Bunging round the Bungle Bungles

7.7.2023 - 15.7.2023

After weeks of ping pong’ing around on corrugations doing the Gibb it was sweet relief to find ourselves back on the bitumen. As late arvo descended we made the dash to Kununurra, which held the promise of a much needed supply top up. Our good mate Theo had recently moved to town and offered us a place to crash, but under some misguided sense of not wanting to disturb him so late in the day we pulled into a caravan park for the night instead. What followed was the most dog shit sleep of my life listening to trucks hooning by on the adjacent main road (my regret intensified the next day once we pulled up to Theos relaxed 4 bedroom tropical retreat) - my decision making is questionable at times.

*Champ hesitated for zero seconds before jumping on the couch.*

The next day was a classic clean the car, run errands and do miscellaneous shizzle day (borrrring). The day after, we left Kununurra bright and early and headed for the Bungle Bungles – something that had always been on my bucket list. I was ready to see one or two of those big bungs I’d heard so much about. It was quite the trek from Kunnuz, with the first few hours being on bitumen. Once we arrived at the turn-off we did a check out of a 24 hour rest stop on the highway we heard was the spot a lot of people based themselves out of (especially the caravaners). The joint was absolutely flogged so we ruled that out as an option straight away. Although it was only a 50 km drive off the highway to get into the Bungle Bungles, we had been warned it would take a couple of hours, and that it did. It was a winding, corrugated, slow going track with a few creek crossings. After completing the rattling drive we were amazed at the amount of people who were willing to do that twice a day and base themselves back on the highway (I mean, the caravaners have no choice because you can’t tow your rig along that dogshit track... another win for the Troopy). As it happened, we found a great camp spot on the Frank River which intersected the track just before the National Park boundary. There was fresh running water (funny finding that at a river) and a cheeky tree we could semi hide behind. Pretty sure all the land there is an ex-station, but still technically private property (so in other words, it fit our usual MO perfectly). It was a bit late to sink our teeth into any major hikes, so we decided to lob down to the airstrip and suss out booking in a helicopter tour.

When we arrived at the airstrip a couple of old boys were frothing the Troopy (she’s an attractive beast, I can’t blame them) and came over to strike up a convo.

Me: “Have you guys just been out on a helicopter flight? Any good?”

Old boy: “Nah love, we are booked in tomorrow. We have our caravan out at the highway and just wanted to do a trial drive in to see how long it took to get here. Takes awhile aye!”

I tell you what, caravaners are a different breed. These gents had voluntarily embarked on a four hour round trip just to suss out the road condition before their flight tomorrow. Surely, SURELY if you were worried about time you would just allow yourself an extra hour in the morning?! I often wonder how Matt and I stack up against other travellers in terms of what we fit in in a day. It’s stories like these that confirm we are doing alright for ourselves, lol (#comparingmyselftoa70yearold).

After booking our heli flight we still had some daylight on our side, so we legged it to the far side of the park. My first glimpse of the Bungles in the hazy late afternoon glow did not disappoint. Amazingly, we had the place to ourselves and did the Cathedral and Domes walk. There was some great acoustics created by the Cathedral, so of course I couldn’t help but getting stuck into a full A cappella set (the producers from Pitch Perfect 4 later called trying to tee up a meeting. I told them I didn’t do commercial work, only pure organic grassroots gigs. They were crushed.).

*First foray into the Bungles, not bad.*

*Cathedral walk, nice acoustics up in here.*

With a taste tester of the Bungles under our belt we called it a day and headed back to camp. The crystal clear river running past our camp afforded us the opportunity to wash away the grime and dust of the day, and we fell asleep to the babbling tinkle of rushing water – bliss.

The next day we headed to the northern side of the park to explore. First up, we did the Echidna Chasm – a 2 km return walk through a narrow, well, chasm - whose walls stretch 200 m high. It was a tight fit in places, less than one meter wide (luckily the dugong was fasting that morning and just managed to squeeze her blubber through the gap). As usual, pictures failed to do it justice and I couldn’t capture the scale of the place – but it was indeed a sight to behold. Livistona palms were dotted all the way up the walls en route to the chasm and looked the size of toothpicks in comparison to the scale of the wall, despite being 20 meters tall themselves.

