We wound our way through the last leg westwards on the Gibb, stopping off at Bell Gorge, Galvin's Gorge, Adcock Gorge, Lennard's Gorge, and finally Windjana Gorge. Yes, we completely gorged ourselves.
Bell Gorge was just beautiful, one of the favourite swimming holes along the way for many travellers. The last section of the walk is a steep uphill and then even steeper and rocky descent down to the pools. The pool base and surrounds are all solid rock. Given that the algae on the underwater rock is so slippery that entering the water is like stepping onto an ice skating rink, it can be a little hazardous. It is considered proper etiquette that returning swimmers on the walking track forewarn the oncoming swimmers, so we were prepared. This entails sitting or lying flat on the rock and sliding into the water like a crocodile. Getting out is even more interesting, trying to find a ledge or hand-hold somewhere on the rock to pull yourself up.
Once in, the water was glorious. Swimming across the gorge to the pounding waterfalls on the other side was exhilarating, as Dave discovered, looking down into the crystal clear waters at a log lying beneath him on the bottom of the pool.
"Wait ... that log has four legs... and a tail... I just swam over a crocodile...".
The reality, of course, is that nearly all the freshwater swimming holes here have freshwater crocodiles in them, and they are happy to share the water with you unless you actually disturb, eg tread on them. Rule number 1: Don't touch the bottom unless you can see the bottom - keep your feet up!
A few days before we had visited Surveyor's Pool (between Mitchell Falls and Port Warrender), where there was a warning not to swim in the main pool below the falls so as to not offend the 'ancestral serpents' bringing a curse on yourself and also due to the possible presence of estuarine crocodiles. Above the falls had completely dried up, but a beautiful pool surrounded by ferns lay below the falls, looking very tempting. As it was an isolated body of water we seriously doubted the presence of salty crocs, but not enough to bet our life on it (literally). Two families with a number of children wanting to swim were there with us, but they came to the same conclusion. A traveller told us two days later that he had visited the pool the day before, and seen a huge salty croc sunning himself on the surface right in the middle of Surveyor's Pool. We shuddered. Just for the record - we ALWAYS obey the swimming/no swimming signs.
I digress. Back to Bell Gorge. Dave swam over to another rock face and pulled himself out of the water. He decided it was an absolutely spectacular view from there, not available from anywhere else, and wanted to photograph it. Just one problem - he had sheer cliff face behind him and this view was only accessible via deep water. He swam back to his camera and mulled over the dilemma before him. How to get his camera across? The first half of the crossing was about waist-deep if traversing an underwater rock ledge (although remember that slippery algae). The last part of the crossing was very deep indeed. It was like trying to solve one of those high school maths problems - if an expensive camera is wrapped in a plastic bag and t-shirt and placed at the top of a backpack, how long will it take water to seep into the submerged backpack and reach the camera? Bonus points if you can determine how long it will take the camera to be irreversibly damaged.
I watched Dave weighing up the value of his camera against the overwhelming desire to get this particular photograph. It was killing him. He was committed. He couldn't just walk away. He would regret it for the rest of his life. Knowing I wouldn't be able to talk him out of it, I did some lateral thinking, and offered him my camera as the sacrificial lamb. If the camera didn't make it back alive, at least we'd lose a much less costly camera (and just quietly, I might get a new camera). He thought this was a superb idea, and that he had a very smart wife. I asked if at least my photos would survive on the memory card if the camera was destroyed. He assured me they would.
Dave set about packaging and wrapping my camera and placed it in the top compartment of his backpack. He slid and flailed across the first part of the river, almost going right under at one point as he slipped over on the algae. By this time we had an audience along the bank quite intrigued with Dave's mission. They watched him and then glanced at me to see how I was taking it (I must have looked very concerned). After some frantic paddling, Dave landed safely on the other bank, unwrapped the still perfectly dry camera and took his shots. Then came the frantic return trip, his audience all holding their breaths, seeing how far his backpack was becoming submerged in the water. In a happy ending, the camera is safe and still works, despite the backpack seeping through at the bottom. The all-important shot is below. Was it worth it?
