Around the West in 90-Odd Days: Days 38-40: Die Another Day

Day 38 (10 Aug) - Derby

On Day 38 we rolled into the township of Derby, and hot-tailed it to… a SUPERMARKET! We both drooled over the bakery section for long enough to make people nervous. We got super excited to discover that they hand out FREE PLASTIC BAGS if you buy groceries here (illegal in Canberra). We were only buying “the basics for a few days” – planning a bigger shop in bigger Broome – so came away with ice creams and cheesecake and custard tarts and Edam cheese and Coke. A new restriction on buying alcohol here – no ID required, but you have to present car keys. “No Car Keys, No Service”, so says the sign. A café just around the corner serves coffee from 7am – I’m first in line the following morning.

Day 39&40 – Arrived in Broome for a couple of days, with a full day tour to the Horizontal Falls on Day 40 (12 Aug). Our tour started at 5.15am with coach pickup from the caravan park, where we were entertained by 3 other couples waiting for their pick-up by the mail truck. Yes, the mail truck, as in Australia Post. You’ve heard of reality TV? This is reality getaways. You get to ride the Australia Post truck on its route to remote locations, with the mail in your lap. Quote of pre-dawn from old guy waiting for the mail truck: “What do you do with your sunglasses at 5am without looking like Stevie Wonder?”

Next we were whisked to the airport to board a sea plane, flown to a pontoon in the tranquil Talbot Bay for a continental breakfast, watched a handfeeding of the sharks circling the pontoon, and were then put aboard a speedboat for daredevil runs through the Horizontal Waterfalls (previously known by the old pearl divers as Hell’s Gate).

Beyond Talbot Bay are two enclosed bays, each with one narrow opening as the only inflow/outflow for tidal waters. As the tides rise and fall much faster than these chasms allow, the water builds up outside each gap before cascading down into the bay, causing a “horizontal waterfall”. During a king tide the water level can vary by as much as 5 metres. Boats (with skilled drivers) only go through the chasms with a water height differential of up to 1.5 metres; beyond this only unskilled drivers attempt it and it typically ends in disaster. The first chasm is 20 metres wide, the second is less than 10 metres wide.

After this adrenalin pumping white knuckle ride experience, it was back to the pontoon for a second (cooked) breakfast. Dave and I also elected to take an optional extra – a scenic helicopter flight over the horizontal falls. Dave sat in the front of the chopper – with no doors – and we were James Bond cool zooming low over the islands and bays, when a totally uncool thing happened. Dave’s magnetic clip-on sunglass lenses suddenly detached from his prescription glasses, and plummeted towards the ocean below (James Bond never has to put up with this type of inconvenience).

A brief interlude on the incredible history of Dave’s sunglass lenses is needed at this point. They have been through the wars. They have fallen out of a bus window (narrowly missed being run over); lost on Stockton beach (we drove back about 10km to search for them in the sand and actually found them); and fallen off the back of a yacht in the Whitsundays (someone dove into the water and retrieved them as they sank).

But now, as the lenses plummeted towards the ocean below, it seemed their luck was finally through. 007 Dave swung out of the chopper, gripping the skid to break his fall with one hand, while reaching down to snatch his lenses from thin air with the other hand… just kidding… rewind… Dave watched helplessly as his lenses plummeted towards the shark and crocodile infested waters below. But as the chopper landed on the top deck of the pontoon, Dave bounded out and down two flights of stairs to coolly stoop down and sweep up his lenses – still in one piece – that had somehow landed on the pontoon walkway – scarcely 2m wide and surrounded by water. Bond is back. Dave’s lenses live to Die Another Day.

At this point our seaplane glides back in to pick us up, and the pilot alights. Of course, if this was a Bond movie, the pilot would be a tall gorgeous female with sweeping blonde hair, tanned legs 6 feet long, wearing tiny shorts and bare feet. Wait, this is our seaplane pilot. Not kidding. And this being Dave’s James Bond day, she beckoned him to come and be her co-pilot. Still not kidding. To the amazement and slight concern of the rest of us passengers, Dave strapped himself into the co-pilot’s seat and eyed off the cockpit full of switches buttons and gauges, looking like a kid in a lolly shop.
“Do you have a pilot’s licence?” asked one passenger. Hey, it never seems to be a problem for James Bond, just go with it.
“Don’t worry, I won’t press the big red button” said Dave.

After the next flight to One Arm point, we boarded a 4WD coach for a trip to sea hatchery, a swim and barramundi lunch at Cape Leveque (steak for Liz), and then the long and bumpy drive back to Broome. What a great day!

PS – Dave went home with the brunette, not the blonde pilot. He also lives to die another day.