*Simply can’t get enough of these palms.*

*In the depths of Echidna Chasm, Matt for scale.*

*The sheer size of these walls was hard to comprehend (but I managed).*

After a quick car park lunch we tackled the 4.4 km return Homestead Valley hike. In hindsight, we should have switched the order of the walks to do Homestead Valley in the morning as it is quite an exposed trail, and Echidna in the heat of the day as it is practically fully shaded by that big ass chasm. So if anyone’s hitting up the Bungles, learn from our mistakes! After hiking our lil hearts out it was back to our river spot camp for another night.

*Home valley trail… of course Matt had to climb up this thing.*

*Nestled among the Bungles, on Home Valley Trail.*

The next morning we had planned to do the 10 km Whip Snake Gorge walk before our helicopter ride but ended up having a bit of a sleep in, so instead we just did a small section (about 4 km) of the Piccaninny Creek walk before legging it over to the airstrip.

Now, I hate flying but it would be rude not to see the Bungles from the air. Our pilot Toby was a great guide and kept us nicely educated about all things Bungles on our flight (not that I can remember anything now). Long story short – cool rocks, nice patterns, big vibes. I think it was about 500 clams each for a 45 min flight (well, 43 mins to be precise), but well worth it – you can really appreciate the scale of the Bungles and get a proper glimpse at the textbook “beehive” formations from the air.

I was pretty knackered after the mornings escapades but we didn’t want to come all the way back into the park the next day just to finish off the last walk – so we committed and set off on the 10 km Whip Snake Gorge walk at about 3 pm. Lucky for us the sun was setting to the west (I mean, doesn’t it always?) and it wasn’t long before it fell behind the bungles to our west, casting the walk in much needed shade.

*Can’t go under it, can’t go through it…*

Due to the recent rain, huge swathes of the walk path had flooded, which meant we had to get the shoes off and wade/swim through quite a few sections, which slowed us down. It was refreshing at first, until we spotted multiple dead cane toads floating through the floodwaters.

*Trudging through the muck and the mire on Whip Snake Gorge walk.*

We were told Whip Snake Gorge was one of the most impressive walks and that you could swim at the end – but when we reached the end I was somewhat underwhelmed (possibly because someone had hyped up our expectations a bit too much). There was the barest hint of a piddly little trickle waterfall trying it's best to impress us. As for the so-called swimming hole, it was ankle deep an adorned by bloated Bufo marinus carcases – hard pass. Is it rude for me to judge a gorge? Maybe I was simply all bunged out at this point. However, any hikes a good hike and it was still worth the trek (and we simply couldn’t do every walk in the park bar one…that would just be outrageous). Matt was also disappointed at the distinct lack of Whip snakes – “if you’re gonna name the walk after them, at least make sure there’s a few to meet and greet us when we arrive at the end.”

Dusk was settling in by the time we had finished our hike, and it was definitely too late to head back to the highway, so our riverside camp got a final look in. Later that night I was struck by a sudden sickness of some kind and was dashing in and out of the Troopy to vomit pitifully in the bushes, then taking myself to the creek for a little splash. Maybe I was infected with cane toad juice somehow? It’s not often I’ve been struck by the “I really wish I was at home right now” thought on this trip, but by about the fourth time I had clamoured out of bed, located the torch, busted my knees up on the exit and scrambled over the rocks to my throw up bush I was well and truly dreaming of being back in the Karrinyup Palace ensuite with running water, a flushing toilet and a hot shower. Living out of your car can be challenging at the best of times, but throw being ill on top of that and it becomes a bit abominable. Thankfully after a couple of hours I was tentatively back to normal and was able to get some shut eye.

