How do you like your bum nuts?

Kids were amused

I like my bum nuts sunny side up and runny, preferably with a few rashers of fried pig with fart pills on the side. What this translates to is eggs, bacon, and baked beans. The drive down to Alice Springs was punctuated by alien sightings, a surprising zoo, hot springs, large geological formations, a twitchers paradise without the birds, and a stopover at Daly Waters - home to Chilli the bush poet. Blame the Daly Waters pub’s penchant for Australian outback lingo for this blog’s opening line.

There isn’t much else to Daly Waters than the pub which has managed to carve out a solid niche for itself in the travelling tourist market between Darwin and Alice Springs. It is world famous not for being Australia’s first international airport, but for it’s “beef ‘n’ barra BBQ”, apparently. Twenty four dollars and you get a crack at the salad buffet too. A cheap caravan site soon morphed into a splurge night complete with red wine and dessert, and paddlepops for the kids, heaven. Shame the Leonards got into a barney with the caravan park attendant which meant they couldn’t / wouldn’t stay there too.

Pelican sunset, Lake Woods

They missed out on Chilli, the bush poet / entertainer. Pretty funny show really. He stood up in front of the crowd, thumbs in his belt loops, leant back onto the raised heels of his riding boots and didn’t stop talking and laughing at his own jokes for two hours. He was doing alright too until the very end when he recited his poem, “The Flag”, which essentially argues that because people have died fighting for the flag, it shouldn’t be changed no matter what those pinko, greenie, commie, leftie, over-educated city folk say.

First kids to try this...

Now, there’s a very good chance I was the only pinko, greenie, commie, leftie, over-educated city folk type person in the audience, but I saw an opportunity. I wrote my own piece of bush poetry. I argued that no one dies for a flag, especially one with another country’s flag in its top corner. They die for what the flag represents, and therefore, we need a flag that is a true representation of Australia. I sent the poem to Chilli care of the Daly Waters pub. I haven’t heard back.

Footy practice, Northern Territory style

From there, it was a straight road. A night at Lake Woods to birdwatch, but most of the birds had gone except for some pelicans. We had an overnight stop at the Devil’s Marbles which we decided wouldn’t have been very good to use as marbles no matter how big or devilish you were. Still it was serene once we got away from the crowded camping area, and were able to wander through the spinifex discovering perfect homes for little people amongst the boulders.

Bush stone curlew

We were up and out early the next morning making no attempt to break the journey into Alice up. The three wise monkeys in the back had decided that the Big 4 was the place to stay, and so that’s where we went. For once, a park lived up to its hype earning an unprecedented 10/10 Ned rating. Two jumping pillows, three pools, free entertainment at night including star talks (saw Saturn’s rings), a didgeridoo concert (won a CD), a 4WD talk (learnt a new theory on tyre pressure), and the clincher, an all you can eat pancake breakfast on Sunday morning.



We stayed in Alice for four days. The desert park was a big hit, as was the library and the didgeridoo workshop. The Leonards were here too, so Ivy and Summer painted their nails, braided their hair, and bounced around a lot. We left on Wednesday for the East MacDonnell Ranges, and Trephina Gorge. Even given the fact that it is difficult to pay $7.70 for a camping spot and be disappointed, Trephina Gorge was a spectacular place to stop. We hiked a lot, climbed down disused gold mines, went 4WDing and saw ancient rock carvings. Oli panned for gold, found a speck, then promptly lost it when he was distracted by some new sort of purple crowned orange banded zebra rock pigeon flying overhead. Priorities!!

We also met a family of six from Bendigo. They are travelling for three months up through the middle and down the east coast in a very dodgy, overloaded looking minivan. Gus is a big unit, kind of like a jolly pink giant. I invited him and his son Harry to come with Ned, Ivy and me on an 11k walk along the ridge line to a waterhole accessible only by 4WD. The plan was for Sara and Oli to pick us up there after a spot of birdwatching. Ned and Ivy chewed that bloke’s ear off the whole 11k. When we met up with Sara and Oli at the end of the walk, Oli took over. Gus now knows more about lizards, spiders, waterslides and birds than he ever thought possible. He did jump back into that minivan pretty smartly when we dropped them back…

Caterpillar dreaming rock art, N'Dhala Gorge

Returning then to Alice and the jumping pillows. The Henley-on-Todd regatta is on tomorrow, and there’s the pancake breakfast on Sunday. The park record is fourteen. Oli and Ned are talking up their chances, but I think if I put in a big early morning run I can take them. Only problem I forsee is that big Pete Leonard has just pulled in opposite us and he looks hungry. We could be here a while.

