Friday July 8        Halls Creek – Fitzroy Crossing

Our time from waking to leaving the campsite was eventful. We had breakfast, at a picnic table in the sun, with a young Swedish cyclist who was halfway on his cycling journey around Australia. His plan was to get back to Melbourne, his starting place, within a few weeks. Our discussion ranged from his cycling trip to north and South America, to aboriginal issues. He had intended to "bush camp" the previous night, but had been warned by the police that this was very risky in Halls Creek – they strongly advised him to stay in the camping ground. He told us of sighting on the previous day a "completely flattened" caravan that had rolled on the highway between the Bungles and Halls Creek, when its driver failed to take a bend. He set out on his day of cycling with many offers of extra water, since his route for the day comprised over 300km on the highway with no possibility of re-filling his water bottles. In the ablutions block that morning Cheryl came across a young woman trying to mop up blood from her arms, which she had clearly slashed with a razor. She refused an offer of antiseptic cream and other assistance and fled into a shower cubicle. John managed to secure the loose parking light on the Toyota with lots of the glue we had purchased.

Then, just as we were getting into the car, our neighbours in the campground told us they had heard of bomb blasts in London the previous evening (morning, London time). Off we set, feeling extremely apprehensive about the situation in London, and quite helpless, as the local radio was giving only trivial information, and the only newspapers available in the town were from the previous Sunday.

Our first stop was China Wall, a narrow quartz outcrop, several metres high that snaked its way across the country a few kilometres out of Halls Creek. Then we set out for Fitzroy Crossing. As we passed the turnoff for the Tanami Track we passed a sign warning of stray animals over the next 270 Km. It was a beautiful drive with changing scenery – distant low ranges, termite mounds and Spinifex, wonderful colours. At one point we stopped when a young aboriginal boy hailed us. He and his parents were apparently stranded at a parking area by the roadside. Their car had its bonnet open. Mother was lying down next to the car to avoid direct sunlight. Father stood by the car with a large empty petrol container. Did we have any petrol? He asked. Unfortunately we did not, as our Toyota ran on diesel. Our offer to take them to Fitzroy Crossing, well over 100 Km away, was declined. Then we were asked for food, drink – especially tinned meat (which we did not have). We ended giving them most of our bread and peanut paste, so we had nothing much left for lunch ourselves!

On arriving at the outskirts of Fitzroy Crossing we realised we should go straight to Geiki Gorge, because of the time. It was very hot. We went on the "reef walk" with the remaining slices of bread to munch on. The track went past fossilised shells in pink and white quartz rock that formed the walls of the gorge. Stunning. This was the remains of a Devonian reef, which had once been submerged by the ocean. We had to walk fast despite the heat, as we wanted to join a boat trip on the gorge. So we only briefly stopped to admire a family of baby quails, and Cheryl anxiously looked out to be sure no fresh water crocodiles were in our path.

The boat cruise, run by CALM (the WA state department for Conservation and Land Management) was very interesting. We were in the front seats, and saw ten crocodiles sunning themselves on rocks near the water – on the other side of the gorge from our reef walk. The gorge from water level was spectacular. A flood in 2002 had brought a wall of water four metres higher than the current level through the gorge, cleaning the quartz of decades of bush-fire dust. Thus the walls were brilliant white and pink for several metres, with the top level blackened still. On return from the cruise we viewed with great interest the many photographs in the Park rotunda of the various summer floods, especially the one in 2002. All the park buildings had been completely submerged, and many had been destroyed in 2002.

We took the long way back into Fitzroy Crossing so that we could visit the old river crossing where the first settlement there had been. The water in the gorge now formed a sort of billabong, stopped by a sand bar at the crossing, which was just a cement- based ford. We could scarcely imagine the place in flood, though the tourist information claimed that xx cu. m of water would pass this point each second [John please fill in or delete sentence] On reaching the town, we searched for the Crossing Inn. We had chosen this since our information indicated that an aboriginal corporation ran it. After parking at the entrance to the camping ground, signs directed us through the outdoor hotel bar for registration at the hotel registration desk. Having been given a free choice of campsite, we chose one at maximum distance from the various large dogs that seemed to inhabit the ground. Then, as we pitched the tent, Bob, an elderly aboriginal man offering to sell us a boab nut he had carved, approached us. It was beautiful, and we bought it. We enjoyed a hot shower – the last for many days – and then had a drink in the bar until the restaurant opened.

Our drinking companions included several hotel guests, the manager (white) and several local aboriginal men waiting for the TV room to open so they could see the footie. One of them offered a boab nut for sale, but this was declined as we had just bought one from Bob. We were still catching up on Cheryl's trip to the UK, and were speaking of her visit to Cambridge – on hearing this, one of our drinking companions called Robert struck up a conversation, telling us that his sister worked in Cambridge. After a while he said to John "I'm not trying to chat up your missus, but she's better looking than you are". Large signs at the bar warned that no alcohol could be taken from the area, and the presence of a hotel security guard ensured this was the case. Other signs in the area warned against spitting, bad language, and "humbugging" (trying to extract money from customers). A special sign announced that anyone caught humbugging Butcher would be banned for a week. Butcher, it turned out, was a famous aboriginal artist from the area.

The restaurant was amazing. There was one large room full of tables, and the air conditioning threatened to become far too effective. A vote conducted by the customers resulted in having the air conditioning turned off. Our orders were all taken together – "if you're not ready you may have to wait a while as I won't be leaving the kitchen for a bit after this". The food was extraordinarily good. We had barramundi and pork. Everything beautifully cooked and equally well presented. As good a meal as we've had anywhere. John returned to the bar to purchase a bottle of wine to have with the meal. It had not been clear that we could do this. We spoke with the man at the next table. He was a builder, in Fitzroy Crossing for a month, doing maintenance on the medical centre. Altogether the evening left us feeling positive about the future for Fitzroy Crossing, especially when compared with our impressions of Halls Creek.