Poddling through the Pilbara

20.5.2023 - 1.6.2023

Dear reader,

We left the Exmouth coast behind us and hit the bitumen, settling in for a seven hour drive inland-ish through the Pilbara landscape, with Karijini National Park our next destination. We of course broke up our drive with a hot chip at Nanutarra Roadhouse (points for freshness and salt level, deductions for price). Our route took us through Paraburdoo (a mining town) which was surprisingly quaint and pretty – and even more surprisingly, had a pretty banging skate park. This of course meant Hat disembarked for an hour or two’s BMX’ing, which meant we did the last bit of driving through the night.

We holed up for the night at Tom Price caravan park, which gets my vote for the nicest cazza park yet – good big trees, plenty of shade, beautiful grassy sites with Mt Nameless (zero points for effort in naming that mountain) as a backdrop. And it was virtually deserted – perfect! The temps dropped that night to about four degrees or so (inland lyf) and we were bloody freezing in the troopy. The next day we struck out for Karijini which was about an hour-ish drive away. First stop: Fortesque Falls and Fern Pool. We were shocked to find out how hypothermia inducing, ice bath cold the gorges were – makes sense when you think about it because they spend most of their life in shade (but we didn’t think about it). Hat was absolutely not impressed with the temps, but the blubbery, temperate dugong (me) was living my sea cow best.

*Fortescue Falls (falls underneath me).*

It was back to the cazza park for us that night, and the next morning we tackled the 4wld track up Mt Nameless, which as it happens is the highest point you can get a vehicle in WA. Ticked that one off the bucket list without even realising it.

*On top of Mt Nameless (grow up with that name).*

*Cold temps meant Champ was allowed to snuggle up in bed under the blankets with us.*

By the time we stocked up on provisions and missioned it out to Kazzajini, it was late arvo. We descended into Hamersley Gorge and were met with some truly speccy scenery. Braving the ice-cold water across the gorge took you to the famous spa bath pool, where of course a photoshoot was had. It was nearing sunset when we left, and lucky for us there was a random 24 hour free camp spot that was out of the national park border only a stone’s throw away where we cranked a fire and I whipped up some pesto for tea (shoutout Buddahs Overnighter – would recommend).

*The famous spa bath pool in Hamersley Gorge.*

*Never before seen footage of a rare wild dugong emerging from the deep.*

*Some sick rock formations, oh and Matt.*

*Camp spot at Buddahs Overnighter, Champ commandeering my chair as per.*

We booted it fairly early in the morn and gorged ourselves on more gorges – Hancock Gorge, Kermits Pool (coldest swim so far), Weano Gorge and Handrail Pool. Thoroughly exhausted from the Class 5 hikes, we luckily found a pretty close campsite by way of following a random trail marked “hydro bore” (def wasn’t meant for the public, but as I am both hydro-inclined and also a bore, I thought it was fitting).

*Epic. Can’t remember which gorge is which at this point, so simply enjoy in anonymity.*

*Can’t remember which one this was, but it was cold as fark.*

We said goodbye and thankyou to our private deluxe campsite and hiked the Class 5 Knox Gorge (getting up and down it was the equivalent of about a hundred Jacobs ladders…) and my quads (or lack thereof) doth protested. We were rewarded with stunning sky high gorge walls intersected by a waterfall which cascaded downwards to a huge pool a long, long way down (looking over the edge induced a fair bit of dizziness). After a carpark lunch, we tackled Kalamina Gorge which was a flat, easy walk (lucky, as my quads couldn’t hack much more).

*Knox Gorge, photographer of the year award goes to me.*

In need of a shower, hot chip, and a washing machine, we ventured back to Tom Price. Spent from the past few day’s exertions, the next day we opted to lay low, rest, and recuperate… that is until Hat decided to embark on a BMX mission in the arvo and stacked it, causing his knee to promptly double in size (patella bursitis). Fascinating though this grotesque new development was for me to gawk at, for my fainting-proned better half it was less than ideal so he pre-emptively got horizontal and waited it out on the grass.