Finally, Windjana Gorge, our last stop along the Gibb River Road! We took a meander through the beautiful Tunnel Creek on 9 Aug – a 750m long cave which requires a torch and much wading through water. We then spent the evening at Windjana gorge, where the water is teeming with freshwater crocodiles.
Bell Gorge was just beautiful, one of the favourite swimming holes along the way for many travellers. The last section of the walk is a steep uphill and then even steeper and rocky descent down to the pools. The pool base and surrounds are all solid rock. Given that the algae on the underwater rock is so slippery that entering the water is like stepping onto an ice skating rink, it can be a little hazardous. It is considered proper etiquette that returning swimmers on the walking track forewarn the oncoming swimmers, so we were prepared. This entails sitting or lying flat on the rock and sliding into the water like a crocodile. Getting out is even more interesting, trying to find a ledge or hand-hold somewhere on the rock to pull yourself up.
Once in, the water was glorious. Swimming across the gorge to the pounding waterfalls on the other side was exhilarating, as Dave discovered, looking down into the crystal clear waters at a log lying beneath him on the bottom of the pool.
"Wait ... that log has four legs... and a tail... I just swam over a crocodile...".
The reality, of course, is that nearly all the freshwater swimming holes here have freshwater crocodiles in them, and they are happy to share the water with you unless you actually disturb, eg tread on them. Rule number 1: Don't touch the bottom unless you can see the bottom - keep your feet up!
A few days before we had visited Surveyor's Pool (between Mitchell Falls and Port Warrender), where there was a warning not to swim in the main pool below the falls so as to not offend the 'ancestral serpents' bringing a curse on yourself and also due to the possible presence of estuarine crocodiles. Above the falls had completely dried up, but a beautiful pool surrounded by ferns lay below the falls, looking very tempting. As it was an isolated body of water we seriously doubted the presence of salty crocs, but not enough to bet our life on it (literally). Two families with a number of children wanting to swim were there with us, but they came to the same conclusion. A traveller told us two days later that he had visited the pool the day before, and seen a huge salty croc sunning himself on the surface right in the middle of Surveyor's Pool. We shuddered. Just for the record - we ALWAYS obey the swimming/no swimming signs.
I digress. Back to Bell Gorge. Dave swam over to another rock face and pulled himself out of the water. He decided it was an absolutely spectacular view from there, not available from anywhere else, and wanted to photograph it. Just one problem - he had sheer cliff face behind him and this view was only accessible via deep water. He swam back to his camera and mulled over the dilemma before him. How to get his camera across? The first half of the crossing was about waist-deep if traversing an underwater rock ledge (although remember that slippery algae). The last part of the crossing was very deep indeed. It was like trying to solve one of those high school maths problems - if an expensive camera is wrapped in a plastic bag and t-shirt and placed at the top of a backpack, how long will it take water to seep into the submerged backpack and reach the camera? Bonus points if you can determine how long it will take the camera to be irreversibly damaged.
I watched Dave weighing up the value of his camera against the overwhelming desire to get this particular photograph. It was killing him. He was committed. He couldn't just walk away. He would regret it for the rest of his life. Knowing I wouldn't be able to talk him out of it, I did some lateral thinking, and offered him my camera as the sacrificial lamb. If the camera didn't make it back alive, at least we'd lose a much less costly camera (and just quietly, I might get a new camera). He thought this was a superb idea, and that he had a very smart wife. I asked if at least my photos would survive on the memory card if the camera was destroyed. He assured me they would.
