a charming villa nestled in lush gardens just metres from the beach, provided a perfect vantage point to base ourselves for 4 nights. Lazing by our private pool it was difficult to pull ourselves from spending the whole time here.

However adventure awaits. So rising at 1AM in the morning we make our way east to tackle the climb up Mt Batur (Gunung Batur).

After a somewhat harrowing drive in the dark twisting our way ever higher into the mountain, we eventually leave the car and revert to more simple transport on foot. Hiking up in complete darkness, with the exception of a flashlight to illuminate the few metres in front, it is hard to tell how high we have come.

The walk is enough to get the breathing heavy and make your muscles ache, but just before it becomes uncomfortable we reach the top. As dawn breaks, the sky turns from ink black dotted in stars, to pastel blues and pinks before streaks of orange fill the sky as the sun breaks the horizon. Sitting drinking a hot chocolate and warm bannana sanwiches (kindly made by our guide) we witness a breathtaking panorama —the island bathed in the soft glow of the rising sun, the imposing Mt Agur in the foreground, and the distant monutains of Lombok visible across the sea. Below, the reflections of the village lights on the lake a sign of the day just begining.

Fun Fact: Mount Batur is an active volcano, with the most recent eruption occurring in 2000. It features a caldera formed by a collapsed top, creating Lake Batur. Our climb took us up the 700-meter-tall stratovolcano, which is part of the larger caldera's rim rising above the lake's surface.

Bali's monkeys are an integral part of the island's charm, particularly the long-tailed macaques.  These mischievous creatures will swipe anything from sunglasses to a snack from any unsuspecting tourist.

It is not just the heights of mountains that provided us the opportunity for adventure, but the opportunity to explore the depths of the underwater world. We spend several days snorkling the clear, warm waters of Jemeluk Bay and Lipah Beach. Here we immerse ourselves in a kaleidoscope of colors from the corals and fish. Clownfish darting in and out of anemones, parrotfish nibbling at the coral, and even a sea turtle gliding gracefully by.

Jemeluk Bay is known for its incredible coral reef and unique underwater temple. Additionally, we explored the sunken Japanese shipwreck located just a short distance from the beach, providing a fascinating snorkeling experience.

While the golden sands of Australian beaches may be unrivaled, the black volcanic shores of Amed Beach in Bali hold a unique allure. Along this striking coastline, traditional jukung fishing boats rest, waiting for nightfall to venture out in search of mackerel and other catches. In an era where fiberglass boats dominate, these timeless timber vessels evoke a sense of nostalgia and cultural pride. The history of outrigger canoes spans thousands of years, and though construction methods have evolved, the deep connection to tradition remains evident. Each jukung is a work of art, adorned with colorful sails and personalized names, reflecting the craftsmanship and heritage of their owners.

While our days are full of adventure, our nights unfold in a comforting ritual of togetherness. Each evening, we gather to watch the sun set, sipping cocktails as the sky transforms into a canvas of vibrant oranges and pinks. Sitting watching the sun dip below the horizon I am reminded of the true purpose of our journey—to savour these moments with our closest friends. As we share stories, laughter flowing out over the bay I feel a profound sense of gratitude for the incredible bond we share. These sunsets become more than just a beautiful view; they are a testament to the joy of friendship and the simple pleasure of being in each other's company.

See Part 2 here

MAY 2024: TJORITJA, NORTHERN TERRITORY. PART 2

6 DAYS HIKING THE LARAPINTA

DAY 4: Section 12 – Climbing ’Rwet Yepme’ - Mount Sondar

Along with my heavy breathing, the footfall of my boots is the only sound in a vacuum of silence. My focus narrows to the circular light cast by my head torch on the feet of the guide ahead of me. Beyond her, a dense void of darkness swallows everything in its embrace.  Trusting her instincts, she navigates along the narrow track only occasionally losing the path. I am sure if I was guiding, I would have led our party off the edge or into the endless wilderness never to be found again.  Glancing back, I see a line of small headlights bobbing like fireflies in a conga line, marking the trail of fellow adventurers ascending the mountain. As the hours pass, climbing in the dark becomes a meditative process only broken by the thrill of anticipation for what lies ahead.

I’ve never attempted to walk through the night to a mountain summit, but that is today’s adventure. Mount Sonder is located at the western end of the Larapinta Trail and is usually the end of the 12-day trek.  Known to the Arrernte people as ’Rwet Yepme’ - The Pregnant Lady – it is the fourth-highest peak in Australia’s Northern Territory at 1379 metres high. While it may not be high in comparison to European or Asian mountains, the views are equally spectacular.

The 16km-return hike to the top of Mt Sonder could be done as a day walk but there is a tradition to see the sun rise from the summit. With the brain doing some quick calculations it takes a while to compute what time we actually have to get up in the morning.

The day, or should I say night, began with a 1.30AM wakeup call with the music of Men at Works “Land Down Under’ filling the night air.  Through half closed eyes and a “head full of zombies”, I manage to get dressed with nothing inside-out.  Stumbling out of the swag the body has no idea why I am eating breakfast at 2AM in the morning so we bundle ourselves in the van for the drive to the beginning of the hike.

As we climb higher the still night air is replaced with a growing breeze.  Mt Sonder seems to have its own weather system, and as we get higher the winds begin to blow stronger.  It is not long before regular gusts are enough to drive you sideways threatening to blow you off the shear cliff that lies somewhere in the darkness.

Spending most of my life in the City the concept of darkness is misleading.  We are forever surrounded by lights, even if it is only the glow of light pollution.  Out hear, you get a true sense of the meaning of the words ‘Pitch Black’. However, after another hour of walking, the black inkiness sky is slowly replaced with a bright parallel line of colour on the horizon just as we reach the pinnacle.

While the cold winds continue to buffet us, the emerging pink of the light rippling on the clouds warms the mind. Then, the golden orb, first peaking above the horizon, bursts over the mountains spreading golden rays across the valley below.

While the sunrise is spectacular, it is the first shafts of light that illuminate the adjacent range, the valleys appearing like the backbone of an animal, that keeps me mesmerised.  Bathed in sunlight the rocks are transformed into dizzying shades of red and ochre. As the sun rises further, it casts a shadow of Mt Sonda across the valley.  The scale is almost too much to take in with 360-degree views of breathtaking scenery. In front, lies the seemingly endless landscape in its great vastness.

Having got drunk on the beauty, it is time to head back down the mountain.  In the early morning light, the rugged unspoilt terrain continues to keep me inebriated. It is only the steep cliffs that I didn’t see on my climb up that sobers the mind.

Returning to camp, we are all full of chatter on our achievement having conquered our fears and experiencing a view only few are willing to attempt. Opting for another bath in natures water hole, we return to Ormiston Gorge for another refreshing ice bath.

With the adrenalin long subsiding, and the early start catching up, what better excuse to return to the swag for a late afternoon nap. Along with my shallow breathing, the distant chatter of the Red-Tailed Black cockatoos is the only sound in a vacuum of silence. My focus narrows and my eyelids close disapearing into a dense void of darkness swallowing everything in its embrace.

DAY 5: Section 10 – Finke river to Ormiston Pound

A huge canvas awning stretches from one Ghost Gum to another, its organic curves evoking the charm of a Bedouin tent, offering a haven for desert wanderers. Beneath it lies a rustic kitchen, crafted from natural timbers and adorned with an eclectic mix of furniture, creating a space that feels both inviting and homey.

On any other day, this awning would shield us from the unrelenting desert sun. Today, however, it serves a different purpose. The MacDonnell Ranges, typically an arid expanse where life has adapted to survive in harsh conditions, has come alive. Every now and then, liquid gold falls from the sky, breathing life into this parched land.

When our guide, Violet, mentioned the possibility of rain the day before, I had dismissed it with the skepticism of someone accustomed to the rare and elusive showers of this region. Yet, not wanting to tempt fate, I opted for the shelter of a tent over the swag. This proved to be a wise decision, as I awoke to the rhythmic drumming of raindrops on the canvas.

Gathering at our communal kitchen, the group debates our plan for the day. Option 1: don our rain jackets and brave the trail. Option 2: wait a few hours and hope the rain passes. With our legs still aching from yesterday's hike, the idea of a leisurely morning is irresistible. We decide to relax, read, and play cards, letting the soothing sound of rain serenade us.

But the call of the trail is strong. Despite the drizzle, we eventually don our raincoats and set out for section 10 to Ormiston Pound. This section, kinder and gentler, winds and twists over rolling hills, crosses Davenport Creek and the mighty Finke River, now alive with the gift of rain.

Starting at Mt Sonar Lookout, we soon find ourselves tracking along the Finke River, past towering River Red Gums. Crossing to the other bank without wading through cold water, we carefully hop from one rock to another, thoughtfully placed by hikers before us.

Hiking in the rain might seem unappealing to some, but here, it adds a magical dimension. Small channels, normally dry, come alive with the gurgle of flowing water. Dry riverbeds transform into streams. While the blue sky is replaced with grey sky the colours of the landscape become more vivid.  The rain-saturated colors of the desert bloom painting the landscape in vibrant hues, with wildflowers bursting forth in pastel purples and pinks, like an intricate Aboriginal dot painting. There are over 760 species of flora to be found along the trail and the rains have brought a profusion of Mulla Mulla, Sturts Desert Rose, Paper Daisy, Desert Fuschia, Curry Wattle and Bush tomatoes. Some of the hills could be mistaken for a planted suburban rockery.

We navigate our way to Hilltop Lookout, with panoramic views of the Heavitree Range and Mount Sonar. Descending towards George Creek, the hillsides are blanketed with various types of spinifex. Some are knee-high and vivid green, others a bluish hue with long seed heads swaying in the breeze. These plants, used by Aboriginal people for their resin, appear soft and inviting from a distance. Up close, they reveal their true nature—each blade a slender spike, ready to pierce skin more easily than a doctors needle.

The rain not only brings colour and growth but also stirs the local wildlife. Although we didn’t spot the rare night parrots, flocks of budgerigars flit from tree to tree, revelling in the showers. The landscape feels alive, every drop of rain a blessing in this arid land.

Being one of the shortest sections, we soon reach the familiar embrace of Ormiston Pound. Despite the intermittent rain, which discourages a dip in the Gorge, we return to camp and our Bedouin tent. We sit under its protective canvas, grateful for the rare opportunity to experience the Larapinta Trail in its rain-soaked splendor. The rain has not just sustained life here—it has rejuvenated our spirits, making us feel more alive and connected to this ancient, vibrant land.

DAY 6: Ellery Creek Big Hole and Standley Chasm

Sitting atop Brinkley’s Bluff, gazing out over the expansive vastness of Hugh Gorge, I found myself pondering a question that had drifted in my mind throughout the past six days: is it the destination I seek, or the journey to reach it?

At home, time unfolds with the jarring beep of an electronic alarm and moves through a hazy transition of traffic, meetings, emails, social media, cooking, before collapsing into bed, the brain and body exhausted and beat.  In a world where time seems rush faster than a freight train, hiking offers a rare sanctuary – a chance to slow down, to savour each step, and to calm the mind.

Earlier today we bid farewell to our canvas home, packing up camp for the last time.  While one of us decided 7.30am was a good time for a celebratory beer, I opted to save our drinks for a more fitting moment later tonight.

Our journey back to Alice Springs commenced with a brief stop at Ellery Creek Big Hole—a pristine waterhole framed by sheer quartzite cliffs, sculpted over millennia by the relentless flow of floods.

If it was not for the need to return to work (and the family) we could have spent a full day enjoying this natural oasis. Reluctantly, we move on to our last stop - Standley Chasm, known to the Western Arrernte people as Angkerle Atwatye, translating to "Gap of Water."

While most tourists disembark from buses and stroll the flat 200 meters into the gorge before returning, we chose one final challenging hike—a steep ascent that would have rivaled any gym's stair-master.

 

Climbing out of the gorge and reaching the top of the bluff I find a rock to sit and ponder. 

Over the last 6 days the relentless city noise has been replaced with the chorus of bird songs, the madness of the streets traded with solitude, the bombardment of technology exchanged with uninterrupted 360 degree views. Each morning not only brought fresh challenges, but also a rejuvenation of the spirit. Each day was not only measured in kilometres but in moments of connection – connection with nature, with Aborigional culture, with country, with friends, with one-self.

 

 The last week has been a bucket-list of experiences: we pushed our lungs to limit; treked under night skies; braved winds that threatened to topple us from lofty peaks, experienced the outback's rare rainfall, marvelled at the grandeur of gorges, indulged in meals that rivalled any fine restaurant, slept under a blanket of stars in a simple swag, and gathered around crackling campfires sharing tales and laughter. Yet, what made it truly extraordinary was embarking on this adventure with cherished friends.

 

As I sit here, overlooking the vastness that stretches before me, it becomes clear: it is not merely the destination that beckons, but the transformative journey itself—a journey none more enriching than that along the Larapinta Trail.

 

May 2024: Tjoritja, Northern Territory. PART 1

6 Days hiking the Larapinta

DAY 1: Simpson Gap and Ormiston Pound

With my feet dangling over the edge of the rocky outcrop, I gaze at my boots, lightly dusted with the red sand that clings to their edges. I ponder whether I have walked enough to break them in for the hikes ahead. Beyond my feet, the vast natural amphitheater of Ormiston Pound stretches into the distance, enclosed by a spectacular ring of rust-red quartzite mountains, mirroring the hue of the sand on my boots. It is here that i sit at the beginning of a 10 km loop that gently rises to one of the Pound’s lookouts. It also marks the start of our adventure along the Larapinta Trail.

The Larapinta Trail is an epic trek of about 230km that winds its way through the west MacDonnell Ranges. But for us, we won’t be tackling the full 230km, rather a more manageable 70km over 6 days. While part of me has the desire to do this hike solo carrying everything I need on my back, the reason I am here is a motivating friend, Gabe, who invited me to join her on this shortened version. The upside is that the trip delivers the best parts of the trail’s conversation-stopping panoramic vistas and deep cool water filled gorges with only the need for a day pack. While less ambitious, this does not mean it was easy with enough elevation to get the heart pumping and the legs burning.

Our journey began earlier in the day when our guides picked us up from Alice Springs for a short 20-minute drive to Simpson Gap. As we leave Alice, the ever-present 4G bars on my mobile phone disappear, not to be seen until the end of the trip. While I miss my family, I don’t miss the constant pings of messages and emails or the habit of scrolling through meaningless social media. I am happy to be in a place where I feel at peace in the vastness of the Australian outback, reception-free and disconnected.

Arriving at Simpson Gap, we meander up to the shaded waterhole that the Arrernte people believe is the mythological home of a group of giant perentie (goanna) ancestors.  Looking at the distinctive rock formation, dry sandy riverbed and white ghost gums, it’s as though I have been transported into an Albert Namatjira painting.

Standing in the dry riverbed, we pass sand through our hands as we share stories of why we are here, reminiscent of the storytelling traditions of Aboriginal people through the generations. Gabe, the motivator, managed to convince six friends to join her on this trip. While she may not have contributed much else to the process, we wouldn’t be standing here connecting to country if not for her. Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough to convince Kathy to join, but luckily a replacement, conveniently named Cathy, made up our party of eight.

