Tag Archives: Karijini

“Unbelievable” In Minthukundi

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We wish you a pleasant reading as we share our life adventures with you, in the hope that some aspects of them will resonate with you or someone you know or, at the very least,encourage you to go out and explore.

So how did we get here? We had given thoughts to making accommodation reservations when we started but felt these were, in most cases, unnecessary and chose to plan as we go. Our choice was largely influenced by the fear that pre-booking our accommodation will commit us to a rigid schedule. What if we come to like a particular place and choose to spend more than the number of days planned there? This was the case when we got to Broome and, had we made reservations for Karijini, we would have lost money. Unfortunately we did!

While in Port Hedland, we sought for accommodation in Karijini and it was there that reality hit us hard. The Eco Retreat, the only non-camp like accommodation within the park was fully booked out for the next 6 months. The alternative, if we were insistent on staying within the park grounds, was either the Dales campground or its overflow. The Dales campground was also fully reserved and we could only get a 2 night reservation at the overflow. We paid the fees for the 2 nights but lost our reservation when we chose to stay extra nights in Broome. It was such that the only comfortable accommodation that we were left with was the Auski Village, 65kms away from the park or 90kms away in Tom Price. We chose the former.

The night at Auski Village was uneventful, except for the man next door who kept tapping at the wall panel that divided our rooms from his side. When I asked him what he wanted, he requested that we turn the volume on our television down. Though the volume was low already, we reduced it further and finally gave up on watching TV totally and switched it off. We slept off and had a good night sleep in the port-a-cabin. These port-a-cabins were decent enough and similar to the same ones that we had slept in, earlier in South Hedland. The only difference was that these were not rigorously tied down like those in South Hedland. Cyclones are not much of a consideration here.

It was cold when we woke up in the morning and I was very happy when Saf gave me a hot cup of coffee that she had made. This area of the Auski Village was desolate, the construction vehicles and the people we had seen the previous night were gone to work. With the cup of coffee in hand, I took a walk around our immediate surrounding. I became conscious of how close to the village the Hamersley range was.  If I had wanted to, I could have walked out of the village and get to the mountain within 20 minutes. I paused and took time to admire this ageless mountain in the near distance. Apart from the sound of human activities coming from the other side of the village, it was all calm here. I wanted to get a chair and just sit here, enjoying the calmness from the view but the early morning cold would not let me. I continued on my walk and was soon at the other side of the village, the camp side. Everywhere here, was red dirt, except for the patch of grass on which people are camping. There were different forms of tents and recreational vehicles dotting the park. It was evident that some had been here for a long while. A few families were up, making breakfast and preparing their vehicles for their planned commute for the day while the snoring from a few tent showed there were still some not yet awake.

I walked back to our section of the village just at the nick of time. Saf’s voice rang out, “sweetheart, where are you, are you already loading up the vehicle?” With meals done, we jumped into the Explorer, full of energy and were eager to see what Karijini had for us. As we dropped our room keys at the reception to check out, we asked the lady if there was any shortcut through which we could get to the Hamersley Gorge. Oh no, you just have to follow the Munjina Road for a little over an hour and you will be there, she responded. It was taken for granted in this area that everyone drove a four wheel vehicle.

…around Mount Sheila

Exiting the road house, we joined the Munjina road. It quickly dawned on us that a road does not necessarily mean a sealed, properly paved route. Approaching us, from the other side, was a dusty construction ute with its “buggy whip”  providing visibility from the red dust that swirls around it as it sped towards us. We didn’t realise it then but we would soon be eclipsed by this same dust as we drove on this road. The Munjina road is an unsealed red gravel road that runs round the northern boundary of Karijini through low bushland. The terrain here is desolate with no facilities for the commuters. This desolation makes for unobstructed views of the mountain range that was on our left. The entire right was low lying bushland.

For extreme tourism enthusiasts, the entry point to the abandoned town of Wittenoom is off this road. The warnings were unambiguous, “steer clear!” The town was abolished by gazette in 2007 as a result of asbestos contamination and is regarded as the largest contaminated site in the southern hemisphere. We were not suicidal and going to explore the ruins, if any, was not of interest to us. As we passed the exit to Wittenoom, the road becomes the Nanutarra road.

