Around Oz the First Time - Chapter 48 - Broome Day 2

If there was one thing Silver Leader was wanting to do this trip it was the Upside-Down Falls. All along it was THE thing he would talk about, that thing on his bucket list he wanted to cross off. The time in Halls Creek was only exacerbated by the fact we had already booked this trip for today and as the time grew closer and the Jeep remained broken down, the options materialised and then were gone.

But we are here, and we are excited, its 5.15am and we are walking to the front of the caravan park to be picked up. A bus aptly adorned with the right marketing material turns up but we are not for it. The driver suggests he only has two people to pick up and they are alighting as he says, another will be here for you shortly. Not a good start, but we are still bouncing around.

A few minutes pass and another, much smaller, nondescript bus arrives, and we are ushered in. As luck would have it, we are to do the trip today in the opposite direction to the former bus. We pick up a few more people from different resorts handy to Cable Beach and head directly for the airport.

First thing we need our name tags, to designate which version and which direction our trip will take today, and whether we are full day (as we are) or on the morning half day trip. Once labelled we are bundled into a turbo prop Caravan for the trip to the falls. The bundling is designated, having been weighed and our pilot, Tonya, working out the best weight distribution for “optimum” flight efficiency. That’s my story and I am sticking to it having been placed second to the back, near the door.

Preparation for take-off is quick, much quicker than when I was a fledgling student pilot many, many years ago. We are on the taxi way, the runway proper and into the air in a matter of moments. As we were taxiing, I was a little stressed by the amount of water running down the windows, thinking photographs might be difficult between the trickles but as soon as we are airborne the water disappears and my view in uninterrupted by water.

I have already taken photos of the sunrise while we were approaching in the bus and look to get some more as we climb. It is difficult to sit up, with the seat belt on, around the obligatory life jacket and the seats reclined slightly, but in time I master the perfect position. There is lots to see, Broome proper, the mangroves, the beaches and the ocean as we climb to cruising altitude.

Tonya lets us know what we should look out for and the tine it will take to get to the floating pontoon, where most of the activities for the day will emanate. At cruising altitude, Silver Leader and I (he is sitting directly in front of me) notice another Caravan at a much lower level, overtaking us. As we get closer to the pontoon and start to reduce our height, Tonya catches the other plane as we descend and both planes arrive almost simultaneously on the water, a large expanse of crystal clear, glassed landing field.

As we had gotten closer there appeared to be a cloud bank forming, again lowering expectations of good shots on approach, as we were told by our pilot, we would be doing orbits of the falls, banking both ways so everyone could get good shots. The cloud is actually smoke but didn’t affect the view of the falls during the orbits.

On the pontoon we are ushered, in our plane groups, to different sections of the pontoon for safety and trip briefings. We have been going more than an hour so far and as yet no breakfast, I am starting to feel the effects of not eating, but we are ushered into power boats immediately for our first “attack” of the falls. Now my boat at home has a 60hp motor on the back and will do 25 knots on a good day. The boats we are ushered into have 4 by 350hp Yamaha outboards attached. This is going to be fun.

We also notice a helicopter sitting on a pad attached to the ponton, a four seater Robinson, which we are told can also be hired for a 10 minute flight over the falls and surrounding creeks over breakfast, I look at Robyn, she shudders and shakes her head but suggests if I want to go then its OK, but for now I also decline. Forbsy expresses interest, and in the interest of mateship, I stick my name down too.

The boat is off, again we are life jacketed, this time with PFD’s rather than the money bag style apparatus of the Caravan trip. We meander towards the falls, past the glass of the main bay into an area where the turbulence of the undercurrent is obvious if not felt in the boat. There are two sets of falls here, a larger one and a smaller one, both in the right conditions you can traverse. In fact at the top and the bottom of the tides for a very short period the water is completely slack, but only for a very short time.

We are relatively close to low tide, which is why the operators wanted us ion the water quickly, forgoing the early breakfast. We zip through the larger of the falls entrances, bouncing violently (but safely) as we traverse the changes in height of the water. We go back for a second run, just as much fun, then the driver turns the boat back into the white water and holds the boat on the current. He tells us he is doing 16 knots and the boat is pitching and drifting but those 4 motors are holding the boat with ease.

Now it’s off to the smaller of the two openings that compose the Upside-Down Falls. Even though it is close to low tide the levels of the water here are too dangerous to cross. Our Captain suggests that we would not make it and the boat would probably flip making us all croc and shark bait. From the lower side you can see the difference in the levels of the water are almost 2 metres even at this late stage of the tide and the same volume of eater, that is passing through the larger entrance is attempting to flow though this much lesser sized “crack” in the rocks.

