Stitches Out at Keep River then on to the Bungle Bungles via Kununurra

Keep River National Park is one of the smaller parks and is on the border between Northern Territory and Western Australia. The entrance is a few kilometres from the Quarantine Checkpoint where, in order to keep out unwanted pests, all fruit and veg has to be declared or be confiscated. Having a healthy supply of veggies we cleared the fridges of all contraband and had an enormous veggie meal – or so we thought! Johann and Stretch sailed through quarantine but, horror of horrors, the border guards confiscated the half a lemon I was keeping in the fridge for the Gin and Tonic – which didn’t taste quite the same that night.

Keep River was where Sandra moved on to the next phase of her surgical career – stitch removal. Readers of the blog, both with medical experience, advised that ear stitches should be removed after about six days – and so, on the Sixth Day, using a pair of craft scissors dipped in Tea Tree Oil, she removed her handiwork. The operation was painless and deemed a great success – by Sandra, who reckons my ear should look quite normal when the scabs disappear. Those of you who requested a video of the procedure – tough!

Spurred on by her medical success, Sandra then moved on to something for which she was equally unqualified and inexperienced – hairdressing. This was marginally less painful than ear surgery but, aesthetically, less pleasing as the accompanying convict-like photo will testify. Lisa has nothing to fear from Sandra on the hairdressing front!

After two nights at Keep River we crossed the border into WA, a quick visit to Lake Argyle, then on to Kununurra where we set up camp just outside town at the Lakeside Resort. This is a commercial campground and we managed to get the two best spots in the camp on a small peninsular overlooking a lake teaming with wildlife – mainly birds but also goanna (see photo) and freshwater crocs. Kununurra is the hub of the East Kimberley with many travellers using it to re-supply before setting off into the remoter part of the area such as the Bungle Bungles and the Mitchell Plateau. We stocked up with groceries and alcohol, booked my car in for a service, then set off southwards for a 3-4 day trip to the Bungle Bungles before returning to Kununurra to re-supply and head for the Mitchell Plateau.

The Bungle Bungles are amazing and we stayed there for three nights. On the first day we explored Mini Palms Gorge and Echidna Chasm and on the second day we went to the famous beehive domes. The domes are weird and I imagine they would provide endless hours of fun for a geologist. They are rounded like beehives and have horizontal black and red stripes. They are taller near the plateau and get smaller as they spread over the plain – all due to erosion. However as we were leaving the area a tour group appeared on the scene and the tour leader asked his charges “Are there any geologists amongst you?” On finding out there were none he said “Good” and launched into the origins of the Bungle Bungles thus “In the Aboriginal Dreamtime a large pink elephant appeared from the North……..” I think he was pulling their communal legs!

Back to camp for a final night before heading back to Kununurra where Sandra is hoping to get a stall at the Saturday market to sell some of her craft goods.
– and then off into the wilds of the Gibb River Road, although I believe it is less wild than the last time we were there 5 years ago.

Skinny-dipping, Wild Buffalo, Wallabies and a troublesome Shower Tent

Our last day at Koolpin started with dawn skinny-dipping in one of the, hopefully, croc free swimming holes. Photographs of this episode are available but only on “pay-per-view” basis! Then we packed up and were on our way.

You may remember the scene from Crocodile Dundee – Mick Dundee, in his beaten up 4WD, is driving through the bush when he finds his way blocked by a mean looking wild buffalo. Getting out of the car he approaches the beast, points the fore finger and little finger of his right hand at it whilst at the same time squinting quizzically and humming an old Aboriginal tune. The buffalo obligingly collapses to the ground thus allowing Dundee safe passage. If anyone finds themselves in this position let me assure you that this technique does NOT work and it is far safer to stay in the vehicle and let said buffalo wander off in its own time.

Driving out of Koolpin Gorge in Kakadu Sandra and I faced a similar situation to Mick Dundee, so I got out of the car and tried a bit of finger pointing only to find that my buffalo was made of sterner stuff and did not collapse to the ground. Discretion being the better part of valour I stayed with the vehicle and took a couple of snapshots until it eventually left of its own accord.