*Anything to get out of the Troopy bed for a hot minute.*

After the nausea had passed we quickly retired back to the cazza park so Hat could rest (Hat tried to insist on driving despite being on the verge of throwing up with a knee the size of his head – those alpha male “I must drive - me man, you woman” urges run deep, don’t they?). No sooner had we made it back and turned off the engine then some enthusiastic fellow camper beelined for our car and struck up the chit-chat to end all chit-chats. Hat valiantly held up his end of the convo (easy to do, as he couldn’t get a word in) and I slipped away to collect our washing. As I’m minding my own business, being the domestic slave I am, I hear old mate chatterbox start yelling “dude! Dude, come here!”. At first I couldn’t believe the audacity and assumed he was calling me over to check out some poxy ass piccys on his hotted up Samsung so I ignored him and continued with my indentured servitude. It was when I heard the desperate shout of “dude! He’s passed out cold!” that I whipped my head around and saw Matt slumped over and half fallen out of the car, held up in an awkward embrace by old mate (in all seriousness Morgo if you’re reading this – shoutout for catching my boy, you go alright). I sprinted back to the car faster than Cathy Freeman, and arrived just as Hat started to come to - thoroughly confused when he found himself nose to nose and almost locking lips with his new acquaintance. His face was ashen, his eyes unfocussed, and his knee had somehow managed to get even bigger. After asking Morgo if it was his talking that made Matt pass out, or his injury, we ascertained it was the latter and determined a hospital trip was in order. Matt managed to crawl into the back of the troopy and was on the verge of passing out again. The doctor attempted to drain his knee but after multiple stabbings he couldn’t find the right spot and only managed to extract a piddly 4 ml of blood. The needles were too much for Hatty-doo’s constitution and he was relieved of his consciousness again. After rousing himself sufficiently, he was discharged, with instructions not to bend his knee (impossible, as he bends the knee to me, his Queen, every day of the week) or do anything which puts strain on the knee for the next few weeks (bit hard to do when you live out of a car which involves a lot of bending and crawling). The silver lining was that we had finished up all the hikes at Karijini (bar hiking up Mt Bruce, WA’s highest peak. Again, who knew? I thought Bluff Knoll was our pride and joy). I secretly couldn’t be bothered doing it anyway, but made sure I acted appropriately disappointed to Matt so I could maintain the image of fitness fanatic (especially as he was acting gung-ho and insisting he could still do the six hour hike).

Before leaving town, we bumped into my old housemate/not-so-secret admirer of mine/stalker Smashia Ashia lurking around Tom Price supposedly “working” (code: stalking me halfway up the state) so I indulged the sass-queen herself with a hug and chit chat before we left Tom Price in our wake.

We took the private Rio Tinto railway road (interesting drive, and you need a permit to travel it – which we totally got, in case anyone official is reading this) which cuts up the guts of the Pilbara towards our next destination, Millstream Chichester National Park. As usual, we found a rando track off the highway and snouted out a campsite – this one took us right to the base of the Hamersley ranges – stunning visuals. The wind came in something fierce overnight and after tossing and turning until two am we finally admitted defeat, pulled the roof down and retired to the “downstairs bedroom”. In the morning I had the bright idea for a “quick scale” up the ranges we were camped by to invigorate us before breakky and coffee, and had the equally bright idea to wear my new boots for the mission. Both ideas turned out to be about as bright as a torch with flat batteries, as our “gentle” morning stroll took 1.5 hours through dense spinny-f and up and over vertical rock scrambles, and my new boots completely and utterly cussed my hoofs up (foot pic below – not fetish inducing, for those wondering). Strange how the smallest injuries can sometimes cause the biggest set backs – I legitimately could not wear shoes for about three weeks post this due to the blisters (read: hiking in double pluggaz), and every morning when I got up and stretched my legs the blisters (after half healing overnight), cracked open anew with excruciating pain. The fact I looked shit-hot hooning around the bush in my new boots was minor consolation (pic below for evidence of my shit-hottery).

*Epic camp spot at the Hamersley Ranges.*

*Had to sleep downstairs, Champ was loving the company.*

*Trekking in my new boots, unaware of the pain that was to follow.*

Golden afternoon glow - classic Pilbara.

*Oozy hoofs - DM for foot pic enquiries.*

Seeing as our morning stroll had turned into an ultra-ironman event, we only broke camp at midday. We checked out Deep Reach (tell you what, it was a bit of a deep reach to call that spot impressive – no offence), then poddled through Snappy Gum drive where I had a dip in a freshwater pool caused by a crumbled offshoot of collapsed road. We then enjoyed a pleasant tree-top walk along some water corporation infrastructure (probably not it’s intended use, but when life gives you pipe, you bloody walk it).

*The Millstream palm (only found here, I believe).*

*Water corp tree top walk (seems legit).*

*I’ll dip anywhere, even in a crack in the road.*

In the arvo we legged it over to the other side of the national park to check out Python Pool. The drive in wound through beautiful, hazy yellow spinifex adorned rolling hills that caused an optical illusion if you looked to closely at the fuzzy plants. We were given the hot tip by a secret source (shout out Chlo Shlo) that there was a hidden pool atop the waterfall that was a must. However, we were warned that there was no trail and it was a straight-up spinifex bash to get there, and were advised to wear boots or face the consequences. Well, due to my hoof-cident of that very morning, boots were a no-go so consequences were indeed faced as I braved it in double-pluggaz. I soon made peace with the stabby-bois as we took a wrong turn at the top of the hill which caused our descent to the pools to be via multiple hairy cliff climbs downwards – making me realise I’d rather be stabbed a million times over by spinifex than deal with those heights again. The end result was worth it, and the secret pool takes the cake for most breathtaking spot I have seen so far (including Karijini, which says a lot).

