Abrakafuffle

Fats Thommo was everything "Australia's Greatest Entertainer" should have been. He was also everything his name indicated he should be. A bald bear of a man, with a significant overhanging verandah, a penchant for loud pajamas and an ability to frighten children but still entertain them. He swallowed cane toads, made things disappear with an "Abrakafuffle", and sang passabale Elvis (after six cans).

Roy Maloy was everything "Australia's Greatest Showman" should have been. He actually was the real deal in a strange sort of way. Roy holds several world records, including one for having a 550 kilo block of ice placed on his chest and smashed with a hammer whilst he lay on a bed of nails. We only saw him get a 75 kilo rock smashed, but it was still something. The real trick I think, was finding the only sober bloke in the audience to wield the sledge hammer!

We were in Kununurra in time for their 40th annual agricultural show. We spent two full days there, and I'm still not sure how or why. The kids did have fun learning and performing circus tricks. Oli and Ned entered every competition they could including the melon olympics, hay bale stacking, and the egg and spoon race. No success was had in any of them. I also had a crack at the melon olympics, but never had a chance really because I couldn't get a syphon going. Shame, because I was quicker than the local National Party member Brendon Grylls even with two watermelons for shoes on a soaped up piece of plastic.

Nevertheless, the competition we faced that weekend was a mere warm up to the main event, "The Kununurra Half-Marathon"! We were allowed to enter as a team of three, Oli, Sara and myself. It was a warm morning, and I'd ensured the team was well hydrated. neither oli nor Sara had actually run the prescribed distance before. In order to complete their legs, they'd have to run over 5 k's. I finished my section of 10.6k and handed over to Sara. We drove along the course cheering her on. After she'd gone past us at the three k mark, I thought I'd have time to put diesel in the car before it was Oli's turn to bring us home. I dropped him off at the changeover point with two seconds to spare! She'd come home in a furious blitz, and taken us all by surprise.

Oli hooned into the distance, his hunched over style bringing back memories of Cliff Young's shuffle. He was faster than old Cliffy though, finishing in 28 minutes. We came third in the teams race, and were 14th overall out of a field of 90 or so. As someone who has done a bit of running, it was so much fun to watch Oli and Sara go past, and made for a hilarious debrief over chips and Gatorade after the race. Post match presentation over, we piled back into Kimmy and headed out towards Lake Argyle and the Zebra Rock mine.

Kim and Ruth work this particular mine for the zebra rock which is rock that looks like zebra hide, really. We all fossicked and took some home. Sara and I however, were wanting to know more about Kim and Ruth themselves. Kim was a raggedey sort of a man of 50 or so more years and a manner that immediately indicated he had a history. Sure enough he'd grown up on the now flooded Argyle Station. Wet seasons as a child were spent living with the local aboriginals. He'd been a buffalo wrangler, grabbing their tails from an open topped jeep at thirty miles an hour then wrestling the beast down to the ground and dehorning it with a massive set of secateurs. Kim had lived for three years by himself on an island in the middle of Lake Argyle, and he'd discovered this particular patch of valuable Zebra Rock whilst wandering bare foot over the area. Fascinating story. But whilst all of that made me feel horribly inadequate, all Sara wanted to know, was how on earth he ended up with the beautiful, intelligent, 30 something, probably private school educated, Ruth from Melbourne. We never found out, and they're having a baby in 18 weeks.

The caravan park they have set up is one of the special ones. No power, and no cold water for your shower, but free tea and coffee with scones and jam for a gold coin donation. Tours of the lake that were reasonably priced, and fresh fish and chips. A nice place with no pretencions. Good luck then to Kim and Ruth, may you not be ripped off by people who believe that $10 a night is too expensive, and may your baby grow up to know the best of all worlds. We barrelled off towards Darwin and the Noonans, assured in the certainty that if this was a taste of the Territory and it's people, we were on track for a feast of Orstrayliana.



