Wagons are rolling, chickens ride west

This is from Ben and Holly's Little Kingdom, the sort of thing you learn when travelling with a 4 and 2 year old. Somehow seemed to be the theme song for Home Valley, our next stop after Drysdale Station. 

We were really only stopping there as a staging point to El Questro. We didn't expect much as our research told us that there was little exploring we could do here on our own. This place had been set up as a tourist resort so everything was packaged into costly tours. 

Home Valley is nestled next to the imposing Cockburn Range. As we approached we were treated to sweeping views of the misty blue, flat topped range. It felt like we had entered a western movie set. This theme was only enhanced when we arrived at the resort. Old historic wagons, western saddles and plenty of cowboy style hats in view. The restaurant was a large, open corrugated shed. There promised(or threatened) to be live music of an evening- country and western obviously. Ugh!

We had planned 2 nights here so there was some discussion as to the activities for the next day. The Barra fishing was a no brainer. See my blog entitled " How to catch a Barra." Brit was happy to relax at camp with the kids. 

The other activity that caught my eye was a sunset trail ride. Love fishing and horses so a double plus for me. I was a bit surprised when both Brit and Torb decided to join me. Simon and Pauly delegated the child minding duties for this one.

Down to the stables half an hour before the start time to get set up with horse and gear. Our guide was a young woman from the NSW high country, just here for the tourist season. The horses, with the exception of one or two, were all ex stock horses enjoying a semi retirement. They were all "aged," the oldest 23. Bit like Torb and I really. These horses were trucked to Catherine for the wet season and then trucked back to Home Valley. The wet at Home Valley was considered too harsh for them. 

In deference to the range of riding ability this was a gentle ride through the rocky scrub, a wade through a creek  and a climb to a rise to watch the setting sun illuminate the Cockburn Range. At the view point was a table and chairs and drinks and nibbles provided. These had been transported on the pack horse, which seemed a bit on the eccentric side. He was tied to a tree as we relaxed and managed to get stuck under a branch, then break branches off the tree. After our guide had sorted him out he just lowered his head and watched her mournfully as if to say " I couldn't help it!"

Our small group comprised some experienced riders and real beginners. A young German fellow confided that he had never been on horse before. You could tell- the veritable sack of kartoffeln.  His partner was clearly very at home in the saddle. She absolutely beamed with happiness the whole ride. 

Our guide's knowledge of each individual horse was phenomenal. Some had colds, one liked to splash in the stream and would roll in the water given half the chance, one always farted when he coughed, my mount(a grey named Pearl) would stumble if you didn't keep her alert, one had tumours but every time he lost condition and they talked about putting him down he rallied...and so on. The pack horse drove her nuts.  

As we wended our way back to the stables I reflected on the day. Fishing in the morning, fresh barramundi for lunch, 3 hours with horses in the afternoon. Not bad. Wagons are rolling...

Homage to Thongs

No, I don't mean underwear. And definitely not be called flip flops- so undignified. Just good old honest Aussie thongs.

In our 7 weeks in the Pilbara and Kimberley these were our footwear of choice for 95% of the time. They keep your feet cool and at times it was very hot, up to 45c. They can be slipped on and off in seconds, they can be worn in caravan park showers to guard against tinea, they float if you inadvertently drop them in streams or waterholes. They are comfortable. 

We discovered that you can successfully walk in thongs on trails up to and including Class 3(sturdy foot wear required). They grip pretty well. You don't get heat rash as you can from boots and socks. And if you are Simon and Pauly Class 4 trails are no problem in thongs either, albeit you have to endure the comments from the cashed up, mature, hiking boots and safari wear attired walkers on the way. "You're walking in thongs." Observant! "Not suitable footwear fellows!" Simon and Pauly refrained from pointing out that they were covering the ground at twice their rate. 

There were some thong casualties on the way. I was beach fishing at Quobba knee deep in the water, my gold Havianas on the sand behind me. I forgot about the incoming tide. When it was time to go they were gone. I admit to a moment or two of thong  grief. Then I pulled myself together. They had had a good life. They had worn thin over the years. They had been well loved and had gone doing what they loved best- resting in the warm sand near their owner. No doubt the gentle Pilbara waves would float them to grave beach somewhere with others of their kind.