A little further ahead, a train line runs parallel to the road, the steel barricading the line from the road glisters in the morning sun. We concluded that it probably was a new extension of an existing line as it has the ballast and wooden cross ties all have some newness in their look. There were a few workers fixing something on the line. Whatever was being done, extended to the road and we were soon brought to a halt by the construction crew.

Going through the section of the road that cuts through Mount Sheila, we could almost touch the rocks. We saw the different layers of sediments that made up the rock. Each layer tells a story of the formation of the rock and the conditions on earth as at then but we can’t hear what was being said. A geologist would have a field day here, telling an interesting story of how these rocks came to be. Suddenly we found ourselves on a sealed road, this was a welcomed relieve. The road is narrow and snakes through the mountain and as suddenly as it appeared, it disappeared. We were back on unsealed road again and soon came to the well signposted turn to Hamersley gorge. We were now off Nanutarra road.

The entire park that is home to these beautiful gorges, of which the Hamersley is one, used to be called the Hamersley National Park. F.T. Gregory, an European explorer is credited with having named the Hamersley Range, a major feature of the park, after his close friend Edward Hamersley following his exploration of the area in 1861. The park’s modern name, Karijini, originates from the traditional Aboriginal land owners who have lived in the vicinity of this area for thousands of years. It seems someone had finally listened to the words of Lola Young. But then, it challenges our thinking to understand why the name of the mountain range has not been changed as well.

When we arrived at the parking lot, it was as if every adventure seeking Australian was there for a meeting. The Hamersley gorge is the most remote gorge to visit and the almost desolate travel on the Munjina-Nanutarra road had given us the false impression that we were the only adventurers in this remote north-western fringe of Karijini. We were wrong, very wrong. To get a parking spot for the Explorer, we had to go in circles twice. Even with that, we had to tuck the vehicle up in a bushy land off the road and took a long walk down to the entrance to the gorge. All the vehicles here, without exception, were covered in red dust, a sign of the long tortious route many had taken to arrive here. As we started meeting with the people, all the age groups were represented, the kids and older adults were here as well.

Curiosity took over us and we were suddenly in a haste to get down into the gorge to experience whatever adventure that was captivating enough to have attracted all these folks over here. As we approached the entrance to the Hamersley Gorge, we stopped to read some of the notices and guidelines on the black steel boards.

Out of no where, a middle-aged gentleman tugged at my shirt and asked to know where I was from. I told him and he said he suspected that much from my to nation. He mentioned that I looked and spoke exactly like his best friend and it was this that attracted him to me. I asked him about this friend of his and his face suddenly turned sorrowful – He is dead. He died of pancreatic cancer. I felt like embracing him but resisted it. He went on to tell me about this man. They had met in Sydney and had developed a close bond as they grew up and he could vividly recollect this man’s popular phrase as “unbelievable!” We parted ways. While he made for the park exit,  we took the short walk down some steep rock steps into the gorge. The steep and uneven steps meant that many older adults could not make it down into the gorge and remained content with looking at it from above.

There was a sizable number of people in the pool when we finally got there and the water in the swimming hole was frigid. It was a bit crowded, mostly with kids sliding down the side of the rocks, jumping, splashing the water and making loud noises as they express their excitement.  Saf already had her swimming trunks under her clothe and all she had to do was to pull off her top. I looked for a less crowded end of the pool and changed into my swimming pants. We just had to experience the waters in the tree-fringed pools here. The surrounding rock revealed its beautiful layers. The sediments making the rock were in different colours and these were marvelous to look at, along with the preserved vegetation. A sense of calm descended on us and we were soon lost reveling in this beautiful work of nature.

At one end of the pool, the water tapers as it flows through a narrow opening it has cut through the enormous rocks over the years. At this point, words are inadequate to describe the scenery. I wasn’t bold enough to swim to the end knowing the limits of my abilities. Saf, being a better swimmer than I was, was moving in the pool like a dolphin. I was getting very cold and was soon out of the water choosing to wrap myself with the huge towel we had brought and enjoy the views. Our plan for the day included visiting the Weano and Hancock gorges and I had to call Saf to stop swimming so that we could be on our way. She wasn’t the happiest of women on earth as she came out of the pool but she understood why her fun had to be cut short.