*Fuzzy spinifex scenes on the drive to Python Pool.*

*This looks like a photo but is actually a 10 minute time lapse video depicting how long it took Matt to get his ass into the cold water.*

*So soothing to my spinifex scratches after a hard clobber.*

*This spot speaks for itself (and I mainly say that because I’ve run out of caption inspo).*

We found a little track to camp at close to Python Pool, and freshened up the next morning in the waterhole before exploring George River 4wld track (2-3 hour mission). Why is it when you’re out in the middle of actual nowhere, haven’t seen a living soul for hours, and are just squatting down to take a pee you suddenly hear the robotic buzz of a drone flying overhead, swooping in to catch you doing your business? This has happened multiple times on our trip. All I can say is I hope you enjoy the show, you sickos.

As fate would have it, Murgs (which stands for “mum” – flashing back to the time Matt thought it was a nickname for her and started calling her Murgs as well… how he thought we got that from the name Linda remains a mystery) was stationed at nearby Pannawonica for work, so we decided to make that our pitstop for the evening. We caught up at the pub, followed by a cup of tea in the troopy (loose-leaf Dilmah, billy wrapped in tea towel for insulation, cup pre-heated. If you know, you know). Being a mining town, it didn’t cater to travellers per say but wayward folks could lob up to the “transit park” for a night (i.e. the town oval). It was actually hell nice and we made ourself a little private spot between two gums on the far side of the oval (again, not an official camping spot…classic us. Joke was on us in the middle of the night when the sprinklers came on – we had to dash out and block the path of an almighty jet that was threatening to spray us to infinity and beyond with our 20 L water container. We then passed an entertaining half an hour watching to see if the container could stand the pressure (literally) and cheering when it survived each gruelling round (this is the sorta shit you start doing when you’ve been cooped up without human interaction for too long).

We trekked onwards from Pannawonica, popping back up on the coastal highway where we turned north and checked out Dampier before stocking up in Karratha and ploughing onwards, holing up about 100 kms south of Hedland for the evening at a semi dog-shit 24-hour rest stop. Despite me wanting to shoot straight through Hedland for greener pastures, Hat wasn’t having it as South Hedland boasted the largest undercover skate park in the Southern Hemisphere (absolutely state of the art shit going on, even I was impressed). It was at the skate park where I finally learned why we were carrying around a heavy-duty outdoors broom with us, as Matt got to work sweeping the bowl and cleaning up the detritus strewn everywhere. I made friends with some cute kid-ly winks who were enamoured by Champ, and tried scabbing my tofu wrap (“I’ve never had tofu before!” - I’ve heard that one before kids!). Some teenagers decided to have a water bomb fight in the skate bowl during the afternoon, which Hat put an authoritarian stop to despite being shot daggers. In spite of his knee injury, Hat did an all-day sesh and I only managed to convince him to leave Port Hedland in our wake once the sun was setting (but not before he made me pull over on the highway so he could ride his bike up and down some sculpture thing). It was another 24-hour rest stop for us that night, and once again our desire for solitude saw us bush bashing off the beaten path (which unfortunately was laden with double-gees, poor Champ copped some in his paws). After a serving of my famous vegan butter chicken and a generous helping of chocolate we called it a night.

*Hat couldn’t resist carving up this sculpture, Port Hedland.*

*I had to seize this photo op, Port Hedland.*

We ambled onwards in the morn and I had Broome firmly set in my sights, with the prospect of a warm shower, comfy bed and being waited on hand and foot (I assumed) by my adoring older sister Purgs (AKA Prue) beckoning me. However, by the time we had checked out 80 mile beach on the way it was getting late. We randomly saw a sign for Barn Hill Station Stay (never heard of it) and decided to YOLO in there for the night. It was an epic spot with beautiful shady campsites on a cliff overlooking the ocean, and I’d recommend stopping in if you’re up that way. They also happened to have a rando Italian chef there who was putting on a woodfired pizza night which we indulged in, and live music (although I’m pretty sure it was just some rando who brought down his guitar). I would have happily stayed there another few days and chilled out in different circumstances, but Broome was calling me and I was happy to answer the phone.

*Matt always has to outdo me height wise.*

Now, as I am actually unsure where the Pilbara stops and the Kimberley begins, and as this chapter is aptly called Poddling through the Pilbara, I feel it is circumspect of me to finish this entry here so as not to illegitimise my entire post with a geography faux-par (and we all know how good I am at geography – am I right Charlotte?). So my supple seagrass servants, I must leave you here and look forward to regaling you with more tales in the next episode.

Until then,

Yours in saltiness and servitude,

The Dugong.

Broome & Beyond

Crawling up the Coral Coast