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Kakadu du du, Push pandanus shake the tree

Black Lace was a British pop band from the eighties who have succeeded in hijacking a large portion of my brain with the lyrics to several of their party anthems. If we’d actually met either of the two mullet headed stone washed fools who wrote the hit  Agadoo, I’m sure the kids and Sara would have smashed their heads in with a pandanus tree! No such luck, and anyway, the killing of anything in Kakadu be it cane toads or ageing one hit wonders is frowned upon.

Jumping croc

Kakadu National Park was one of the first big National Parks created in Australia to successfully include local indigenous people in its management. The result is that for the first time, we really have a good sense of the connection that they had and in fact, still have with the land. There are guided walks, talks, and activities on every day throughout the park. We were able to co-ordinate our visit with these events, and we trooped all over the place following the rangers around.

Many people had told us to Kakadon’t. Maybe they didn’t like the fact that it was so big requiring a lot of driving, the fact that you often have to pay to see the Kakadu the brochures represent, or maybe it was just the mosquitoes. Either way, we’re glad we Kakadid. We had six nights in there. We took the Disco through our deepest water crossing yet with the croc infested river coming up over the tyres. The waterfalls on the other side were worth it though, even if I couldn’t convince myself to swim the 100 metres across the plunge pool.

Dead cane toad with green ants

We all learnt how to weave using leaves from the pandanus tree, and the kids and Sara are still wearing their creations. We went over into Arnhem Land to the Injalka Art Centre and purchased a basket and a screen print of barramundi. We saw crocs basking in the river, and Oli bagged several new birds as well as confusing several rangers. Brett the six and a half foot, skinny ranga ranger was one of these. Brett had grown up in the area which made his talks even more special. He was able to talk about the local people and their history based not just on a seasonal orientation program, but his own experience. His reading of local man, Bill Neidjie’s writing at sunset at Ubirr, as we looked over an area that has been lived in for 50,000 years, was unexpected and challenging yet welcome.

Jim Jim Falls

Kakadu is a place where you should find a quiet spot, linger, look, listen and learn. We did plenty of the learning, but not enough lingering. It’s been that way a bit lately as we surge past the halfway point and into the final 4 months of this trip. As always happens, something pops up to change our perspective.

Twin Falls

The road into Gunlom at the southern end of Kakadu is a little rough, but nothing compared to places we have taken Kimmy. Unfortunately for her, it was a bridge too far. I opened the caravan door at Pine Creek to find my way blocked by the fridge which had loosened itself from its tenuous moorings and fallen against the stove. Sara and I muscled it back into place, applied gorilla tape to hold it there, and headed into Katherine.

Rock painting of white man, hands in pockets & shoes

Terry the mobile auto electrician, ex pastry chef, ex road train driver, and ex apprentice of the year two years running at the age of 47 showed up the next day. He reconnected the 12V. The fridge seemed to be working well enough, so we relaxed a bit. No damage to us other than inconvenience. I took my sorrows to the local country club and watched the Hawks go down to the Cats again in a thriller with Bill and Anne from Gisbourne. Cats supporters but still good people.

Not far away, in Katherine Gorge, the Leonards had made a stop. Pete has become our local travelling handyman, so we pulled in behind them. Pete and I attached the fridge firmly and in accordance with the installation instructions which hadn’t been done before. Two beers and the trials were behind us which emphasised how they really weren’t enough of an issue to get too caught up on, especially when people at home close to us are going through much tougher times right now.



Ned and me swimming at top of Gunlom Falls

We had said goodbye to the Leonards outside of Darwin, but were not surprised to see them again. Ivy in particular has been rapt to have Summer to play with. We all went canoeing on Katherine Gorge yesterday. Sara and I ended up towing the two girls behind us for 5k as we paddled to get back before the four o’clock deadline so that we wouldn’t lose our $50 deposit. No tension in that boat at all… I’ll put this on the record now: we will never canoe with our children again until they are old enough to propel themselves!

