Wednesday, March 17, 2004
Mary River campsite
While looking for something else, I ran across a couple of pages of writing I'd done while travelling around Australia with a camper-trailer about 5 years ago. I haven't even read through them yet, but thought I'd reproduce them here. I'm taking a punt they are gonna be more interesting than anything I've done in the past 24 hours.
One night at Fitzroy River Resort was more than enough for any sane person. With its acres of short-cut, dusty grass, fledgling trees and modern hotel complex surrounding a swimming pool, it should have been nice, but the presence of 1000 happy campers and caravaners, packed like sardines in a tin over the crisp grass meant you were scratching to get an empty toilet or shower stall. Peace or privacy were simply out of the question. Still, we were glad of a quick dip in the pool after 400ks from Broome along crisp-baked road.
The diesels started up at dawn and, as the procession of caravans began to hit the highway, we packed up and followed.
Someone had told us about a camping area 180ks along the track and we pulled into Mary River just short of 11am. This is the kind of place even a few years ago you would have had to yourself.
The river, like all Australian inland rivers, runs wide and fast, often spreading into flood during the short wet season. But well into the dry, as we are, it now forms a shallow channel of water between deep banks, receding into a series of small pools and billabongs surrounded by dried mud flats.
It's a birdwatcher's paradise with a constant procession of high-stepping greater white egrets, grey-black pacific herons and numerous smaller wading birds competing for the tiny fish trapped by the falling water levels.
Big mobs of white corellas -with their bullet-shaped heads and blunt bodies-perform noisy aerial acrobatics around the tree-tops. Shiny black crows wheel and swoop in competition with the eagle-like black kites, fighting for position over the shrinking line of life-giving water.
Ducks skim across the line of green, daring the resident crocodile who waits soundlessly, crouched low in the water on the edge of a sandbank. The cacophony of bird calls creates the din of a thousand voices.
In these times, when thousands of travellers keep the petrol companies in business with their ceaseless wandering over this remote landscape, this little oasis is far from our own.
At least 50 other vans share our 'solitude'. As dusk falls, every space along the river is filled.
Campfires dot the darkness, spreading the warmth of home and the smell of wood smoke. The murmur of quiet fireside talk wafts with the smoke, punctuated by occasional burst of laughter. A quarter moon rides low in the purple velvet sky of the Kimberley dotted with a million points of light. It's worth the trip to see these skies.
Despite the dust, the lack of facilities - two disgusting pit toilets and an overflowing garbage bin- and the constant movement of vehicles -the turnover must be 100 a day-, Mary River remains a pretty much unspoilt wilderness, a highlight of our 9 months on the road.
We sit here, under the coolibah tree's shade and watch the changing patterns of light and shadow as the sun moves across the sky. We listen to the birds and watch their perfect reflections double-dipping for an elusive meal. We wander along the dry creek bed, dodging the red cows and Brahmin bulls that follow the narrow footpaths and all that marks the passing of our day is the creak of canvas in our well-worn deck chairs.
Mary River is approximately 180 kilometres north of Fitzroy Crossing in the northern end of Western Australia, Australia.
One night at Fitzroy River Resort was more than enough for any sane person. With its acres of short-cut, dusty grass, fledgling trees and modern hotel complex surrounding a swimming pool, it should have been nice, but the presence of 1000 happy campers and caravaners, packed like sardines in a tin over the crisp grass meant you were scratching to get an empty toilet or shower stall. Peace or privacy were simply out of the question. Still, we were glad of a quick dip in the pool after 400ks from Broome along crisp-baked road.
The diesels started up at dawn and, as the procession of caravans began to hit the highway, we packed up and followed.
Someone had told us about a camping area 180ks along the track and we pulled into Mary River just short of 11am. This is the kind of place even a few years ago you would have had to yourself.
The river, like all Australian inland rivers, runs wide and fast, often spreading into flood during the short wet season. But well into the dry, as we are, it now forms a shallow channel of water between deep banks, receding into a series of small pools and billabongs surrounded by dried mud flats.
It's a birdwatcher's paradise with a constant procession of high-stepping greater white egrets, grey-black pacific herons and numerous smaller wading birds competing for the tiny fish trapped by the falling water levels.
Big mobs of white corellas -with their bullet-shaped heads and blunt bodies-perform noisy aerial acrobatics around the tree-tops. Shiny black crows wheel and swoop in competition with the eagle-like black kites, fighting for position over the shrinking line of life-giving water.
Ducks skim across the line of green, daring the resident crocodile who waits soundlessly, crouched low in the water on the edge of a sandbank. The cacophony of bird calls creates the din of a thousand voices.
In these times, when thousands of travellers keep the petrol companies in business with their ceaseless wandering over this remote landscape, this little oasis is far from our own.
At least 50 other vans share our 'solitude'. As dusk falls, every space along the river is filled.
Campfires dot the darkness, spreading the warmth of home and the smell of wood smoke. The murmur of quiet fireside talk wafts with the smoke, punctuated by occasional burst of laughter. A quarter moon rides low in the purple velvet sky of the Kimberley dotted with a million points of light. It's worth the trip to see these skies.
Despite the dust, the lack of facilities - two disgusting pit toilets and an overflowing garbage bin- and the constant movement of vehicles -the turnover must be 100 a day-, Mary River remains a pretty much unspoilt wilderness, a highlight of our 9 months on the road.
We sit here, under the coolibah tree's shade and watch the changing patterns of light and shadow as the sun moves across the sky. We listen to the birds and watch their perfect reflections double-dipping for an elusive meal. We wander along the dry creek bed, dodging the red cows and Brahmin bulls that follow the narrow footpaths and all that marks the passing of our day is the creak of canvas in our well-worn deck chairs.
Mary River is approximately 180 kilometres north of Fitzroy Crossing in the northern end of Western Australia, Australia.
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