I replaced them with a sturdy dark green pair from the next chemist shop we visited. They lack a certain style. Not your pedigree thongs.

We learnt a thing or two about thongs on the way. If the plug that keeps them together wears and fails they are easily repairable with the clip from loaves of sliced bread. At one stage we saved the clips for just this purpose. 

My new thongs are doing the job, but I am still dreaming of some new, gold Havianas for the next summer at home.

How to catch a barra

Barramundi are a much prized sports and table fish and they are notoriously difficult to catch. They tend to lurk about near river banks under fallen logs, and in similar hiding spots in the ocean. They are pernickety feeders, sometimes rising to a lure and sometimes only reacting to live bait. And they are extremely sensitive to water temperature. They like it warm and even a couple of degrees makes a big difference to a " barra's" disposition. Too cool and you can donk the fish on the nose with a tempting morsel and he won't react.

So when we arrived at Home Valley Station we were immediately tempted by the Barra fishing 1/2 day tour. It was expensive but catching a Barra is up there on my bucket list, as it was for Simon and Pauly. Torb had already caught Barra in the Northern Territory, but he was up for another try.

We booked and as the boat only takes 4 guests we had an exclusive tour. Two young guides picked us up in a very dilapidated troop carrier and headed down to the Pentecost River, overlooked by the imposing Cockburn Ranges. The trip was almost worth it for the scenery. The ranges had that very cowboy movie flat topped mountain look. Almost expected a  sherrif's posse to appear at any moment.

As it was early in the season not many fishing charters had preceded ours. At least the water was still fairly warm. We started getting a little concerned when our hosts started telling us that  we were to see a few big salt water crocodiles. We didn't want that to be the highlight but our impression was they thought that was the consolation prize if we didn't get fish.

The first minor hitch to the trip was actually getting on to the boat. They had decided to build a nice boat access area on the river bank but worked had only just started. There was an excavator at work in the black soil between us and the boat. We took off our thongs and negotiated the mud and hills of the construction site.

The boat itself was a small flat bottomed aluminium punt. Not a lot of free board should a salty decide we were lunch.

We started with some trolling along the banks with lures. No action so we stopped and did at bit of flicking to likely looking snags. Nothing at all but the skipper did comment to me "You are good at casting Claudia." Claudia? I must look Germanic.

We also spent some time watching a few crocs warming themselves on the rocks and banks. They were not concerned with our presence as long as we kept a polite distance.

Eventually the skipper went to plan B and went ashore to net some live bait. He did quite well catching juvenile mullet and, you guessed it, baby Barra. These were gently returned to the river to grow. We wondered if these were the only Barra we were destined to see.

I have never fished with live bait before. I felt a bit sorry for the little fish but not sorry enough to desist! We let the little guys run around at the end of our lines waiting for a Barra strike. I had a little action which the skipper thought was a catfish, which are plentiful.

With our tour time dwindling away Pauly hooked up and successfully landed a small Barra. Great excitement in the boat! Unfortunately it was undersize so after a quick photo was released. We had 20 minutes to go when Pauly hooked another. This time it was size and was destined to be our lunch.


What was Pauly's secret? He said that he basically ignored all the advice from our guides. Slow retrieve with the live bait worked for him.

On return to our launch point we walked around the working excavator again. I was black mud to above my ankles and in danger of being stuck. A fit of the giggles didn't help.


On the way back they stopped the vehicle so we could wash our feet in the clear water running across the road. Oh very luxurious!

The restaurant at the resort will cook your Barra for you and serve with chips and salad for $50. Sounded like a good deal to us as it was too big for the baby Weber.

Pauly asked the aboriginal waiter if it would be big enough to serve all of us- 5 adults and 2 kids. "Mate, it's not very big. I could eat that myself."

So in less than 3 hours from the water we enjoyed a delicious feed of Barra with all the trimmings. Plenty for all. The waiter charged us half price for the deal.

So, our $800 Barra. Well worth it we thought.

Moving on after the rain

News of the roads open prompted a flurry of activity in our Mt Barnett campsite. It was midday so we could pack up now and head off or wait until  morning. Brit made it clear that she was fed up with washing and cooking so we headed on out. 

