Pilbara Dreaming

The Pilbara is a land of red dirt and spinifex, where lizards sunbathe on the bitumen and narrowly avoid the wheels of a semi-trailer as it moves its load of flyblown sheep into the city limits. It’s a harsh land, with creek beds cracked and dry and the shimmer of a mirage ever present on the horizon.

Except for the short three months of the wet season. Then, the red dirt darkens with the patter of raindrops and the resulting deluge cascades down the rocks and forms a series of secret pools that only the initiated know how to access.

If you’re in the know, and you’re soon to be, you’ll anticipate the coming of the wet season eagerly because when the water comes, the usually stark granite cliffs and gullies around a place called Hearson’s Cove come to life.

The five of us, along with the dog, made the trip annually in a beat up old blue Holden Gemini. My parents, veterans of the State Emergency Service, had the knowledge to find that special spot where the cliff faces come together and form a secret swimming hole.

Armed with plenty of water, we would climb the cliffs made of a tumble of granite rock, stained red by sun and dirt. Although it’s the wet season, the sun still warms their surface to an uncomfortable heat and any resting must be done in the shade.

As a short child, I would jump from rock to rock with glee. Until the day I misjudged my leap and landed on my rear in a patch of spinifex. It was an uncomfortable ride back home that day.

It’s a 20 minute climb up the cliff to the pool. You can hear the fall of the water echoing along the towering red walls, before the full beauty is revealed between the rocks. Take off your shoes and cool your feet with the blue sky reflecting down upon you, for you are truly alone in the bush.

If you’re game, a skinny dip is on the cards. You’re almost guaranteed to be the only visitors, and the rock wallabies haven’t evolved opposable thumbs to take photos on their iPhones yet.

You’ll be stepping into an ecosystem on overdrive though, with tadpoles and frogs at every stage of their lifecycle, rushing to mature before their watery home dries up. The tadpoles will be the biggest you’ve seen in your life, like plump black olives wallowing through the water. They’re not afraid to take a nibble.

After you’ve finished with your dip, you can sit in the overhang of a large flat rock and contemplate the native rock drawings from the same vantage point as those who made them, and who swam in the pool before you.