My ear, as reported in the last blog, continues to improve after Sandra stitched it back on after the accident with a tree. She is due to “unstitch” me tomorrow – and I can’t say I am looking forward to it – she is!

After Koolpin we headed to the Katherine Gorge and booked into the National Park campsite which, following Koolpin was a bit of a disappointment as it was very busy and we only stayed for one night. Sandra made friends with a local wallaby and contravened all the rules by feeding it. This kindness was poorly repaid when he came back during the night with a mob of his mates and ransacked our camp looking for more food. Emerging from the tent in the middle of the night to go to the loo Sandra let out a scream as she almost put her hand on what she thought was a large snake – and was only marginally mollified when she found out it was a scavenging wallaby’s tail!

Heading southwest on the Victoria Highway we made for Gregory National Park, the second largest NP in the Northern Territory after Kakadu and much less visited. We rendezvoused with Johann and Stretch at the Victoria River Roadhouse where, after a cold beer, we decided to aim for the Bullita Homestead where there was a campsite. After an incident free 40k down a dirt road we set up camp at a good site next to the old Bullita Homestead.

Bullita was one an old cattle station which no longer operates as such and has been subsumed into the Gregory National Park. The homestead and associated buildings have been left very much as they were when they were abandoned and you can now wander about at will, free to imagine what life was like in the old days. For me one of the most interesting features were the stockyards where the cattle were mustered for branding, shipment etc. The land was poor and the life must have been very hard.

On our second day we followed the old drove road, The Bullita Track, along which the cattle were driven to market hundreds of miles away. This was a pretty rough and rocky track which probably didn’t do much for the car tyres and it took over 6 hours to cover about 60k. On the way we saw many strange looking Boab trees. Back at camp I decided it was time to wash off the trail dust using our bush shower. Hanging a bag of water attached to a plastic tube and shower nozzle from a convenient tree I erected our little used shower cubicle, for modesty as by this time there were other campers around, and Sandra and I shared a shower – quite exciting actually (at least I thought so) Johann and Stretch followed on (separately!) and we were all relatively clean again. It was then that the fun started!

The shower cubicle is basically a couple of long, thin strips of flexible metal covered with nylon, which is coiled up into three loops to fit into a circular bag. Erection is easy, simply take it out of the bag and bingo! like magic it unfolds into a tent-like structure. But putting it away again! After about10 attempts to wrestle it into its bag – and not getting anywhere near it (as Sandra was killing herself with laughter) – I gave up. Stretch is a technically minded sort of bloke so I passed the task to him. Undeterred by failure he persevered, assisted in his incompetence by Johann – Sandra could hardly contain herself and took photos by the dozen.

Unbeknown to us our fellow campers were enjoying the spectacle and a multinational group from next door arrived brimming with confidence to show us how it was done. According to our new German friend his tent was of similar design and he had the technique – he didn’t! And neither did his French and Venezuelan friends. Eventually a seasoned old Australian camper called Clive, who with his wife and mate had been watching these antics for half an hour, arrived to put us out of our misery. With a bit of twisting wizardry he had it in its bag in seconds. My strange headgear in the last photo is to keep the flies off my stitched ear - not my attempt to look like a pirate!

Next we are off to Keep River National Park – our last post of call in Northern Territory before crossing into Western Australia.

Leaving Humpty Doo for Koolpin Gorge plus a bit of Bush Surgery

After a week on the road travelling from Sydney to Darwin, Sandra’s sister Johann and her partner Stretch finally arrived in Humpty Doo to join us for the next leg of our trek through Western Australia. However, before setting off, they needed some time to relax, buy supplies and fine-tune equipment. We had yet another trip in Lawrie’s beast of a boat although once again the fish were in hiding with the only catch being one small and amazingly ugly fish consisting mainly of mouth and teeth with a miniscule body – it looked like a monk fish and was duly thrown back.

