Postcard from Kununurra: Final dinner

Kununurra: We have our last communal dinner with our travel group. I notice fervent discussion and a card circulating. I assume if they need money for a present they will not to speak to me. This is what happens. They speak to Mrs. C and she makes a contribution for both of us.

One of our group, I’ll call him Peter, gives a touching and appropriate speech and gives the card and present to the driver and guide.

At 9:30pm one of the bar staff says: Last drinks. We are closing the bar.

The reason they are closing early is because the hotel can’t afford to pay any staff to stay and serve us.

Subdued talking after last night’s joviality.

The group consist of 16 people randomly thrown together.

In the group. Nobody smoked; nobody tried to lead everybody; nobody was habitually late to the bus; no factions formed; no-one complained about everything. All were Aussies. Coming from all the usual Australian cities. We missed out on the usual two Kiwis.

The future is unscripted. I don’t know who I will see again or when. It is likely that if I see any of the group again it will be in Hobart.  Hobart is a place people travel to and visit. It is the gateway to Tasmania.

After leaving our tour we see some of our group in the airport. I cheerfully greet them. I ignore everybody else in the airport. Our Kimberley trip has bonded me to members of our group. Not fellow airplane passengers.

Postcard from Kununurra: Ord River

 

Bus departs Bungle Bungles at 5:25.

I avoid the seat rotation. I’m permanently in the sick bin. Which is a seat near the front.

Our guide plays a little word game.

Guide: I am going to the moon and with me I will take with me…

The game involves guessing what to take to the moon. It is either accepted or rejected. A fun game where you have to try and break the pattern. If you know the pattern it is obvious what the next object to the moon should be. For me it was not obvious.

I will let you try.

Baboon, abacas, scarf….

What is the next object that would fit the pattern?

 

We arrive at Lake Argyle. Our bus takes us to a boat on the Ord River below the dam wall.

Guide: I can talk about anything. You tell me and I will talk about it. I do plants, birds, fish, boats, Lake Argyle, Water for Perth, cane toads. If nobody asks a question we’ll be back early. Ask and you’ll have a longer and more enjoyable trip.

He then proves he can do what he says. He talks informatively and entertainingly about anything along the river. He has been taking tourists for a ride on his river for many years. He is an expert. To say he is an expert doesn’t do justice to him. He was entertaining, informative etc. Where is my thesaurus.

Postcard from Bungle Bungle: Helicopter flight

 

Bungle Bungle tells me. You get an amazing view of me in a helicopter.

The helicopter doesn’t contain a thesaurus. I have to use standard words like amazing, stunning, breathtaking, unbelievable.

 

After the helicopter trip I notice I have lost my sunglasses.

Ah well. It is the hand I have been dealt. Must play with it.

Mrs. C: I’ll lend you my extra sunglasses until we buy more.

 

Back at the lodge I am given my sunglasses. They were found on the helicopter. I am stunned by such service. Running through the heat to give lunch to one guy and now giving me back my sunglasses.

I gravitate towards the incredible staff. I discover that one of the staff lives during wet season down near Hobart. We talk about a place near Hobart and discover we actually know similar people in the real world.

 

Our last night in Bungle Bungle.

We have drinks and a few snacks at Sunset Spot.

End of school atmosphere. Jovial. Lots of smiles and laughter.

Many photos are taken.

On the bus back to our camp spontaneous singing. America Pie. Sound of Music.

One guy stands up and tells a joke. The bus sways; He has been drinking; He remembers the joke; He hits the punch line. Right where it deserves to be hit. An amazing performance by a non-professional comedian.

 

Morning breakfast at 5:00am. Subdued. Polite. Respectful.

Me: Perfect breakfast. Fruit, cooked breakfast, tea, coffee, table settings.

Tourist: Not perfect breakfast. A mozzie just bit me.

 

We board the bus early. Rocking, rolling, twisting and turning. Few cows. Kangaroos. Many self-drive vehicles piled high and towing everything including, bikes, a canoe, BBQ, chairs and the kitchen sink.

Bus hits bitumen. Speeds up. Straight road. We shoot forward through the untidy scrub; beneath the clear blue sky.

Postcard from Bungle Bungle: Cathedral Gorge

 

Walk in the Bungle Bungles. Celeste runs after us with a non-capsicum sandwich.  She ran through the heat to prevent Peter eating capsicum. Days ago he had filled out a from saying it was not safe for him to eat capsicum.

We wander to Cathedral Gorge. We don’t walk tightly together.  

A few of us men arrive and sit and wait for our wives.  

Man: When my wife gets here she will say where we will sit for lunch.

Another man: I reckon she will tell you to sit over there.

Another man: I’m the same. I have to be told where to sit.

I say nothing and sit patently waiting for Mrs. C. 

Mrs. C turns up and says: We will sit over there. Much better spot.

We eat lunch and walk back with our guide. He talks about what is all around us.

Guide: The geology of the Bungle Bungles is it consists of clay and sand. We call them bee hives.

Me: What is the dreamtime story of these bee hives.

