Farewell crossing

As we drew closer to the border, closer to saying goodbye to WA, we decided that WA deserved a final farewell, a swan song. Based on what we knew Lake Argyle fit the bill, being the largest man made lake on the Australian mainland, and holding between 8 and 30 times the water of Sydney harbour, depending on the water level, seasonal rains, and also who is telling the story!

Lake Argyle drew us in with its resort marketing, boasting an infinity pool, beer garden, and live music to unwind to. After an initial panic when we realised we were trying to book for the WA Day long weekend, we arrived early enough to secure a walk-in spot. Ww then embarked on our first adventure, proceeding through an elaborate check in system that involved clipboards, whiteboards, forms, deposits, multiple staff, and a bicycle escort. After getting through each of those stages successfully, we then rewarded/branded with festival bracelets. These had to be worn at all times or you may face expulsion from the resort.

Wary of the cult that had now branded us, we mustered the courage to venture to the much espoused infinity pool. Turning up, we were incredibly thankful to find the pool surrounded by upwards of 30 people working on their tan, but no one swimming. Woohoo! The pool would be exclusively ours.

• 

• 

On entering we realised the reason for all the ‘tanners’. The water felt only several degrees above zero. It turns out every few minutes a brave soul would enter the pool, pose for a few instagrammable photos against the gorgeous backdrop, and then crawl from the freezing waters. They would then lie out in the sun, thawing to stave off impending hypothermia. After a quick dip and several photos, we joined the thawing crowds and began our recovery.  

The oddities of this place continued. A recommended bike ride quickly became tense as each hill once climbed revealed another hill, bush walks to connect with nature were jarred by brightly spray-painted rocks pointing out directions, and the sunset eco cruise revealed our first crocodile, a freshie, and an array of native wildlife, before then becoming a cruise to drink and watch the sunset, while swimming in the lake where we had just seen the crocodile and there were rumoured to be 35,000 more. Freshies, though, so apparently ok.

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

And so Lake Argyle did not provide as sweet a farewell to WA as expected, but did remind us that there had been many facets to our experience. Our adventure through WA had comprised a dislocated hip for the dog, the cold weather of Esperance and an unused esplanade paid for by mining money (called ‘Royalties for regions’), the environmental wonder of Albany, the history of Perth and Fremantle, the massive impact of mining up the west coast and into the Pilbara and the jarring of thousands of years of history and the pursuit of financial outcomes from resources, the amazing grandeur of whale sharks and SCUBA diving at Coral Bay, the unexpected wonder of Broome and the northwest, the relentless heat and clothes dripping with sweat, and the impossibility of settling into a routine with sunrises at 5.30am, sunsets at 5pm, and 28 degree heat at 10pm.. Just as Lake Argyle couldn’t simply fit into a ‘resort’ category, no single narrative could describe our West Australian Adventure.

Leaving WA in a reflective mood, our first days in the NT comprised tensions (the result of three months in a tiny tin can), joy, particularly with sunrise at the much more reasonable time of 7am, and hikes. We tracked up escarpments that loomed by the roadside, learning of the carving out of the land by the black snake and its tears flooding the land from the Dreamtime of the Nungali-Ngaliwurru. We then walked under a different set of escarpments, peering up to thousands of tonnes of overhanging rock, to appreciate the artwork of aboriginals who had come 40,000 years before us. And we also went for a rather dull walk down to Victoria river, apparently Australia’s wildest river, with our only entertainment dares on dipping toes in the apparently croc infested waters.

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

We settled into Katherine after several days of adventuring and staying at free spots in th bush. We lucked into to a caravan park a short walk from the Katherine Hot Springs. Free, thermally heated spring water on tap provided the perfect excuse for a lazy afternoon to dissolve the weariness. We also chanced upon a national trust property, an idea for later in the trip sparking as we learnt there were methods to trade your time for a free place to stay…

The hot springs may have been too rejuvenating; we quickly committed to walking three of the gorges in Nitmiluk National Park. On arriving at the rangers station, what we thought was a 6km walk quickly was corrected  to 12km, with optional swim an extra 3km. Given we’d already made ourselves giddy with excitement over the gorges there was no backing out, however we quickly, quietly and separately expressed our thanks that the remaining 10 gorges were closed due to bushfires in the area, and we hadn’t overcommitted even further.

As we walked, we pondered that though the Inuit have 50 words for snow, Australians did not have nearly so many words to describe the diversity, beauty, and uniqueness of our gorges.  We are yet to see any two the same. Here there were single colour rock faces that erupted on either side of the river into sheer vertical cliffs. Here the river didn’t reflect three underwhelming wet seasons, but was a wide expanse of green offsetting the brown of the rocks, tourist boats looking tiny from our vantage point the only indication of the vastness of what we were looking at.

• 

• 

• 

• 

We committed to the optional swim, clambering across rocks and zigzagging across a small creek, enthusiastic to touch and feel the vast river. 50m from our destination, a lone traveller perched on the side of the creek we were clambering along. He lifted his head wearily as we jabbered excitedly about our swim, thankful for the opportunity to cool down on another boiling hot day, and warned “There are crocs! They say you can swim, but you do it at your own risk!”

Despite his words of encouragement, we continued. On arriving, a short self pep talk later and we were in, soaking up the cool water and the massive cliff faces dwarfing us on three sides. However each perceived current change, each ripple, each splash had me spinning to stare down a calm patch of water, daring it to move and form into a crocodile shape. Vaughn spent a long time sitting in a dead tree branch just out of the river, apparently because it was ’comfortable’.

• 

All up, 18km later following a few wrong turns, we returned from our adventure. While the gold standard is to take only photos and leave only footprints, we also took one sprained ankle, one bruised back and tailbone, one jarred wrist, several blisters, a lifetime of memories, and all limbs. All this in addition to the many pictures of the variously coloured vegetation.

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

• 

Making camp at a recently burnt off free camp, we agreed perhaps we had earned a rest day, No scheduled activities, no expectations, just a bit of typing surrounded by nature.

• 

• 

No salties seen as yet.

——

Awkward confession time. From wearing a backpack while hiking, I Have learnt that I am a back sweater. Underarms smell like roses. Chest unblemished. Legs drier than the dry season. But when I take that backpack off, a tidal wave emerges.

Thank you for listening and your acceptance of this awkward factoid. Don’t worry, no photos of this one.