Like us, Johann and Stretch have bought an inflatable dingy but, being second hand, it came with its own set of slow punctures. The first of these was found by blowing up the boat, putting it into Gill’s spa pool, filling it with as many people as possible then looking for bubbles! The second hole was eventually found after using similar methodology but in excruciatingly public circumstances. The boat was launched at Berry Springs, an attractive and very popular swimming hole near Humpty Doo. After launching, Sandra and Johann paddled bullishly through crowds of swimmers and disappeared around a corner. After twenty minutes, concerned about their non-reappearance, I stripped off and, with a steady breaststroke, set off to investigate. Eventually they hoved into sight making for the shore with a boat which was considerable less buoyant than at the launch.

Looking for bodies to fill the boat was easy as, once they grasped the purpose of the exercise, the crowd rallied round and all there was left to do was to select suitably equipped members of the public to add ballast. This was a difficult task as there were no shortage of volunteers and it was left to me to decide that the task should go to shapely girls wearing bikinis – although Sandra and Johann also helped. With the hole found and repaired we were set for the off.

After a farewell photo call in Humpty Doo we set off for Kakadu via the Grove Hill Hotel – an historic corrugated iron pub which had seen no development (or I suspect cleaning) in the last 50 years or so. Our destination was a place called Koolpin that could only be visited if you had a permit which we had managed to get before we left Humpty Doo. After a 250k drive on sealed roads and a pleasant and interesting 40k drive on a 4WD track we arrived at the campsite, found a shady spot and set up camp for the night.

Koolpin has a very attractive pool very near to the campsite – unfortunately this pool also had a new 5m croc trap which told its own story plus we met a park ranger who said a croc had been in the area a few days earlier – so, no swimming. However further upstream there were more pools which we reckoned would be croc free so off we went for what was a very strenuous walk over some difficult terrain with no footpath or signs to follow – real wilderness stuff. The higher up we got the better the view, the scenery was stunning and each pool we reached was more alluring than the last. Eventually, hot and sweaty, we could resist no more and stripped off for a swim in water that was clear, cool and refreshing and followed this with a picnic.

If the above sounds too idyllic to be true, if the truth be told, it was – for me at least - it really wasn’t one of my better days! Due to my dismal medical condition my legs are not as good as they once were for mountain goat type rock-hopping and, towards the end of the upward journey, I managed to fall, not once but twice, when my knees refused to respond to the messages my brain was sending them. However the real problems started on the descent when, trying to avoid a loose rock pointed out by Sandra, I over concentrated on the rock and failed to notice the broken branch lurking at about ear height. This resulted in another fall and blood gushing from my ear – and not a lot of sympathy from Sandra who was muttering things like “Drama Queen!”

On return to camp I did receive a modicum of sympathy when, after cleaning away the blood, she informed me that my earlobe had almost parted company from my ear. Duct tape, as Gerry and Susan found on their road trip in the States, is invaluable on a journey such as ours and has already been used on countless occasions to patch-up our car, our tent and many of our other essentials – however holding an ear in place is probably a first!

After closer examination by Nurse Sandra, she announced that duct tape would not do the job and the ear needed to be stitched. With the nearest medical facility many miles away over dirt track roads and the Flying Doctor Service unlikely to be called out for a minor ear repair, even if there was somewhere to land, there was nothing for it – she got out her needles and thread and sewed my ear back on herself! It was not fun for me but I felt that Sandra was enjoying herself. Unfortunately she did not have dissolving thread so she will probably have another ball when she removes her handiwork in a few days.

PS Could any medically trained reader please advise me how many days should stitches be left in an ear?

Lord of the Flies meets Swallows and Amazons at the Douglas Daley

The inhabitants of Australia’s Northern Territory, the Territorians, are a breed apart from normal Australians and thus remind me very much of the Scots. Being a Territory and not a full State has led to them having a chip on their communal shoulder which translates into an overwhelming feeling of superiority and a reluctance to conform to the rules and regulations of the rest of the country. A recently cited example of this being the fact that, in all of Australia, only Territorians are able to buy and set off fireworks – a jealously guarded right despite the number of houses burning down and maimings.

