The Kimberley: Day 3

Last night Glen had told us about a little problem he'd found with Betsy, his beloved bus. He enlightened us with load of mechanical jargon which went totally over my head and brought on the urge to wear pink and play with dolls like the girl that I am but the top and bottom of it was, the 4WD on the rear axle wouldn't engage and with this being a 4WD tour that wasn't a good thing. Fortunately we were in a position to swap buses, an All Terrain Safaris vehicle coming from Darwin were on their way down from the Mitchell Plateau and we could have their bus because the home straight didn't need 4WD.

Brilliant.

However, it meant getting up at 5am.

There are two five o' clocks in a day??

Beeeeeeeer!!

We met the other bus at the Gibb River crossing and I got chatting to an English couple from Glastonbury about where they'd been, how their trip was and how they were coping without beer. They'd just come back from Drysdale station which has 1 million acres of land and a bottle shop. I'm not sure which of these facts I was more impressed by. The bloke left and I chatted to his missus for a while then he came back and dumped 5 cans of icy cold Tooheys New into my arms. I think I fell in love with him at that moment, I'd have hugged him if I wasn't too busy hugging beer. Back on our new bus and the others declined my offer of sharing them, something about it only being 10am or something. Meh. They obviously haven't spent long enough with backpackers.

The rest of the day was spent driving up the the Mitchell Plateau which takes half your life on account of the corrugations you can lie down in. We crossed the King Edward river, set up camp on the banks and went for a swim. Fuck me, that water was cold. Its the kind of cold that causes you to make involuntary monkey noises as you ease yourself in so you can imagine the kind of noise I made when I slipped on a rock and went arse over tit into the water. Meh. I was only intending to go for a bloody paddle an all.

Cunt Of A Road

There aren't many things scarier than filling a washing up bowl from a river inhabited by crocodiles in the pitch black with only a piss poor head lamp for company but that's what I ended up doing because no one else would. I don't care that they're "only freshwater" crocs, knowing my luck I'd come face to face with the only freshie in the river with PMT that was having a bad day anyway coz some tour leader shone a light in its eyes the night before to impress the group. I didn't see anything but it didn't stop that overwhelming feeling of abject terror you only get when you're a kid and you think the gremlins are after you.

Later on we bribed some kids with marshmallows to tell us stories and jokes.

Nope, there's not much else in the way of entertainment in one of the most remote parts of Australia.

written by

Koala Bear on July 19, 2007 from Drysdale, Australia

from the travel blog: Sod Off Great Big Mission Round Oz

tagged RoadTrip, LovinIt and Kimberley

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