This is not my first trip to the West MacDonald Ranges, having spent a week travelling here as part of a longer 4WD trip through the centre and up to Darwin.  Bu it would be the first time immersing myself fully in a multi-day hike along the range.

Having shared our stories, it was back in the van and off to commence our first real hike of the trip around Ormiston Pound. Dropping down from the ridge lookout, we continue through the flat center, finding a rhythm as boots connect with the earth. It is not long before the shade of a large tree next to a waterhole signals lunch.

With bellies full, we continue into the pound occasionally stopping to breath in the vastness of the landscape.  As the cliff walls converge, we mimic the flow of water, hiking along the riverbed. The last time I did this walk, it ended with a refreshing (read: freezing) chest-deep water crossing. I was somewhat disappointed (not really) that due to recent floods that had shifted the sand bars, we were able to cross with barely wet shoes. If Day 1 is a taste of things to come, I am certain by the end of the trip, we will be overflowing with awe.

With a sense of acheivement already, we head off to what will be our base camp for the rest of the trip. It isn’t long before we are settled in, and the guides busy themselves preparing dinner. We, on the other hand, sit around the crackling fire, watching it like a primal television as we dine on hors d'oeuvres and wine.

At this moment, I appreciate Gabe’s choice of hike, where freeze-dried concoctions are replaced with gastronomic feasts of kangaroo, wild-caught barramundi, lamb cutlets, various vegetables and salads, followed by dessert. This is hiking in luxury. Thanks, Gabe, for being the motivator. I take it all back.

DAY 2: Heavitree Range and Count Point

As dawn's first light gently penetrates my eyelids, it takes a moment for my mind to remember where I am. Unlike the jarring blare of an electronic alarm clock, sleeping in a swag out in the open tunes you to nature’s own clock where the sun rouses you from your slumber.  This is accompanied by the melodious chorus of zebra finches and grey-headed honeyeaters, serenading me into consciousness. Nestled on the edge of a dry riverbed, the soft sand beneath my swag rivals the comfort of any luxury hotel bed. Only the occasional buzz of a mosquito during the night serves as a reminder of my wild surroundings.

With an early start, we head towards Section 8 of the Larapinta Trail. While the full hike spans 12 sections, we only get to sample the menu, but what a taste it is. Section 8, through the Heavitree Range and Count Point, is undoubtedly the chef’s special.

Our morning begins with a short yet steep climb up the Heavitree Range, navigating through a landscape dotted with desert fuchsias and brittle-branched cypress trees. The West MacDonnell Range unfolds before us in three parallel ridges: the Pacoota, the Heavitree, and the Chewings. Flying into Alice Springs, these ranges appeared flat and featureless from above, but the reality is far from it. As I huff and puff my way up the incline, my admiration grows for the trail runners who, only a week prior, braved the "West Macs Monster," a grueling 231 km non-stop race (the 2023 record was 39 hours, 56 minutes, 26 sec!). I find a momentary reprieve in the sight of a spinifex pigeon, its wispy crest mimicking the surrounding tufts of spinifex grass, basking in the gentle morning light.

Reaching the ridgeline, the track levels out, allowing us to marvel at the undulating granite ridges stretching endlessly east and west. Segments of the range are chaotically beautiful, ancient rock formations bending and buckling like molten rubber. Below us, the valley hums with life, the distinctive whistle of the Whistling Kites piercing the air as they glide on thermals, ever watchful for prey.

After several stops to drink in the breathtaking views, we drop our packs for a well-deserved rest and take a side trail up to Counts Point, standing at an elevation of about 1,000 meters. Describing this view is akin to describing a meal from a five-star restaurant: stunning, spellbinding, mesmerizing. Yet, even these superlatives fall short. The panorama from Counts Point is one of the most awe-inspiring on the entire Larapinta Trail. From here, three parallel ridges—the Pacoota to the left, the Heavitree directly ahead, and the Chewings to the right—stretch into the horizon, with the majestic Mt Sonder, our summit goal in a few days, standing sentinel in the distance. Counts Point earns its name from the sheer number of peaks visible on either side of the MacDonnell Ranges. While it’s tempting to stay and soak in the vista all day, the trail beckons us onward.

Despite the arid landscape, water’s ancient presence on the Larapinta Trail is undeniable. Descending from the range, we traverse slabs of ripple-marked rock, remnants of an ancient seabed now perched 1,000 meters above sea level and 1,300 km from the nearest ocean. These quartzite layers, formed 900 million years ago, predate even the earliest vertebrates.

As we continue, the landscape shifts dramatically. We move from a cooling forest of old hill mulga trees into a barren, rock-strewn expanse reminiscent of the Martian surface. These rocks, deposited haphazardly during floods, offer a stark contrast to the surrounding scenery. Eventually, we enter a gorge, climbing up to Serpentine Chalet Dam. Built in the 1960s in a failed attempt to create a tourist destination, the dam is a man-made intrusion in an otherwise pristine canyon.

While many Larapinta hikers would camp here for the night, we return to our base camp. Those on the overland trek often brave the dam's freezing waters for a wash, but we enjoy the luxury of a warm water rinse. With a bowl of hot water, I head to a small, thatched-screened area on a hill. There, a simple rock serves as a seat and a carved post holds my towel. Bathing naked under the open sky, with only the stars for company, is a primal and deeply satisfying experience.

Back in my swag, gazing up at the heavens of a million stars, occasionally streaked by a shooting star, I watch the moonrise until my eyes grow heavy. Exhausted and content, I drift off, ready to embrace another day in this magnificent wilderness.

DAY 3: Inarlanga Pass and the Orcha Pits

“Before the Dreamtime, there was nothing. The Earth was flat and lifeless; no stars glittered in the sky. The universe was dark and silent. The Ancestors lay sleeping, deep in the ground where they had passed the ages. But the Ancestors were restless; their long sleep was nearing its end. On the first morning of the world, they awoke, flexed their ancient limbs, and began calling the world into existence.

In the centre of the continent that would one day be called Australia, the Ancestors dreamed of a long chain of mountains stretching east-west across the red, level country of the desert. They dreamed of billabongs and rivers, ghost gums and animals. They filled the waters with creatures and the country with food. Then the people came and sang their songlines, which radiated out through the chasms and gaps to the distant corners of the land. And the Ancestors returned to their slumber.”

While the last two days have offered a visual feast, the Larapinta Trail’s allure extends beyond its natural wonders. This ancient path is rich with Australian history, echoing with timeless Dreaming tales and the sobering history of Indigenous subjugation that still reverberates today.

The Arrernte people have called this part of Central Australia home for tens of thousands of years. Their stories tell of the Caterpillar Dreaming that called their lands into being and it is these stories that are written into the landscape of the ranges and billabongs and cliffs of day 3.

The name "Larapinta" originates from the Western Arrernte language—Lhere-pirnte means "salty river," referring to the Finke River that carves through the outback. Today’s hike begins where we left off at Serpentine Chalet, continuing through part of Section 8 via Inarlanga Pass, and looping back via the Arrernte Walk. Departing the Chalet (don’t expect much—just a concrete footing remains), the track hugs the base of the Heavitree Range, its steep, rocky face a natural northern barrier. It is for this reason the rare gaps in the range have been, and continue to be, an important connecting point for any passage north-south.

One such gap is Inarlanga Pass, named after the elusive echidna. This narrow corridor was a vital route for local Indigenous tribes heading to ceremonies at Giles Spring, under Mt Giles. Only the men of the tribe were allowed through, as it marked the boundary between different tribal groups.

As we enter the pass, we pause to quietly seek permission, then proceed in solitude, allowing each person a moment of isolation. The silence gradually gives way to the soft trickle of water along the creek bed and the calls of Emu-wrens and Dusky Grasswrens flitting among the branches. Ghost gums sway gently in the cool breeze funnelling through the canyon, carrying with it the ancient Dreaming stories of the past.

Life seems more intense in the cool, protected creekline with hundreds of butterflies emerging from their pupa to fill the air. The sheer cliff faces rise either side, trees twisting skyward cling to its edge having somehow got a root hold in the smallest of cracks. Below the towering red rock prehistoric looking cycads, little changed since their ancestors 200 million years ago, line the creek. This rare endemic species has been isolated for millennia in refuges in the MacDonnell Ranges, it’s nearest relative located 1,400 kms away.

Like countless Aboriginal people before us, we eventually emerge on the other side of the range. Though not connecting with tribes or attending ceremonies, we recognise the profound significance of this narrow opening. We pause, feeling a deeper connection to the land and a more reflective understanding of humanity’s place in the timeline of this ancient landscape.

While the traditional owners have roamed these lands for over 60,000 years, it is but a blink in the eye of the 1.8 billion-year-old gneiss rocks. Over time, they have melted, crystalised, cooked and twisted with wind, water, fire and ice carving them like a wood turner sculpting and whittling away the rock over the eons.

Retracing our steps through the pass, we join the Arrernte Walk heading south with the Pacoota range in the distance. This gentle trail meanders through foothills, just above creek lines shaded by river gums. We eventually reach the Ochre Pits, another site of great cultural importance.

About 300 million years ago, dramatic mountain-building events heaved and rolled the earth thrusting the MacDonnell Ranges to heights rivalling the present day Himalayas. Horizontal sediment layers were upturned to near-vertical, exposing bands of yellow, white, orange, and red clay on cliff faces. The different coloured layers result from varying amounts of iron oxide, with higher iron creating red hues and lower iron yielding white, kaolin-rich clay. Aboriginal people mined these pigments for decoration and trade, exchanging them along ancient routes stretching from the north to south coasts of the continent.

After a day of trekking through the rugged beauty of the Trail, we return to our camp, weary but fulfilled. Instead of the customary warm birdy bath, we decide to embrace nature in its rawest form with a refreshing – and freezing – dip in Ormiston Gorge. As we wade into the icy waters, tired from the day's journey, our muscles experience their own version of an ice bath. The frigid water, the sharp intake of breath, the rush of blood – all heightened the sensation of being truly alive.

Surrounding us, the sheer cliffs of the gorge glow like embers in the late afternoon light, casting a warm, fiery hue over the water. The juxtaposition of the cold water and the warm light create a magical setting, making this natural bath a moment to remember.

As the sun begins to set, casting long shadows over the ancient geology, this fittingly marks the end of today’s adventure, reflecting on the profound and timeless Aboriginal stories etched into the landscape of the Larapinta Trail.

PART 2 to HERE

 

APRIL 2024: Oxley Wild Rivers National Park, NSW

A public holiday provided a great excuse to hitch up the camper trailer and head away for the long weekend. Our origional plan was to head south to the Snowy Mountains, however horse culling meant a large section of the park was closed for several months. So pulling out a map and closing the eyes, the finger landed north on a green patch we have never ventured.

Oxley Wild Rivers National Park is part of a World Heritage Area, with its Gondwana Rainforests, dramatic gorges, waterfalls, and wild and scenic rivers proving to be a lucky choice for us to explore and experience the beauty of the area.

Named after John Oxley, who explored this area in 1818, its wonders were well known long before this with the Dangaddi people living here for thousands of years prior.

While much of the 145 thousand hectare park is inaccesible wilderness, there are several campsites on its edges with easy access to the numerous waterfalls that are the star attraction of the Park.

Dangar Falls, McDirty’s Lookout, Mihi Falls via Mihi Track

Located 18km from Armidale, Dangars Gorge Campground is the start of several walks to explore the gorge.

McDirty’s Lookout is an out and back walk of approximately 6km from the campsite, following a well-formed trail. Not far into the hike, you are greeted by the breathtaking sight of Dangards Falls, plunging 120m into the vast abyss below. The trail then winds along the cliff edge, offering numerous stunning views of the gorge, including a detour to Rock Wallaby Lookout. Finally, the walk concludes at a scenic platform, providing a perfect vantage point to soak in the panoramic vistas.

Mihi Lookout heads south from the car park and is an 8km out and back track (although less if combined with the above walk). This heads into the eucalypt woodland replacing gorge views with lots of kangaroos and wallabies to keep you occupied.

Reaching Mihi Falls we were somewhat disapoined with the flow of water but the hike was still well worth it.

Dangar Falls (left) and mihi Falls (right).

The sheer sided walls of the Gorge are caused by the slate in this area which splits vertically. While it is easy to get vertigo looking into the depth of the gorge, the brain gets just as confused looking at the vertical cliff face questioning how the trees and vegetation manage to cling to its edge.

We chose to camp at Apsley Falls Campground - any yes it even had flushing toilets!!

Tia Falls

35km from Walcha it is not long before you turn off the highway taking a dirt track through farmland until you reach the National Park enterance for Tia Falls campground and picnic area. The landscape dramatically changes from green rolling grasslands to vertical shale cliffs dropping away to the river below.

Following along the western side of the gorge, the Tia Falls walk is only 2km out and back but gives multiple mouth opening views along the way.

Apsley Falls

This is the most accesible of the waterfalls, featuring a short loop track leading from the car park. The first of the lookouts is called McMillans Lookout named after a Walcha resident who built the original near vertical stairs that dropped down into the gorge. Back in 1902, Ted Baker, Jim McMillan, and "Wattie" Joiner undertook the arduous task of building a wooden stairwell that descended its way from the gorge's summit down to the water's edge. Every piece of timber utilized in this perilous endeavor was made by hand. The original stairway remained in use until 1932 when safety concerns led to its partial dismantling. From this vantage point, visitors are treated to a direct and unobstructed view of the majestic Upper Apsley Falls.

The Oxley Walk is a 4km out and back trail along a well maintained track. It crosses the Apsely River suspension footbridge and continues along the edge of the northern side of the gorge through cliff top woodlands of snow gums and New England stringybark. Multiple lookouts offer breathtaking views of the waterfalls and gorge.

Further around, the Lower Apsley Falls comes into view. It is hard to believe that despite the water already cascading 65 meters over the Upper Apsley Falls, it plummets a further 58 metres down the second falls.

ps: We couldnt resist sneaking off from camp to go and grab a couple of cold beverages from the local establishments.

April 2024: Palm Cove, Queensland

(apology up front - this was our wedding anniversary so i left the camera behind so the iphone had to do)

30 years of blistful marriage (i had to say that in case Kathy reads this) so what better excuse to head north for a few days to Palm Cove near Cairns, Queensland.

As a surprise I booked the ‘Reef House’, a small boutique resort right on the bay.

The first thing that greets you when you arrive is the 300 year old Melaleuca trees that shelter the colonial style building. With a laid back vibe, this white-washed, timber louvered, open air resort is luxury from the minute you step inside.    

The Original Reef House was built in 1958 by a Cairns bookmaker who lived there with his family.  In 1970 the house was opened as a restaurant with limited accommodation of three suites in the garden.  In 1972 the ‘Reef House’ reverted to a private residence hosting Prime Ministers and celebrities from around the world. Now an adults only retreat, it was named the number one hotel in Australia by TripAdvisor in 2024.

We had several days being pampered with daily canapes, wine tasting, relaxing by the opulent pool (or I should say pools) and amazing personal service. While it is not your classical 5 star hotel resort, it does not pretent to be. Rather it is like visiting your wealthy grandmother who is willing to do anything for you.

While you could easily spend days not leaving the resort, we chose to extract ourselves from the pool and make the most of the time here.

