Tag Archives: Western Australia

Kimberley Day 8 – King George River

Tuesday 20 August 2024 – Our final expedition, and also the longest – 2½ hours in a Zodiac.

It’s about 14km from the ship (X marks the spot) to the ultimate destination of the cruise – the King George Falls, which, in full spate, are reportedly magnificent. Dain had, though, set our expectations much lower. Since we’re well through the dry season, the water levels upriver of the falls were, unsurprisingly, low, so we weren’t going to see a massive cataract. Nonetheless, I wondered whether an aerial shot would be possible, even of a low flow, so I asked him whether it might be possible to whizz up the drone for a shot.  As soon as he heard the word “drone”, he simply said, “no”, and offered some kind of weaselly reason like migratory birds. I was expecting the answer no, so it wasn’t a surprise; and launching a drone from a Zodiac might have proved interesting anyway. But I’d have appreciated a more considered and les brusque response, frankly.

Anyhoo…

The ship ran a morning cruise for two groups and an afternoon one for the other two; and our group were last out, just after 2pm.  The first thing one has to do is to get from the ship to the mouth of the river, seen here between two sand spits, since we were just after low tide.

If you look carefully, you can just make out a Zodiac ahead of us as it enters the river proper.

When you enter the river, the scenery is pretty striking, with impressive cliffs on each side.

As ever, the dark patches are cyanobacteria. More on them later.

There’s a lot of geology going on, here.  For example, we passed a formation that showed we’d crossed a fault line, these arise where the Australian tectonic plate cracks under pressure from the neighbouring plates.

There were some amazing lumps of geology just lying around,

and one, nicknamed the “guillotine stone”, is very intriguing,

But it’s actually when you get up close that you get some even more fantastic sights. For example, our driver, Xander, spotted some very pale stone at the foot of a cliff

and took us over for a closer look

at what turns out to be very recently-exposed Wharton Sandstone. This – you remember, don’t you? I did tell you. Yes, I did – is the middle of the five layers of stone that make up the Kimberley, and is easily weathered; so what we were seeing had been uncovered by recent rock falls. These rock falls are catalysed by salt, which is present in the mists above the water; the salt water seeps into cracks in the rocks and evaporates forming salt crystals. The heat of the sun then causes the crystals to expand, putting pressure on the rock and over time this causes the rock to disintegrate. The honeycomb structures left by this salt weathering are called tafoni.

Further along the river we came across some much more weathered Wharton Sandstone, and the colours were extraordinary, as were the honeycomb patterns of the salt-provoked erosion.

Nature and coincidence between them also provided

a map of Africa! [ I don’t see Madagascar though – Ed ]

We did see some wildlife along the way.  There was an Osprey’s nest

though the bird on it is not an Osprey.  We’re pretty sure it’s a Peregrine Falcon.

There was a croc, a big bastard.

And there was a snake.

Xander (to whom congratulations are due for spotting the thing) swore it was some kind of Death Adder, one of the most venomous snakes in Australia (a high bar indeed). We’re not so sure.  Jane reckons it’s a Brown Tree Snake, which is not hugely venomous; our evidence is in the eyes, which show the “cat’s eye” vertical pupil. Apparently, the snake is also called a “cat snake” as a result.

There was a dolphin as well, and it apparently did some fairly serious cavorting, but not while I was watching, of course. A sea eagle flew across at one point as well, but I was busy trying to capture photos of something else. Ho, hum.

By this stage we were approaching our destination – the King George Falls. From a distance, it was a bit difficult to work out what was falls and what was just rock.

There are two falls, left and right, either side of the lumpy bit in the middle. We visited the right-hand one first.

The water flow was so reduced that it was more like condensation running down a wall than an actual flow of water.

but it did show up the rehydrated and therefore blue-green cyanobacteria at its base in very fine fashion.

Then we went to visit the other, left-hand fall.

The flow in this one was more generous – enough that, close up, one got wet from splattered water.

For the record, the falls can look magnificent when there’s enough water coming down the river, i.e. much earlier in the dry season than our visit – but of course then you can’t even get close.

image credit: donsmaps.com

Margie, the Cruise Director from APT, had laid on another surprise party for us at the Falls.

It was a nice thought, but actually dealing with glasses in a moving Zodiac whilst trying to take photos was a bit challenging. However, we manfully forced a glass of fizz down before heading back to the ship.

Although we had a full day left at sea before reaching Darwin, tonight featured a Gala Dinner, after the usual end-of-cruise ritual of introducing all of the crew to the passengers. There were in the order of 160 of us punters, and we were very well served by the 127 crew – hotel, catering, guiding, engineering and steering. Le Lapérouse is a comfortable ship, whose facilities are very well-organised and which has been extremely well run.  The social content surrounding the expeditions might not be to our taste, but it seemed to go down well with the other passengers, so APT have hit their niche pretty well with this cruise.

Overnight, we transit from Western Australia to the Northern Territory. This involves moving our clocks forward, as one would expect.  What I didn’t expect was that the time change was 1½ hours. We have a day at sea tomorrow, and should reach Darwin around 8pm, with the possibility that we could take a stroll round the town if we feel so inclined. Since we have a day or two there anyway, we may or may not take up on that. Come back soon to find out.

 

 

Kimberley Day 7 – Vansittart Bay

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

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?