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Kimberley Day 7 – Vansittart Bay

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Monday 19 August 2024 – Vansittart. Now, there’s a name to conjure with! Surprisingly, perhaps, it’s one that I had come across before. In the God Old Days when I used to cycle a lot because it was fun, before the appalling Surrey road surfaces put a stop to all that, one of my regular routes led through Windsor. Skirting round the edge, because I wanted to avoid the hill that leads up to the Castle, I actually used Vansittart Road as a way to get back towards the river.

The name Vansittart crops up here and there in British politics, so I don’t know the provenance of the Windsor road’s naming. But the Kimberley one was named after Nicholas Vansittart, 1st Baron Bexley, one of the longest-serving Chancellors of the Exchequer in British history (May 1812-December 1822). The bay’s name was conferred, like so many in this region, by Philip Parker King, an early explorer of the Australian and Patagonian coasts.

While I settled down to relax for the day, and try to be well for a putative medical checkup in the evening, Jane went off to the nearby Jar Island. Here she is to tell you about it.

Jar Island was named after the many broken jars found there, once used for storing and transporting trepangs, or sea cucumbers. Fishermen from Makassar in the southern Celebes (the present-day Indonesian province of Sulawesi) visited the northern Australian coast throughout the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, negotiating fishing rights and interacting with the Aborigines. The processed trepang is prized in Chinese cooking for its texture and flavour-enhancing qualities and is used in Chinese medicine; the Makassan trepangers, after collecting and processing trepang in Australia, returned to Makassar to sell the product to Chinese traders.

However our objective on Jar Island was something far older…

The usual Zodiac to shore was followed by a short walk through familiarly rocky terrain,

and the familiar instruction to leave backpacks and hats (this time there was an actual hat-tree),

but the familiarity ended there: the art in this gallery was very different to that we had seen before. Formerly known as “Bradshaws” (after Joseph Bradshaw, who was the first European to see and record such art, in 1891), and now known as Gwion Gwion, these styles of representation are far older than the Wandjina art of our previous excursions – at least 17,000 years old. There is considerable uncertainty about who created them, where they came from,  and what connection there is, if any, to the Aboriginal communities who created the Wandjina art. This has become a political as well as anthropological issue; if the Aboriginal people are not the descendants of the Gwion Gwion artists, this has the potential to undermine native land title claims in the Kimberley. Lengthy discussion of all of this can be found in Wikipedia and a gallery of typical Gwion Gwion art can be found here.

A thought provoking excursion on many levels…

While Jane was away on Jar Island, I was resignedly reading the papers in my cabin, when there was a knock on the door and the ship’s doctor came in. I wonder whether the frustration I’d expressed to Lucille the evening before had provoked the visit; maybe it was just a visit he’d already planned. Anyway, he quickly took my temperature, which was normal (I’d taken some paracetamol), asked about a few other symptoms about which I only had to bend the truth slightly, and declared me fit.

I was no longer a number (cabin 524) – I was a free man!

This meant that I could join the afternoon expedition, which was a visit to a site on the Anjo Peninsula with an unusual geology and even stranger story.

It was another wet landing, on to a beach with some unusual shells littered about.

A short walk up a sand dune dotted with Spinifex grass

led to a very striking landscape,

a salt flat with some rocky outcrops dotted over it – really remarkable sight. The rocks themselves had a great variety of colours, and I could have spent quite some time exploring them,

but this was not what we had come to see. That was just beyond the salt flat.

There, among the scrub and trees, is the wreck of a Douglas C53 Skytrooper, a troop transport version of what we Brits know as the Douglas Dakota.  This one was being used during the second world war as a ferry plane to, well, ferry evacuees. Having done so, on 26th February 1942 it was supposed to fly from Perth to Darwin, with an interim landing at Broome. The pilot set out on the wrong course – wrong by some 20°* – an error only realised when it was too late to get to anywhere with an airfield before the fuel ran out. In casting around for somewhere to land, the pilot realised that Jar Island was too rocky, but then saw the salt flat and did a wheels-up crash landing across it, ending up where it can be seen today.

All aboard – pilot, co-pilot, flight engineer, radio engineer and a couple of military telegraphists – survived the crash. So did the radio, so they were able to describe where they landed, even though they didn’t actually know where they were.

Their rescue was remarkable, in that no-one knew they’d set off on the wrong course, so when they failed to turn up in Broome, all the searchers started looking in the wrong places, expecting, not unreasonably, to find crash sites en route to Broome. One person in a searching aircrew, though, recognised the description of the salt flat and so headed for the area, enabling the crew to be rescued. They had survived for a couple of days using pipes from the crashed aircraft to distill drinking water from seawater.