This cocking-a-snoot at authority came to the fore during our recent camping trip to the Douglas Daley with Sandra’s sister Gill, her family and several other families. The campsite was idyllic being on the banks of the Douglas River with many plunge pools in which to swim and cool off. The trip was deemed one of rest and relaxation, which translates as doing nothing, no long (or even short) walks with the only exercise being to walk the few feet to the river for a cool dip before opening another cold beer. The exception to this of course being the youngsters who immediately divested themselves of most of their clothes and went feral. Out came the axes to chop down bamboo poles to make deadly looking spears and thereafter all manner of small creatures were ruthlessly hunted down for sport – some were even caught, although never eaten.

Many of the local waterholes have signs saying “No Swimming” and “Crocodiles Live Here” – however this is not enough to deter true Territorians, in fact I think it encourages them to challenge authority. My inflatable dingy came into its own as all the kids decamped and headed for the nearby water hole to hunt crocodiles – with permission of the parents – anything for a bit of peace and quiet! The height of pushing the boundaries of commonsense probably came when the kids posed in the water beside the metal crocodile trap baited with pig meat. I think it was totally irresponsible for Auntie Sandra to encourage such behaviour for the sake of a couple of photographs (not published on this blog for legal reasons)

All-in-all a gruesome mixture of “Lord of the Flies” meets “Swallows and Amazons”

Mind you, Sandra and I entered into the hunting spirit and were responsible for the deliberate killing of many small creatures. Driving back to camp in the dark after the croc trap episode, we noticed cane toads on the road - not one or two but literally hundreds. The cane toad is Public Enemy No 1 in Australia and we did our bit to stop their encroachment into Western Australia by driving over as many as possible. The “pop” as the wheels crushed cane toads was curiously satisfying – in a Territorian sort of way!

Followers of this blog will be aware of how rain has followed us round Australia – so much so we have become convinced we are forever jinxed to be drought-busters. July in Northern Territory is well into the Dry Season and in the 15 years or so Gill has been camping at the Douglas Daley she has never experienced rain. However our arrival heralded a downpour. The headline in the local paper was “Goodbye to the dry…Rain in July” – c’est la vie. At least it was warm rain.

We cut the Douglas Daley trip short in order to visit Kakadu National Park. We had been there before but never been to the south end of the park – particularly a place called Gumlom which came highly recommended by Gill and Co. Gumlom was beautiful, although a full appreciation of this beauty came at a cost – not financial but physical. Whilst there was a very large swimming hole near the campsite where the river cascaded down the side of a cliff, the real attractions were at the top of the cliff which could only be reached by a very stiff climb – agony for aging limbs, mine at least as Sandra has amazing mountain goat abilities (yes I know this is hard to believe). After a multi-stop climb, almost at the crack of dawn (Sandra doesn’t do dawns!) we found ourselves at the top of the escarpment with amazing views. There was a series of smaller pools carved out by the river which were extremely inviting but, with no swimming cozzies, we chickened out of skinny-dipping when another group of crack-of-dawners appeared over the horizon.

After Gumlom we headed north to re-visit some of the other well-known tourist sites when our Kakadu experience came to an unexpected end – Sandra received a text from the organiser of the Parap Market in Darwin informing her that she had been given a place for Saturday’s market. With need to prepare for the market we headed home at speed only stopping to celebrate our 37th wedding anniversary with an overnight camp with the captivating name of Two Mile Hole. This proved to be on the shores of a billabong populated in equal measure by barramundi and crocodiles – the former being hunted by fishermen and the latter being avoided by us! One of the fishermen offered us the use of his “bathroom” which turned out to be a small creek running into the billabong – the proviso being we had a good lookout for crocs before washing – we gave it a miss!

Saturday morning at dawn - when push comes to shove, if it’s in the name of her craftwork, Sandra can get out of bed! Parap Market is mainly food and crafts and runs from about 8am to 2pm. This was her third, and final, market in Darwin and it was very hot – partly due to the sun, but also because she was allocated a spot hard up against the kitchen of a Vietnamese food stall. I had half hoped she had satisfied her creative/selling urges but no such luck – she is now talking about building up stock for the Sydney Christmas market!