Fats Thommo




Self with watermelon shoes




Penguins on Lake Argyle



Sunset on Lake Argyle

Oli on top of hay bale stack

Entering the Northern Territory

Kids spinning plates in circus performance



Oli and Sara at end of race

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Eagle Oli's big day(s) out 2

Diamond dove being weighed

“I wonder what it will be like, shame Matt couldn’t come too” “Oh well, you’ll like it anyway.” “Yeah I hope.” BROOME BIRDS OBSERVETORY NEXT 100M.

We all piled out of the car, not knowing what to expect.[First impression-Hhhmm, okay, not bad, a bit small though.]We were greeted by a nice, smiling young girl who wasted no time giving us a bird list AND telling us most of the birds there anyway plus giving us a map and telling us all the good things to do. (Not actually that much)

Brown goshawk

We entered the observatory and instantly I was asked If I wanted to go see the Rufous  whistler that had been hanging around the research station lately. Unfortunately it wasn’t there.[second impression-okay, getting better, still a bit small.]We spent another 2 hours there, finally having to leave because mum and dad had given in to Ned and Ivy’s persistent “I’m hungrys” and “I’m bored.”[Third impression-Shut up Ned and Ivy, I’m liking this.]

Rainbow bee-eater

Luckily mum and dad had decided to leave me there for a few hours and then send me on a bush an plains tour which was absolutely amazing, I saw soooo many birds, the tour guide really knew birds. We were driving along and we saw a little figure a bit like a bird and he’d shout out its name and slow the car so we could have a better look.Amazing.

When we got back they were checking off a list of all the birds  they’d seen today on which I was very helpful. When dad came back to pick me up Wendy asked me if I wanted to come back tomorrow at 6am and watch them trap birds. Of course I obliged.[Fourth impression- this is one of the best places of the trip.]

Sacred kingfisher

So the next day dad drove me all the way back to the Broome bird observatory to watch them trap birds.It was amazing,the birds kicked up such a fuss!we also saw a bird of prey get caught.Now that was cool.And I got to release some of the birds!After  the trapping wendy took me to look at the shorebirds. They are so hard to Distinguish!

[final impression-just about heaven on earth]

Me releasing a diamond dove

Life Lessons

Echidna Chasm

Ivy and Ned screamed around the corner and into the vast cavern of Cathedral Gorge in the heart of the Bungle Bungles. Oli caught up, and they all dominoed into a posse of older persons wearing matching white shirts and hats. One woman made it perfectly clear to Ivy, that she was not welcome in their group photo. The three kids slinked away towards the rock face without a word. Sara arrived, and bristled with indignation when she heard the story.

She was ready to pounce when another member of the tour group shuffled over. "Your children" she wheezed, "are perfectly behaved and very respectful. Here's $20. Buy them an icecream." The peacemaker merged back into her companions, ignoring Sara's attempts to return the money as thank yous echoed around the chamber from three high pitched voices.

We've done a lot of hiking since then. We walked all over the Bungles, and all over El Questro Wilderness Park. Ned is usually way out in front, charging along, ignoring the information signs, intent on arriving wherever it is we are going first. The only thing slowing him, and therefore us down now, is that we have to wait to let every other bloody hiker on the trail coming the other way through first. If it's not Ned being overtly chivalrous, it's one of the other two. Sooner or later they'll work out that that $20 was a once off. Until then, they'll be completing all hikes with a big friendly grin on their faces, and a cheery "No, you can go through first, I need a rest..."

Bungles from Picaninny Creek

Boys running in Cathedral Gorge

Camping in the Bungles was cold overnight. Sara slept wearing two thermal tops, two fleece jackets and a down sleeveless top, and a beanie, in her sub zero bag and was still cold. No campfires allowed which made for early and long nights. The hiking was beautiful though, and it was especially rewarding getting away from the crowds by walking up Picaninny Gorge. Back to the van after two nights away, and into Parry Lagoon.

Bungles

Our resident twitcher, Oli, had found out about this place, and talked about not much else since leaving Broome. We had a great couple of days thawing out and spotting new birds. I also spotted a celebrity of sorts. Daryl Somers was in town, having done a reportedly ordinary job of MCing a concert the night before. I refrained from asking if he'd seen a Purple People Eater coming out of the sky, it being a bird of sorts (with one long horn, and one big eye), and left him to his photography.