A few more races back and forth through the larger entrance to the hysterical joy of the crowd and it is back for breakfast, but not for me and Forbsy, we are called to the helipad for our trip around the sights in the helicopter. There are no doors on the Robinson, and we are told we should be able to get great shots as we do the low-level flight. I am ushered into the co-pilots seat, Forbsy to the back. Seatbelts secured and we are off.

Firstly, to the falls themselves. We buzz them with emphasis on our side of the helicopter. At this level they are just as spectacular as the boat ride, but from this perspective and the lateness of the tide you can see the effects of the movement of all that water, firstly from the inland sea above the smaller of the falls, through the lake between them and then out into the sea proper. This is something you don’t get form the boat. Lots of looking done, we peel off towards the fires and Cyclone Creek, aptly named because of the refuge it allows in a storm giving protection on all sides from a storm.

The fires here seem to be self-started and cannot burn much, firstly as there is not much to burn and secondly, in most directions there is water. The smoke certainly does not hinder our experience as I video the trip along the creek. Keeping the clips to 30 seconds each, I manage to get several different perspectives of the flight and the vista, finally setting back on the pontoon, where I try to alight with my headset still on. One job, he had one job.

Finally breakfast, Bacon and egg rolls, washed down with red cordial – perfect. So perfect in fact, I sneak two. Towards the end of my second we are beckoned to the shark feeding and swimming experience. The sharks are cousins of the lemon shark and are reasonably harmless but still I am not going in the water with them even if there is a large metal fence between them and me.

Three sharks are already in the enclosure ready to be fed and the crewman talks about them as he feeds them fresh barramundi. They inhale the fish with a violent vacuum cleaner sound. Also in the pen, which is open to the sea, are many locals, including queenfish, batfish and giant trevally, along with a school of smaller fish which are tempting their luck swimming very close to the mouths of the sharks at times, also eager for a feed. Every now and then the crewman throws a piece of food into the middle of the pool and it erupts in a feeding frenzy.

I play with the Super Slow Motion, trying to capture the frenzy with some luck.

We are beckoned back to the boats for a cruise up Cyclone Creek. This trip in the same boats as the Falls jaunt could be interesting, but the Captain meanders the boat around, spotting crocs and talking about the topography, affected by the large movements in tides (up to 12 metres and beyond). At one point he corners a larger croc in a small creek. The monster heads for the safety of the water and tries to go under the boat, but the captain has him cornered. I snap a shot of the croc, all but his eyes submerged, looking angrily at the impediment to his day, warming in the sun.

We move on, to where there appears to be a beach of golden sand, actually, as our Captain allows the boat to drift past, it is formed by the tides crushing shells and depositing them in the deeper water. The “sand bar” is a stark contrast to the colours around it.

Heading back towards the pontoon, it is almost the bottom of the ebb tide. We are off to the falls again but this time the larger one is almost silent. The water movement has fallen to such a rate the white water has been replaced with the green of the surrounding lake and sea. We wander around this lake looking at what the falling tide can reveal in the forms of water life. Small fish erupt here and there, larger ones also scoot away from the boat. We head over to the smaller opening and motor through it. The water level may be slowing the rate but the water here is till white and turbulent, making for screams and yelps of glee as we bounce through.

The inland sea from the air was a vastness of blue green water. From the water level, so much closer to the end of the tide, its now brown with mudflats, encroaching on the azure water. We wander around the sea and then head back from some attacks of the smaller falls. The larger ones are past as if nothing was there at all.

Our time here is over, but not the end of the trip. We are now to be transported in the Caravan to the bus for the driving legs of the tour. Tonya flies very low this time allowing for pictures of the islands at low tide, revealing deep pools of water, unseen at higher water levels. Forbsy is reminded that is where the big cod live, a reference to the debacle in Darwin on the fishing charter. From the air there are just so many shots to take. Every glance out the window brings another vista worthy of a snap.

We some across a settlement with a dirt airfield, no we are not landing there. We are landing on a much smaller runway of dirt and dust not much further and in the middle of nowhere. There are tree right up to the edge of this line of dirt and the landing is congruent with the state of the runway, but we make it no worry, appearing to use up all the length, but I think only because the turning circle is right at the end and we head back to wait for the bus.

What we didn’t notice, because it was out the other side of the Caravan, was the bus was actually waiting for us. We alight, change over with the bus crowd, grab a quick drink while refuelling takes place and bid them farewell, now in the hands of our friendly bus driver. First order of business, the Cygnet Bay Pearl Farm for lunch and a tour, not necessarily in that order. The driver is jovial, and today is joined by one of the other tour staff who has a layover between shifts.

We get to the pearl farm and we are given off to Terry, our guide for the tour of the pearl farm. Terry is in his element. He has lived here all his life, having gone to school with one of the original owners of the farm. He talks of the operations, and how hard it was to wag school, knowing the only place to really go was the ocean. There is a number of spots to visit and he talks about the quality and other pearl intricacies. He opens an oyster to show us the inner workings and perhaps secure a pearl. He will eat all the meat for afternoon tea.

