Driving the Gibb River Road

There’s no problem with the Gibb River Road surface ‘at the time being’, said the woman in the tourist office in Kununurra. As she spoke she italicised words, terrorising me with the most innocent comments. Naturally, road conditions can change very quickly. You do of course have a four-wheel drive?

I didn’t and when I said so the woman began thrusting brochures in my direction, offering a variety of other more sedate attractions, as if she couldn’t imagine I would be foolish enough to abandon the highway. But I was looking for a grand challenge, and none was more legendary than this road in the north-west corner of the continent. I wanted rugged hills, plunging gorges and rust-coloured rock. I wanted remoteness, and to prove to myself that I hadn’t lost my former backpackers spirit of adventure.

“Is there anywhere to get petrol?”

The woman pursed her lips. “It’s possible’ she said, as if speculating on the arrival of snow. ‘It depends on when the stations had their last delivery.” Her tone gave me reason to imagine this event may have been decades ago.

Next morning, despite the tourists officials warnings ringing in my ears, I left the tarmac behind and started down the Gibb River Road, a great red ribbon of soft dust, soon turning to pale sand and then grey rubble. Stones rattled against my car’s under-surface and threatened imminent punctures. Driving conditions were difficult, the heat and glare exhausting. After a while, though, I began to relax and see beyond the dust to the beauty of Kimberly outback; ancient, eroded hills of purple and dust red.

Barnett River, Manning and Galvan’s Gorges were beautiful places, tight valley ends of plunging rock, cupping deep water-holes afloat with water lilies. With their coolly refreshing water and shaded confines crowded with lush vegetation, these gorges offered a well earned respite from the heat and aridity of the track. At night I camped by the roadside, drenched in fiery sunsets and stars.

On the fourth afternoon, 400km into the Kimberly’s, I turned off the road down a long, winding track, and camped at Adcock Gorge. Next morning I scaled the gorge walls to sit triumphantly on the lip of the waterfall. Cockatoos, disturbed, wheeled indignantly along the cliff face, their white wings catching the sunlight. I returned to my car to find the engine coughing and sputtering. It finally roared into action, and I kept going, suddenly appalled at my own inadequacy and isolation. I hauled my way through the King Leopold Ranges and finally turned southwards, leaving the Gibb River road proper and heading towards the highway near Fitzroy crossing.

I turned the engine off at the relative safety of Windjana Gorge, where other travellers camped by the river. It was a quiet and atmospheric place, haunted by giant fruit bats and freshwater crocodiles. In the evening the yellow of the cliffs seemed to seep out of the rocks and shimmer upwards, setting the sky on fire until it glowed with tongues of flame. The rocks grew darker, their colour rusting until they grew black.

And in the darkness I smiled to myself, relieved to have made it to the end – and I’m glad I’d taken up the challenge of one of Australia’s greatest outback drives.


More

The Derby visitor centre is the local tourism office that covers the region. Its website offers an overview of the Gibb River Road, some history descriptions and also a list of accommodation and other facilities. You can order the useful Gibb River and Kalumburu Roads guide from the centre.

PH: 91911426
Website: www.derbytourism.com.au