Dawn on the Durack. We were camped at the water’s edge, so the scene was spectacular. Flocks of black and white cockatoos circled overhead. The light crept down the red cliffs and reflected on the water. Glorious morning.
After packing up camp, we had a leisurely morning, hiking up and down the river, admiring the birds and the view, sitting in the shade and chatting. John had to change a tire, which is the activity to which we owed our leisure time.
The spot was of such beauty that it was hard to leave. The river was clear, with a few waterlilies along the shore. The birds were astonishing: hundreds of white cockatoos, plus butcherbirds, kites, willy wagtails, and others I don’t know, including tiny brown and white shore birds, little yellow flower eaters, and more. I startled little lizard, who then posed for a photo. Some of cockatoos dropped in for a visit. The paperbark trees were in bloom. All quite wonderful.
As we departed, hundreds of cockatoos burst into the air and accompanied us for the first half mile. It was another spectacular day.
Off again across the vast green and gold emptiness. Gusts of wind kicked up puffs of dust from time to time, but it was otherwise a still, cloudless, blazing day.
Forded the Gibb River–the river that gave its name to the road we have been following–then stopped to take photographs and stretch our legs. Then onward again.
Into Drysdale Station at King Edward River, for fuel and soft drinks. A rather grim, utilitarian place carved out of the bush: broad, dusty yard surrounded by utes, jeeps, steel drums, water tanks, trailers, and corrugated-iron shacks. A few decorative trees seemed to be afterthoughts–a scattering of mango trees and sausage trees, all rather dusty and tired looking. But then, it is the end of the dry season. I suspect much in this area is a bit dusty and tired. Then back on the road.
We had lunch at the edge of the Drysdale River. Gorgeous spot. Paperbark trees and pandanus surrounded us. Red dirt, green water, blue sky. A black ibis and a white-faced heron waded nearby, no doubt with eyes focused on the tiny fish we could see darting about in the clear river. Dragon flies danced among the plants growing around us.
Continuing on, we crossed an area that seemed more like parkland, or a back paddock, than wild bushland. Taller trees were wildly spaced across a region of shorter grass (anywhere from ankle- to knee-deep, as opposed to the 7 foot-tall spear grass we’d seen earlier).
Many areas are blackened by the annual burn off, but new growth is evident in all but the most recently burned (or currently burning) places. Did see a few fires, as well as a lot of sand palms and 5 or 6 brumbies (wild horses).
The road became not simply worse by unbelievably worse. However, the wilder the road, the more spectacularly primitive and exotic the scenery became.