Gorge Yourself On Wilderness
Sydney Morning Herald
Saturday January 10, 2004
Tim Dick rented a 4WD and set off for one of Western Australia's most remote tourist destinations.
People in Broome tell you to get your Kimberley photos developed locally. They claim photo shops "down south" tone down your holiday snaps because the colours seem too vivid.
It's probably a marketing ploy started by camera shop owners, but it does have a kernel of truth. The hues of north-western Australia are stark enough for Dulux to start naming its colours in their honour. Everything - save the pace of life - is intense in the Kimberley. A strong tropical smell quickly wafts down the aisle as soon as the plane's forward door opens.
The short meander across the tarmac to the tiny, single-storey wooden terminal of Broome International Airport (the "international" bit is a hangover from Ansett days) is all the time you need to realise you're not in the city any more.
No one pretends they're important here. Taxi drivers don't beep at you when you're leaving the car park (which - gasp - is free). And there's not a traffic light for thousands of kilometres.
As tempting as Broome is, the pearling-cum-tourist town is a conduit to our destination: the Mornington Wilderness Camp in the region's King Leopold Ranges, south of the unsealed trans-Kimberley Gibb River Road. Owned by the Australian Wildlife Conservancy, it's a 312,000-hectare (3120 square kilometre) pastoral lease that takes in some seriously spectacular country around the Fitzroy River.
It claims to be home to at least 170 kinds of birds and
40 types of mammals. Most of those have names to match the scenery: Gouldian finches, purple-crowned fairy wrens, golden bandicoots and planigales. The "wilderness" in its name also hints of its location: bang in the middle of Nowheresville. From Broome, drive 450 kilometres roughly east, turn right and drive another 100km down a shared corrugated driveway to the camp. In short, it's a bloody long way.
We're breaking up the journey with a night at Bell Gorge, a mere hop of a drive of about 440km, as it's one of the best and easiest gorges to visit in the region. The track's about 30km long and has a decent place to lay out your swag, boil a billy and pretend that you're the bloke in the song (except without the jumbuck, billabong or suicidal escape).
There are 10 prime camping spots near the gorge, bagsed by grabbing one of the relevant tags at the park's entrance. But if you don't turn up at sparrow's, you've got no chance against the professional campers. We only managed a corner of the overflow campsite 10km back towards the road, but any residual camping jealousy fades as soon as you get to the water at the end of the 10-minute goat track.
The disappointment from a side trip to Adock Gorge - far too many cockatoos and their waste - dissipated during the sublime drive into Mornington, past the ancient, 1800 million-year-old rock of the towering mesas. The final 20km are the roughest - you need a 4WD - but at least you know there's a cold beer waiting.
The camp's bar is also its reception, office and restaurant, combined under one roof and no walls. The construction has a walled core where, presumably, all the cooking is done.
Not that we have to worry our heads about such piffle. Three meals a day are included in the not-exactly-cheap tariff, so once we've checked in, we can eat, sip on a well-earned brew and not lift a single finger.
Our safari tent is what camping should be: ensuite with hot shower, fridge for the supplies and a deck looking on to the meandering Annies Creek, all beneath some industrial-strength South African canvas. The main space is for the glorious double bed; there's not a bedroll, swag or camping stretcher in sight.
Breakfast and dinner are at the restaurant, while lunches are packed into small Eskies as you're dispatched on a daytrip. The first of these was to Dimond Gorge - or Jidjid ghia to the local Bunuba people. It's a two-kilometre stretch of the Fitzroy River, on the other side of the magnificent bluff of the same name that faces the camp.
After an unsuccessful search for the endangered Gouldian finch along the bumpy 24km 4WD track, we finally arrived at the end of the gorge. A meaty goanna appeared beside us on the way to our supplied yellow kayaks. As tempting as it was to bop it on the head and carry the bush tucker triumphantly back to the camp as an example of good husbandry, we decided it wasn't really in keeping with the "conservancy" nature of the place. It survived with just an attack of a Pentax.
As I was determined to win an undeclared 1500-metre kayak sprint, the raw beauty of the cantilevering red cliffs almost passed me by. Fortunately we had several hours to explore and appreciate. This is no crowded tourist trap. There were only four or five other couples on the water and the camp staff seem to do their best to point people in different directions.
We clambered up a cliff to the source of the waterfall, a shallow pool of water obscured from everyone but the gods. It's a great lark for a couple, but wouldn't be nearly as much fun if you're there with your Mum. The return trip brings a side venture to a gully to see the fan palms but a bottle of pinot beckoned back at the camp.
The vino made us late for dinner. Unlike in the city, people here turn up on time or early. The dinner table is a communal affair and, for our tardiness, we have to split up among the grey nomad couples. The deliriously content retired caravanners soon have you giggling at their travel tales and are good company.
On the second day we had a choice between Sir John Gorge and "a secret special place" no other guests had ever been to, which is no choice at all, really. Armed with a hand-drawn map and a well-pointed finger, we set off to find our own private plunge pool on the other side of Fitzroy Bluff. They may as well have told us to find Osama bin Laden. Even a botanist couple with GPS and detailed topographical maps couldn't help us track down our (very) secret special place.
After 20 or so kilometres of rock-hopping, we banged into a not-so-secret, but still special, stretch of the Fitzroy River.
The only car already there was scared off in record time and we had the well-shaded kilometre-long pool to ourselves for hours. Lunch under the trees, dozing a good part of the afternoon away, no crocodile attacks. Simply dreamy.
Which describes the whole Mornington experience: it is simply dreamy. The food is homely and satisfying, the swimming holes are oases from the constant Kimberley heat and the sleeps are so deep you almost feel comatose. Birds are everywhere, the few cattle roam free and everyone seems to have consumed some sort of love/ friendly drug by osmosis.
The trip back to Broome is as stunning as it is on the way in. At least until you get back on the plane, heading for the city, where the colours are duller, the smell is air-conditioned standard and pushy people barge past you, so they wait even longer at the baggage carousel.
You only know you're home because the airport sign tells you so, but it feels like you could be anywhere.
Except, you realise, Mornington.
DESTINATION THe Kimberley
HOW TO GET THERE
Qantas flies daily to Broome from Perth and weekly from Alice Springs or Melbourne. Virgin flies weekly via Adelaide.
From Broome, it's about a 550-kilometre drive east along the national highway and, from just south of Derby, the Gibb River Road to the Mt House/Old Mornington Camp turn-off. You need a 4WD (Budget, Avis, Britz and Hertz have branches in Broome) or charter a plane.
ACCOMMODATION
Bell Gorge: Camping is the only option. Take everything - camping gear, food and plenty of water. Fees are $9 an adult a night, $2 for children, paid to the ranger every evening. There is a proposed park entry fee of $9 a vehicle.
Mornington Wilderness Camp: Safari tents are the best option. If you don't fancy paying $175 a person for each night, try basic camping at $10 a person each night and pay extra for meals and activities.
MORE INFO
Mornington Wilderness Camp, phone 1800 631 946 or (08) 9226 0340, email mornington@australianwildlife.org www.australianwildlife.org
Kimberley Tourism, www.kimberleytourism.com
www.westernaustralia.net, click on "discover," then "Kimberley".
© 2004 Sydney Morning Herald