Crossing the Mt Barnett river was a bit interesting as the water was half way up our headlights. No problems for either vehicle. 

We headed up to Drysdale station which is a staging point for viewing the Mitchell Falls, either by air or the rough road in. We had hoped to book light aircraft trips for Simon, Brit and Pauly while Torb and I would look after the kids. We had seen the falls previously. Unfortunately there was only one seat available on the plane for the next day, and the day after was the pilot's rest day. Pauly booked, while we searched for an activity to occupy a day. 

"Is there anything to do around here?" We asked at the shop. "Nothing," we were told. "What about the aboriginal rock art you have photos of?" "Oh yeah. That's at the beginning of the road to Mitchell Plateau." It was just over 100 kilometres away so Torb, Brit, I and Zoey set off with a picnic lunch. There were 2 sites about 4 kilometres apart. Some of the art had clear pathways to it however there was much more we discovered just by searching around. Wandjina, Bradshaws and a few styles we hadn't seen before. We thoroughly enjoyed the day. On the way back we saw a pair of dingoes, and then a single specimen a bit later. They didn't seem very shy of humans.

We arrived back to hear Pauly giving glowing reports of his aerial tour of Mitchell Falls and the adjacent coastline. He said it exceeded all his expectations of the Kimberley sea and landscapes. Money well spent.

Zoey turns 2

Zoey turns 2

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Zoey's birthday at Cape Leveque was celebrated with all the fanfare of a kid's party. Presents, cake with candles and lots of singing " happy birthday." The cake was made in the camp oven and turned out perfectly. The highlight for Zoey was definitely the bubble wand. What's not to love about a 2 year old giggling and chasing bubbles. " Bubbles, bubbles, big ones!"

Sunset at West Beach Cape Leveque is a must do for all visitors. It is not just the sun sinking into the ocean, but also the setting rays illuminating the red cliffs against the white sand. Felix and Zoey played in the waves along the shore line. Zoey appropriately attired in her  (now 2 year old) birthday suit. 

We had planned a couple of nights at  Cygnet Bay,only a few kilometres from Leveque, but changed our minds as Leveque is a difficult little paradise to resist. Unfortunately we could only retain one of the bough huts so Brit, Simon and kids moved to the camp ground near the reception and restaurant. We still all ate at our hut overlooking the sea, camp fire at our feet. 

A couple of snakes

While it is easy to be lulled into a warm sense of safety at places like Leveque, nature comes along to remind you that we are the interlopers. Brit headed to the toilet one night sans turning the torch on so she wouldn't disturb the sleeping children. She tripped on something on the concrete pathway and turned the torch on to see what it was- brown snake crossing into the bushes. Fortunately it continued, seemingly unperturbed. The next day Simon spied a snake near the restaurant and photographed it on his phone and showed the picture to staff. They were somewhat blasé until they looked at the image- King brown, same as Brit had kicked. 

Broome and the Dampier Peninsula to Cape Levequ

What isn't to like about Broome- except the heat. The first

day we were there was 43 degrees and didn't get below 30 in the night. This is not too bad if you have a nice air conditioned room to retreat to but we are sleeping under canvas. The children were fractious, and us adults only slightly less so. Hard to sleep when your body is slick with sweat and there is not a hint of a breeze.

Nice multicultural and laid back feel to the place. We indulged in dinner at 18 Degrees, breakfast at Zanders on Cable Beach and lunch at Matsos. It felt somewhat indulgent after camp cooking and chores for the previous couple of weeks.

We were camped at the Roebuck Bay caravan park. The point a couple of hundred metres away was one of the spots where people gather to watch the stairway to the moon. This occurs when there is large tides and a full moon. We thought we had scored the jackpot as our second night was one of the advertised days for the viewing. Unfortunately in this case it coincided with cloud cover, so very little of the "stairway" effect was to be seen. Luckily though there is a water park nearby which made 2 small children very happy.

Our last morning in Broome Brit and I took said children to the Court House markets where the highlight was eating " frozen fruit thingies". Ours were frozen mango blended to ice cream consistency. Bliss in such heat.