Dave set about packaging and wrapping my camera and placed it in the top compartment of his backpack. He slid and flailed across the first part of the river, almost going right under at one point as he slipped over on the algae. By this time we had an audience along the bank quite intrigued with Dave's mission. They watched him and then glanced at me to see how I was taking it (I must have looked very concerned). After some frantic paddling, Dave landed safely on the other bank, unwrapped the still perfectly dry camera and took his shots. Then came the frantic return trip, his audience all holding their breaths, seeing how far his backpack was becoming submerged in the water. In a happy ending, the camera is safe and still works, despite the backpack seeping through at the bottom. The all-important shot is below. Was it worth it?
 |
| The irresistible view at Bell Gorge (Dave - with Liz's camera) |
 |
| Bell Gorge at Sunset (Dave) |
 |
| Bell Gorge at dusk (Dave) |
Finally, Windjana Gorge, our last stop along the Gibb River Road! We took a meander through the beautiful Tunnel Creek on 9 Aug – a 750m long cave which requires a torch and much wading through water. We then spent the evening at Windjana gorge, where the water is teeming with freshwater crocodiles.
At dusk people began congregating on the sandy
banks of the river, the crocs began circling in the water, and there were
whispers of an extraordinary show due to start around sunset. So we settled in
for the wait. A little while later, there was a strange sound from the east,
and a dark whirl approached from high in the sky. The numbers increased to the
thousands and then tens of thousands, until the sky was almost black with bats,
an enormous swarm that continued for at least 10 minutes as they glided high
overhead toward the darkening west. The crocodiles were waiting, launching
themselves out of the water to seize any bats brave enough to swoop down to
snatch insects from the surface of the water. Cheers erupted from the crowd
whenever a bat was caught by the snapping jaws of a hungry crocodile. By the
way, these are not small bats - most have a wing span of at least 2 feet wide. One
man thought it was like a goal being scored at the footy. Another lady thought it was
more like fights to the death at the Colosseum in Rome and queried what that said about all of us. The big burly tattooed guy next to me (not
Dave) pretty much summed up the situation – “No one is ever gonna believe me
when I tell them I saw this”.
PS - We arrived in Derby on 10 Aug, having officially survived the Gibb River Road.
Damage report:
- Microwave dismounted from brackets (caravan)
- Second battery for the fridges failed (car - replaced at Drysdale Station)
- Gas bottle regulator lost its screws and became detached (caravan)
- Gas bottle is empty (but we'd run out of food to cook anyway)
- Water tank keeps shifting, rubbing up against the brake cable (Caravan). But we think we've done a temporary fix by wedging a thong between those two (flip flop, US friends, flip flop).
- One caravan step modified after losing an argument with a large rock. Banged back into shape, still works!
- Every possession coated in a thick layer of fine red dust (car and caravan).
- Liz's left hiking boot has started coming apart, the sole is separating from the body (there's a good joke in there somewhere, but not formulating itself at present - submissions open). Shoe repairer needed in Broome.
- We still have a rear bumper lashed to the caravan with rope, but it's a good conversation piece (amongst other travellers apparently), and free advertising for Jayco.
- Liz's left hiking boot has started coming apart, the sole is separating from the body (there's a good joke in there somewhere, but not formulating itself at present - submissions open). Shoe repairer needed in Broome.
- We still have a rear bumper lashed to the caravan with rope, but it's a good conversation piece (amongst other travellers apparently), and free advertising for Jayco.
 |
| Tunnel Creek (Dave) |
 |
| Tunnel Creek (Dave) |
 |
| Torch bearers traversing water in Tunnel Creek (Dave) |
 |
| These two keep turning up in our shots |
 |
| Tunnel Creek (Dave) |
 |
| Windjana Gorge at Sunset (Dave) |
 |
| Watching You Watching Me (Dave) |
 |
| The Original Batman (Liz) |
 |
| Loving life as bats (Liz) |
 |
| Young Siblings in Tunnel Creek (Liz) |
 |
| Bats head for the Sunset at Windjana Gorge (Liz) |
 |
| The Batty Hour (Liz) |
 |
| Bats over Windjana Gorge at Sunset (Liz) |
 |
| Get your beady eyes off my bat (Liz) |
 |
| Drunk on Bats - The Morning After (Liz) |