Stepping out of the front door, in only a few steps you are standing on white sand with the ocean lapping enticingly on its edge. However, unknowing tourists would not be aware that two deadly animals lurk in the waters. If the Irukandji jellyfish does not sting you then a wandering saltwater crocodile may (you have to love Australia!)

We chose a safer way to get in the water, on I should say on the water, heading out for a sunrise Kayak paddle.

Just off Palm Cove is a Resport that once hosted Hollywood actors Jennifer Aniston and Keanu Reeves. It now makes for a different scene that could be used as a backdrop for a Hollywood survivor episode.

The island was bought by a Hong Kong bases billionaire for $5.68 Million in 2012 but has been abandoned allowing nature to reconsume it.

The Queensland Government has made multiple threats to cancel the lease if it is not restored.

As we were with the guide we had permission to explore the resort with its swamp like swimming pool, gym with plants growing inside and rooms strewn with broken furniture.

While visiting this far north we could not miss the opportunity to spend the day out on the Great Barrier Reef.

March 2024: Bouddi National Park, NSW

For someone who spends most of the time exploring this great country in a camper trailer and 4WD, every now and again it is nice to go back to simpler times fitting everyything you need into what you can carry on your back.

Not wanting to bite off more than i could chew, we settled for a very simple overnight stay at Tallows Beach in Bouddi National Park requiring a very small walk in.

Moonrise over Tallow Beach

Tallow beach is a short 1km hike down hill from the locked gate with some stunning views of Tallow and Little Tallow beaches, down to Barrenjoey in the south.

The campground is small with only six sites available but nicely laid out on a large grass area behind the dune. As a result it is sheltered from the wind but close enough to be lulled off to sleep from the sound of the waves. There is only a pit toilet with no wood fires or water – so be prepared.

After a hearty dinner of chicken cacciatore - yes the freeze dried packet meals are not that bad - i spent the night watching the moon rise over Tallow beack with the lights of Sydney twinkling in the distance.

While the hike in to Tallow Beack is short, that does not mean there is a shortage of things to do. The near by Box Head Trail is a short 4km (from Tallow Beach) out and back hike. The treack meanders through the bush before opening out onto several rocky outcrops then follows the cliff line out to the point. From hear you get great views of Barrenjoey, Lion Island, Broken Bay and out across the ocean.

Heading back to Hawke Head Drive, the Flannel Flower bushwalking track runs between Tallow Beach and Lobster Beach.

While there were no flannel flowers when we walked, this was made up for with the towering angophoras with their limbs twisting in all directions like a 100 legged octopus. the track continues to meander along the ridge before reaching a lookout with expansive views over Broken Bay, Umina and Pearl beach. The track then passes through some private property and the back of houses before dropping down several hundred steps to the shore of Lobster Beach. While there is no car access, it is clearly popular with numerous boats lining the shore.

February 2024: Ganguddy-Dunns Swamp, NSW

While Dunns Swamp may not have the best name, i think it must keep the crowds away from this beautiful campsite in Wollemi National Park. Where else will you find sandy beaches, swimming amongst the ducks, hikes and views, aboriginal artwork, caves, a place to paddle and a great shady campsite (with facilities!), so close to Sydney. So with Kayak on board, we headed off for the weekend to get wet.

Little did we know we would get more than just wet while we were away!

Waking up to the sounds of black cockatoos, it’s not long before the kayaks are blown up and we are gliding on the mirror-like water. Heading upstream, swamp hens and pied cormorant look on from the shore wondering who was intruding on their breakfast. We travel as far as we can, the inflow slowly narrowing and winding through the marshes. As the kayak scrapes on the sandy bottom we turn and head back towards the weir. The lake was formed with the construction of Kandos Weir built to supply water to the Kandos cement factory back in the 1920s.

Downstream the marsh edges are replaced with towering sandstone gorges, having been sculpted by wind, rain and erosion over time. From our kayaks we hug the edge exploring the ledges and crevices, with one rock appearing to be suspended overhead.

With a brief summer shower cooling us down it provided a glimpse of what was to later come that night.

Camping is summer has some great benefits. It’s hot enough to swim and you don’t need to pack lots of warm clothes. However, one thing you forget about is the possibility of a summer storm rolling in. And this is exactly what happened on this trip.

Much like the big bad wolf, it puffed and puffed and blew the house down - well our friends tent actually. Over 30 minutes we had lightening, hail, drenching rain and howling winds. Then, as quick as it came, it disappeared leaving one very flooded campsite.

Luckily for us the camper trailer remained upright with no damage.

Day 2 we woke to a beautiful morning, so the kayak was replaced with walking shoes for an easy hike up to Pagoda Lookout then on to the Weir.

Following the meandering path along the lake shore we disturb a lyrebird which quickly disappears into the undergrowth. IT is not long before we reach the base of the impressive rock pagodas. From here it’s a short but steep climb to the top of the rocks themselves which requires a little bit of rock climbing at the end. These unique rocks remind me of beehives with their dome shaped formations. Reaching the top, we are greeted with stunning 360-degree views over the river and valleys. It is from this vantage point that you can appreciate the way the Cudgegong River cuts through the landscape.

Heading back down (always harder than the climb) we turn back on to the main track towards the weir.  The track heads slowly climbs up through the bush, some well-placed stairs and climbing rails making life easier. Continuing along the track after the weir we reach the Long Cave.  While it is really just a long rock overhang, it is still impressive.  From here the track loops back the way we came.

With the weekend coming to an end dark storm clouds begin to brew on the horizon.  Not wanting to get caught in another gale, we quickly pack for home, the end of another lovely camp.

Luxury - indoor swiming pool!

Its wetter inside the tent than outside….

February 2024: Bouddi National Park, NSW

December 2023: Three Capes Track, Tasmania

Tasmania lures hikers from around the globe due to its wild and remote walking trails, dramatic scenery and world class Whisky (or so i am told). So, what better place to test out our first experience of undertaking a multi-day hike.

Now we are not newbies to hiking with both Kathy and I having done numerous long and challenging hikes both in Oz and overseas. However, each of these has seen us return to the camper trailer or some form of accommodation for dinner and bed. But I have long wanted to take the next step and pack everything I need on to my back and venture beyond these comforts. To reduce complexity to the barest of essentials, and venture where two wheel tracks give way to only one.

On the other hand, while Kathy is happy to sleep under the stars in our camper trailer (or better still if there are five of them on the hotel door), the idea of carrying all our sleeping gear and food for 4 days excites her as much as going to the dentist.

Which is why we are here, about to commence the Three Capes Track with the Tasmanian Walking Company. The adventure takes in 46 kilometres of jaw-dropping coastline along the Tasman Peninsula in the island’s southeast over 4 days. Rather than having to carry all your own camping gear, two environmentally sensitive cabins have been built, equipped with comfy beds, flushing toilets and a chef to cook your meals.

While you still have to carry all the clothing and items you need for the 4 days, the idea of not having to cook and a warm dry room to sleep in was enough to convince Kathy to give it a go.

DAY 1:

Having gathered in Hobart to collect our hiking gear, we meet our fellow hikers for the next few days and say goodbye to our friends (that’s another story). The group has come from around Australia - a lawyer, doctor, a candle stick maker (not really), all with different levels of hiking experience.

With bags weighed, 10kg does not seem that heavy but I still decide to leave a few extra luxuries behind in order to loose some more weight.

After a bus ride we arrive at Stewarts Bay where our boat is waiting. Here we jump aboard for a short but breathtaking journey across the shimmering waters past Port Arthur and into the Bay. As we ride the incoming swell following the awe-inspiring dolerite cliffs, we stay just far enough away to prevent us from joining the crashing waves that explode at the base of the precipices. This provides us an opportunity to glimpse the coastal landscape we would be trekking over the next 4 days from a different perspective. Suddenly, someone points to small glass box hovering at the top of the cliff face with the guide explaining that this is our home for the first night. The challenge is - we need to get there first.

We soon glide into Denman's Cove and throw our shoes over our neck for the brief wade ashore. With a stop for lunch, all provided by the tour (I am going to get used to this), it’s not long before we start a gentle walk of only 7 km through the enchanting eucalyptus woodland and coastal heathlands, with a quick afternoon snack at the cobblestone beach of Surveyors Cove.

It’s then a simple climb until we reach Crescent Lodge, which we had seen earlier from the boat, perched atop the cliffs. At this point I would normally be having to think about setting up camp or cooking dinner.  Instead, I am greeted with a freshly baked cake, a selection of champagne, beer, and wine with canapes.  Slumping into the comfy lounge, the wall to wall glass provides breathtaking panoramic views across Crescent Bay, extending all the way to the stunning Cape Raoul, the first of the three Capes we will see.

As dinner is called, it is not freeze dried from a pack, but a delicious two course meal lovingly prepared by the camp host.  While I try to ignore the thought of the greenhouse footprint resulting from flying in all the produce on helicopter, I reluctantly have another glass of champagne in the knowledge that this is one luxury I will never get when I do eventually do a solo hike.

Denmans Cove

Boots off

The start of our hike

A few friendly locals along the way

A reminder of my University days collecting scats.

Guess which animal these are from?

Our cabin nestled amidst the tranquil wilderness, the perfect sanctuary to unwind after a day of exploring. The cabins exuded a harmonious blend of minimalistic charm and environmental consciousness (click on the bottom right picture to see where it sits)

Looking out towards Cape Raoul

Day 2:

Waking up, it looks like the Tasmanian weather roulette wheel has spun another glorious day. This is made more special as we tuck into a hearty breakfast to refuel the body for the day ahead.

Donning our packs, we continue our journey south hugging the coast, but it is not long before reaching our first small challenge, the ascent of Arthurs Peak. Following the well-kept path, hundreds of steps have been conveniently crafted out of rock making it an easy climb to the top at 318 meters above the glistening sea, providing panoramic vistas of Safety Cove and Maingon Bay.

Descending the peak, we pass through the “Cloud Forest” so called due to the unusual microclimate created the sheer sea cliffs below sucking up cold air, condensing it, and keeping this area cooler and often shrouded in mist. From here the track descends to Ellarway Valley, a wildflower garden of Hakea, Melaleuka, Leptospermum, Acacia, Bursaria, and Hibbertia in full bloom. What was once an impenetrable coastal heathland, is now an easy walk over constructed elevated boardwalk. It is easy to see why Tim and Reg, the early bushwalkers of this area, called it “Where the ‘ell are we valley” (NOTE: we soon got to hear a lot more about Tim and Reg as the walk went on).

The only reason hikers of today can easily access this area is the construction of extensive track improvements opened in 2015.  After more than 10 years of conceptualisation, design and $25 million in funding, more than 35km of track has been laid requiring more than 18,000 helicopter flights each carrying 800kg of materials.  This mammoth undertaking has created arguable one of the great walks in Australia.

But this undertaking does not come without its detractors. Some see these being no more than “urban pathways similar to that through a suburban park” rather than a bushwalking track. I struggle to see where I sit on this continuum both enjoying the ability to experience this walk, while at the same time seeking a more intimate and light touch connection with nature.  There is both a bizarre sense of beauty in the snaking boardwalk and a clear physical structure detracting from the wild landscape.

It is clear that interventions such as these have a benefit protecting sensitive environments, and it is selfish to expect that hiking should be only for those that are capable of traversing the hardest of tracks.  There are also benefits in giving everyone the ability to experience Australia’s unique and wild places. However, equally this needs to be done in a sensitive manner with the core of protection taking priority over development.

Leaving the boardwalk, the track continues along the edge of Tornado Flat past Munro Cabin (one of the three National Park Cabins) before a short but steep climb with multiple switch backs to arrive at Cape Pillar Lodge. With an equally spectacular view over Munro Bight, the Cabin is identical to yesterday’s lodge but in reverse.

As we settle into a common routine, the day ends with another impressive selection of locally sourced canapes followed by a glorious meal matched with local Tasmanian Wines.  As we slowly drift off to sleep the pitter patter or rain outside gives an indication that the weather roulette wheel is spinning with uncertainty what we will wake up to in the morning.  But for now, tucked up in a warm bed, it is times like this where the thought of sleeping in a tent is not as romantic a notion.

The constructed boardwalk snaking through the coastal heathland

“Where the ‘ell are we valley”

In full bloom

One of the many views from Arthurs Peak and the coastal track

Cape Pillar Lodge

DAY 3

This is Tasmania and it is not unusual to experience snow and sun on the same day. Waking to the same sound I drifted off to sleep last night, the light misting of rain didn’t damper the anticipation of today’s 15km hike out to Cape Pillar and back. The good news - this means I will have used all of the clothes in my backpack, happy in the knowledge that the raincoat was worth bringing.

The hike begins as we enter the enchanting silver peppermint forest with its majestic Eucalyptus tenuiramis trees reaching towards the heavens just as the rain stops. Our intrepid guides Alyssa and Maddy, who have diligently shared stories about the geology of the landscape, the flora and fauna of the area, and the Aboriginal history, continue their reoccurring narrative of Tim and Reg who made the first-known attempt to reach the end of Cape Pillar in the mid- 1960s. The reason we are able to experience this slice of Tasmania is due to the efforts of the Hobart Walking Club, in particular two of its members – Tim Christie and Reg Williams – who, spent several years forming a track out to Cape Pillar. It was clearly not an easy task as thet dedicated landmark names such as Purgatory Hill, Corruption Valley, Hurricane Heath, Perdition Plateau and Desolution Gully.

Alyssa shares the legend that the bush was so prickly that their jeans would get cut up so badly that they had to take them off and put them back on back-to-front! The 1970 Hobart Bushwalking Club magazine ‘Tasmanian Tramp’ by Tim Christie describes the first trip to The Blade.

"Here again every movement was a tour de force, and, as we fought our way through, the trees, scoured our already denuded arms and dragged us back by our pack frames. If we had discovered why nobody had ever been to Cape Pillar, we now knew why nobody had ever tried twice.”


"We couldn't cut our way through as it wasn't that sort of scrub so, when we could no longer get through by sheer push, we had to adopt a new procedure. First, the leader would flay the brushwood to weaken it. Then, pack and all, he would take a flying backwards leap onto it. The second man would haul him back onto his feet and leap-frog or climb over him. Having thus changed leaders, the cycle would be repeated.”

A far cry from the formed boardwalk that exists today.

With lunch calling, we stop at one of 18 benches installed along the track, designed and built by students at the University of Tasmania.  This one, interestingly called ‘Sex on the Cape’.  Despite my romantic look at Kathy, I soon learnt this was not a place for a salacious rendezvous but the circular seat around a set of five tall, bright orange stamens symbolising the reproduction of some of the species that live on the cape.

Back on the trail we reach the end of the boardwalk which has been fashioned to look like a snake's head with the words 'My blood runs cold' inscribed in the timber.  While we fortunately didn’t see any snakes along the walk, I am told one of the guides did spy a white-lipped snake on the track earlier. Luckily, we are still not implementing the practice by the wife of Sir John Franklin, the lieutenant-governor of Van Diemen's Land, who hated snakes with a passion so she offered to pay a shilling for the head of every snake killed.

By now the track was tantalising close to the cliff edge giving the occasional glimpse of the blue ocean until a break in the vegetation gave our first real look at the Blade and Tasman Island off its point. Further on the last rise leads you along a series of rock steps, each one getting narrower until you stand on the edge of the knife with the cliffs falling away 230 metres to the pounding waves each side of you.

