Well 33 to Gulli Lake

 

Having stocked up with fuel and supplies at Kunnawarritji, then camping at well 33 just out of the community, we felt prepared to continue on our trek across the deserts of Western Australia.

The track was sandy but fairly solid. Soon we were into a forrist of young dessert oak, winding our way through the stands of trees, breaking every so often into clearings and small dunes. Then the landscape changed again to open spinafex plains with a few gum trees scattered about.

A few dunes appeared to keep us on our toes and entertained. Passing a couple of wells, which were dry and in disrepair, we ended up at well 36.

  With the day coming to an end, this would do as a camp for the night, so finding a spot off in the bush, camp was set and we watched the desert sun go down on another day of exploring this wide, wonderful land.

Dawn broke with the chirps of birds in the surrounding bush, a nice way to start the day. After a leisurely breakfast, we were on our way. The sandy desert track led us to more sand dunes, then through stands of desert oak, ever changing scenery kept our attention. At the top of some of the dunes, the track would turn, and you would be driving along the crest of the dune, affording grand views of the surrounding country.  

 A couple of encounters with camels lifted our spirits, then the country changed again. Rocky outcrops lay ahead, the track winding around and then on top of. A dry creek bed reveled itself along the edge of one outcrop, carving its way through the rock, leaving smooth worn edges and neatly cut holes in the prehistoric rock.

 A cave, in the rock, not far from the track beckoned, inviting me to explore. I climbed to it and poked my head inside, wary of snakes and spiders. There were the bones of a snake on a ledge inside, but nothing else.

 Back along the track there were other skeletons, this time of motor bikes which didn’t make it through.

 Tobin Lake was our destination for the day, the site of two graves, one for a man named Tobin, and one for an aboriginal. They had come across one another unexpectantly, and Tobin shot his rifle, and the other launched a spear, resulting in the death of both.

 On the banks of the dry lake is the resting place of another, a late model Ute, striped of useful parts and left to decay in the harsh environment it was taken to.

 We camped on the lakebed, with no fear of rain coming. Din declined an offer of a ride on the improvised sled made from the utes bonnet, she did say she would drive, if I tied it to Ned, and give me a ride, I also declined.

 Next day, back on the track, and it wasn't long before we came across another wreck, tis time a trailer which had come unstuck with a broken axle. Then further along, another one, reminders that this country is unforgiving, even the well prepared can become casualties. Undeterred, we pressed on.

 The voice on the uhf alerted us to the fact a party of 5 were not far away and headed toward us. Cresting a dune, we could see one stopped halfway down the next dune. On reaching the dune I asked if he was ok, he replied, yea, just have to pull the others over this one. Seeing it would be a while; we pulled off the track and waited.

I got curious and put up the drone to watch. Last in line was a camper trailer, it tried the dune, but didn’t get very far up, so backed down, with a bit of trouble, for a second attempt. Same result, so they hooked him up to a Ute at the top and eventually pulled him over. I asked the lead car if they had low pressures in the tires and he said yes, obviously not low enough.

 With them over and out of the way, we waddled over and down the other side with them watching, expecting to see us get stuck, didn’t happen. If that was the norm for them, they had a hard slog ahead of them.

 Gulli Lake was ahead and our camp for the night. Getting to the lake, we decided on a camp site and settled in for the night. A camel stood off in the distance, eyeing us off, soon he decided we weren't that interesting and wandered off chewing his cud. Tomorrow we would cross the lakebed, hoping it was dry enough to hold our weight.

Halfway, Kunawarritji

 

Thring Rock faded into the background, disappearing behind sand dunes as we plodded on after our camp there. The dunes rolled on and so did we, Ned navigating them with ease. As the bigger ones appeared, we would stop at the base and shift into low 4x4 and 3^rd gear, then waddle our way to the top, then pause to take in the offered view and saunter down the other side.

 

The days were never monotonous, as the scenery was ever changing, from dune tackling to the desert oak groves and wattle scrub with its splashes of color from flowering plants, anything than boring.

At well 30 we stopped for smoko and contemplated our night camp. Mujingerra cave was only 3k off to the east of where we were, so we set off to explore.