Getting out of the gorge took some effort, the steps were uneven and the slope steep. We did not bother to change and was content with laying our towels on the Explorer’s seat to prevent our wet bodies from spoiling them. We were back on the Munjina-Nanutarra road from where we turned left unto the Hamersley-Mount Bruce road, cutting off a visit to Mount Sheila. The road took us to Karijini drive and then following the Banjima drive we arrived at Weano gorge. It had taken us exactly 2 hours to cover the 95kms from Hamersley through mostly unpaved roads. At a point during our travel here, we were following a truck which was spurning so much red dirt in the air that visibility was almost zero.

It had been an interesting drive and by the time we arrived at Weano, we had circumnavigated the entire Karijini park. Almost. Now we were right at the heart of the park. We pulled the Explorer into the day use area ( also called picnic area). We were famished but more excited to see what lies beneath the gorge here. At the entrance to the gorge, the gateway was made of  two giant oxidising brownish metal boards. We were busy reading the write-ups on these when a voice cuts through. “Unbelievable“, it was the man we had earlier met at Hamersley calling us. We looked ahead and we all burst out laughing, as our eyes met. He was approaching us from the gorge and I repeated the word “unbelievable!” He said that was exactly how his friend spoke it and requested that I say the word again. This time we embraced.

He departed the area while we took the short walk into the gorge. From here, we followed the 1 km gorge trail. Even the most difficult to please of all creation will marvel at the grandeur and enormity of these rocks. Looking into the sky from its deep recess, walking through magical narrows and watching the water snaking through these and becoming a trickle in some places provided a window into how living was meant to be. At this point I remembered the Yoruba song and started humming it:

Olorun t’o dĂ  Ă wọn òkè Igbani 
Eyin ni mo fi ope mi fun
T’ani N’wo tun gbe ga o
Bi Ko se Baba l’oke
Tani N’wo tun fi gbogbo Ope mi fun
Olorun t’o da awon Oke Igbani
Eyin ni mo fo Ope me fun

In English

The Lord who created the ancient Hills
To you I will give all my praises
Who else will I exalt
If not you, father in heaven
Who else will I give all my praises to?
The Lord who created the ancient Hills
To you I will give all my praises

Weano Gorge

We touched the rocks that were in many places like slabs, sheets upon sheets of solid. This walk offered some beautiful picture taking opportunities and we took some. My photogenic wife would not stop interrupting me from proceeding further, she was perpetually asking me to take her pictures at different spot. It was like with every step we took, I had to stop and take her a picture.

At the Handrail Pool, it was a different scenery altogether. The rocks were like sheets of tiles of different thickness, lengths and coloration. All shades of brown were present. The water rolling gently, cascading over them into the pool provides a soothing natural sound. The scene was indescribable and soon we got into the pool and were little children all over again. We spent quite a bit of time here, playing with the water, climbing up the rock and generally were attuned with nature. It was probably the highlight of our visit to this wonderful park.

Finally it was time to leave and the walk or climb out was a little challenging as we had to go over steep rocky steps. Once out, we headed to the Oxer lookout. Our walk was rewarded with breathtaking panoramic views of the four gorges in the vicinity – Weano, Red, Joffre and Hancock. From here, we saw the tiers of banded iron formation towering over a pool at the bottom of one of the gorges.

People have died in this park. The causes of death range from flash flooding in the gorges, to falling over cliff edges, exhaustion and drowning. Danger was lucking all around us. As with everything Australia, there are more than one way to die here. Knowing the prevalence of these risks, we were very careful to consider each and every activity we did to avoid them. We were not going to be part of the statistics here.

Our next stop was the Hancock Gorge but by the time we got here, we knew we had seen much of the gorges. After all, we had said, a gorge is a gorge. Tired, we did not enter the gorge and was satisfied to look at it from its entrance. It was time to look for food and a place to rest our tired bodies.

Arriving at where the Explorer was, there was a park attendant going around the place. Since I had not displayed a park admission ticket, I was afraid that he had booked my car and we would be receiving in the mail a citation for this. I approached him and engaged him in a conversation. He mentioned he had seen our vehicle at Dales gorge the previous day. I was amazed at his memory, noting how many vehicles move around the park daily. We told him about our journey so far and he recommended that we do a couple of more visits to other gorges before we leave.