Guide: I’ve tried to find it out. I know nothing.

Me: So I can just make it up.

Guide: Is this a termite mound, a wasp mound or a bee hive?

Two lies and one truth. What is the truth?

Guide: It is a termite mound. They go underground. 80 m. They eat spinifex.

Postcard from Bungle Bungle: Echidna Chasm

 

Every day we have a seats rotation. Go forward or back one seat. New view of the bus. Good for morale on the bus. No small groups within groups forming. No people owning different parts of the bus.

I draw the back seat on a day we spend five hours in the bus. Five hours swaying, swinging on a dirt road. The day after I vomited in a plane.

Mrs. C calls out to the driver: Alan’s going to be sick.

The driver stops the bus, opens the door and says: Get out. I get out. I don’t vomit. I reboard the bus.

I notice that a lot of the seats up the front are empty. Covered by bags.

Me: Can I please sit here.

I sit down in a much better seat. Must relax my breathing. Relax my stomach.

We arrive at Echidna Gorge. Echidna Gorge is in a WHA. Spectacular cliffs merge into rocky mountains.

Echidna  Gorge is spectacular.  We walk on small pebbles around big rocks. Walking in the shade makes the walking enjoyable. Many photos are taken.

After the walk in the gorge I tentatively and successfully eat some lunch and drink water.

Another postcard from El Questro: The Hot Springs

 

Our group has exclusive access to the hot springs for one hour. A beautiful stream cascades down between rocks. A few pools created.

One of our group stand and looks at the pools: Its just hot water for old people.

I enter; sit down; lie down. Water flows over and around me. Warm water with no smell of minerals.  Lying back I see palms overhead. Feels good to be an old person.

Time speeds up in the pool. Time to exit the pool and put my clothes on over my bathers. No drying myself. Towel salesmen would battle in the Kimberley. Wet clothes are a pleasure.

We pass an iron ore truck. 250,000 tons of iron ore are trucked to Wyndham and exported every year.

Driver talks like a laconic stockman. I will tell you what you need to know. I will tell you once. Without colour or flourishes. No fucking around. Honest and truthful.

Driver: This section of the road they need to make it wider. Its too narrow with all these road trains.

Driver: Just travelled onto another million acre cattle property.

Driver: Keep your eyes peeled for brumbies. They can cross the road suddenly around these chicanes.

 

Back at the resort we have a bit of spare time. Everybody rushes to the laundry and the washing machines.

Another postcard from El Questro: Lunch

 

A big discovery has been made. We have internet access for first time in five days. I see five people from our group sitting and looking at their phones. Checking their emails. I take a picture of them and immediately air drop the picture to the subjects. We then all begin airdropping photos to each other. Twenty years ago, we couldn’t airdrop photos to the subject almost immediate. What will we be able to do in twenty years from now?

 

After lunch we are back in the bus.

Driver: Could put a little bit extra road base here. Wouldn’t be difficult.

Driver: In the wet season this river will be full to the brim. Doesn’t look much now.

Postcard from El Questro: Emma Gorge

 

Breakfast

Tourist: Look no fruit juice.

Another tourist: I ate fruit. It wasn’t ripe.

I shudder. I have become the food police. Most people know I spent many years working as a dentist.

We are told about today’s walk. It is rated 4 out of 5. It is rated difficult.

10 out of 16 of us begin the walk up the gorge.   

The walk is rocky. Rock hopping. Lots of big steps. The person behind me pushes me onwards and upwards to keep up with the guy ahead.  

A couple of times I stop and ask others for a photo of myself in the gorge. Deeper and deeper into the gorge. We stop walking at a pool surrounded by steep rock cliffs. Warm hot bubbles stream up randomly creating hot spots. I swim around the pool from hot to cool spots and back again. Dramatic changes in temperature.

Beautiful swim in a beautiful pool. I have to prove I have swum in a beautiful pool.  I ask someone to take a photo of myself in front of the pool.

Return walk back down the gorge. We don’t travel as a group. I wander by myself. Nobody behind or ahead of me. I cruise sedately looking at the path ahead. Stopping to enjoy the view.

 

Postcard from Kimberley: Flat tyre

 

The drive back from Mitchell Falls

Driver: I will pull up and find what that noise is.

The noise is a flat tyre.

The jack doesn’t t do its job requiring a  hole in the road to be dug. Several of the male tourists help change the tyre.

My way of helping is to stay out of the way. Which I am good at. I wander around, up and down the road, and take a few photos.

It takes 75 minutes  to change the tyre. Not one car passes us during that time. 

 

Back at our camp we devour our meal.

After our long walk everybody is in a relaxed good mood. Relaxed and comfortable with everybody else in our group. We all know each other. Past basic introductions. Know what to expect from others. Unfortunately, they know what to expect from me.

Me: Mitchell Falls should be more famous. They deserve more visitors.

Tourist: We don’t want any more visitors. No resorts. They must do what we did. Walk.

Another tourist: There were a lot of people there. That’s enough.

Yet another tourist: It should be difficult. No bitumen roads. We don’t want tourist wrecking the place.