Beyond the rocky point, the Tasman Island bursts from the sea, like a block of cheese ready to be sliced.  On top of this block sits the highest lighthouse in Australia sitting over 300m above the ocean. It was commissioned in 1906 and operated up until 1977. One gruesome fact shared by our guides was the story that to work as a lighthouse keeper you had to have all your teeth pulled to minimise the chance of infection as there was little chance of any help. The island is so remote that it was named ‘Siberia of the South’ by one wife of a lighthouse keeper.

As the final clouds dissolve allowing the aquamarine blue water to meld into the sky, we walk around to Chasm Lookout, the perfect location not only for lunch but to get an uninterrupted view back to the Blade which we have just summited.

With the thoughts of another scrumptious dinner motivating our walk back, we return along the path to Cape Pillar Lodge for our last night. The evening is finished with the routine of cheese, drinks, meal and a rundown of what to expect in the final day, followed by more wine in front of a fire.

The snake

Time for ‘Sex on the Cape’

Coastal magic

First glimpse of The Blade

The tip of the Blade at Cape Pillar

Looking back from the Blade towards Chasm lookout (on the right)

Chasm Lookout

Climbing to the top of the Blade

Fire as a natural part of the landscape

Our last night at Cape Pillar Lodge

DAY 4

Our final day on the Three Capes Track begins with freshly baked bread and oven cooked Mexican beans and eggs. A perfect meal for our longest day of just over 18km.

As the sun shines on another beautiful day (I must remember to buy a lottery ticket as we have been very lucky with the weather) we begin our hike with a contoured climb up Mount Fortescue at 482 metres.  The track winds its way through fragrant heathlands to its lush, forested summit. With its towering tree-ferns, we are surrounded by plants who’s ancestors date back to the time of the dinosaurs when Australia was still part of the supercontinent Gondwana. The vibrant greens, ferns, and mosses fill your senses and you could be confused to be in a tropical Queensland rainforest.

It is at this moment the guides space everyone apart giving us an opportunity to walk by ourselves.  Devoid of distractions, the intensity of the forest comes alive with smells and sound magnifying. While it has been a great experience spending time with our fellow travel companions over the last 4 days, spending time alone in the forest is a reminder that I do crave solo travelling.

Eventually the dark tree canopy thins as we enter the eucalypt woodlands, with occasional cliff-top lookouts punctuating the walk. At one of these we perch ourselves on the rock over-looking the Tasman Sea with a creative silver fish-hook attached and inscribed with the words ‘catches and quotas'.  This is a reminder of the significant seafood catches in the area including lobster, crayfish, abalone, blue fin tuna and flathead.

The trail then descended to a junction right leading to the last of our three great Capes to visit (with the exception of the first cape which you do not visit which does make you ask why they didnt call this the Two Capes Track?).

We drop our bags at the junction, with the hope that no one is interested in three-day old smelly clothes, to tackle Cape Hauy. A steep downhill set of stairs is followed by another set of gruelling stairs which rises over the ridge only to be repeated again. While the 360-degree views are mesmerising, the constant uneven stairs force you to spend much of your time with eyes on your boots for the fear of tripping, which would be a speedy, but bone breaking, way to the bottom.  However, this does encourage you to notice the smaller things – like the small native orchids in bloom or the skink sunning itself on a rock.

Reaching the final timber platform at the end of Cape Hauy the rugged landscapes and golden beaches of Tasman National Park sit off to the west. While we still have further to go, this feels like the end of our walk having conquered the capes.

Reluctantly, leaving the rocky headland, we turn west towards our destination at Fortescue Bay. As we get closer to civilisation, and start to come across day trippers, I walk a bit more proudly with our larger packs on our back, knowing that we have joined the multi-day hike group (even if we did stay in luxurious cabins!). Rounding the bend, we come to the large “Three Capes Track” sign and proudly stand in front for a photo.

It’s tradition to take a swim at the end of the hike at Fortescue Bay. As I walk in ankle-deep and then loiter, I soon realise I am not a mad Tasmanian, and despite some locals swimming nearby, I will save my swim for warmer waters.

So, it is here we end a magnificent 4 days hiking in Tasmania.  With a bus ride back and one more glass of bubbles as we return our gear, I ask Kathy if she would be up for an overnight hike. Her response was “only if there are canapes and a heater in the room”. It looks like I will be on my own next time.

Climbing Mount Fortescue

The greens of the forest

A rainforest fairy garden

One of many lookouts over the Tasman

Thousands or stairs to Cape Hauy

Atop Cape Hauy

Our final Cape

Thanks to our fellow hiking companions - we made it!

November 2023: Murramarang South Coast Walk, NSW

The Murramarang South Coast Walk is a breathtakingly beautiful hike situated just south of Sydney, nestled perfectly between the charming towns of Ulladulla and Batemans Bay. It is a trail offers a refreshing escape from the hustle and bustle of city life. Typically, this walk is promoted as a delightful 34-kilometer excursion, to be savored over the course of three days staying in designated campgrounds. However, we opted for a slightly different approach, seeking a touch of indulgence and comfort by making Marramarang Holiday Resort (a fancy name for a Caravan Park) our home base instead. This allowed us to complete the walk in just two days, yet still immersing ourselves fully in the magic and allure of the South Coast.

Not sure where the extra 3km came from but all up we walked 37km over the two days.

The coastal walk winds its way alongside the soothing rhythm of the rolling waves, with its mixture of sandy shores, pebble beaches and scattered rock platforms, meaning you are not restricted to the narrow confines of a track. If the weather proves kind, the call of the ocean may beccon you in for a refreshing swim. But even on a cool and cloudy weekend such as ours, the allure of the coastline was equally refreshing. From the mysterious Dark Beach, its sands cloaked in a shade of gray, to the golden sands of Yellow Rock Beach, every stretch of shoreline whispers its own unique story.

While the walk is graded as a level 4 difficulty, there are actually very few challenges involved if you plan your walk strategically. One potential obstacle to consider is the crossing of Durras Lake inlet, which can prove to be quite a challenge when it is open to the ocean, often requiring a deep wade across. However, on the day of our visit, we were fortunate enough to find the inlet closed off by a natural sand barrier. Another section of the walk that may pose some difficulties is the rock platforms, especially during high tide. Yet, by carefully timing your walk and ensuring that you venture out during low tide, this section can be navigated without any major issues.

The ocean becomes natures master sculpture, eroding and shaping the rock platforms into a myriad of eye-catching shapes.

The south coast, with its breathtaking coastal views and pristine beaches, is not only a haven for nature lovers, but it is also renowned for the iconic eastern grey kangaroos that call this place home. It's a common sight to see these creatures leisurely grazing on the lush coastal grass shores, seemingly undisturbed by the constant parade of curious walkers.

It's not all coastal scenery along this walk. While the majority of the route offers breathtaking views of the shoreline, there are delightful moments when the path ventures deeper into the bush. Here, a mesmerizing forest of spotted gums reveals itself, their majestic trunks towering above. In the midst of this enchanting setting, a vibrant green understory of burrawangs, an Australian cycad, adds further splashes of color to the scene.

The hills and majestic cliffs that line the walkway not only offer stunning views but also give rise to a multitude of microclimates. These microclimates, in turn, nurture a diverse array of plant life, transforming sections into palm-filled gullies bursting with an abundance of delicate orchids and vibrant ferns.

Natures art

It is easy to see how Singing Stones Beach's got its name. One cannot help but be captivated by the symphony of sounds that fill the air as the smooth, multicolored stones seem to come alive as the waves flow between them creating a magical melody of gurgling and wooshing. With every rise and fall of the tide, it is as if nature herself has composed its own music symphony.

Clearly not a day for swimming. The Blue Bottles carpet the beach, their irridescent blown up bodies lining the shore from one end to the other like small discarded baloons.

A cute furry spiky little friend

SEPTEMBER 2023: Mystery Bay

The camper has not been out for a while so we esaped for a few days south to Mystery Bay. This is one place worth keeping a secret.

A 15km walk along the coast

Even the puppy enjoyed it

The next day we spent at Narooma kayaking the inlet

July 2023: Bula Fiji

Having spent 10 weeks exploring the Kimberley it was time to have a more relaxing holiday. Fiji has long been on the bucket list however with three children we were never able to make use of the “kids stay free” deals. With the kids grown up it seemed a good excuse to think about one last trip together.  While the cocktail bill at the end of the trip is sure to cost us a house mortgage, this did not put us off booking a week on these enchanted islands.

 

The thought of spending a week at a single resort was not appealing and I dreamed about exploring the many islands of Yasawa and Mamanuca chain.  So, what better way to travel than a week aboard the MV Reef Endeavour. While a cruise would normally bring fears of covid and food poisoning, it was not like the floating megahotels that you see on line. It was small enough to be comfortable as a place to sleep, eat (far too much) and read a book, but also happy to encourage you to get off the boat to explore.

So many choices on what to do

Underwater wonderland

Schools in

time for play

Village Life

Church Service

Schools out

Life onboard

Kimberley Calling Part 9: The End

Day 66: Logies Night

Leaving Kimba we had some decisions to make.  To either stay on the Eyre Peninsula for another night with the prospect of rain or push on homeward.  Like a horse that has turned for home, the pull was greater than staying.  However, rather than going home via Renmark the chance for a few more nights deeper in the outback, we headed north east towards Broken Hill.

It’s seems appropriate to now be sitting at Waukaringa Hotel on one of our last days of the trip. Now I know what you are thinking - “another hotel - what about camping?”.  But there is no chance of a room or a beer at this hotel. The hotel built in 1889 is now just a crumbling ruin of stones amongst a  plain of salt bush. This was the same location I camped over 8 years ago on our previous half lap up to Darwin.

I won’t go into any more details of today’s trip as it was largely a travelling day but tonight is also Logies Night.

Best waterfall:

Highly commended: Manning gorge; Mitchell falls; Emma Gorge; El Questro Gorge

Winner: Not only for the waterfall but the hike to get there

We won’t mention Galvins Gorge where Hux lost his hat ☹️

Most interesting rock formation:

Highly Commended: organ pipes, national Park; Murphy’s Hay Stack; Pildappa Rock, Nullarbor caves

Winner: Pernalulu Bee hives.  Just WOW.

Best Gorge:

Highly Commended: El Questro gorge; Echidna chasm, homestead Gorge, mini Palm gorge; cathedral; whip snake: Charles knife and shot hole canyons, cape range national park

All were winners as they were all unique in their own way.

Best swimming spot:

Highly Commended: Ellenbrae watering hole; Zeberdy springs; Little Mertons upper and lower pools, Mitchell falls; Lake argyle; Emma gorge; James price point; thermal pool, Francois Peron National Park

Winner: a hard fought category but Manning Gorge because Kathy loved it

Best camp meal:

Highly Commended: every meal we made. Food just tastes better when you are camping.

Winner: Tasting plate at El Questro with a nice bottle of red wine

Special Mention: having dinner looking out over the painted desert, Coober Pedy.

Best overall campsite:

Highly Commended: Nullarbor cliff tops; Private site at el Questro

Winner: Stretch Lagoon, on the Canning Stock Route

Special mention: underground camping at Coober Pedy

Hardest ground to get in tent pegs:

Highly Commended: Almost every site we pitched the tent

Winner: James price point - finally resorted to using an electric drill


Sports champion:

Highly commended: me at darts and pool

Winner: Hate to say it but Hux at Bocci


Worst road:

Tanami track; Cape Peron; road into Pernallulu

Clear winner: Track into Mitchell falls

The Gibb didn’t even get a nomination

Best car repair company:

Equal winner: West Kimberley Auto, Derby; Reeve Truck Align, Port Headland. We could not have competed the trip without them


Best Sunset:

Highly commended : All of them were amazing - any in the Kimberley, Cape Range NP, Henbury Crater, on boat in Ningaloo, Lake Argyle, Pernululu NP, Cape Peron NP.

Special Mention: Cable beach just becuase it is so famous

Winner: Murphys Hay stacks - such an amazing colour

Best water crossing:

Highly commended : Ivanhoe Crossing, kunnanurra; Any of the crossing in Pernallulu

Winner: El Questro Gorge track

Pentecost River got a very disappointing mention here



Coldest night

Winner: Gawler National Park

Special mention: almost getting blown off cliffs at the Great Australian Bight

Best lookout:

Highly Commended: Painted Desert, Coober Pedy

Winner: Mount Allalone, mainly because it was remote and not on the normal tourist list



Best moon encounter:

Equal winners : Stairway to the moon, Broome; Getting up at 5am to watch the moon set at James price point


Best animal encounter:

Highly commended : freshwater crocs at Windjana ; dolphins at monkey Mia; dugongs at Monkey Mia; sea lions at Point Lebatt; fish at the oyster stacks, cape range NP; crocodiles at Lake Argyle, crocodiles at  Kunnanurra

Special mention: southern write whales at head of bight Marine Park

Winner: swimming with whale sharks at Ningaloo


Coldest Swimming Water

Highly Commended: Lake argyle swimming pool

Winner: Emma gorge

Bluest water:

Winner: Turquoise Bay, Cape Range National Park


Best shower:

Outdoor shower under the boab tree, Ellenbrae

Gwalia shearing shed shower

Winner: Any of the warm showers after several days camping



Best Hotel We actually Drank in:

Highly Commended: Palace hotel, Broken Hill; Silverton Hotel; Yunta Gotel; Norseman Hotel, National Hotel, Sandstone; Penang Hotel; Kimba Hotel; and I am sure I missed several others

Winner: Yalgoo Hotel, mainly because it is definitely not the normal tourist hotel people talk about.

Special mention: Pier at Port Hedland for introducing me to skimpies


Best toilets:

You really should ask Kathy that but there is no doubt WA National Parks need to be congratulated on their facilities



Most interesting character we met:

Highly Commended: Dennis cash from the haystacks - read day 62; Crackers - some strange local at a pub

Winner: Dennis Omeara the tow truck driver - read Day 32



Best campfire

Highly Commended: Murray river, Mildura; Stretch Lagoon

Winner: side of the road somewhere on the middle of the Tanami Track.

Most impressive mine:

Highly commended: salt mine at Port Hedland; underground mine Coober Pedy

Winner, Super Pit at  Kalgoorlie.  While I would give it an F for environmental protection there is no doubt a hole that appears to go to the centre of the earth is impressive


Best thing we took camping:

Highly Commended: the fire pit, small mini table, pool noodles flame thrower, jet boil

Winner: battery chainsaw - this made the collecting of wood so much easier and didn’t need petrol


Stupid photos Hux took:

Highly Commended: Galah on finger at Kimba: mining truck toy at Leonora; towing the road train Leobora; filling water bottle at Mitchell falls, sprinkling salt and n salt pile at Port Hedland; crushed by Skylab at Balladonia, using rocket as lipstick at Woomera

Winner: sitting on rocket at woomera - only he could come up with that idea!





SILVER LOGIE

Two activities stand out on this trip that were a representative of this amazing country and what I was looking for when planning to go to the Kimberleys and WA.

The first was Mitchell Falls.  This had everything that we wanted and expected out of the Gibb.  It had corrugations the size of mountains; carnage to the trailer (luckily I could fix it); hiking; waterfalls; swimming; remoteness; campfires; and to top it all off a helicopter ride over the falls.