We drove the next 84kms and arrived at a rest area at the intersection of Karijini drive with the Great Northern Highway. For safety reasons, we wound not proceed to Tom Price and chose to camp here for the night. By the time we got there, there were already two caravans set up for the night. It was going to be another Jesus slept in a manger night. We prepared our meal and ate. As we retired for the night, other adventurers started showing up at the rest area and before we knew it, the place had turned into a little village.

Gbésè, GbÉbodi in karijini

https://www.youtube.com/watch?reload=9&v=taqiVpjzNwg

Our morning at the caravan camp started with a banter with Lyn and Ray (surname withheld), as we packed up the Explorer in preparation for the day’s trip. They had come around to spread some clothes on the line and we had exchanged pleasantries that started our conversation.

When Ray asked me where I came from, originally? I took him to the side of the Explorer where I have the map of Nigeria, coloured in Green, White, and Green (the Nigerian Flag colours) pasted on the fuel tank cover and asked him to guess. Spot on, I said, as he mentioned Nigeria. He was the first person out of about ten that had passed this test of identifying the Nigerian map. I have had answers ranging from Kenya to Zambia from various others which informed my position that many Australians know next to nothing about Nigeria. Of course that itself is not surprising considering that this is a country where the minister of education, Dan Tehan, refers to Africa as a country! Little wonder that I immediately concluded that they were not Aussies.

Lyn and Ray turned out to be South African whites that fled South Africa in the wake of the post-apartheid elections. They were concerned about possible retributory attacks from a black dominated government. From their looks, they would pass for an Aussie any day but they still identify themselves as Africans, that is, despite having spent more than two decades here in Australia. In fact, Ray informed that he constantly makes trips back to South Africa and feels more at home there than here. While they love the amazing scenery and the security that Australia offers, home is still South Africa and that is where their hearts are. When probed further, they explained that Australia is a lovely country that promotes diversity and supports immigrants to keep their ethnic identities but the average Australian is not very tolerant of immigrants.

Probably to endear themselves to us, Lyn shared her experience in having to host a Nigerian college kid during the Covid19 pandemic. On mentioning the lad’s name, we were pleasantly surprised to realise that he is the son of a family friend. Life has a way of bringing up unexpected coincidences, the reason why we need to maintain a good name at all times in all situations.

With Lynn and Ray gone and the Explorer loaded up, we decided to do a little exploration of the town by hiking to the top of Tank Hill. The hill is right at the back of our camp and hosts an enormous water tank with the bold inscription “Welcome to Marble Bar” and another saying “Our summer is Hot, Our Winter is Warm and Water is Precious.” We ascended the mountain following a bush path strewn with small, jagged rocks and had to keep our eyes on the pathway in order not to miss our steps and fall. It was a strenuous effort to cover the short ascent as it was rough sloppy and overgrown with weeds.

At the top of the hill, our effort was rewarded with a beautiful view of the town as it spreads flat down below us. We could see the well laid out streets in form of a rectangular grid, the maintenance offices of a few mining interests and the rolling hills in the far distance that surround the town, holding it in their belly. The voice of my geography teacher echoed in my ears asking me to look closely at the hills and explain why Marble Bar is sited here. There you go again, Seun, you got it wrong. Have you considered how the surrounding mountains could have contributed? No ma. Okay then, haven’t I taught you about the defence from invaders that hills offer? She asked me to remember the examples she had given about Idanre, a similar city in Western Nigeria surrounded by hills. I smiled. It was as if I was in her class again, while teaching us about factors for the location of cities.  I wanted to raise my hands and tell her that I don’t think this was the reason for the choice of this location to site Marble Bar in the late 1800’s

As it happened, she was’nt completely wrong. We came to learn of the existence of an old airfield here, the Corunna Downs, just 35kms south of the town. It was a secret airfield located in this scrub and spinifex country from where the American and Australian Air Force units operated during WW2, carrying out numerous bombing raids on Japanese bases and shipping. The choice of this location was simply due to the protection from detection from enemy aircrafts that the mountain ranges offer.

