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Published: June 19th 2011
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I suppose we all have a price to pay for our sins at some point and mine came in the shape of Yeshe, a patronizing control freak who unfortunately owned the car I was to be travelling in. I squished myself and accompanying luggage into the old red Ford Falcon and we drove the hundred odd kilometres north to Exmouth. Dusk was upon us and so were the roo's, unfortunately all the official sites were booked out so instead we encamped ourselves just outside the Cape Range National Park border setting up the tents in the dip of a giant sand dune concealed from any watchful eyes and bedded down for the night in our own secluded paradise. As the sun rose over this new stretch of the Ningaloo Reef I decided to make the most of a somewhat bad situation and spent a lazy day on this quiet beach, dozing as the water lapped gently at the sand. The next night, to my obvious delight, a Brazilian and two Spanish guys set up next to us and I swiftly jumped camps, staying up late testing out my poor Spanish skills and slept on the beach under an incredibly clear night
sky. The next morning I rejoined my travel companions once more and we set out early to collect a young German guy, Daniel, who was to join our troupe. Now it was truly a tight squeeze, five of us sat around various bags and equipment with only the driver having the luxury of any leg room to speak of.
I had the first stint at driving and drove further into the red heart of this breathtakingly arid landscape. We entered the Karijini National Park as the sun was setting and found a scrape of ground on which to camp in a rather packed overflow site near Dales Gorge. The next morning we left the tents and drove out to Weano Gorge, hiking down into the ravine where at points I found myself waist high in ice cold water, the kind that takes your breath away and left my body numb even once I was above ground again and basking in the mid-day heat. The sun was setting as we walked among the austere Fortesque falls and beautifully hidden Fern swimming hole; the evening light bathed the towering terraced cliffs making them glow a livid red in contrast to the
fresh and vibrant green of the surrounding vegetation. Beautiful as it was time was of the essence and after two nights we pushed on up to 80 mile beach and into Broome, a predominately aboriginal town. Now Broome had come highly recommended but I couldn't help noticing how run down and ragged the place was; this I was soon to discover would to be the norm in all the settlements I encountered over the next week. It felt a world away from the rest of the country that I had visited so far.
By this point relations between myself and Yeshi were strained at best and an atmosphere hung heavily in the air. I decided to make one last ditch attempt at civility and together we all headed out for a night on the town, where I spent much of the evening aloft on a podium dancing well into the wee hours. On waking the next morning I was feeling rather more positive about spending another week with the Falcon and it's owner, but was given the rather rude ultimatum to ditch my luggage or else another French couple would be taking my place. Slightly perturbed I made my
decision and headed into town to find another way out of dodge. After wandering aimlessly for some time, feeling somewhat sorry for myself, I took decisive action and went into the only open internet shop. As I checked the bus times I recognised the guys next to me as the French couple whom had been chatting to Yeshi earlier that morning and after an incredibly proactive chat it was decided that we would hire a car ourselves and leave Broome before the day was out. Back at the campsite I met up with Dodes, who was working here, and spent a joyful couple of hours reminiscing over the highs and lows of our fated Malebago adventures.
I returned to camp to collect my luggage and must admit that this was one goodbye that I gained a great deal of pleasure out of! It is always difficult travelling with complete strangers in such an intense fashion and remain wholly unscathed. But in the end it is my choice and my responsibility to travel the way I do and as I joined up with yet another two random strangers, Nadia and Jeremie, I hoped this time would be different. . . .
As it turned out the French couple were fantastic and we managed to squeeze all our plentiful luggage into the tiny bright yellow Clio and began the week long journey that would take us all the way north to Darwin. Our first stop was to take a boat trip that meandered gracefully through the crocodile infested waters of Geike Gorge. We set up camp that night at a pull in at the side of the road, fortunately Nadia and Jeremie had brought a tent and enough food to keep us going for the entire trip but that was where our organisation stopped. To cook we had to improvise and build a fire using tin cans as makeshift cooking utensils, truly roughing it in the outback but always with fresh coffee for breakfast! The next day an impromptu diversion led us to the undiscovered gem of Mimbi Caves, an Aborigine run tour taking us through the caves, paintings and their colourful history of dreamtime stories and legends. It was a little demanding getting on this elusive tour but I'm so glad now that we weren't scared off by our crazy tour guide hooning round with his 12 boar stuck in
the passenger well of his battered jute and seemed to make the whole experience feel rather like a sketchy street deal.
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