Swimming with Whale Sharks in the middle of the ocean almost took out the gold Logie.  There are some bucket list experiences that you must do and this was on the top of mine. The experience of being out in the bottomless ocean swimming next to a creature several times your size is unforgettable.


GOLD LOGIE

And the winner for this trip for the most memorable activity is………….

lake argyle bbq watching the sun go down and swimming

While the views were spectacular, the sunset impressive, the swimming exciting, the food delicious, I think what made this the winner was being able to experience all of this with the best wife in the world and the two best friends anyone could ever have.

Day 67 and 68 and 69: the end of the road

I won’t bore you with our last three days travelling home as it was largely white lines and tarmac for over 1,300 km.  A quick stop over at Silverton, Broken Hill then a road side camp for the night just outside Broken Hill. From here, with my ‘Kimberley’ play list to keep me going we made our way to Dubbo and one last pub for the night before finally crossing the mountains and home.

Over the last 10 weeks (69 Days) we have travelled almost 17,000km from one side of Australia to the other and back. We spent $5,393.91 on fuel  ($2.88/lt the most expensive at the Nullarbor Road House) with an average fuel consumption of 13.9lt per 100km.

We have experienced all kinds of roads from the longest straightest stretch in the country (146.6km); remote outback tracks such as the Tanami; far too many corrugations along the Gibb; the worst track out to Mirchell falls; followed explorers along the Eyre Highway; and gone down little unnamed tracks all over the place.

We drove through dust, sand, water crossings, very deep water crossings (killing 2 starter motors), white clay and enough red mud to cover the car with a permanent impenetrable layer that will stay with us forever. And we did not get bogged once!

We tested our vehicles and trailer to their maximum with loose nuts off bash plates, spot lights and other random parts of the car. Broken window struts, slide drawers, battery holders, Anderson plugs, petrol caps and other annoying small things kept the gaffa tape and cable ties busy.  We played bush mechanic repairing one tyre, removing the sway bar and replacing wheel bearings on the side of the track. We ruined the starter motor in 2 vehicles, replaced a blocked fuel filter, broke the springs on the camper trailer and one person got towed the last 300km off the Gibb. And we loved every minute of it.

We saw amazing creatures including freshwater crocodiles, dolphins, Southern Right Whales, hump back Whales, dugongs, turtles, whale sharks, thousands of fish and coral, birds of all kind, an echidna, black backed wallabies, yellow footed wallabies, and 1 snake.

We swam in waterholes, at the base of waterfalls, in swimming pools, in the ocean and in turquoise blue bays.  The water was everything from nice to cold to bloody freezing but we still did it.

We walked, hiked, climbed and boulder hopped gorges and mountains and strolled along long stretches of beaches.

We watched the moon rise and set, countless sunsets and the occasional sunrises, rainbows, storms, and experienced gale force winds strong enough to blow us to Antartica.

We ate in outback hotels, fancy hotels, around the fire and at restaurants. We drank far to many beers, cocktails, wine, bourbon, ginger beer and a mango beer.

We drove, flew, sailed and snorkelled underwater getting all kinds of views of this great country from above and below.

We did touristy things and many things that are not on any tourist brochure.

We laughed, cried, stressed, got exhausted, and exhilarated often all at the same time.

We are so fortunate to have been able to do all this, and to share our journey each day with you all.



So what’s our next trip………..?

Kimberley Calling Part 8: In Eyres Footprints

Day 59: Nullarbor - a place without trees

“Searing bits of debris rained down on the stations like fireworks”.  This was the report from the Perth Daily News in July 1979. In its 34,981st and last orbit of the earth the final minutes of the Skylab satellite brought a lot of excitement to the small town of Balladonia, population 14, on the Eyre Highway. As the Skylab entered the atmosphere much of it lit up the sky but some of it made its way crashing to the earth. The Americans were embarrassed as their plans went astray, along with the Skylab.  President Carter even rang the motel manageress to apologise.

Balladonia had its one moment in the limelight before disappearing into obscurity, unless you are one of the few travellers who make the long trek on the Eyre Highway. Named after The explorer John Eyre, the Highway travels from where we were this morning in Norseman, to Port Augusta in South Australia, 1,671km away.

While many say the Nullarbor is a boring drive there is something soothing about it. It has been 100km since I have had to shift the steering wheel and there is another 46.6km to go.  I am currently on Australia’s longest straight road known as the ‘90 Mile Straight’.   The rhythmic sounds of the tyres on the bitumen is enough to lull you to sleep if you are not careful.  Looking ahead the road disappears into the distance almost falling off the end of the world.  The only motion is the small mulga bushes rushing past the window and the hypnotic white lines of the centre road running towards you. After a while my mind wonders, to the point of reflecting on life and the purpose of being. I am just glad I am not on the worlds longest straight road in Saudi Arabia at 240km long or this could get very deep.

Having made the decision to run from the rain, it seems our plan has paid off with clear sky’s a very welcome sight as we look for camp for the night. Before the highway manages to lull us to sleep we pull off on a remote stretch, making our way into the scrub far enough to not be disturbed by the trucks that continue to travel through the night. With the campfire alight I look up to the stars and for one moment I think I see a satellite and hope that it does not decide to crash on us tonight.


Day 60: Cockle where?

Pulling up to the petrol bowser I look out to see what the price of diesel is.  Unfortunately, the bowser is a mere skeleton, the price on the dial having not moved for 60 years. Having turned down an unmarked dirt track off the Eyre Highway and driven inland we have pulled into Koonalda homestead. This remote sheep station operated from 1938 until 1988 eventually succumbing to its isolation. The remains of the building, shearing shed and workshop still stand despite rain, heat and time doing its best to dismantle it.

Koonalda was also a service point for passing traffic on the old Eyre Highway. The petrol bowser is not the only sign of this, with relics of the many cars that didn’t make the journey, this their final resting point to rust away amongst the saltbush.

Click on images below to enlarge

Click on images below to enlarge

In 1841 John Eyre spent 4 months travelling from South Australia to Western Australia. At the time he described it as the “sort of place one gets into in bad dreams” By the 1890s the promise of gold encouraged hopeful souls to venture west, their bullocks and camels creating a more formalised track that runs just inland from the current road. From the first crossing by car in 1912, it would have been a treacherous journey of corrugations, shredded tyres and boiling radiators in the summer heat.

Sitting in the air conditioned car, cruising at 100km an hour, we have come a long way since those times.  Despite this, the distance still feels immense and the landscape is largely unchanged from then.  Reading the map there are no major towns or crossroads, apart from small dirt tracks used by the early pastoralists, now just dotted lines on paper.  The exception are names such as Cocklebiddy, Caiguna, Madura and Mundrabilla which are little more than a petrol bowser and truck stop with the most basic of hotel rooms for the weary traveller. One sign says it all:

Welcome to Cocklebiddy

Population 8

Budgies 25

Quails 6

Dogs 1

Kangaroos 1,234,567 dead

If you look hard enough however there are some landmarks worth stopping for.  One of these is the ruin of the Telegraph Station at Eucla on the windswept coast. The station built in 1898 now appears to be shrinking, it’s crumbling sandstone walls being consumed by the shifting sands.  As the dunes took over, the building material was dismantled and used in Koonalda Station.

Eventually, the Highway turns towards the coast where we end up for the night. Precariously perched on the edge of Australia, it’s cliffs slowly being eaten by the waves below, it is clear to see why they call this the Great Australian Bight.

Looking into the Southern Ocean the next stop is Antartica and with the cold wind blowing I can almost feel the arctic chill. Looking out from camp there is a sense of flat endlessness, with the ocean in one direction, the treeless plains in the other, and the dark sky’s and stars above. Not a bad way to end today’s adventure.


Day 61: A Whale of a Day

Looking out into the windswept ocean the blue water is shimmering like an emerald, disguising the treacherous conditions any sailor faces if they were silly enough to be out. As the sets roll in they build momentum like an out of control steam train heading for certain destruction.   But nothing can stop the forces of nature as a final crescendo of wave vs cliff face sees a spray of water shoot 100 feet into the air.

From our reasonable safe position perched on the cliff top, it is not the power of the waves that has our attention.  Not more than 30 metres below, a Great Southern Right Whale calf is rolling and flipping as its mother appears to ignore a misbehaving child. Then, just to the left another calf half breaches showing off to the other juveniles how clever he is. As I bring up the camera to capture the moment 2 other whales on the right surface, their sprays of water being taken away in the gale force winds.

We are standing at a lookout in the Great Australian Bight Marine Park not far from the Eyre Highway along the Nullarbor. This area protects a globally important calving and gathering area for the endangered southern right whales.  It appears something must be working as we watch at least 50 whales and their calves pass by.

Earlier this morning we woke to a beautiful, sunny (!) sunrise having avoided the rain again. However, while there was no rain we spent the night on one of the most exposed cliffs in all of Australia at the same time as gale force winds lashed the coast.  Luckily we were not picked up in the wind and blown to Antarctica but we both woke (a loose term as neither of us slept much) to a covering of sand that sandblasted it’s way inside the tent.

Leaving camp, having survived the night we set about to explore some of the hidden gems of the Nullarbor, one of which is the mysterious Murrawijinie Caves that are know to exist here. The caves are not signposted so asking the Nullarbor Roadhouse, he provides simple instructions along the lines of “go back down the Highway and look for the second saltbush where there is a small dirt track, follow this past a windmill and turn right at the deep potholes”.

While you already get a sense of isolation travelling across the Nullarbor, the constant procession of trucks means you are never alone.  But it is when you turn off and head into the depth of the treeless plain, you get a sense of being a mere blip in the landscape.

With no obvious landmarks to indicate a cave, it is not until you are literally upon it that you notice the earth open up.  Clambering down the hole, the light from the head torch provides a faint shaft of light barely penetrating the blackness.  This cave is just one of many that hide beneath the flat Nullarbor Plains.  While the land above is featureless apart from the low salt bush, there are random caves and limestone tunnels hidden beneath.

While some of them are filled with water and only accessible to the highly experienced, Murrawijinie Caves are a much simpler scramble for us to access. These ancient caves formed over 50 million years ago from ancient sea creatures leaving behind limestone deposits which subsequently have eroded.

With whales and caves taking up a large part of the day our plan to get to Streaky Bay was no longer on the cards. Having spent three days free camping, and not wanting to push our luck with the rain, we opt for a night at the Penong Hotel, another classic outback Pub built in 1910. The good news is, we are unlikely to get blown away tonight.


Day 62: Dennis and his Rocks

Dennis is leaning against the open shed, his weathered face a sign of having farmed in this area all his life. You can tell he enjoys a yarn as he is happily having a long chat with us about why he opened his farm to travellers and why he loves sharing this place.

He is talking about these strange rock formations that sit on top of a hill amongst the rolling green barley crops just outside Streaky Bay. The pinkish pillars and boulders, in clusters of 5 or 6, each one taller than a house, are like large scoops of melting icecream dropped on the ground.

While we were unable to see Wave Rock due to our change in plans, this is a similar ancient granite rock over 1.6 billion years old.  Over the eons the surrounding land has eroded away leaving the harder granite behind then nature has taken to them like a potter forming them into strange shapes.

Their name, Murphy’s Haystacks, is thought to have come from a Scotsman who spotted them from a mail coach and commented on how much hay the local farmer had saved. Yes, the farmer was obviously called Murphy.

Dennis Cash is the grandson of Murphy and despite initial hesitation, you can see he is proud of the place saying “this is one of the greatest things the family has done opening it up to the public”.  “I came to help on the farm for a couple of days and I am still here” he quips. Although I think more importantly, he enjoys meeting and talking to lots of new people as he shares the story of meeting three Canadian girls and taking them home to stay.

Before leaving Penong this morning we dropped into its major attraction.  What I like about many small towns is they all try to identify or create one thing to get tourists to stop.  And even better if this one thing is BIG.  so Penong decided they wanted to have the biggest windmill.  Hence the town now has a small paddock with more than 20 different types of windmills, whirling, spinning and clunking, including the star of the show - ‘The Comet’.

Outside the Penong General Store, there is a sign that reads: “Last stop for 1,000km. WARNING REMOTE ZONE AHEAD”. Having finished crossing the Nullarbor, Hux was on the hunt for a sticker saying he had survived the crossing (as he unfortunately didn’t survive the Gibb).

From here we made our way to the Eye Peninsular, passing through small wind swept coastal towns including Fowlers Bay and Cactus Beach, a surfing Mecca when gale force 40 winds are not blowing. While the huge winds and stormy seas are enough to put off any die hard surfer, it didn’t phase any of the Australian sea lions at Point Labatt.

Standing on the viewing platform we looked down onto the calves and mother seals oblivious to the weather around them. Me on the other hand is leaning forward at a 45 degree angle into the wind, one hand firmly planted on the had rail for fear of being blown like a tumbleweed,  eyes watering like I’m on a speeding motorbike, as constant rain showers throw freezing needles into my body. Shouting over the wind to Hux, “You know you are living!” the rush is better than any drug.

As we watched the sea lions,  the cliffs above shook as they got pounded by massive waves the size of mountains with white snow on them, the water below appearing to be boiling. As a sign it is time to leave, a giant rainbow appeared circling the cliffs and ocean.

Back standing with Dennis, we pay our camping fee. What is unique, is that it has not succumbed to the pressure of tourism, by either closing it off, or putting in place fences and expensive entrance fees.  Instead it operates on an honesty box at the front gate. Setting up camp for the night we watch the rain showers come and go over the ancient rocks, none of which would be possible without the generosity of Dennis and his family.


Day 63: More Rocks

As a passionate photographer I know the best light is the golden hour, just before sunrise or just after sunset.  Unfortunately I am also passionate about sleeping in.  The alarm has woken me from a deep sleep, likely due to sleep deprivation having spent the previous night in a hotel room the size of a closet with Hux in the bed next to me.

The brain slowly computes that I am not at home in my warm bed but a tent as the pitter-patter sound of rain on the tent fly seems to be amplified. It is at this point I would happily roll over and go back to sleep.  Despite this i unzip the tent 2 inches to see how bad it is.  To my surprise there is colour in the sky and dramatic rain clouds rolling over the adjacent hills.

At this point the photographer in me get up, exiting my cocoon into the cold morning air I am greeted with clouds, sunshine and wind all rolled into one. Grabbing the camera and heading up to the Haystacks the light and shadows dance over the rock surface.  But the final lighting show is a rainbow arcing across the boulders with the pot of gold ending at their base.

It is for moments like this that I love to camp.

With one last wave of thanks to Dennis for allowing people to experience this place we push on with a plan to head to Gawler Ranges National Park. While the rain showers provide amazing atmosphere, they also convert what is normally a dry dirt road into a slushy, slippery mud pit. It is not long before the car is converted from a white Prado into a brown slop covered bucket, as I carry a half a tonne of mud attached to the trailer behind.

Just outside the National Park we take take a detour to Pildappa Rock, following a tip from a local.  Our trip seems tovbs turning into a tour of rocks.  But again this is no ordinary rock.  While Murphy’s Haystacks are lots of individual boulders, Pildappa is one monolith.  And where Murphy’s Hatstack was like large scoops of melting icecream dropped on the ground, Pildappa Rock is a gigantic elephant half buried in the ground.