Departing Marble Bar, we made a brief stop at the Community Resource Centre in the heart of the town, almost directly opposite the Ironclad Hotel. We needed some internet connection to communicate with our home team about our plans for the day. Surprisingly, even in this remote location, it was available and free! I was impressed with the policy intent of the Australian Government in extending services to the outermost reaches of its citizenry, especially the first nation people.  As we entered the centre, we saw a mid-aged Aborigine Woman undergoing Adult Education in the English Language, a confirmation that the education system doesn’t want anyone to be left behind. This scene brought up memories of the similar program promoted by the Nigerian Military Government in the late eighties aimed at improving adult literacy and the rural education of many Nigerians. The program was initially popular but the policy was not continued by succeeding government and it died leaving still many Nigerians in need of basic education.

There are two gas stations in Marble Bar, one each at the beginning and end of the town, depending on wherr one enters or exit the town. Prior to leaving, we headed to the gas station to top up our fuel, the price was exorbitant. With no options, we swallowed our pride and bought it,  the Explorer being a thirsty vehicle that won’t blink an eyelid before abandoning us in the cruel summer heat of the outback if it runs out of fuel.

As we drove out of Marble Bar, to get to Karijini, we either go all the way back to Port Hedland and from there join the Great Northern Highway heading south, all on good tarred roads or follow the Hillside Road. The Hillside road will reduce our commute distance by about 202kms but is a track road for at least 51 km before we can get on any sealed road. Presented with an opportunity to put the Explorer to do what it is built for, we chose to follow the Hillside road.

Mount Nameless was not on our itinerary but as we drove out of Marble Bar, our attention was drawn to the name somehow but can’t remember how. The name awoken a curiosity in us, how can a mountain be nameless to be called exactly that? For the settling Europeans not to find a name worthy to call the mountain, to us, smirks of dis-ingenuity. As we were later to learn, when we arrived att the Karijini Visitor’s Centre, our thoughts were in agreement with the thinking of the Aboriginals that own these lands for centuries.  There, on a display, were the words of Lola Young, a Yinhawangka (the Aborigine group in this area) Elder regarding the Europeans naming of Mount Nameless:

“I think there is a lot that non-Aboriginal people could learn from Aboriginal people. You know, the non-Aboriginal people named the biggest hill around here at Tom Price, Mount Nameless. They didn’t ask the Aboriginal people here if that place had a name already. And it had. Its name for thousands of years has been Jarndunmunha: there’s nothing nameless about that. I think it is a matter of respect of cultures.”

A little on the outskirts of Marble Bar, heading south-westward we were brought to a halt by an ongoing gold mining operation.  Under the disguise of safety, which we interpreted as effort to prevent gold scavengers from messing around here, we had to wait until an escort vehicle was made available to escort us through the operation. This area with its ancient landscapes; the red earth; and its vast mineral deposits is truly the bread basket of Western Australia. In some places, the track hugs closely the sides of ageless mountains and we were tempted a few times, but for lack of time, to alight from the Explorer and walk to their tops. Looking at these mountains, one needs little convincing to agree that these hold tremendous deposits of iron ore, their oxidised looks show this clearly. As to Gold, one can only assume but since capital doesn’t loaf around, the gold mining companies in this vicinity must be getting these resource, especially for those with abundant patience to explore the creeks that are numerous in this area and crisscross the land.

As we journeyed on the track, I occasionally glanced at the rear-view mirror, and would see the trail of brown dust cloud that we were leaving behind.  Little wonder to find out much later that the Explorer was dirty all through from another day in the Australian outback. It was sheer bliss driving on this road and we were probably the only vehicle on the road most of the time, in most instances within a 5km radius. As planned, just a little after crossing Cooglegong Creek, we came to a good road and left the track behind us. It has been 51kms of dust but all fun. The rest of the journey to Auski roadhouse was on the Great Northern Highway, a beautifully laid out road.

