Bridgetsmusings’s Weblog

When I visited Western Australia for the first time in May 2003, ecotourism was still a realatively new concept.  Ningaloo Reef Retreat, 70 kilometres south of Exmouth (think whale sharks), was my first foray into the world of sustainable, green, responsible and eco-educational travel.

Billed as a Wilderness Camp, Ningaloo Reef was comfortable with its safari-style tents and queen-size beds but didn’t otherwise pander too much to softies and city slickers. The real luxury lay in being surrounded by wildlife 24/7. Ghost crabs scuttle in the sand at night, crickets chatter, you might bump into a kangaroo on a torch-lit visit to the very clean, sealed-system compost toilet, and in the morning you wake to birds wheeling overhead. By day, snorkelling around the Blue Lagoon ( a short kayak trip away) or around the turtle pools just metres from the shore, reaps rich and multicoloured rewards of the fin and gill variety.

Now, green tourism is a growing market with opportunities to sample ecotourism at all levels and all prices, from designer eco-lodges to more modest and hands-on camps and retreats where you can get involved in conservation projects.

One of the new kids-on-the-block is the Karjini Eco Retreat. The Karijini National Park is in the Pilbara region of Western Australia, inland from the mining town of Karratha. There were no luxury tents with king-size beds, ensuites and well-stocked food and drink outlets when I visited  with Snappy Gum Safaris in April 2003. 

With limited time to spare, and inspired by Fred Williams’ paintings of the iron ore-producing Hamersley Ranges,  I settled on The Karijini National Park as it was closer than the Kimberley, but promised similar terrain: steep gorges, copper-red earth and swimming holes. 

When the two guys from Snappy Gum Safaris came to pick me up in Karratha (I was staying at the Mercure Hotel after an unpleasant exchange with the woman at Karratha Backpackers), I noticed there was no one else in the car. “Just me?” I asked politely.  ”Yes,”  they answered, perhaps a little snappily,  adding that it was not really viable for them to be taking only one passenger.  A lack of moolah and all that. The conversation moved on to their hangovers -  one of them  was nursing a bandaged leg after coming off a motorbike the night before, and both of them were slurping iced coffee.

I have forgotten their names, or perhaps I have wiped them from my memory, so for the purposes of this story I will call them SG1 and SG 2. SG as in Snappy Gum. 

Was it five hour’s drive or three? I forget, but do remember that the long, red, gravel road tracks the Tom Price Railway Road. We stopped here and there for SG 1 and 2 to smoke and arrived in the Park by lunchtime.  

We stopped at a couple of swimming holes, the vibrant green of the ferns beautifully offset by the rusty red of the rocks. Positioning myself under mini waterfalls I let the jets of water massage my neck and shoulders and ease away the passive hangover vibes. So far, so good.

During the afternoon I admired the workmanship of a huge termite mound, at least twice my size,  and took a picture of a lone drop dunny plonked on the hillside. Confirming all my whingeing Pom prejudices, the dunny came complete with a redback sitting obligingly in a web spun across the seat.  All that was lacking was the voiceover for the Castlemaine XXXX ad.

That evening we set up camp in the car park area. Dinner was pretty ordinary – budget kangaroo and cask wine and not enough green stuff. I bet the Karijini Eco Retreat serves up groovy bush tucker and good wines. But for these guys I was not a money making proposition so why waste fancy ingredients?

As it happened I helped ‘facilitate’- let’s use some managment speak – a bit of extra business for them. The place seemed almost deserted, but out of nowhere four young people approached us asking about The Miracle Mile. Dollar signs appeared in SG 1 and 2’s eyes!

Whatever The Miracle Mile was – wait and see, you’ll love it was all I got from mine hosts – you needed guides to do it. Sounded rather intriguing to me, and no of course I wouldn’t mind – how could I object? The deal was signed and sealed, and the young foursome, two guys, two girls, Canadian and Irish, I think, agreed to meet us early the next morning.

Time for bed. SG 1 and 2 rolled out my mat and swag under a tree and hung a mosquito net from a branch. The mosquito net had more holes than a string vest, but I knew I mustn’t whinge. SG 1 and 2 rolled out their beds nearby and we wished each other a good night. Tanked up with cask wine, SG 1 and 2 were in the land of nod way before me, but I eventually drifted off only to be woken in the night by SG1 shouting.

I offered soothing words until I realised he was sleep-talking and not re-enacting some childhood trauma. Now fully awake, I needed a pee. I wandered off with my torch to a suitable patch of spinifex grass . Mission accomplished, I completely lost my bearings – one spinifex bush looks much like another – and couldn’t find my way to the camp.

Brought up on apocryphal stories about Australia being the land of killer bugs, beasts and all things that creep and crawl, I panicked. Was that a dingo I could hear? What would happen if I trod on a snake? I shouted – ‘”Hello – sorry – are you over there?” Silence. The cask wine was still working its magic on the boys.

Eventually I got back to base and snuggled thankfully back into my swag. Woken by the piercing, liquid notes of a bird (I never did find out what it was), we had a skimpy breakfast (if I had know what I was in for, I would have eaten three times as much), and packed up leaving only footprints and tiny blobs of spat out toothpaste on the spinifex bushes where we had cleaned our teeth. In that respect, our camp qualifed for the eco label.

The Miracle Mile started well. Climbing down a long, rusty ladder we descended the first gorge. I soon realised why we needed hard hats as we negotiated steep, narrow ledges of terraced rock, the water swirling rapidly below us. Like huge, jagged chimney stacks the rocks rose above us and we crept along rock walls, carefully placing feet and hands, inching along.

At one point we were spread-eagled between the narrow walls of a gorge, the rock a dizzying pattern of striated layers all around us.

The bright young things were in their element, whooping for joy the more precarious it became and setting dares for each other. SG 1 and 2 joined in the fun and encouraged daredevil jumping off rocks into the pools below. Trying to ungrit my teeth, I kept going reminding myself to enjoy the scenery and stop and smell the roses. At one point I slipped and grazed my knee – nothing in itself – but this wasn’t a place to be slipping. I later learnt that people have fallen to their deaths doing the Miracle Mile.

The going did get easier in places and, at some points, we stripped down to our bathers and swam across ice-cold rock pools, the water almost aquamarine, but limb-numblingly cool. 

About halfway through the epic journey, I began to feel weak and hungry; a mixture of nerves, lack of sleep and physical exertion. And, then I realised that I felt lonely – that lonely in a crowd thing. SG1 and 2 had each other, and the young travellers had obviously bonded as travellers do, whereas I felt like a little shadow creeping along behind.

Towards the end I relaxed my grip a bit and slipped again. My inner child wanted to have a good old ‘poor me’ cry, but not in front of this lot. No, time to be brave. So in a final spurt of adrenal energy, I clenched my teeth one more time and hauled myself up to the top.

Back at the car, I devoured an apple and a biscuit and felt instant blood sugar relief. But, after so much gritting of the teeth,  I also managed to break a tooth.  Perhaps that’s what happens if you don’t relax and go with the flow. …

Needless to say, back at the Mercure Hotel, all was rosy in the garden. Hot shower, picnic supper from Woolworths, clean sheets, happy in my own company and no sleep-shouting snappy gums. Bliss!