Ivy jumping at Ubirr

We’ll make our way down to the centre from here, which means… “In 24 hours we’ll be driving the van to Alice!!!” My sincerest apologies, but there will be more tangled lyrics to come.

H

Hello Again, Farewell Again

If a town decides to advertise itself by being the “Beer n’ Croc” capital of Australia, you might not expect too much of it, apart from beer and crocs. Darwin is that place. We were swamped by the humidity on arrival, then welcomed by Jo and Pete’s air conditioning. And that’s pretty much how it played out over the next week; periods of calm sweltering, followed by periods of hectic activity.

Kids and baby croc

Because it is the croc capital of Australia, Darwin has a number of free water parks. We went to a wave pool, a speed slide pool, and a water slide pool. The speed slide was best, although Pete Leonard was unbeatable due only to physics, and definitely not because of any shortage of skill on my part… The reliability of the weather at this time of year means that almost everything is done outside. We ate laksa and pawpaw salad under the stars at the Mindil markets, and watched “The Lorax” with herbal types who frowned as we applied Aeroguard at the open air cinema. Maybe they were repelling the sand flies with their karmic wholesomeness.

Gerda, kids and Kev in Litchfield

Speaking of karmic wholesomeness, Kevin and Gerda, good friends from Melbourne had been able to junket their way to Darwin at the same time. We left three ecstatic kids in the van watching DVD’s brought back from Bali by the Leonards, and taxied into the Darwin Sailing Club for our first proper night out since we’d left. Barramundi, beef, beer, and bullshit followed in huge quantities. It was a brilliant night, and so good to hear Kevin’s stories, having not heard them for six months. The more things change etc.

Kevin decided against coming out to watch the Demons play Port the next day. His reasoning proved prophetic. “I can watch two crap teams play each other any time I want to in Melbourne.” Such an ordinary game of footy. The highlight for me ended up being a conversation I had with a drunk local who also barracked for Hawthorn. It went pretty much along the lines of “Hawks are hot, Pies are cold, Hawks are hot, Pies are cold, Hawks are hot…” and was repeated  whenever things became truly boring on the field i.e. often. I did meet an interesting bloke called Chris who had played for Melbourne in the sixties, and whilst working in communities and with asylum seekers now, had also published Allison Lester’s epic children’s book “Are We There Yet?” about a family who drove around Australia. Funny how things come together.

How the kids spent their $20 on icecream

We chose a Sunday, the last day of the school holidays to go to Litchfield National Park with Kev and Gerda. Crowded out by cavorting locals who were happy to sit, swim, and swill in the croc free water, the place struggled to hold on to its beauty. I’d love to go back if I could have the place to myself a bit, without the vomit and the beer cans and the buses. A bad experience, sure, but tempered by the company, Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, and the fact that Litchfield is spectacular. Next time we’ll organise ourselves a little better, and work out how to escape the crowds.

Matt, Ned, Zach and 3 soon to be deceased cane toads

Darwin ended with a visit to the aviation museum. I’d spoken with Dad earlier who’d reminded me that Mum’s uncle Archie had died during the initial bombing of Darwin. That brought things home to the boys a little more as they read about the war and the extent that Darwin was involved in it all. We’ll have to visit the Tindal RAAF base in Katherine named after him when we get there.







Oli and Ivy dancing



In the meantime, we had an important event looming. Nick Linton had accepted a job in Broome and they were about to do a 180 degree turn to head back there to live. We moved camp to outside of Darwin near Berry Springs in order to farewell them properly. One night turned rapidly into three as they so often have. We had more goodbyes than Nellie Melba, but the final hurrah came on the Thursday. Lintons, Leonards, and Backsons all together for the final? time of the trip. A concert of sorts was held to mark the occasion. Jo and I wrote a poem, Oli MC’d and danced a duet with Ivy, Sara spoke, Rosie did charades with Nick and Josh who spoke also, Zach wrestled a croc, Matt and Pete held a trivia contest, and Ned wrote a short speech. So brave of him to stand in front of everyone and thank them for “…giving us Andersons such a good time”, because in the end, that’s what they’ve done. Good luck Linton’s, we are so lucky you stopped to say hello.



Nick & Rosie charading



H

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.

H