Fri. 14th June 2019
Murphy’s law is sometimes stated as “anything that can go wrong, will” but a more general version of it is “anything that can happen, will”. The Bungle Bungles are geology’s reminder of this truism. Some combination of deposition, erosion, eruption, plate tectonics and bacterial action have created a unique rock formation in this remote part of the Kimberley here in Western Australia. We are going to fulfil a long-standing ambition (thank you, Myf) to see the Domes in the Bungle Bungle range (as the formation is formally called) but not until after we view some of the other astonishing sights of the range.
Whether we like it or not, we have an early start as last night it was announced that today’s breakfast hours are 6:15 to 7:30. It isn’t that much of a problem a) we are still camping – even though the tent is huge, has a floor, a double bed and an en suite bathroom; and b) it gives us a chance to start our walks in the relative cool. Yesterday, the temperature got up to 37C, just too hot for any significant afternoon exertion.
There are two halves to Purnululu NP, north and south of the range. The longer walks are in the south and as we have a helicopter flight booked for the afternoon, we opt to explore the northern section of the park this morning. By Aussie standards, it isn’t far and the roads inside the park are better than the one into it and, so, it’s only a 40min run around the perimeter of the range to the exciting sounding Bloodwoods car park.
Whilst we never discover the rational for this name, we quickly learn the reason behind Mini Palms Gorge, our first walk of the day. The 2km (each way) walk starts along the rocks and pebbles of a dry riverbed which, when we get to the side of the cliff is lined with livistona palms – not mini in comparison to other indigenous trees, but yes, I suppose so, to other palms. Anyway, the green of the palm frond makes a good contrast against the red cliff face.
As we start to get into the gorge proper, the stones on the riverbed give way to bigger rocks and boulders that we have to climb over and squeeze between. About that diet that awaits when we get home… We quickly remember that you can’t gawp and walk – only do one or the other at any one time. There is plenty of gawping to be done with the colours, textures and shapes of the cliff walls. The further into the gorge, the more climbing there is to be done until suddenly there are ladders up to observation platforms and we’re just awed by the sight in front of us – a huge natural amphitheatre as the gorge suddenly widens out.
Tempting as it is to linger – especially as it is relatively cool in the shade of walls deep in the gorge – we need to crack on as we’ve been told that we want inside Echidna Chasm between 11 & 12. Whilst Aussie naming rules clearly apply to Mini Palms, the same can’t be said for Echidna Chasm. We can only assume that it is because the chasm is like an Echidna’s snout and tongue – very long and thin. Indeed, it is astonishing. The path twists between the cliff walls that are only a couple of metres apart (and occasionally narrower) but run vertically up.
The magic that happens here is that at the right time of day, the sun shines down into the chasm lighting up some of the walls giving an orange-red glow as the path curves deeper into the hills. It’s simultaneously a photographer’s dream and also their nightmare – a quite stunning view with a huge difference between light and shade. All we can do is take the same shot with different exposure settings and hope that Lightroom is able to produce something that at least gives an indication of what we could see. As we got to the back of the chasm, we started talking with another couple of photographers who were similarly struggling. By the time we started to make our way back, the sun had moved on and the effect vanished.
By now it was midday and the temperature was back to 37C. As we got out of the shadow of the cliffs we quickly started to cook and so decided that that was enough walking for the day. Never has air conditioning been so welcomed in a car and we head back to camp so we can find some shade to eat our lunch in. There are no electrical outlets in our glamping tent but the restaurant / communal area has a device charging area that somehow is suddenly monopolised by Hornsey gadgets. Well, we do have work to do!
Our first view of the domes is going to be from above (tomorrow we’ll see them from ground level) and we’ve thought the pros and cons of this approach. The biggest downside is that we don’t really know much about them – even their size. (7P rule and all that). The advantage is that our flight will take us out over the centre of the range, so we’ll get to see some of the rock features you can’t see any other way before coming back along the path of the Domes.
We are excited about our helicopter flight but this excitement is tinged with nerves when it is explained to us that there would be no doors in the helicopter and the seat belt is a car-style 3 point affair. All very well and good when flying straight and level and, certainly, great for taking photos as we don’t need to worry about the tint or reflections off the perspex – but when the helicopter banks for a turn?? It’s only a tiddly Robinson R44 but we are the only passengers so Janet gets to ride in the front with the pilot and I have the back to myself.
As we fly out over the centre of the range, the pilot points out some of the key gorges and other features that you can’t see from the walking trails. The pilot provides a commentary as we go and, for example, we learn that Deep Gorge isn’t the deepest gorge in the range. Aussies, what are you doing? We quickly find that even with our big cameras, it is a challenge to take decent pictures – the low sun rules out photos from one side of the aircraft; self-preservation requires the use of feet or one hand to brace yourself; and the chopper is always on the move. There are going to be a lot of dud photos.
On the return leg, we – at last – get our first view of the Domes. Whilst the red and dark grey bands are very distinctive (the red is iron-rich sandstone, the grey is a layer of clay coloured by cyano-bacteria) the domes look more like a giant, highly irregular cardboard egg carrier. There are no straight edges, everything has been eroded into curves and whirls. They are mesmerising and I try to both appreciate the moment and take some half-decent pictures. It certainly whets our appetite for the ground-level view tomorrow.
O
ur 30 minute flight is over in no time and we’re back on the ground trying to process what we’ve seen. Although the airstrip is close to our camp, we’re not yet done for the day. There is a recommended sunset lookout halfway round the park up a small hill, with the setting sun behind shining onto the range. We (just about) have some energy left and so off we go. It turns out to be one of the busiest places we’ve been to all day with a small crowd watching the rocks glow in the setting sun. We remembered to bring a couple of beers up with us to toast a very memorable day.