This week we head off into the wilds of Western Australia and, for this leg of the journey, we have been joined by Sandra’s sister and her partner Stretch who arrived from Sydney last night.

Crocs and Coincidence at the Market

“Crocodile infested” is a much over-used term to describe Australian rivers and waterways, however, when applied to the muddy waters of the Adelaide River in the Northern Territory, it is perhaps a bit of an understatement. Taking a day off from preparing for Mindil Market on Thursday night, on Wednesday Sandra and I went crocodile hunting with Lawrie and nephew Calum. Fortunately for the crocs, the hunting was to be carried out with cameras rather than guns although we did plan to catch a few fish for dinner. Setting off from the boat ramp in Lawrie’s sleek, fast boat we were almost immediately besieged by crocs looking for breakfast.

This part of the river is used by cruise operators to take tourists on “Jumping Crocodile” trips. This involves hanging a pole with lumps of meat attached to a rope over the water to attract the crocs which rear out of the water to take the meat which is held tantalisingly out of reach. These cruise boats are high out of the water to ensure the fare paying passengers are thrilled but not eaten. As the cruises run several times a day the crocs are used to the sound of boat engines and, on hearing them, emerge from the depths for their daily snack. However Lawrie’s boat is a little smaller and afford slightly less protection when the big ones sidle up looking for a titbit and we found ourselves eyeball-to-eyeball with numerous evil looking monsters – thankfully all incident free.

Fishing was also pretty incident free. If there were any fish in the river they were avoiding us like the plague and all we had to show for several hours fishing was one barramundi caught by Calum which had to be thrown back as it was too small. Apart from losing several lures the only bit of excitement was when Lawrie fell in up to his chest just yards from where we had spotted a medium sized croc.

On the way up river we stopped at Goat Island owned by a welcoming, but eccentric, Dane called Kai Hansen who left Denmark in 1971. As Scots we were welcomed as “fellow Vikings” which gave him an excuse to don his Viking gear, including an impressive horned helmet, and adopt menacing poses with his axe. I think living alone on a remote island, except for occasional visiting fishermen, has had an effect – how else can you explain having a pet 4.8 metre crocodile called Casey which had a habit of eating the other pets?

An excellent day out with many more crocs spotted on the way back basking on the muddy banks in the evening sun.

The next day was Sandra’s big day out at Mindil Market. This being “Territory Day” the market was set to be huge as it is the one day of the year that members of the public are allowed to buy and set off fireworks. From 9am to midnight the whole territory goes pyrotechnic crazy and at Mindil Beach there was a massive firework display launched from pontoons floating off shore. With a crowd of over 10,000 expected Sandra hoped to make one or two sales of her craftwork.

Coincidence, which had been an almost constant companion throughout the earlier part of our travels, raised its head once again at Mindil. I had been roped in to set up the stall and help sell the goods. Part of my selling spiel is to highlight the uniqueness of Sandra’s sunhat embellishments, pointing out that, as no one else in Australia is producing these out of knitted wire, to own one was the privilege of an exclusive few. “You will never have seen anything like these before” I would announce to the crowd. However I got my come-uppance when one young lady proclaimed, “I’ve seen one before – my mother bought one in Townsville!”

Now it is not good selling practice to argue in public with potential customers, however, as this was a threat to our exclusiveness, I had to take this further – in the nicest possible way. Sandra has only had two markets, both in Darwin, so it was highly unlikely that her mother in Townsville, 2000k away, could have bought one. However the story gradually unfolded. When we were in Townville, a few months earlier, we stayed with Kevin and Helen McCarthy and one evening several of Helen’s friends came round all of who were into crafting. One of these friends so liked Sandra’s work that she bought two sunhat embellishments and these had obviously been shown to friends and family. One of these, her daughter, lives in Darwin and coincidentally she was one of the10,000 crowd and just happened to pass Sandra’s stall – as I’ve said before “It’s a small world!”