While you can no longer climb Uluru, there does not appear to be any cultural sensitivities with this rock.  Climbing up the granite elephants back I reach the top with panoramic views of the surrounding countryside.  In one direction yellow canola contrast with the green barley fields disappearing into the distance.  On the other, the Gawler Ranges rising from the plains, with rolling rain storms covering its peaks.

With the geological climb over it was time to push on, in the hope that the rain showers have moved on when we get to the National Park. After several more kilometres of slipping and sliding, we pull into camp for the night.  It appears the rain, cold, mud caking road, and remoteness of the location meant we were the only ones here. But as a good photographer knows, anyone can get a photo on a sunny day and it is times like this that drag me out of bed early.


Day 64: a hexagon or pentagon?

For those one or two people that actually read my ramblings you will know that I try to paint a picture of the days events, often using similes to visualise what is around me. Often I grapple with words to adequately describe a place but today I had the work done for me.  Standing looking out at the ‘Organ Pipes’, thousands of shear hexagonal columns project skyward around the cliff face.  Like the pipes of an organ, they are all different heights. Towards the edge several of them have toppled over, or are moments away from falling, as though the rocks behind them are pushing them over the edge.

These unique rocks were formed over 1500 million years ago when the Gawler Ranges was a seething molten volcanic landscape. As the lava flows cooled they created fractures in the rocks creating hexagonal columns.

It seems our tour of rocks from yesterday continued as we spent the day exploring the Gawler Ranges National Park. The morning began with a walk along 5 Falls Trail.  While the name indicates flowing water, most of the streams and falls are intermittent, only flowing after rain.  While we had on and off rain yesterday it was only enough to leave temporary pools for the tadpoles to continue to fatten and hopefully metamorphose into frogs before they dry up.

The last of the 5 falls is called the Yellow-Footed Rock Wallaby Falls. These shy and secretive creatures are endangered and were only rediscovered in the Gawler Ranges in the 1990’s, which led to the creation of the National Park. Walking up the creek bed there were plenty of signs of their presence with droppings and footprints.  While I didn’t manage to see any Hux assures me he saw a glimpse of yellow feet and a tail.  But we all know if someone else didn’t witness it, it didn’t exist.

After a few other short walks it was time to venture back to camp to get the fire going before the temperature plummets to freezing.  A far cry from the boiling magna that would have helped take off the winter chill if we were here   a billion years ago.

Day 65: in Eyre’s footsteps

Reaching the summit of Mount Allalone, the name is a great descriptor of the vista before me.  From one horizon to the next there is nothing to indicate another sole in sight.  Below me, the remnants of what was once an entire plain of mallee trees, the rest cleared almost 200 years ago to make way for sheep.

I have just followed in the footsteps of Edward John Eyre who climbed Mount Allalone in the Gawler Ranges in 1839 while exploring the peninsular.  Eyre wrote a scathing account of the lack of suitable water or pasture in the area but despite this, early pastoralists decided to try to make a living here.

Earlier in the day we walked around the Old Panney Homestead built by William Crawford in the 1870s, and it’s near by wool shed. It is hard to comprehend the difficult times they had trying to run sheep in this remote, barren area. Eventually, drought, low prices, rabbits and dingos all conspired against the early pastoralists sending them either broke or mad. What started out as 450,000 head of sheep slowly dwindled with only the foolish or diehard holding on.

A hunter and trapper from Mount Allalone wrote the following:

There is poison in the water, there is ruin in the breeze,

And everything is choking with the red-hot dust;

Hell’s furnace, doors are open and they’ve lost the flaming keys…

Not exactly the best sales pitch for prospective sheep graziers.

Leaving the National Park we weaved our way through the bush, occasionally startling an emu which then decides to run like a lunatic down the road, darting left and right head bobbing in all directions.  With the decision that at least one of us needs a shower we make our way to the small country town of Kimba booking into the Kimba Gateway Hotel. Built in 1924, it is a definite step up to camping having been refurbished, yet retaining its country charm.

Having spent the last week driving across the Eyre Highway, visiting coastal towns along the Eyre Peninsular, and the Gawler Ranges, it is fitting we spend tonight at Kimba being home to a sculpture that represents Edward John Eyre and all the indigenous people who’s bush skills he relied upon.

But Kimba is also famous for two other things.  As I have mentioned in the past a town needs something big as part of its tourist brochure.  So Kimba has chosen the big galah as its claim to fame. Why - your guess is as good as mine.  More fitting however is that Kimba is half way across Australia and half way to home for us.  This is where we leave John Eyres footprints and make our own way.  The only decision now - which way do we go?…

Kimberley Calling Part 7: The Goldfields


Day 55: Leaving the North West

Driving along the road I am experiencing something that I have not seen for over a month.  The driving rain bouncing off the windscreen has forced me to   put the windscreen wipers up to high.  Prior to this, they have been used largely to wipe the dust off or smear bugs, often making it more difficult to see. I should have realised something was going to change as I drove past a sign that said “26th Parallel - You are Leaving the North West”.

Waking at Monkey Mai, a slight drizzle was starting to settle in making it one of our quickest pack ups to avoid getting everything wet.  As we left I was thinking how fortunate we are having had a great day yesterday and the weather being on our side for all of this trip.  Although it could also be the fact that today we were driving to Geraldton to drop Kathy at the Airport so the weather gods had only been nice to her.

While today is the end of the trip for Kathy (unless she has to spend multiple nights sleeping in airports as she is flying from Geraldton to Perth, then to Brisbane, then to Sydney), we still have a long way to go. Today marks the day we begin our drive from the west coast of Australia all the way to the east coast in Sydney.

As the windscreen wipers and constant rain fill the car with noise, I am not sure if I hear the radio weather forecast correctly? Did he just say the word “snow”?  Listening more closely the announcer talks about a major cold front with the chance of snow in the Sterling Rangers.  Snow in Western Australia! And the news doesn’t get any better.   “High winds with damaging surf along all of the south coast”.

While the plan was to make our way further south to Perth before turning east, sometimes plans need to change.  And listening to the weather forecast for the next week, now was that time.

With the decision to head directly inland away from the coast with the theory to temporarily avoid multiple night setting up the tent in the rain, we pull out the map.  What alternative adventure could we take on? It is not long before we realise a path leading directly through the old goldfields of WA.  With the thought of not only exploring some old mining towns, but hopefully some great pubs, we turn the steering wheel directly east.

With the sun setting (sorry wishful thinking) we find a great spot called Tenindewa Pioneer Well.  This little known spot on the map was important for the early settlers as a water source allowing the pastures to be opened up in the region.

With the rain luckily holding off, we set up camp on the same site as the original Tenindewa one teacher school which operated up until 1939. And while the school no longer remains, fortunate for us there is a small shelter just in case the weather gods were definitely on Kathy’s side and the rain returns.

Day 56: “I’ve been everywhere”

Mulewa, Tenindewa, Yalgoo, Morawa, Meekatharra, Wiluna, Kalgoorlie, Coolgardie, Kambalda, Mukinbudin, Walgoolan, Burracoppin, Carrabin, Bodallin, Warralakin, Pindar.

No, I’m not repeating the lyrics to a Chad Morgan song or speaking another language but listing just some of the towns we are driving through or passing by.

Having left Tenindewa, the vegetation is getting shorter and the dirt redder. We have definitely left the coastal tourist route behind with processions of caravans being replaced with the occasional mining truck. It is not long before the dirt is replaced with gibber stones, an indication that we have entered the outback - that along with a sign stating “welcome to the outback”.

One thing I love about this part of the country is not only the isolation, but in between hundreds of kilometres of nothing, you have these small towns.  Now ‘towns’ is a loose term as many of them are little more than an intersection with a few old buildings.  If you are lucky they may have more, but often these are just the remnants of a previously busy town, now replaced with boarded up windows.  But if you are really lucky, it may still have an operating hotel.

Pulling into Yalgoo, a small dot on the map, we are greeted with a sign on the door of a small building saying “The Best Pub in Yalgoo”. Realising this is the only Pub in Yalgoo what better thing to do than stop for a drink.  Entering through the door, the hotel is empty.  The publican, somewhat shocked at seeing people, is quick to offer us a drink.  Now there is no fancy craft beers here, just the choice of Swan larger or Swan larger on tap. Ordering a Swan Larger, we then set out playing a few rounds of darts - and just for the record I beat Graeme.

Not wanting to be embarrassed any more Graeme sensible decides it’s time to leave.  After several more hours of driving with nothing more than the occasional road-train to break the monotony, we arrive at Sandstone. This small town would have been thriving during the gold rush.  While it used to have four hotels, the National Hotel, built in 1907, is the only one still managing to survive. The hotel remains largely unchanged with its iron bull nose verandah, red and white locally fired brick facade, and eclectic nick-nacs throughout the building.

Realising darts is not Graeme’s game, he tries his luck at pool - for the record I win again. With night time approaching we need to leave in order to find camp, although I think this was Graeme just trying to get me out of the hotel as a sign said “skimpies 5pm” (you will need to read an earlier blog if you don’t know what’s skimpie is).

Unlike the coastal tourist highways, where free camping is either non-existent or overflowing with caravans and winnebagos, there are multiple spots along these outback roads where you can pull over for a night.  Tonight we end up at a small lookout east of Sandstone.  If you do ever find this spot you can definitely say -  “I’ve been everywhere”.

Day 57: A Pub with no beer

Standing in the small 3 room house the slight breeze coming through the broken window is whispering stories of what life was once like here. As it swirls around an old kerosene lamp lying broken on the floor the voice of  Angelo ‘Ginger’ Branchi can be heard as he describes to his friend why he left Italy in the 1920’s to come to Western Australia on the hope of a better life and finding gold. With little more than the clothes on his back, there was no money to build, so tents and discarded iron were used to create a home. To give it a more welcoming feel he painted it pink.

This is one of approximately 20 buildings still standing in the ghost town of Gwalia. It is reported that the day the adjacent gold mine closed, the exodus of families happened overnight with the items they could not carry left to deteriorate with the ramshackle cottages.  Walking through the buildings, all manner of items from beds to cooking pots are left, almost where they were when abandoned.

While I am fascinated with old buildings, especially the untold stories on why they have fallen in to disrepair, we are still on our search for more pubs to have a drink. The Gwalia State Hotel was constructed in 1903 and based on the 2 storeys and ornate structure you can tell there was money at the time. It was built by the Government to control the ‘sly-grog’ or liquor trade that operated illegally through the mining towns. But like the rest of Gwalia, the windows are boarded up and the timber is slowly rotting as the doors have been closed for over 60 years.

As we were getting thirstier, we pressed on following the old seams of gold to the town of Kookynie.  Gold was discovered near Kookynie in the late 1890’s and  in its hey-day the town had over 400 buildings including everything from a brewery to a racecourse.  Like all busy mining town it’s also had its fare share of pubs - 7 to be precise.

Today the town is a remnant of its former glory, with little more than the skeletal remains of the road network and a few buildings slowly eroding away with time.  But there is one building still remaining and that is the Grand Hotel.

Pulling up to the building the first thing I notice is a ‘For Sale’ sign on the front.  While the thought of running a Pub sounds interesting, the idea moving to a place that is over 100km from the nearest civilisation, which is then hundreds of kilometres from a real town soon burst that bubble. But even more disappointing was the closed sign on the front door.  Even the horse that was standing on the pub veranda right next to the door appeared to be annoyed it was closed.

It seemed the lack of open pubs was a sign of the broader death of many of these outback towns.  And while the initial gold rush of the 1900’s ended, along with many of the towns, modern technology has seen the mines return but on a much larger scale.

While the mines of the past were small and a mere dot on the landscape, the modern mines are a physical assault on the land.  With entire mountains removed or an open cut hole in the ground bigger than that left by any meteor.

Even the towns that remain are different.  What was once a town full of families and all the functioning of normal life, the modern towns such as Leinster developed by BHP to support the adjacent mine, are sterile  lacking a sense of soul.

Click on images below to enlarge

With no beers in sight we head to another free camp, this time Lake Ballard to set up camp for the night.

Walking out onto the dry lake bed at night there is no moonlight to guide the way.  The stars are small smudges fighting to break through a light cloud cover, giving the whole lake an eerie feeling. Several hundred meters out, the motionless shadow of a person appears through the black, stopping me in my tracks. However the body is naked and not of a normal human, with long slender arms and legs. It’s as though an alien has landed and is staring back at me.  But this is no alien, but an art work involving 51 statues placed over the lake floor.

The statues are part of a large outdoor art instillation by British artist Antony Gormley. He used the images of 51 local residents of the nearby town of Menzies to form the sculptures which represents “both the empty centre of the continent and the interior of our bodies”. When Gormley first visited the lake he recalls “being on the lip of the edge of the world”. Standing on the lake in the middle of night with these strange creature I can attest to the feeling of being on the edge of the world.

Having avoided the rain so far we enjoy another campfire and, since we were unable to find a pub, luckily we brought beers with us.

Day 58: Blowing a hole in the earth

There is one quick way to get you out of the tent quickly and packed.  That is the pattering sound of rain on the tent fly.  While the reason we headed inland was to avoid the rain, it seems we couldn’t outrun it completely. Leaving Lake Ballard, we continue on the gold trail exploring old pubs along the way.

One place we are guaranteed to find a hotel is Kalgoorlie in the heart of mining territory. In 1893 Paddy Hannah, along with two other prospectors found nearly 100 ounces of gold at Kalgoorlie. This sparked a gold rush with thousands of hopefuls coming to the district to make their fortune in the ‘golden mile’. While many of the original 44 hotels are now either converted shops, or worse stand empty, there are still plenty remaining for us to visit.  And with the rain expected to settle in our plan was to stay in one of these ‘fine establishments’.

However, one thing we did not count on, was arriving in town on the exact same day where the annual Diggers and Dealers Mining Forum was being held.  Over three days, 3000 miners, bankers and prospectors converge on the town meaning for us everything was booked out.

With no where to stay the best we could do was to go and watch someone blow up some dirt.  Following the initial gold rush period many of the mines in town became less profitable to operate and closed.  However with advanced technology, In the 1980’s Alan Bond attempted to amalgamate these mines into one, but like many of his other dodgy ventures, failed. While unsuccessful, a subsequent company amalgamated many of the leases which eventually led to the creation of one mine.  Now when I say one, I actually mean one big super pit creating a hole in the ground 600 metres deep and 3.5km long.

Standing at the lookout overlooking the super pit, it is hard to grasp the size until you see the mining trucks that are bigger than a house look like miniature tonker toys. Peering into the abyss, the hole in the ground appears to continue to the centre of the earth, however the rest of the landscape is nothing like earth, devoid of any life. All of a sudden there is a boom that echoes over the pit and a cloud of dust billows skyward as a blast destroys a section of the wall.

It is strange to think this destruction of the landscape produces more than 14 tonnes of gold a year, the majority of which serves little real purpose other than as ornation on someone’s finger or around their neck. I have managed to avoid buying opals at Coober Pedy, and Pearls at Cygnet Bay, so there is no chance of gold being on the shopping list.

Leaving Kalgoorlie, we have several other unsuccessful stops at closed hotels until we reach Norseman, another of the many small towns with little more than a pub remaining. Luckily this one not only served beers but had a room for the night.