We got ourselves ready for camping again, this time to finish the Gibb off with a stay at El Questro Station. All reports from Wallis's and Linton's alike were that this place was as good as it gets. Only the lonely, brown shoed locum GP from Melbourne in Fitzroy Crossing gave any indication that all was not rosy. And did we jump on that snippet of negativity. We were all over it and ready to leave as soon as we got there. The only difficulty with that plan was that it was a fantastic place.

I'm not sure what they get for $2689 a night when they stay at the homestead, but I know now that $25 gets you a truly secluded campsite and access to some of the most beautiful gorges, vistas, and waterfalls we have seen to date. The weather was warm, hot even, and there was not a croc to be found. We made friends with a devout farrier, and remet Jo and Tony from Broome, also Disco drivers. Yes it was busy around the station, but apart from the trashed Zebedee hot springs, and the easily accessed Emma Gorge, we had it to ourselves, almost. The Disco got a solid work out, with water crossings that almost covered the wheels and low range hill climbs.

I even had a moment of superiority, when a fellow Disco driver, retreated from a river crossing, and watched us charge through. "You can do it, you're in a Disco" I said encouragingly. His wife tittered in agreement, but as he slunk back into his seat pulling the brim of his Panama hat down over his eyes, he mumbled something 

Zebedee hot springs

into the collar of his clean, lemon yellow Ralph Lauren polo shirt about needing to get back to the bitumen. Turned out his Disco was actually running on LPG so it hardly counted as a 4WD anyway. Later, as Sara and I were having a rare, quiet beer on the riverbank, Oli rolled a wet tyre inner tube down a hill and into this gentleman. Somewhat surprisingly, no $20 note was produced.





Mertens water monitor and friend

Kimberley? Done it! Well, an awful lot of it, and the best could be yet to come with the Kununurra Show on tomorrow across the road. Fats Thommo, Australia's greatest entertainer will be on the big stage. There are prizes for the strangest looking vegetable, there are the melon Olympics, and there's even a dog / owner look alike competition. Shame Barney's not with us, we'd have that one in the bag. There's also the Kununurra half marathon which Sara, Oli and I have entered as a team, so we'd better stay away from the quality food (camel burgers) and beverages that will be on offer! Should be a corker of a weekend.

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Cleaning, Preening, and Paintings of Dreaming

The problem with an out and back trip, is that no matter how good your intentions, the way back is always faster. It had taken us 10 days to get from Fitzroy Crossing to Kalumburu. It took us three to get back, including gorge stops.

A Kimberley Shower

Not much had changed at FC either. Looking and smelling like Burke and Wills would have if they’d survived their epic exploration, we checked back into the caravan park, rescued Kimmy from the clutches of the inappropriately pony-tailed park caretaker Daryl, and backed into site 53, again. This time, I allowed plenty of space between the van and the willow tree to ensure our exit would be drama free.

First on the agenda, a good cleansing.  I am aware that cleansing is often paired with the word ritual. Sadly, for the Backsons, this is not the case, although the generalisation does apply more to some family members  than it does others. No matter, each child was sent off in turn with soap, loofah, scrubbing brush, and shampoo. When they’d finished, off went the adults, although Sara yet again preferred the cramped confines of Kimmy’s shower, to the generous and relatively clean surfaces in the nearby ablution block. The result on all fronts was a shimmering, apple and cinnamon scented success. I even shaved off a fortnights worth of beard, and seven months of hair. I am now the final Backhouse brother-in-law to admit that I too, love the Wahl.

Canoeing on Fitzroy River at Mornington Wilderness camp

The next day dawned. Homework loomed. The pathetic, desperate scent of procrastination hung over the kids as they watched their Weetbix turn to glue in their breakfast bowls. We’d anticipated a long morning, and we got one. It’s amazing how out of practice the kids can get; how a task that could be done in one hour, takes three to be done poorly. I wouldn’t be a teacher for quids. You are saints Kev and Ben.

