Sweltering heat, Cruising the Nitmiluk and Mom and Dad’s old VW!

I’ve always been an advocate of spare the rod, spoil the child and although aware of my childrens’ propensity for being rather spirited at times have never considered them all too spoilt nor necessarily rude – perhaps I’ve been caught unawares? We ran into a couple who were our neighbour in Kununurra and the coolness of their reply to our hello evidenced some obvious dis-consternation with how we manage our children. Then there was the Danish couple who proclaimed loud enough for Jen to hear – “it’s just those rude American kids.” Firstly, we’re far from American and secondly – there weren’t any complacent 6 or 9 year olds with which to compare so not too sure how they got off on making such a judgment. Although not convinced either party was actually correct, it did put us in a bit of grumpy mood. The kids were a little difficult for the day but they were having to tag along with their parents on yet another sight-seeing expedition, in the heat of the day when they would rather have been in the pool doing flips and staying cool! Some other old nag became all petulant when Cole decided to feed some crackers to some fish – saying “ Oh I wouldn’t do that little boy, the yeast in it will make their stomach’s bloat up.” – what a croc of – what’s that new stuff Kraft makes – Snack 2.0! The patronizing was almost too much to handle but I guess it goes with the territory when you’re traveling with the seriously grey (and bald) nomads.



We started the day on a good note though. Having some time to spare before our afternoon cruise, we undertook a 3.7 km hike through the bush and up to the look out over the first gorge. It was hot – did I mention that – hot. Apparently, the difference in temp from the water to the rocky bushland is a good 10 to 20 degrees and at the water’s edge it was a good 30 degrees. Needless to say we consumed a fair bit of water and were deeply repentant when we eventually arrived back at the Visitors Centre and indulged ourselves in some cool ice creams and iced teas. A quick dip in the pool and some lunch set us up for the afternoon’s festivities. The cruise took us up to the 3rd of 13 gorges and demonstrated some of the local rock art, foliage, fauna and history of the area. Of interest was a particular yellow flowering plant that follows the breeding cycle of the fresh-water crocodiles. With each phase of its flowering cycle, the freshie in turn goes through its annual breeding ritual – finding a potential nest by checking the temperature of the sand, eventually building a nest and then laying her eggs. If the eggs are in sand less than 28 degrees Celsius they will hatch as males, between 28 to 32 degrees – as females and over 32 – as males again. Fascinating stuff! The rock paintings were intriguing as well in that they’d been there for centuries if not longer and some were massive and quite a ways above the ground. The Aboriginals theorize that these paintings were actually done by the dreamtime storytelling spirits themselves as they are so large and high off the ground. We made it to a plunge pool up in the 3rd Gorge with a beautiful waterfall cascading 60 odd metres above. The guide asked us to get in without jumping or diving as a safety precaution, which I took to mean as we initially entered the water as the depths would be unknown otherwise. Naturally, when some others started jumping off the rocks my kids and I were the next to have a go. What’s the matter with the occasional little back flip anyway! It was interesting though as Jen gave me an earful as I came to meet her indicating that the guide had inferred that no jumping or diving at all was allowed. She joined the boys to check out the waterfall and no sooner had I turned my back and she was jumping with the boys off the same rock that she had given me gruff about! Shortly after though, the guide did direct his ‘no jumping’ rule at her and she conceded. Not sure why it was such an issue as it was absolutely safe anyways. Stickler for rules I guess. Back at the boat ramp we were greeted by a flock of fruit-bats/ flying foxes hanging from a few of the trees down by the water. They were massive things with large leathery looking wings – exactly what you’d imagine in a visit to Transylvania. With some lectures on listening and appropriate behaviour out of the way we headed back to camp to wallow in the pool and treat ourselves to the bistro meals for a change. As we were enjoying the waters I noticed an orange 1970-odd year old VW Kombi van with a white bull bar in the front and a white ‘racing’ stripe careening the sides of the vehicle – a virtual replica (from my recollection) of the Kombi van my parents used to trek across the pre-tarmacked Nullarbor with two young kids in tow. Can’t imagine what it must have been like – bumpy, tight on space and a little too much Rhinestone Cowboy maybe?