We headed back to Kununurra the next day, stopping only for a quick hot chip at Doon Doon (shout out Doon Doon for potentially best hot chip of the trip so far – fecking perfection).

*Longest hot chip award goes to this succulent little tater.*

*Just disposing of my boyfriend, don’t mind me.*

We were going to blast straight through to Lake Argyle for the night but the car started making an ominous noise so we did the responsible thing and took it past the mechanics for a quick look. He squeezed us in the next morning (don’t ask me what was wrong with it because I can’t remember. Actually I just gleaned the info from Hat for the purposes of this blog 3 months later – the bearings were gone in the tensioner puller. Hope this info satiates all you mechanic fans out there). By 10.30 am we were on the road to Lake Argyle, a place I vividly remember from an iconic camping trip when I was 9. We were going to treat ourselves to the caravan park but upon enquiring on arrival we were told it was fully booked and were given the helpful recommendation to head to the next nearest accommodation…Kununurra (lol). Unperturbed, we spent the day exploring then snouted out a free camp atop a rocky escarpment in the evening. We weren’t the only ones with that plan, with a couple with a rooftop tent perched on an even higher spot on the hill above us. At about 10 pm the wind came in something hectic and it obviously got too much for the other couple, because I heard their car start up and I peered out the window to see them slowly ambling down the hill towards us – but the thing was, they evidently couldn’t be bothered pulling their rooftop tent down (no idea why, it only takes 5 seconds) and left it fully erected (I was immediately struck by the vision of the chick still asleep in their rooftop bed whilst the dude had chucked a paddy and moved the car). The track was actually quite a decent 4wld with a few technical sections to manoeuvre and the car looked comical as anything with the tent still erect teetering all over the place.

*View from our camp spot at Lake Argyle.*

We of course took the prerequisite Lake Argyle boat tour the next day, which was lubly. Highlight was witnessing some old cobba who was positively frothing the experience, lift his beer to cheers the lake in an unguarded moment “fucking cheers to you, you gorgeous thing.” I was dying. After the tour we backtracked back to Kunnuz as the Troopy was getting her water tank fixed the next day (those who have read my Galivanting across the Gibb post may recall this incident).

*Theo putting on a mad spread of vegan chicken & tofu rice paper rolls. King behaviour.*

After a full day getting a new bracket made up for our water tank and getting her refitted, Hat rode over to pick the car up in the late arvo to make a grim discovery – the way the lads had fitted the brackets meant we would be unable to pop the roof up (Hat did show them the way our set up worked before they commenced but it must have slipped their mind throughout the day). They were spewing, as you can imagine, and so were we because it meant we needed to bring the car in again the next day for a refit. Luckily for us we were able to continue lapping up the hospitality at Hotel Theo as opposed to being destitute on the hot dusty streets of Kununurra, so it wasn’t the end of the world. It was as we were lazing about at Theos that I overheard Matt outside chatting to one of his friends on the phone – the subject was regarding how much beers he was drinking on this trip (I think he may have been comparing himself to Theo, who was partaking in cups of tea with me in the evening instead of beer). Comparing his alcohol consumption to my friend group, Matt commented to his friend, “it’s different in Brigit’s marine science crew, you should see it. No drugs, no weed, no booze… just salt water and good times!”. That last comment absolutely sent me.

*Had to do the infamous Ivanshoe crossing whilst in the region.*

Somehow the lads re-did the bracket work in double time and we had the car back by midday, so we decided to bite the bullet and head for the Northern Territory. After 2 and a half months, it was time to leave the safe confines of our home state and say our goodbyes to Western Australia. It was a weird feeling to know the next time we would be entering back into WA in the Troopy would be all the way down the southern entrance via South Australia, in about 9 months’ time, if all went to plan.

Stay tuned to cross the border with us into the Northern Territory in my next blog post, where we explore the mighty top end and all she has to offer.

Until then my supine Steller’s sea cows,

Yours faithfully,

The Dugong.

Bunging round the Bungle Bungles

Traipsing the Top End

Galivanting across the Gibb