The crashed plane is a fine subject for photography,

and Jane had a private smile when gravely told that this engine, now detached from the wing,

was a Whitt and Pratney.

Nearby were a couple of interesting trees.  One was a paper bark tree,

which is a type of myrtle, apparently; and the other was a sizeable Boab Tree, though not anything like the monsters we saw in Madagascar.

It was surrounded by Pandanus (screw pines); someone had collected some of their pinecone-like fruits and left them in a small pile for people to admire.

Our group filed slowly back across the salt flat; I hung back as much as I could so that I might get a few aeroplane shots without punters in them, which meant that I was practically alone as I trudged strode back towards the re-embarkation point

where, to everyone’s delight, a surprise beach party had been sprung on us!

Champagne and cool jazz made for a fine end to an unusual and interesting excursion.

Tomorrow is a Big Day, in many ways. We’re coming towards the end of the cruise, so we get our passports back, and it’s the last day for any laundry to be done – these things are important, you know. There will also be the final Gala Dinner.

More importantly, it will see the final excursion of the cruise; scenically, we have been promised, outstandingly the best. Since I’m now allowed out, I can’t wait. But you’ll have to, I’m afraid.  Keep your eyes peeled for what I hope will be some really striking images!

 

* The pilot error may well not have been incompetence, but wartime tiredness compounded by bad luck. When plotting and then following a course, a correction has to be applied to compensate for the difference between magnetic north and true north, and this may have been forgotten. Also, the amount of iron ore in the ground can make compasses do strange things, so an error of this magnitude is not necessarily something to be dismissive about.

Kimberley Day 6 – Swift Bay

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Sunday 18 August 2024 – Sorry, you’ve got Steve again, writing about my day, even though I wasn’t allowed out of the cabin. Jane went on the day’s expedition, but it was mainly about the rock art and she’ll talk about that in a minute.

I was able to take a few photos of passing interest from our veranda as the ship was at anchor. A large crocodile was clearly visible in the water quite near the ship.

A little context might help. Here’s how the croc looked, as Zodiacs headed for the shore. I put the red ring round it, as its cunning camouflage makes it difficult to spot; there wasn’t some kind of clever croc limiter in place.

I thought I saw a shark

but, a little disappointingly, it turned out to be some kind of dolphin.

The clincher, as any fule kno, was that the tail fins were horizontal (cetacean) rather than being vertical (fish).

There was a whale, too, not that that is a huge amount to write home about; if I’d missed it, I suppose I might have wanted to blubber. In fact, there were (at least) two – mother and calf, we suspect.

I marshalled the mighty capabilities of my Nice New Nikon to try to capture The Perfect Shot as the whale spouted, and took lots of stills as it did so during its cetacean equivalent of the paseo. I couldn’t decide which was the best, so here they all are.

That sequence is made from successive stills from the camera; I’m very impressed with its ability to make up for the shortcomings of its user.

I’m also impressed that the captain, having alerted us to the whale’s presence to port (I could see it from our cabin), stopped the boat and actually turned it around so that the starboard-based plague-ridden people could take a look.

From my point of view, that was the main excitement of the day so far; I’m expecting that the medics will check me out later. Until then, here’s Jane:

Today’s expedition was to view more rock art in the rock shelters formed by the heavily fractured sandstone making up Swift Bay.

A short walk brought us to a linked series of shelters formed by rock overhangs;

it is thought that the different shelters were used for different activities: cooking and eating; sleeping; and teaching the children. There was a fairly large midden of shells outside the gallery.

As we’ve established, it would not be respectful to share photos of the rock art, fascinating as it is, but the website of the Wunambal Gaambera people, title holders of this area of land, has a few words about, and a few images of, the Swift Bay site here which I feel comfortable sharing, since they have!

As well as the rock art, there was some striking rock stuff (as we’ve come to expect here in the Kimberley).

Medical update

Steve again: to misquote the bible, I’ve been (medically) weighed in the balance and found wanting (not sure whether this is Mene, Tekel or Upharsin [Tekel – Ed]). I still have a raised temperature, and so my isolation must continue. There were a couple of very frustrating aspects to this. Firstly, Lucille, the medical assistant who assessed me, told me that the criteria for release, all other vital signs being normal, include two successive days of normal body temperature. This being the case, I should just about be let out in time to disembark in Darwin, which is not a pleasing prospect, particularly as there’s one expedition I’m very keen to participate in. Secondly, I should have been taking paracetamol, as this might have lowered my temperature (I didn’t realise it was an anti-pyretic, actually). So, if I’d gone against my normal “medicate only if strictly necessary” approach, I might have been let out.  As it is, I face the bleak prospect of at least two more days stuck in the cabin. At least it’s a comfortable prison cell…

On the schedule tomorrow are two excursions within the engagingly-named Vansittart Bay. Excitingly, one of these does not involve rock art, so there may be a decent crop of photos for us to share.  Keep your eyes on these pages to find out, eh?