Approaching Auski Road House, we came across a huge road board informing that we were in the Shire of Ashburton. For those coming from Port Hedland, this is the point at which they cross into the Shire. While we stopped to take some pictures here, I waved at a passing vehicle and that led to a noteworthy encounter that affirmed my faith in the inherent good of man. The driver of the vehicle had taken my wave gesture as a signal of distress and turned back his vehicle to come and help. I was surprised to see him back and cautiously approached his vehicle. It was only when he wound down his side-glass window and asked if I needed any help that I let down my guard. I was full of apologies as I explained that I was just waving at him to wish him safe travels. We both busted into laughter as I thanked him for his care and concern. Thereafter he drove off, disappearing into the horizon as quickly as he had appeared.

We arrived the Auski roadhouse in the afternoon. It was lunchtime as evidenced by the teaming number of individuals in safety vests dining in the roadhouse. This was the construction crew of a nearby mine. After being assisted in sorting out our accommodation for the night, we headed out towards Karijini, a distance of 62kms to its entry gate. Our itinerary requires that we explore the nearby Dales gorge today so that we have ample time the day after to see other distant gorges. As we left the Auski roadhouse, almost immediately, we started appreciating the beauty of nature as represented by the majestic mountains that towered on the two sides of the road where the engineers had cut through them to make a way for the road.

After tucking the Explorer into an available parking spot, we alighted and made the short walk to the Visitors Centre. It was almost closing by the time we arrived. An historical exhibit was on display about the early settlement of this area, the cattle ranches, the unpaid labour of the Aborigines that worked on these ranches, the unforgiven environment in which they worked and the poor condition of life they lived. We had to quickly go through the exhibit as the Visitor Centre was closing its doors. Outside the Visitors Centre is a big signboard welcoming all and explaining about the Warlu Way, which unknowingly is the significant portion of the trip we had taken so far to get here.

The Warlu Way follows the path of the Warlu (the Dreamtime sea serpent) as it traverses North West Australia, the Pilbara and Kimberley regions of Western Australia. It is held by the Aborigines that the mighty Warlu emerged from the sea in times of old and in the process of travelling through the red heartland, it created mountains and waterways covering the over 2480 sq.kms from Exmouth through Karratha,  Port Hedland, Broome and Tom Price areas. I see a similarity in the Aboriginal story of creation with that of the Yoruba people who talked about Obatala and the cockerel that created the earth.

Leaving the Visitors Centre,  we made haste to arrive at Dales Gorge, the closest of all the tourist attractions in this national park. Closeness is relative though, as getting there was still 11kms away from the centre. The path into the ancient cavernous gorge was down from the rocky cliff on a series of iron stairs with handrail for support. Everywhere we looked was amazing, with the brownish red hue of the mountain surrounding us showing they are iron rich. It was first the sound of the falls but soon we could see the Fortescue Falls below us and we stopped at a section on the steel stairs to take a picture. In doing so, we created a little traffic behind us and two ladies immediately stepped up to help with the picture taking. After taking us some stunningly beautiful pictures, they asked to know where we are from. Nigeria, I said and immediately one of the ladies started singing and dancing QDOT “Gbese, Gbebodi” song. I was pleasantly surprised. Here, in the middle of nowhere is a lady celebrating the artistry talent of Nigeria. I was compelled to ask her where she is from and she said Colombia and that Nigerian songs are very popular there. This chance meeting with the Colombian ladies as we descended into the gorge became one of my best “Proudly Nigerian” moment.

By the time we actually got to the falls with its waters cutting sharply through age old rock structure before splashing down into a pool, the Colombians were already enjoying the therapeutic coolness of the fall. Again, she called, drawing my attention to her dance steps and I did my best to show mine which, unfortunately, were nowhere as good as hers. The Fortescue Falls are not in any scale comparable to the mighty Niagara Falls but the fall which runs over the edge of small jagged rocks, arising from the sheer splendour of the surrounding timeless rocks of the Dale Gorge, is remarkable on its own as a tourist attraction.

After satisfying ourselves with the beauty of the falls, we left to explore the Fern Pool which was about 300 metres away. The pool’s cooling waters are fed by a natural spring and is surrounded on all sides by lush green ferns. It is a popular swimming spot for most visitors to the park and there were already families enjoying the pool and unwinding in it. Unexpectedly, the water was cold, very cold, and yet everywhere around us was warm. We were thus dissuaded from jumping into it but spent time enjoying the sights and sounds of this wonderfully kept nature’s retreat.