Nicole flew in to join us and we then headed north up the Dampier Peninsula. First few kilometres sealed, but then soon changed to red dirt, corrugations and ruts on the Broome/ Cape Leveque road. It wasn't too bad and we were only planning to travel to Middle Lagoon the first day. Middle Lagoon is a beautiful and understated place. Basic camping facilities, and we appreciated not being on top of other camp sites. We had a view over the southern lagoon and a short stroll to swim and fish. There were still big tides so the contrast from high to low tide was quite striking. Nicole and I did a little beach fishing and caught a couple, which is handy as she is a non meat eater.

We also took a little side trip to see the Sacred Heart church at the Beagle Bay community, famous for its pearl shell  decorations. The drive in by the back roads was quite picturesque as well. This is indigenous lands which normally visitors have no access to but as the indigenous manager at Middle Lagoon directed us down the "goat track" we figured it was ok.

Marooned in the Kimberley

It's great to have a plan, but not all events can be foreseen. After dropping Nicole off in Broome and picking up our next touring partner, Paulie, we headed to Derby and the Gibb River Road. First few days went according to schedule. We spent 2 nights at Windjana Gorge to view the ancient Devonian reef there and the hundreds of fresh water crocodiles. The highlight for Felix was the walk through Tunnel Creek with bats, tiny frogs, little crocodiles, wading through water, the dark cave sections. The highlight for Simon and Paulie was being pulled over by a park ranger while driving to settle Zoey to sleep and being accused of smuggling. Smuggling what?

Also at camp were a team doing some amazing night sky time lapse photography and filming. Some of our party had a drink (or two) with them but emerged not much the wiser as to their mission. We speljculated that they would produce a documentary for an obscure technical photography program somewhere.

We then headed to Silent Grove campsite on the road into Bell Gorge. It is a bit of a walk over rocks at the top of the waterfall to the swimming hole but definitely worth it. A really beautiful gorge with a waterfall cascading to a rock lined pool. Everything the tourist is promised from the Kimberley. 

Our next move was to Mt Barnett, which we planned as a central point to explore Adcock, Galvans and Manning gorges. All to plan with Adcock and Galvans- both very charming and great for swimming. But then things became a bit interesting- it began to rain. In torrents. Our camp was flooded, Simon and Brit's awning collapsed under the weight of the water and tent poles buckled. The first night it was estimated that we had at least 100 millimetres. The camp manager declared the station road out impassable. Not a worry as we had planned to be here anyway. Brit, Torb and I walked to Manning Gorge where the falls were putting on a spectacular show thanks to the rain.

However, it continued to rain. We were told the Gibb River road was closed in both directions. We were stuck at the Mt Barnett campsite. Not a bad place to be stuck as there is a beautiful swimming spot next to camp and the gorge and river to explore. We thought a day or 2 extra wouldn't be bad but the prospects of moving became bleaker. The rivers in the Kimberley were reported to have risen by 2 metres and all attractions were closed. The camp had only generator power and no shop or supplies. All campers needed to be self sufficient. There were  possibly 100 people here including tour groups accommodated in small tents and swags. For many the biggest problem was power to keep friges running. Many had being relying on solar, but with cloud cover this was now difficult. We had a generator so the only real problem would occur when our fuel supplies were exhausted.  So although "marooned" is not technically correct that's how it felt. We were surrounded by water on our own little Mt Barnett island.

So what do you do when you can't move on? First assess supplies. Did we have enough food for the next few days? Fresh vegetables and bread were dwindling quickly but meat was definitely not a problem. With 5 adults and 2 children we consume a lot of food. Some planning foresight held us in good stead. Long life milk, SPC fruit for the kids and bread mix. We started making a loaf of bread a night in the camp oven. Our bread making skills improved rapidly. 

We hand washed a lot of dirty clothes (no machines here) and then spent hours moving improvised washing lines around to avoid the rainy times. Everything still looked pretty red from the Kimberley dust. 

We also spent quite a bit of time discussing how to tweak our itinerary when we finally could get underway. A bit fruitless really as we still didn't know when we could leave, or what would be open. We were told that the station road house was thick with campers waiting for the roads to reopen, and there were  many more people camped at the road closed signs. We felt fortunate to be in a much better location than them. Only one thing for it- relax and wait. All up we spent 7 days at the Mt Barnett campground- 4 more than we intended.