Backyard Adventuring

It had been 15 days since the last shower. 60 days of camping, of dragging the camper trailer from the soggy, monochrome Melbourne and up through the burning red centre to the Kimberleys. 60 mornings of racing to beat yesterday’s sleeping bag stuffing record, and 60 days of cruising on Australia’s loneliest dirt tracks. But it was 15 days since we’d hit the Gibb River road and 15 days since we’d found ourselves bathing in gorges and rivers, not campsite shower blocks.

We were plonked beside the Pentecost river up north in El Questro, an ex cattle station turned Wilderness park where glamping and roughing it coexist in cheerful harmony. It was a scorching September day and the heat of the early pre-monsoon summer burnt down on our backs as we fished off the banks for supper. The river seemed to be home to the ugliest creatures Mother Nature was cheeky enough to create – I caught a breathtakingly repulsive fish which was identified as the appropriately named Snooty Grunter and a mouldy looking turtle. Both were thrown back. As the day wore on the heat took hold and we gazed at the river lustfully, hungry for a dip in its cool waters. Sounds simple, no? See river, go swimming. But alas, we were in the far north and the river was tidal. We were in salt-water croc country. All morning we watched the waters. Saw the serrated spine of small crocodile glide up the river and back down again. The sun grew hotter and we the sat marinating in sweat, still salted from swimming in Broome. We plunged buckets in and poured them over one another for slight relief, but it wasn’t enough. We watched the river, watched the croc, and finally, dizzy with heatstroke and recklessness, planned escape routes from the water’s edge. We watched the croc sail past one final time, paused, then leapt off the edge and plunged into the cool dark clutches of the Pentecost. It was both terrifying and exhilarating. With white knuckles I washed my hair with near supersonic speed and scrambled back out. Back on the bank we sat shivering, chilled from the icy waters and frosty grasp of adrenaline. The croc sailed past again.

Rent a 4WD in Broome, check it has a snorkel, stock up on fuel filled jerry cans (and the other kind of cans full of your next love, baked beans), and head north up Australia’s Gibb River road for a truly unforgettable experience. You will meet incredible people, and you will see incredible sights. Just watch out for the salt-water crocs.