With the rain now coming down on the iron verandah roof outside my window it looks like we will be rethinking our plans for the journey home.

kimberley Calling Part 6: Shark Bay & Francois Peron

Day 51: 10 Attractions of Canarvon

The trip so far has been full of spectacular waterfalls, jaw dropping gorges, panoramic remote beaches and breathtaking reefs.  When your last 7 weeks has been an overload of scenic wonders, sometimes a place can find it hard to compete.  Canarvon is a lovely sea side town, and it’s waterfront and long white beaches are nice. But there is no doubt the local tourist site has a much harder sell.  Despite this we decide to spend the day ticking off some of the ‘Top 10 Attractions in Canarvon’.

First up we head down to 1 mile jetty, “the longest jetty in the western part of Wester Australia” - yes they worked hard to get this title.  I have been told they unofficially changed the name to 1km Jetty as the last part has been closed due to disrepair.  But on arriving we realise it should be called 1 metre Jetty as a large gate and board is erected at the beginning with a large ‘Keep Out’ sign welcoming tourists.  The best we could do is walk the adjacent 35 metre long boardwalk through the mangroves.  It appears the boardwalk also goes to nowhere with a sign saying this is the first stage.  Unfortunately that was more than 10 years ago so I guess future tourist will have a long wait for this landmark.

Deciding ‘number 2’ on the list might be better, we make our way to Pelican Point only to discover the Pelicans did not red the tourist brochure and obviously found a better spot to spend their time.

We had better luck with ‘Number 3’ taking a nice walk along the beach.  By itself this stretch of coast is lovely, but when compared to some of the amazing coastal scenery we have experienced, i didn’t even pull out my proper camera and left it to the iPhone to capture the moment.

Not being dishearten, ‘Number 4’ on the list, the Carnarvon Fascine/Foreshore.  This is actually a pretty, well kept foreshore so it was an ideal place for lunch.  At least I learnt a new word:

noun: fascine; plural noun: fascines: a bundle of rods or plastic pipes bound together, used in construction for filling in marshy ground and for strengthening the sides of embankments, ditches, or trenches.

We decided to give ‘Number 5’ a miss which was the plantations that line the river.  This area grows all manner of fruit and vegetables on the flat fertile river deltas.  The claim to fame is it provides 80 percent of the produce to Western Australia - which is not that many people really.

In hind sight we should have tried ‘Number 6’ the OTC Satellite and Space Museum.  They describe it as a “huge communication satellite dish dominating the skyline” but don’t think anything like the famous Dish in Parkes, but more like one you would see on top of a grey nomads caravan (ok may be I’m am being harsh and it is bigger than that). The dish was opened in 1966 but is now closed (a bit like 1 Mile Jetty).

And finally I should mention ‘Number 7’ the blowholes.  However these are technically not in Canarvon, but 75 km north.  As we didn’t really want to retrace our steps and go backwards we decided to leave this number off the list.

I won’t bore you with the last three but let’s just say we exhausted what we could do, or wanted to do.  With the exception of one compulsory activity.  And that is to go and watch the sun go down over the water.  While Carnarvon may not have the sights of other places we visited, it still has the same amazing setting sun that is worthy of any ‘Top Things To Do in Canarvon’ List.

Day 52: As West as it Gets

I have been to many different kinds of beaches in the past.  There is the talcum white sands of northern Queensland, the yellow sands of Sydney, the red rocks of the Dampier Peninsular.  But walking along this white beach there is the distinct crunch under the feet.  Looking down it is not sand or coral but millions of the same type of shell, the size of a pea.  These tiny Fragum Cockle shells have accumulated over thousands of years forming a beach stretching into the distance.

Shell Beach is a unique quirk of nature. The bay is twice as salty as sea water due to a bed of sea grasses offshore which allows water to flow in, but not out of the bay.  Over time the salt concentrates due to evaporation. While this means very little can survive in the bay giving it its clear waters, the Fragum Cockle thrives.

We are heading to the most westerly point for our trip to a place called Shark Bay, also known as Gathaaguda to the Malgana aboriginal people. We have already been spoilt visiting two World Heritage Sites at Ningaloo and Purnululu, but Shark Bay joins this very elite group.  It’s 2.2 million hectares of natural beauty where crystal clear ocean waters joins fire red geological formations with rich marine and terrestrial biodiversity only found in this area.

On the way, we stopped in to Hamelin Pool where stromatolites are found.  These prehistoric microscopic organisms, the earliest forms of life on earth, concentrate together to form concentric underwater domes.  Unfortunately a cyclone in 2021 destroyed the viewing platform.  We can only hope they are quicker at repairing this than 1 Mile Jetty.

While we may not have been able to see the stromatolites, we were given a wildflower display with thousands of yellow pom-poms interspersed with purple pea flowers lining both sides of the road into Shark Bay.

While I may have been a little unfair on Canarvon (see day 51), it is hard to not consider it being the ugly middle child stuck between two beautiful siblings.  The town of Denham, the most westerly settlement of Australia, had amazing views, good facilities and yet still retained its seaside charm.

We could easily spend weeks here exploring the bays, beaches and nooks and crannies but unfortunately we don’t have such luxury, so we make our way to Francois Peron National Park for the next 2 nights.

While this is the most westerly point we will reach, unfortunately time does not allow us to get to Steep Point, the most westerly point of mainland Australia.  But that is the great thing about this country.  There is always a reason to come back.


Day 53: The 12 sights of Francois Peron

“On the 12th sighting at Francois Peron, it brought to me,

  • 12 pelicans fishing

  • 11 different wildflowers blooming

  • 10 dolphins cruising

  • 9 black and white fairy-wrens flying

  • 8 sharks swimming

  • 7 spotted eagle rays flapping

  • 600 gulls a squawking

  • 500 Pied cormorants resting

  • 4 emus a walking

  • 3 kayakers paddling

  • 2 drones buzzing

  • And 1 Gidget Skink scaring Kathy thinking it was a brown snake.


Today we ventured out to explore Francois Peron National Park and the wonders it protects. Francois Peron was a naturalist who explored much of this region in the early 1800s.

Leaving camp for our own natural exploration, it is not long before the narrow sandy track turns soft enough to require the 4WD and a bit of momentum to prevent us getting stuck.  The advantage of having a more difficult track is that it dissuades many people from venturing this far but the rewards are well worth it.

Travelling through the sand hills, the roller coaster motion starts to make you think if you should have taken ‘quells’ before leaving, but this is finally broken as we come out onto the hard packed clay pans.  Luckily for us there has not been any rain as this could be a very sticky situation guaranteed to bog any car.

Eventually we make the very tip of Cape Peron, and the need to overcome the motion sickness has us take less bumpy walk along the cliffs to Skipjack Point.  At every turn along the trail a vista of sunburnt red cliffs, white sands and multi hues of blue ocean greet the eye. Looking more closely a profusion of flowering native plants adds to the scenery, their subtle and delicate flowers contrasting the red sands. Shark Bay has over 820 plant species unique to the area due to the meeting of two botanical provinces at Shark Bay.

And while this biodiverse smorgasbord would make anyone happy, the desert at the end is always the best.  As we stand and look out from the cliff top of Skipjack Point we are greeted with pods of dolphins, sharks and rays cruising below us.

While the plan was to go snorkelling at a place called Gregories, either the colder water or thoughts of the sharks we had seen earlier, meant that we opted for a walk along the beach instead.  Making our way back to camp we stopped in at the old station.  This areas was once a sheep station from the 1800s up to 1991, and was only designated a National Park in 1993.  Walking through the old shearing shed and shearer’s quarters, the remnants of life on the land is still scattered through the buildings.

As the afternoon was slowly approaching we would normally head back for our activity of watching the sun go down.  However, today it seems for once the clouds put a stop to this. Luckily, the sheep station provided the perfect alternative. Stepping into the outdoor hot tub the initial rush of heat is enough for you,to look around for the cold tap.  But in this hot tub the only tap is that of the bore water that is pumped up from 540 metres below the surface providing a 40 degree soaking perfect to wash off the sand from the day.  Sitting in the tub with a drink in hand may not be the same as watching the sun go down however it’s not a bad way to finish the day.  As the French say - “beaticimo”.


Day 54: No monkeys here

I had several trepidation’s coming here.  The thought of an animal tourist show with crowds fighting for a view were in the back of my mind. But these fears were quickly erased as I stand on the shore looking out into the bay at Monkey Mia.  As many know, this place is unique for wild dolphins coming ashore to be hand fed.  While in the past this was a general free for all with anyone feeding the dolphins, it has become a more carefully managed activity.

Watching on 2 dolphins arrive, half interested in what may be on the menu, but equally happy diving for wild fish. Not wanting to disappoint the crowd, they eventually decide to come and take a small fish from one of the handlers.

Dolphins are offered about 10 per cent of their fish dietary requirements to ensure they do not become dependent on the program and continue to maintain their natural foraging behaviours. Despite this, this is still some concern over the long term impact.

While it was exciting to see these placid creatures up close, we wanted to experience seeing them out in the bay.  Even more hopeful, we wanted to get a glimpse of a dugong.  Boarding the boat, the flat glassy waters make it easy to see anything break the water surface and it is not long before our first dolphins cruises past searching for fish.  Soon after several others appear until we have at least 7 swimming beside the boat, two of them the cutest of  juveniles.  Like little kids playing, they role and weave in an out of the older ones still appearing to learn how to master their flippers.

While the dolphins are exciting, we are also on the hunt for dugongs.  I should not use the term hunt as these creatures were almost hunted to extinction for their fat. It is also hard to see how they were mistaken for mermaids, their large snout looking more like a walrus than a female.  The sailors must have either been drunk on rum or spent far too long at sea.

Fortunately, Shark Bay is home to almost 10% of the world population, so it is not long before one is spotted.  While the dolphins are inquisitive creatures and willing to put on a show, the dugongs are more illusive. You have to be very quick to catch a glimpse as they rise up from feeding on the sea grasses to take a breath before quickly descending again.  Most of the time all you see is the hump like a miniature whale surfacing.

With the cruise over, we squeezed in one more activity with a kayak on the bay.  With the water being like one big bathtub it was ideal for paddling the afternoon away.  And while we didn’t manage to see any more dugongs or dolphins, 4 large rays cruised within arms reach of the kayaks, like flying birds underwater.

With our share of wildlife spotting over, we opted for dinner and drinks at the ‘Monkey Bar’ as this was Kathy’s last day before flying out of Geraldton tomorrow.  And while we did not manage to see any monkeys today, the experience of seeing dolphins, dugongs and rays was equally memorable.

Kimberley Calling Part 5: Port Hedland to Canarvon

Day 43: what’s a skimpy?

Rather than leaving you all is suspense I can start day 43, and part 5 of our adventure with the news that we are not in Broome. With fingers, toes and arms crossed the car started again this morning so it confirms that we have a very temperamental starter motor. Not willing to test fate we drove the 600km to Port Hedland without switching the engine off.

While we have had our fair share of challenges on this trip, we just happen to be listening to a Podcast today by a travelling family (Why not now) and their misfortunes.  This includes being stuck in Kununurra for over a week as a result of their car breaking down following the water crossing at El Questro Gorge - yes the same crossing that likely got both Graeme and my starter motor. It seems this crossing has many notches to its name.  But they had further challenges with multiple sick children and adults meaning they were not able to visit Purnululu, the Gibb, Tunnel Creek or much of Broome. Sometimes you have to be grateful no matter the circumstances.

Arriving at Port Hedland the first thing you notice is this is no tourist town (as we will later find out). The 4WDs are not loaded with camping gear and spares tires on the roof but have bright yellow stickers and large red flags - a clear sign these are from the mines.  While we will explore more tomorrow, we only had time to find a place for dinner and a quick drink.

Leaving this important choice to Kathy, we end up at the Pier Hotel.  Walking in the front door I immediately knew she has chosen an ‘interesting’ place with, what I learn later is a ‘skimpy’, serving the miners drinks.  Now I will leave this largely to your imagination as this is a family post, but let’s just say it involved a young lady wearing only very high black boots and enough red lace to cover all but the important bits. Reluctantly (not really) we decided to still have a drink and something to eat.

Having ordered the drinks (pints only in this place) I thought I would look up Trip Advisor for some feedback and these were the titles of the reviews:

  • “Seedy horrible place”

  • “Grumpy rude bar staff”

  • “Nasty”

  • “Disgusting place”

  • And the best of all - “shitpit”

I think these are overly harsh, and while the pizzas were not the best or worst I have ever had, there is no doubt we experienced the real Port Hedland that is definitely not on the tourist circuit.

Back at the caravan park there is a sense of relief as we are booked in tomorrow to finally get the trailer suspension fixed (for those that haven’t read the Gibb River Road stories let’s just say my trailer suspension only survived due to straps and good luck) and a new starter motor installed.  With all things going well we will be back on the road tomorrow.

Day 44: Everything is big

Big pies, big beers, big tides, big ships, big piles of salt, big roads, big trucks and big tips (and no I am not referring to the skimpies breasts from last night).  Everything in Port Hedland is BIG. Driving past the hire place was nothing like you see at Kennards with trucks the size of a house for hire. The prices are equally big with hotels rooms what you would expect to see in Sydney CBD and the price of a basic pub meal enough to empty your wallet.

With the car and trailer in getting repaired, we jump into Graeme’s car and create our own tourist circuit of this big place. First stop we head out to the port to watch the mega ships (they are bigger than big) come and go.  Standing on the shore line, the first thing you notice is the narrow channel is barely as wide as the ship itself.  On the horizon you can make out at least 20 ships, but behind them is likely to be another 40, all waiting to come and unload.

Port Hedland is the money funnel of this nation.  Every day there are more than 60 ships departing the port each with over $20 million dollars in iron ore. The numbers are so big it is hard to grasp but here we go:

  • BHP alone produces 280 million tonnes of iron ore per year enough to make steel for 3,300 harbour bridges

  • the other two mining companies, Fortescue and Roy Hill are making it rich of Australians natural resource - well making some individuals rich - yes I’m talking about you Gina and Twiggy!

  • the trucks that drive in the mines each carry 360 tonnes per load and are remotely controlled 1600km away in Perth

  • trains that cart the ore from the mine are 2.9 km long with more than 260 carriages holding more than 30,000 tonnes

  • This means every hour there is one of these trains unloading for 365 days of the year

With these numbers causing our brains to fog over, unlike Graeme’s, who loves doing the maths, we decide to go and get a pinch of salt.  Well a bit more than a pinch as we look out over the mountains of salt higher than a 20 storey building.  The salt mine produces more than 10 million tonnes of salt per year, and I won’t even guess how many salt shakers that would fill.

While we could continue to explore the big things in the town, the biggest issue we had was the uncertainty around the trailer so we head to a shady park and wait for the call. After an hour the phone rings and the news is not good.  “Not only are your bushes stuffed but you have 2 broken springs.  We are trying to see if we can get a replacement and will call you back”

Like an expecting father, I am waiting by the phone to see what the answer is. Another hour passes and no news.  Kathy starts to go into plan mode but for once I go into denial. What we do agree is Karijini national park is going to have to be dropped from the itinerary irrespective of the outcome.  While part of me is disappointed, it just gives me a reason to come back here one day.