Still, threats work pretty well, and the thought of being left alone in the park got work done to an acceptable level. We’d already visited the hospital, Ivy having developed a nasty wound on her leg that was growing rapidly. The locum GP from Melbourne pretended we were local and indigenous, and as a result Ivy scored free antibiotics from the dispensary. So, given that that had been crossed off the must see list, we went into the local art centre.

Falls at Bell Gorge

Many aboriginal communities have these. They are usually professional and well run. We’d struck this one in the middle of a stocktake sale; picture Myer on Boxing Day, except that the crowd consisting of us and a dirty, fat, sociable dog called Smudge. Shoes off, we initially tiptoed around the hundreds of canvases heaped over the floor, before we stared to copy the lead established by Smudge and Ned, and began walking with decidedly less caution. The kids lost interest in dots and waterholes after a while, so we grabbed one painting we liked and went back to the van for lunch.

Ivy fishing on Lennard River. No barra to be had.

The concept of bargains kept gnawing at Sara whilst she was gnawing her way through home baked bread rolls. We left the kids in the van under the strict observance of our elderly German neighbours, and headed back to the centre. There was something delightfully childlike and free about leafing lazily through the piles of pink and orange and yellow and green and brown. The colours we saw on that floor were the colours we’d been driving through, walking in, and sleeping under for the past fortnight. We left with two more pieces, (Amy Nugget, Penny K Lyons, and Rosie King the artists for those that want to know www.mangkaja.com ). One big, one smaller. It could easily have been four works, and we still aren’t exactly sure why we chose what we did, but we are certain they’ll bring back great memories and add colour when we hang them up back in Camberwell. Mind you, the kids didn’t like our choice, but that’s fine; we didn’t like theirs!

So that was Fitzroy Crossing. Not much of a town, but a place that has proven to be a reliable staging point for us in the Kimberley. We left today for Purnululu National Park, home of the Bungle Bungle.  I think you’re not supposed to pluralise Bungle Bungle despite the fact that Bungle Bungle should really be Bundle Bundle and is the local name given to hundreds of massive beehive like domes, their pluarlity demanding an “s” be placed after the last Bungle or Bundle... No matter, linguistics was never my thing, but then neither was geology and they’re supposed to be pretty impressive rocks. Might need to get Mikey out here to sort everything out once and for all.

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Honeymoon Bay, where the fishermen stay

When people start to talk about the Gibb River Road, the conversations sound a little like this; “Oh, I knew someone who did two tyres and a diff…””I knew someone who’s bearings seized…” “I know a bloke who busted one set of springs, then another, then another…”

Only a freshie...

Did those words worry us? No. Did they stop us from loading up the Disco and getting off the bitumen? No. Have they eaten their way into a tiny corner of my brain, making sure I drive at a snails pace, and dial up low range / rock crawl at every creek crossing? Ummm, yes. I’m still grateful every afternoon once the ignition’s off that the tyres are still inflated (26 front, 30 rear as a result of several bathroom conversations with blokes in blue singlets, and several I told you so’s from Sara).

Windjana Gorge sunset

Leaving Kimmy at Fitzroy Crossing, we headed out to Winjana Gorge. We got a  campsite, then headed out to spot a croc. All freshies, and not at all concerned about us, Oli saw one first, however it quickly became a case of croc shmoc. Up early the next morning to get into Tunnel Creek without anyone else.  No crocs, but it’s a little bit scary negotiating a path along a creek that runs in pitch darkness for almost 750 metres. A tour group came through as we were returning, not sure if they thought Oli’s croc impressions were authentic, but they were all walking very closely behind the guide...

Wadjiina at King Edward River

Next stop, Manning Gorge. The hike into the gorge starts with a river crossing and as I was swimming the gear over, the price of my camera kept repeating in my head. Fortunately everything stayed dry in its Styrofoam boat and we had a day just hanging out at the waterfall. A great campsite and fires permitted which let Sara off her leash! She loves a campfire, what is the point in camping without one? Marshies for all my friends!!

Birthday cake ($1 from Fitzroy Crossing IGA bargain bin!)

