Here We Go Again - Chapter 76 - El Questro Day 5

During the night either a mad cow of the resident donkey bellowed like there was no tomorrow. It did not wake me, but there were times when I rolled over the sound was very evident. In the morning the donkey at least is feeding in the grassed area by the reception, oblivious to the chaos its unmelodious antics will have caused.

Shaun has been quite taken aback that we have not attempted to wander around more than we have. In response I asked him about the 4WD tracks. As inexperienced as I am, I am still keen to try my hand. He suggests the easiest is probably Pigeon Hole Lookout.

I suggest to Silver Leader and Rose of my intentions. Silver leader has some things to do and will not be joining us. Rose on the other hand in a laissez fare type attitude is up for the drive. We scream off (as much as you can here on the dirt roads), past the airstrip and off in the direction of the Chamberlain Cruise a few days before.

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The dust is just as bad, perhaps even worse. At one corner the Cruiser is slowed by the depth of the dust. This will be a fun corner on the return trip. We pass the turnoff to the Chamberlain and ever onwards towards Pigeon Hole. There is a dry river bed to cross then a wet one. All taken with ease.

This 4WD caper is nothing, but caution is still warranted.

At the turnoff from the “main” road the road immediately begins to rise. It is not far however before we are at a small car park. There are seats here and a table. From the table you can see in both directions, down along the river and back across the wilderness. Off to the other side is a well worn walking track begging to be walked. 

The girls are still at the cruiser.

I disappear up the track, thinking the lookout may be at the end of it, not that the view from this first area is not spectacular enough. The trail traces the spine of a ridge, opening up more views of the river and the wild country. I get even more shots as I walk, until I can walk no further. The trail ends abruptly and to go any further would be to fall down the escarpment. 

I choose not to.

On returning to the parking area I find the girls talking to another couple enjoying the peace fo the view. I discuss the potential fishing spots I can see from this lofty vantage point.Lines of rocks offering perfect vantage points for Barramundi to launch an ambush attack much like the pne on the grunter in the Chamberlain.

Buoyed with the ease of the 4WD experience so far, I am keen to push on. There is a billabong a bit further along the track but I get a significant amount of rebellion from Robyn. From the track I had been walking the road further on seemed reasonable, but no manner of discussion seemed to make her wish to accompany me.

I suggest she wait in the tabled area. The heat makes her decision for her, as long as we take it very carefully.

Up the track we go. Its actually in better condition that the earlier road for now. Whilst it is steep, its nothing the Cruiser needs to change gears for. We reach a fork in the road. To the right there is a “Road Closed for Function” sign and to the left a warning sign suggesting only vehicles with “high clearance” continue.

What sort of function could be going on here? A wedding perhaps. Certainly on our trip towards this point we had seen vehicles with suitable infrastructure aboard apparently heading this way.

I cannot argue with Robyn any more. I turn the Cruiser around, engage low gear and head back down the track. Downhill is a different exercise and the use of low gear keeps everything in order. We pass the car park and back to the water crossings. On the road proper I seek out the deeply dusted corner. The plumes of dust from my ploughing into these corners engulf the rear view, at times slowing the forward momentum of the Cruiser such is its depth. 

I can feel Rose cringing in the back at the sight of the dust. Her attention to keeping things pristinely clean are no match for the red dust, but she tries.

Back at the park proper we relax. Tonight we have tickets for the famed El Questro barbeque feast. Since the take over of management, coupled with the staffing issues, they have been in hiatus for some time according to Shaun, who also muses that tonight they will be fed pizza as the guests are treated to the delights of the Kimberley.

We take up our spots and I grab a bottle of wine. The food is laid out and we are invited to take our selection. Unlike many functions like this, the food is bountiful. Steaks the size of your hand but an inch thick are in one bay marie. Along the table there are chunks of Barramundi, Emu and Kangaroo, selections of which all hit my plate. I do add some token salad to “even up” the intake.

Everything is delicious and cooked to enhance its flavour. Whereas I have had emu and it has been tough (much like kangaroo if not cooked or “hung” properly), this is tender and flavoursome. The steak, which can also be “butchered” if not correctly cooked on a barbeque, melts in your mouth. You are encouraged to go back for more, but I have over indulged the first time. Robyn hits the desert table, I do not.

Dinner finished its off to find Shaun, getting ready for a 3 day “weekend”. He and a number of his colleagues are at the bonfire, adjacent to the evening entertainer. It is his first night for a while as he has been suffering with tonsillitis.

He has the group rocking along, and they are feeling no pain. 

They still have pizza on the table – a far cry from the repast we had just enjoyed. I get talking to some. They all love Shaun. He is hoping to do a trek into the wilder Kimberley during his time off and tells me of the preparations.

Permissions he requires from the locals etc as well as the route they will travel and the travellers who are going. The effects of the alcohol are setting in but there is no reduction in the fun levels.

Today one of the other guides had taken a group fishing and they had managed a Barramundi just in excess of 1 metre. This saddens Shaun knowing he could not take us, but I assure him that was as much our decision as his.

It does get him talking about podcasts, one of the things that binds our friendship. For him the stories of the Killing Trees, not far from where El Questro launch their fishing tours, and the Spear Creek Murders, which hits far too close to home for us, are a mesh. The staff, seeing Shaun’s interest in us, treat us like part of the family. Without knowing the stories that bind us, his infectious liking of us resonates with them, such is their respect for him.

The entertainment is building to a crescendo. Bow River and other great Australian anthems are rocking the group. I suspect Shaun may struggle to get going early in the morning on his trek.

The music finishes, the group seemingly the only ones enjoying it disperses slowly and we say a heartfelt goodbye to Shaun and our new found friends.