Ring ring……”is that Mr Carey……your car and trailer are good to go!”

The wave of relief washes over me.  I have managed to nurse both the car and damaged trailer through some of the most remote and roughest of tracks in the country.

So with new enthusiasm we set out a new plan.  Overnight at a coastal beach camp called Cleaverville, then on to Karratha for Kathy to visit the street she once lived in (although she has no memory), a visit of Red Dog statue at Dampier and then on to Cape Range and our original itinerary.

While we have had some challenges, we have turned a set back into a new exciting, BIG adventure.


Day 45: Roaming like Red Dog

We are slowly driving along a small suburban street on the outskirts of Karratha.  This is definitely not on TripAdvisor, and the fact that the street name, Hancock Way, is similar the Kathy’s last name Hancox, is not the reason we are here.  It is the fact that somewhere along this road is the house Kathy spent her early years around age 5.  Pulling up to an unassuming single level brick house, it is not hard to imaging it back in 1972 when her parents moved here, working for Hamersley Iron Ore. By coincidence it is on the market but I don’t think I could convince her to move back again.

Dampier was constructed in 1965 as a port and processing centre for Hamersley Iron Ore, with Karratha not many years later, when the family moved here. There is no doubt the town would have changed as it is now a well kept, clean bustling place.

While we were passing through, it also gave us an opportunity to visit a more well known landmark.  Well not really a landmark but a statue to someone famous.  Well not someone but a dog. Red Dog to be precise.  This would have to be one of my favourite movies.

For those that don’t know, it is based on a cattle dog that roamed the Hamersley Iron Transport section in Dampier. He formed a bond with John Stazzonelli, a local bus driver until John died in a traffic accident. Red Dog, or “the Pilbara Wanderer” as he was also known, then wandered the red dusty mining towns befriending many along the way but never stopping long enough to get attached.  In the end Red Dog died of bait poisoning, enough to make the entire family cry during the movie.

The fact that Red Dog roamed Karratha at the same time Kathy and the family lived here made it a special pilgrimage that we had never planned to do.

But this area also had several other surprises that we were not expecting. This included a stop at a mountain of rocks that looked like many of the discarded rock piles from the mines.  But this is not mad made, rather a unique natural rock pile called Murujuga.  The traditional ancestors of the Ngarda-Ngarlic people recognised the beauty of this place with remnance of its significance left behind with thousands of engravings on the rock faces.

We could continue to roam this part of the Pilbara, but like Red Dog, we needed to keep moving. Eventually, as the sun was dropping below the horizon, we found a bush camp at a Station called Gilaria.

On this trip I have had some interesting showers, such as the open air shower under the Boab tree at Ellenbrae.  But the bathroom at Giralia would have to be close to the top of the list with the bathroom located in an old shearing shed.

There is still the wool rack and manual sheering wheels, and the smell of sheep in the air. Standing under the water, the floor is still the original open timber slats, once used to allow the sheep dropping to fall through, now allowing water to fall directly under the shed.  But this is not a shower for you if modesty is an issue. One side of the shower, almost the full length of a room, is completely open to the outside with nothing but a cool breeze in between you and the expansive outback.

But again, like Red Dog, we are just here for one night.  Tomorrow we move on again looking for John…..Or Cape Range National Park if we find this first.


Day 46: OMG there’s fish here!

“OH my God there’s fish here!“. These are the first words Kathy blurts out, with little luck, through her snorkel only a matter of seconds after she steps off the shore and into the water.  Surrounding us are literally hundreds of fish of every colour in the rainbow.

Like being submerged in a fish tank, we are surrounded by corrals, with small blue damsels and yellow angel fish darting amongst the fronds.  Sunlight rays shine through the clear water, like spotlights lighting up the reef floor. School of convict surgeonfish, their black stripes and yellow scales shimmer in the light as they move from rock to rock foraging on the algae. Multicoloured surgeon fish dive in and out chewing the hard corals, with all manner of small fish following picking up the scraps. A myriad of of other fish are everywhere, causing you to constantly turn your head left and right, up and down, to the point you don’t know where to look.

We are at a place called Oyster Stacks in Cape Range National Park, part of the Ningaloo Coast World Heritage Area. The Ningaloo Coast WHA covers over 6000km2 and stretches 300km along the coast.  This unique section of the reef where we are snorkelling is narrow and has several large stacks rising out of the sea bed.  Both of these conditions creates a concentration of marine life better than any aquarium.

I have been fortunate enough to dive on the Great Barrier Reef, however the term ‘Barrier Reef’ has only just made sense to me having just entered a ‘Fringe reef’.  Rather than needing to take a boat ride out to the barrier, here you literally take a step off the shore and you are in the heart of the reef.  While both are equally special, there is no doubt this wins for convenience.

The water was the warmest we have experienced this whole trip and we could have stayed in much longer, however we have 2 more full days to get to know the fish better. So reluctantly, returning to dry land we make our way to our beach camp at Kurrajong for the next three nights.

While we have specifically come here to experience the wonders under the water, Cape Range National Park is more than just breathtaking reefs. Earlier in the morning we drove into the mountain range that overlooks both the Indian Ocean and Exmouth Gulf.  The road slowly winds up the range, then follows the ridge line with two vertical canyons dropping off each side to the valley floor below.  On the right side, Charles Knife Canyon is reminiscent of a smaller version of the Grand Canyon in the USA. The difference is, looking out beyond the Canyon, the blue waters of the Exmouth Gulf hugs the horizon.  On the other side of the road, Shothole Canyon with it’s dry river bed snaking between shear cliffs, is equally as impressive.

Having set up camp we decide to do something we have not done before. We prepare nibblies and drinks and head off to watch the sun go down.  Now I have been told we can’t tell Karen what happened next so if you are reading this, stop now.

As the sun hovers just above the horizon painting everything a golden hue, multiple sprays of water appear just beyond the reef break. Over the next hour we watch more than 20 Humpback Whales breach, splash and cruise past on their annual migration between the feeding grounds of Antartica and the calving grounds on the Kimberley coast.

The last thing I hear Kathy say is “OMG look at that whale breach”.  A fitting finale to an amazing day.

Day 47: Turquoise and Turtles

As I float on the surface of the water, just below me the wise old man of the sea drifts along in total ignorance to my awe watching him. His large shell mottled and appearing to be made up of multiple hexagonal pieces gives an indication of his age.  His flippers and face are covered with smaller hexagons and he has the cutest dark eyes looking back at me.  Then with the most effortless flap of his flipper the Majun, or sea turtle, disappears of into the blue water continuing his search for food.

We are at Turquoise Bay spending the day drifting amongst the corals, floating amongst the schools of fish and searching the crevices for ‘Nemo’. It is a big call to name a bay after such a vivid blue colour but this exceeds expectations. As the bright white sand drops below the water edge the water begins as a pale blue.  But as the water gets deeper, so does the intensity the blue making it difficult for any painter to capture its hue.  This picture postcard bay is one of many snorkelling spots we are exploring in our time in Cape Range National Park.

But like yesterday, the morning started with a visit inland at Mandu Mandu Gorge. The walking track follows the dry river bed, it’s white fist size pebbles crunching under our feet as we head up the gorge. Walking along the river bed, it is hard to keep your eyes down so you don’t twist an ankle, or worse step on any snakes sunning themselves, while also looking up on the canyon wall searching for the illusive Black flanked wallaby.

The track then takes a diversion heading directly up the side of the rocky wall until we are standing like the king of the castle looking out over the canyon with the reef in the distance.

Now I know I have mentioned multiple times our daily ritual to finish the day with drinks and a sunset.  But for the first time in over 6 weeks the sun has decided she will not be making an appearance. Instead, Mother Nature put on a different light show with dark storm clouds and rain rolling past out over the water replacing turquoise with shades of gray and steel blue.  I know those of you in the southern states are so over the rain, but for us it was a nice diversion and another great way to finish the day.

Day 48: Moving Rocks

We have all heard the term ‘Reef and Beef’ to describe the joining of seafood and meat in a meal.  Well we had a fulsome meal today of ‘Reefs and Rocks’.  The morning started with a drive to Yardie Creek and Gorge, the only permanent creek flowing in the National Park.

Taking the short walk following the gorge it is not long before a movement captures my eye.  A small gray, round shaped rock about the size of a basket ball is moving. Then two ears and a very long tail appear to grow out of the rock.  As the eyes adjust, the brain is still trying to convince me it’s a rock, but slowly a shape of a wallaby finally appears. Then another rock moves, and another.  In total a family of at least 9 of these cute friends kept us entertained as they pruned, fought and hopped from rock to rock.

It is incredible how the Black Flanked Wallaby blends so well into the background.  If it was not for their movement you would be hard pressed to notice them. Unfortunately it is not enough to stop foxes and cats killing them, leaving them on the threatened species list.

From here we make our way to Lakeside beach for another snorkel.  Again a myriad of fish and corals overloads the senses.  Swimming over one of the large ‘bommies’ I notice another rock move.  It can’t be a wallaby under water.  Again the brain gets confused as the rock begins to change colour, going from a mottled pattern to deep red.  Then 2 large eyes appears to grow out of the rock.  As my own eyes adjust, I realise that it is not a wallaby but an octopus who has mastered the art of camouflage. His large suckers and tentacles pulsating with different colours as a sign that I am too close, then reverting to a copy of the surrounding rock.

With the snorkelling almost done, I don’t think it can get much better, until a turtle the size of a large flat rock drift’s by me on his relentless search for food.  Lucky for me this rock didn’t confuse the brain.

I feel very fortunate to be able to experience Cape Range National Park. Waking up at 2 am to book online, knowing that the competition is so fierce the camp sites book out literally in seconds, was well worth it.



Day 49: A Roller Coaster Ride

We have spent 4 hours travelling south from where we first got on the 60 foot catamaran called the Windcheetah. We are motoring parallel to the outer Ningaloo reef enjoying multiple whales surfacing and swimming along the coast.  But we don’t stop or linger for these majestic beasts as this is not what we have come to see.

The mood of the 20 (minus 1) on board is a little anxious as many of us have travelled a long way for this moment.  But as we clock over the 5th hour there is all of a sudden activity by the boat crew. The spotter plane radios the captain - “we have a sighting”.  The word get around the boat as flippers are extracted from their bags, wetsuits are done up and snorkels are cleaned.

The anxious mood is replaced with anticipation as we are all ushered to the rear of the boat with clear instructions to wait for signal. Then we hear the call - “GO, GO GO!”

With this, we all jump into the water following our guides instructions to get in a line and look ahead - not down.  At first, all I can see is the bottomless deep blue ocean but then a shadow appears.  As it gets closer, the sun rays light up the sleek, mottled and spotted whale shark.

While we saw lots of whales today this was the real whale we came to see.  But actually it is not related to whales, but a true shark.  As the whale shark comes up to us we are then given the instruction  - “swim, swim, swim hard!”  It is at this point, excitement and over enthusiasm takes over as we all madly try to keep up with the whale shark. There are flippers kicking, arm’s flailing, cameras clicking, and people frantically trying to keep pace.

Within a minute he has effortlessly out-swims us leaving the group exhausted but excited, with Adrenalin still rushing through the blood, like the end of a roller coaster ride.

But the ride is not over yet.  We all quickly re-board the boat and it motors ahead ready for our next pass. Jumping in for the next swim, we are all more calm. It seems the whale shark has sensed this, as he cruises just below the surface allowing these strange humans to follow like sucker fish ready to clean. Swimming next to this 6 metre beast, it dwarfs the swimmers around it. But this is only a small one with a fully grown adult reaching up to 20 metres long.

At one point he turns towards me, exposing it’s huge front end loader of a mouth full of small teeth for filter feeding plankton and krill.  We were all told ‘rule number 2’ is to not get forward of their pectoral fin but he has different ideas. But as quick as he turned, with a twist of the body I am already at the real tail watching him snake his way out into the bottomless blue water.

With one more swim, I put the camera down and just enjoy the moment, capturing this to my memory rather than just a digital file.

While we didn’t beat the record for seeing the largest whale shark we did break the record for travelling the furthest south by this tour operator.  This meant we had the added bonus of a sunset cruise.  With Champaign in hand and watching the sun set (yes another one) this was a bucket list experience that will last forever.

Finally pulling back into dock well after dark we are farewelled with one more surprise. At the rear of the boat where we jumped into the water hours earlier, 5 lemon sharks, attracted to the boat lights, swim back and forth. While supposedly harmless, I am glad I didn’t see these on our swim.

The night was not over as we had a long drive to get to Coral Bay and our campsite for the next three nights. After 11 hours on the water the idea of a long hot shower was keeping me awake on the drive.

But like much of our trip, not all plans come off perfect.  Just as I pull into the Coral Bay Caravan Park at 10pm Kathy helpfully says - “I think I have booked Coral Coast Tourist Park  - in CANARVON” ! [another three hours down the coast] - “Bay - Coast  - they mean the same thing……?.”

So with the thought of a hot shower disintegrated, the best we could do was drive 40min out of town to a free road side stop and set up camp for the night.

Today’s experience was much like a roller coaster ride with the long wait, a few minutes of adrenaline fuelled excitement, following by the release of endorphins at the end. And while the hot shower may not have happened this was still the best ride of my life.


Day 50: Two sides of Coral Bay

The majority of the time when I summarise the days adventure I try to capture not just what we did, but the feelings and emotions of the day.  Today I want to start with a news article from 2 April 2022:

Photographs show sections of the reef turning white this week as WA battles high temperatures. Coral bleaching happens when the water is too warm, causing the coral to turn white as the nutrients inside them are expelled, leaving them vulnerable to disease and starvation.

Successive coral bleaching events will eventually see a reef die off as it takes a decade for the fastest of corals to recover. Scientists warn coral bleaching events will become more common as global warming intensifies, killing off coral reefs which will have run-on effects for the creatures living in the habitat, and local tourism industries.

Rising sea temperatures made worse by climate change are threatening many of Australia’s underwater ecosystems, including reefs on the west and east coasts, and underwater seaweed forests off the coast of Tasmania.



Snorkelling over a section of the reef at Coral Bay it reminds me of a ghost town but underwater.  Scanning the water the once beautiful coral stands lifeless, their bright colours replaced with white and brown.  On the sand is the crumbled fragments, like discarded bones, as the constant wave action breaks the dead reef down.  What was once a profusion of anemones, sponges, crabs, sea urchins, and fish of all shapes, colours and sizes is now all but gone.  The only movement are some of the remaining fish, seemingly lost or farlorn, swimming amongst the dead fronds.

While Coral Bay itself is beautiful, with white sands and multi shades of blue water, it is what lies under the water that is a reminder that not all places are what they are made out to be.  While I am not saying this specific section of the reef died due to Climate Change, as there are other reasons such as storms and oxygen depletion, it is a stark visual image of what Climate Change is doing more broadly to our reefs.

While our plans to spend three nights here did not go exactly to plan (see day 49), I think this was a subtle sign that we had seen the best of Ningaloo at Cape Range National Park and it was time to keep moving south.

Reaching Carnarvon, and the ‘Coral Coast’ (not Coral Bay) Caravan Park I finally got my hot shower.  And it was even more welcome having crossed the Tropic of Capricorn, with the temperature dropping several degrees - a taste of things to come.



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