There is a pearl, and a beauty, Terry is chuffed hoping for one with a value in excess of $1,000. His enthusiasm goes up several notches when he sees what is revealed. He examines it and almost squeals it is close if not is actually an A1 and should be worth as much as he challenged himself to find. The pearl is passed around, and manages to make it back to him, then it is off to the grading demonstration while he gets the pearl which appears to only have one very minor flaw valued.

Valuation is made clearer by the grading demonstration and we soon see why Terry has gotten what appeared to be overly excited. Lustre. Colour, shape are all aspects to be considered. During the demonstration, another staff member comes back with the valuation, in excess of $1,200. Terry’s challenge accepted and fulfilled. He shows us a much larger pearl mounted on a gold stand. This monster is worth more than $60,000. He quips that if you were to buy it, ask them to throw in the stand for free.

The demonstration over its time for lunch. It’s a difficult place to eat, looking out on a vista of the ocean, sitting by an infinity pool on a verandah with a cool breeze blowing. Lunch is a barramundi fillet, poached and covered in a coconut dressing with salad and rice – delectable.

Lunch completed, the women folk head back to the display centre (minus their purses, if the men had anything to do with it), while we sit with the driver and muse about his office. Tough job but someone has to do it.

The women are prized out of the gallery. A piece Rosalie was looking at was scooped up by another of the tourists, Silver Leader rejoices. Robyn has not seen anything that said to her “buy me” and heads back to the bus satisfied she has seen all she needs to see.

It’s a 20 minute drive to our next point of call – Cape Leveat. If ever there was a place to take a post card photograph it is here. The sand, white, contrasting the brilliant red cliffs, set against the azure ocean and the sky truly has to be seen to be believed. It has been used in a Qantas commercial where they trouped the Australian Children’s Choir around the place singing, I Still Call Australia Home, but even the magic of a helicopter and panning camera angles does not do this place justice.

We have driven right onto the beach in the truck as permitted by the local people, but they ask us not to climb the cliffs to sacred spots, which we adhere to. I ask if fishing is allowed, having stowed my collapsible rod and a lure into my bag and it is OK. Unfortunately, the wind here is directly onshore and I have trouble in sending the lure more than about 50 metres into the surf. No problems I can say I fished Cape Leveat, bit without success.

Our next stop is an hour away, the pace of interest is a church, built by monks and adorned with mother of pearl and other ceremonial items. The bus drive allows me to sleep, much like many of the other tourists, expect for Forbsy and Robyn who watch the supporting video.

The church is visited, photos taken, and donations left. Our driver dishes out afternoon tea of cold drinks and lamingtons. A couple of children are nearby having fun knocking green mangoes from trees. There is ground water here and lots of it. The grass is green and unwatered according to our driver. It is certainly the first time today we have seen anything like green grass, except for some artificial grass at the pearl farm.

Back in the bus for our last leg home, our driver has suggested the gravel road will be reasonable as they are preparing it for sealing in the new dry season. Now I have been chastised at times of the speed at which I attach unsealed roads, but I would suggest any further comments will be met with a reminder of this last leg. I am not sure what the speed limit was but we certainly maintain a 100kph average for the trip as we scream along the dirt road. Much of the road is not on the “main” part of the road but a channel beside it. There appears to be great mounds of loose dust on the passenger side and hard rock towards the middle.

It seems like a track meant for only one vehicle at a time but there is very little slowing when oncoming traffic approach. We come up behind a slower moving tow truck, who must have seen us coming as he quickly pulls over, halfway up the bank to allow us to pass. There are times when the track changes from one side of the new road to another, we slow a little as we change direction but once back onto the straight, we are back to speed quickly.

On the bitumen and signposted 110kph we seem to slow but that may be because the flora is now some distance away and not simply rushing by the window. We never feel in danger and marvel at the suspension of the truck. We are dropped off at the front gate of the park and we wander back to our vans.

Its Friday night and there are footy finals on. Forbsy gets out the TV and attaches it to Silver Leaders van and we settle down to watch a thrilling game marred by controversial refereeing decisions. Penalties and send offs are the order of the day, my brother who is a died in the wool Manly supporter must be having conniptions and I text him given they are playing my team.

Once the footy is done we retire and are not long away from snoring our heads off after a long and very pleasant day. One to tick off the bucket list for sure. I had flattened my phone today, I took lots and lots and lots of photos, videos and slow-motion shots, and why wouldn’t you, all around was interest, experience and enjoyment. I am going to need to ensure I “manage” my capturing of experiences if there are going to be more like that in the future or lay off the slow-motion video option which may chew up power.

Virgins, too eager to get to the end, they sometimes forget the experience is what its all about.