The wind had been blowing from the east for days and Emerald of course was 370klms east of Longreach. I left at 7am hoping to catch a lull between the overnight howlers and the late morning re-charge. However the exposed landscape made sure that whatever wind was going, I’d be beating into it.
I almost drove through Barcaldine (pronounced Ba-cawl-din not Bar-cal-dine), but two things made me stop for a closer look. The site of three historic pubs cheek by jowl clued me in that there must have been something going on at sometime. Second was a, well, a giant wooden fruit box, seemingly suspended in mid air and totally out of place in a country town. Of course, I had to find out what the go was. Underneath this timber canopy are the remains of the Tree of Knowledge, made famous for being the site of the original Labor Party manifesto, that arose out of the Shearers Strike of 1891. Barcaldine was the headquarters for the striking shearers. The tree was deliberately poisoned in 2006 but the trunk and limbs were saved and preserved, A full history can be found at: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tree_of_Knowledge_(Australia
The landscape changed again for the greener and two hours later I rolled through Emerald and spent one night at a caravan park just to top up everything. Next morning, turned south and headed towards Carnarvon Gorge. School holidays meant that the usual accommodation options were off the table, but I’d heard about a free camp called the Rewan Gravel Pit, about 10klm north of the one road into the gorge. It was rough as bags, but secure enough and all to myself. The weather forecast allowed just one day of clear skies – tomorrow. The trail through the gorge is 19.4klms return plus side trails. The info said to allow 7-8 hours. It had to be an early start.
A 5am wake up call. A fifty kilometre drive into the gorge. This is what made it special. A setting harvest moon over the Carnarvon Gorge. I don’ t think many have seen a moonset. It’s like a sunset but without the retina burn and a thrill to watch. In the moment, I hoped that it was a portent of more amazing sights that day.
It was barely light when I pulled into the carpark, slung my backpack and headed in. The cool gorge air filled my lungs. The first 20 minutes were up and down with plenty of steps, designed I suspect to cull the frail and morbidly obese from the hiking herd. But soon, it settled down to what you’d expect of a gorge trail, flat and easy. In a gorge, the light changes throughout the day. Clear becomes shadow and shadow becomes light. It’s just pot luck when you turn the next corner, what you’ll be able to capture and what timing denies you.
The white sandstone cliffs closed in on both sides and the floor bisected by a stream. There were 17 creek crossings on the walk to Big Bend, the end of the trail. I re-learned quickly that one needs to ford these crossings with confidence. I wasn’t sure if I still had the leaping and bounding ability, but after one soggy shoe, I realized that particular skill was indeed still available. The morning sun was hitting the southern side of the gorge. The white sandstone cliffs blazed, rearing about 180 metres into the blue sky. Carnarvon Gorge is 32klms long and 45 to 370 metres wide, with nooks and crannies to explore along the way. I decided to push on to Big Bend and then work my way back to see the highlights on the return run. Later that day, I was to realize how fanciful the concept of ‘run’ would turn out to be.
I was almost across one of those creek crossings, when the silence erupted into a cacophony. A duck flew out of the rushes next to me, squawking and flapping furiously. And then it’s partner flew out in the other direction. Scared the bejeezus out of me and for a second I was balancing on a high wire. Every so often, a sign would alert to a highlight side trail. I would find out later that day, that this was also a trap. All the trails start downhill, but all ended very much uphill.
After two and a half hours, I reached Big Bend. I scoffed at the estimated 7-8 hours return trip advised in the brochure. Oh, the foolishness. I had passed some overnighters on the way in who had stayed here. It was a great spot for camping and even had a little beach thrown in. I took a short break, smiled and ate me a vegemite sandwich.
The thing about hiking is the ‘doing’ of it. Not everything can be captured on film. The towering sandstone walls, the bubbling stream, the bird life all combine to give you a really immersive experience. And sooooo green! What a change after six months in the outback. Energized, I set out for the short walk to the entrance to Boowinda Gorge, the first of the side trails. It would be another seven hours before I crawled(literally) into the Jeep, exhausted but elated.