The cave is now a hole in the ground; the cave proper entrance had been blocked from a collapse of the surrounding rock. After a careful inspection, camp was set up nearby and a peaceful night followed.

Morning came and we went on our way again. Kunawarratjni, an aboriginal community, wasn't far away. There we could refuel and get some supplies we needed.

 The road was wide but corrugated as we approached the small community, the fuel shed was the first building to come into view. We rolled past and came to the small store. Prices were high and stock was low, something we have come to expect in remote areas we frequent.

After getting some essentials that were getting low, and a couple of ice-creams, we drove to the fuel shed. $3:10 per liter for diesel, not unreasonable, being 1000k from any town.

This was day 27 since we started the track and we had come half way, using 208 litres of fuel, good going so far. All other supplies were also holding up well, we knew we could reach the end with fuel and supplies to spare, which was a good feeling, and just as well, because this was the only place to restock on the whole track till the end.

From salt lakes to Georgia Bore and Thring Rock

 With the morning light shimmering on the salt surface of Lake Disappointment, we enjoyed breakfast and packed up, ready for another day crossing the desert. The sandy track leading away from the lake soon changed to rocky stretches over vast plains, then back to sand tracks skirting low hills. Crossing some small salt pans, we came closer to the hilly country and the scrub closed in again.

Georgia Bore was a welcome sight, our main water tank was starting to get low, the past few wells were not good for water, so this would be an opertunity to top up.

Georger Bore is not a canning well, it is the legacy of a mining exploration camp. When the camp was no longer needed, the company equipped the bore with a hand pump, leaving it for the travelers and locals to source water, a very scarce resource out here.

Being a closed bore, the water can't get contaminated and is good drinking water. I put in about 70 liters into the tanks, a lot of pumping.

Well 24 was our next destination, a small pool of water from a spring refreshes the local wildlife. One wasn't so fortunate as the pile of camel bones attested to. Set amongst a grove of melaleuca, this spot makes for a pleasant camp. Honey Gravelia, flowering on the outskirts injected some colour. Stopping for the night, we enjoyed the surroundings.

Moving on the next day, we came to well 25, it sits on the border of a large clay pan. As you come onto the clay pan, the track you should follow was under water, others had followed the bank around to meet up with the track further on, so we did too.

Halfway around we spotted a form coming across the pan, splashing in the water. We stopped and observed. A wild dog, bounded towards us. Coming close, but wary, looking for food we thought, others had obviously fed him before. Continuing on, he followed us for some time.

Well 26 was our camp. As we rolled in, there were a couple of campers there already. A Japanese man came over to chat. He looked at the truck and said, how you get up the dunes? I have had problems with some. He and his small family had come from Japan, he said, just to do the Canning, they were going back to Japan when finished. Din pointed to Ned, he’s Japanese too she said, Mitsubishi, they laughed and laughed.

I told him the secrete is tire pressure, the lower you can deflate them the better. I can crawl up the biggest ones easy. You try it I said. Yes, he said, I will. Don’t know how they got on, but they were having a ball by the sound of him.

At this well, there was a plaque, honoring Alfred Canning, and a water tank displayed, that the camels carried. 

Next day, as usal, we were the last to leave camp. This, we like, we give the other travelers time to get a good way ahead of us if they are going in the same direction.

The dunes appeared again, steeper ones with big holes gouged out in regular intervals up the climb. Ned, however waddled up without a complaint, to cheers from us as we crested the bigger ones.

then we were crossing flat plains with wattle scrub pushing in on us. Soon the scrub disappeared as we came to a section which had been burnt recently, the traditional peoples burn off sections as a control measure, preventing large, hot fires in the dry season. The dunes looked bare with only thin sticks standing against the red sandy ground. Passing through this section, we were back to spinifex covered dunes and wattle bushes dotted with yellow flowers.

Before finding a camp site for the night, we passed through mesa country. The rocky outcrops rose out of the flat, stony ground, scattered about, some with flat tops and others cone like but all spectacular.

Then, as we climbed a dune and peeked over the top, Thring Rock dominated the landscape before us.

with its craggy outline against the desert sky, and dark recesses of its caves high on its slope, it was an impressive sight. This was to be our camp for the night.