My birthday was coming up, and I really wanted to avoid the car if I could. We decided to drive to King Edward River and camp there, using it as a base camp for Mitchell Falls. Good decision in the end. I had a great day. A run in the morning, back to a massage, then cards and new socks! Black Explorers no less! We went to have a good look at some of the local rock art which was spectacular. Old and distinctive, a lot like me now really! A good hike downriver in the afternoon to discover some other falls. We met a couple of PhD students from Melbourne Uni who are studying fish genetics and helped them by establishing that the waterfall we’d got to was probably not the reason why barramundi and saltwater crocs aren’t found up here. We asked for our names to be put on the paper they eventually write in 3 years time.



Sara guiding the Disco across the perilous King Ed River

Birthday dinner with beer, wine and charades of the trip. The one I liked best was Sara acting out the first day, backing the van out at Williamstown, driving down to Barwon Heads with it still attached, and being welcomed by Sal and Jacko. Fair bit’s changed since then. I mean, I know what the black switch inside the door does now. Up early to drive out to Mitchell Falls. We’d heard a bit about this road too, but were in luck as the grader had been through most of it. That little voice kept on nattering though, and it was two hours until we got there.



Kids in a chopper

Big Phil, helicopter pilot from central casting met us there. Picture Ben Affleck with an Aussie accent and a white shirt with gold epaullettes. The plastic came out, and into his chopper we jumped for a birds eye view of the falls and surrounds. No doors in the back, just bits of cloth holding the kids in. After so long driving through the Kimberley scrub, it was amazing to see it from the air. The river and creek courses are everywhere and so obvious, it must look brillant in the wet season with torrents of water replenishing everything. 18 minutes later, Phil dropped us off at the top of the falls, flew out to pick up another load, and we spent 6 hours walking back out. That sounds a lot harder than it was, because it is really only an easy one hour walk from the carpark. We took our time, watching  older people fall over as they crossed the river in their socks, swimming, exploring and getting far too close to cliff edges for Sara’s sanity.

Mitchell Falls

The grader had finished by the time we started back, cut at least 10 minutes off my time which made me about 30 mins slower than everyone else. We packed up the next morning after another tedious morning of journal supervision and drove out, back through the river to Kalumbaru.

Jason and Soo who we’d met at Middle Lagoon had told us about this place. We’d already met Les, the grandson of the owner on the Gibb River road inspecting his sister’s broken trailer. Head out to Honeymoon Beach, they said, ask for George and he’ll take you fishing if you give him a jerrycan of diesel. No sooner than when we’d arrived, One Eyed Andy came over and gave us a massive snapper he’d caught. Corporate Bill showed Sara how to fillet it, including the wings. Then a toothless but jolly pirate hobbled over with a walk that made him look like someone had stolen his peg leg. The pirates name was George and he told us to be ready at 6 tomorrow am.



KIds, Pirate George, and Mangrove Jack



Off we went in his tinny, the SS Dodgy. A mackerel took Sara’s lure. Tuna were jumping out of the water around us. All a bit much. We headed into the mangroves where the salties are. Within a few minutes, I’d been snagged three times and lost 3 hooks. Ned also lost several. But bites were everywhere. We were going through the bait when Oli shouted I’m on and reeled in a mangrove jack. Four more of these followed and a brim with all the kids getting in on it.

Honeymoon Beach isn’t fancy. Two toilets, two showers, no drinking water and no power. There’s no grass except near the people like Andy who leave Queensland to stay here and water the dirt regularly for a couple of months. We’d been down the road to MacGowan Island to buy diesel and ice. They had lawn, water, hot showers, power, internet, but no soul. There was no Les introducing me to his whole family including grumpy Auntie Cheryl, chain smoking Auntie Ellen, and actor brother Terry. No welcoming committee. No photo of famous BJ the furry dog who’d been taken by a saltie on a hot afternoon two years ago. The kids who surrounded ours as they attempted to do homework under a tree at the Kalumbaru mission had told us about him, poor BJ. This is a good place. A genuine place. I’ll come back here, but I’ll come back with a boat and a desalination plant! In the meantime, if anyone knows of a good knee surgeon in Perth for Pirate George, let me know.

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