 

Kimberley Day 5 – Hunter River & Porosus Creek

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Saturday 17 August 2024 – Steve here, just popping up to say a couple of things before handing the reins back over to Jane.

Firstly, though I guess this is a somewhat dubious distinction, I am a trendsetter. Yesterday, having noted my sore throat, I heard the ship-wide announcement at around 3pm inveighing anyone to see the doctor in the case of symptoms, and immediately hotfooted it down to the medical facility.

Which was shut.

I found Dain in the corridor and he gently pointed out the noticeboard outside the facility saying it re-opened at 5pm. So I made absolutely sure to get there 10 minutes early, wearing a mask. Much to my surprise, there was no queue, so I just walked in to explain my situation. I think the doc and his assistant were a little surprised at my presumption, but they sat me down and, using what I consider to be the old-fashioned, long-handled, nasal swab that seems actually to touch your brain tissue, tested me. Twice; once for Covid and the other for influenza (I didn’t know there was such a test, actually). Negative for Covid, positive for Influenza A, so I was immediately dispatched to isolate myself in my cabin.  As I left, the medical facility’s waiting area was now crowded with people there, presumably, for the same reason as me. But I got there first. Hah! Li’l old trendsetter, me.

Unsurprisingly, the situation escalated, and the captain had to make a general announcement that, since the number of cases had passed the 4% mark, mask wearing anywhere inside on the ship was mandatory, and highly recommended outside and on the Zodiacs. Later still, he joined the evening briefing to tell us that there were, so far, 10 confirmed cases, six of Covid and four of Influenza.

So Le Lapérouse was now officially a Plague Ship.

It’s all under control, or so they say. Our cabin now has a notional quarantine flag against it, so our cabin girl, Verona, doesn’t come to tidy up after us, which seems sensible. We also get lunch and dinner menus delivered so that I can order a meal to be brought to the cabin. Thus far, though, because my appetite has not been immense, Jane has simply brought the occasional mignardise for me, which has been sufficient.  To their credit, the ship’s reception has followed up the menu delivery just to see if I wanted to order anything; the organisation has responded well.

And now, back to Jane…..

Today’s excursions were two zodiac cruises along the Hunter River and its tributary, Porosus Creek.

The morning cruise was at high tide. We passed a dramatic pair of rock formations as we entered the mouth of the main Hunter river

and passed under towering cliffs of the now familiar blazing orange and black sandstone.

The river is fringed with several species of mangrove

 

but behind the fringe of mangroves, naturally fragmented into specific ecosystems by the rock formations, are monsoon vine thickets: a short-statured form of closed-canopy rainforest, containing many food and medicinal plant species of cultural importance as well as supporting a wide variety of endemic flora and fauna.

The setting was extremely beautiful; the reflections in the water reminded me of Rorschach ink blots!

and the colours of the rocks together with the turquoise water were wonderful.

We were hoping for wildlife but to be honest there wasn’t much, and what there was was only glimpsed briefly: a snub nosed dolphin, diamond backed mullet, some substantial jellyfish, a night heron, a couple of kingfishers; we did see one of the salt water crocodiles (“salties”) that live here but it was displaying precisely why the salties are such dangerous predators by being virtually invisible.

So we returned to the ship for lunch, then ventured out again, as the tide was falling, along Porosus Creek.

Low tide = mud…

and mud = mud skippers! We had seen – at a distance – some tiny ones (a couple of inches long) in Talbot Bay; these, however, were giant mud skippers, up to around a foot long, and the males were showing off and leaping about to impress the females:

Sorry it’s such a hopeless bit of video – I was trying to hold my phone steady on a rocking zodiac while avoiding getting bits of other punters in the picture, and this was the only reasonably steady fragment!! Hopefully you will get the pro videographer back soon…

Anyhoo, mud also = crocodile tracks

And everyone knows that crocodile tracks = crocodiles!

There was an interesting stand-off between these two at the entrance to a small side creek – but they obviously reckoned that discretion was the better part of valour and sidled past each other…

 

So all in all a delightfully riparian day! The morrow has more rock art in prospect. Since I am requested not to share pictures of the art on social media I’m not sure how this is going to play out; come back tomorrow to find out!