They wait listed us for another tour when we first arrived here, and its on today. As was the case with yesterdays tour we didnt ask too many questions, so we still dont know anything about it. We go to reception to find out whether any vacancies up. They ask us which tour and we look at them blankly. They tell us that it must be the Explosion Gorge Tour, and then proceed to describe it in great detail. It sounds fantastic - a cruise along a remote gorge followed by champagne and cheese at a lookout watching a spectacular sunset. Were salivating. Unfortunately this doesnt last too long. They check again and it seems that there still arent any vacancies, so we wont be going. It might have been nice to know this before they told us how good it was.
Most of the staff at the hotels and restaurants in Darwin and Broome seemed to be from either Spain or South America, and wed got very used to saying por favor and gracias whenever we ordered anything. Weve been saying that here too, and getting some very blank looks back. Weve now realised that in contrast
to the other places most of the staff here seems to be Aussies, supplemented by the odd Kiwi, American and South African. We wonder why this is. We conclude that it must have something to do with visitors to our shores being a bit freaked out by all the stories theyve undoubtedly heard about the snakes, crocs and other nasties that inhabit the less populated areas of our great land. I spose it is slightly less likely that youd get taken by a croc in the main streets of Darwin or Broome than out here in the remote Kimberley. That said I seem to vaguely remember noticing a lot of Spanish speaking young ladies in skimpy bikinis swimming at Broomes Cable Beach, which is reputedly swarming with crocs, so Im not sure that that theory really holds up. The mystery remains.
I decide I need some exercise. I told Issy a few days ago that I wanted to climb up one of the nearby peaks, but it seems that there arent any tracks up any of them. She told me that theyre all sacred aboriginal sites, but Im pretty sure shes just making this up to stop me from
trying. I havent seen any signs and she gets a bit evasive when I try to quiz her further. I head off down the track into the resort across another more rudimentary track leading off it. There are really two rudimentary tracks, one on either side of a small barbed wire fence. Both the track and the fence end at the base of a hill. I think its now time to go adventuring. I bash my way through scrub and over rocks and scramble my way very slowly up the hill. I hope I dont break my leg or get bitten by a snake. I didnt tell Issy where I was going, mainly because I had no idea myself. It does however feel very good to be in amongst nature. Im in rugged bush in one of the remotest places on earth. I feel like I may well be the first human being to have ever walked on this particular bit of the planet. This feeling lasts until I trip over a bit of wire, which it seems is an extension of the fence I was next to a few minutes ago. Hmmm. Maybe its not
as remote and untouched by human hand here as Id hoped. I wonder what the fence is for. Its not in a good state. If Id lifted my foot a bit higher I wouldnt have even known it was there. It wouldnt stop any cows wandering from one station to another, and anyway they told us a few days ago that none of the cattle stations up here are fenced; cows need water so the stockmen know that theyll never go too far from the nearest creek. Maybe Issy wasnt kidding, and it really is fencing off sacred aboriginal land. I wonder which side of the fence Im supposed to be on. Id always thought that tourists who disrespected the wishes of the local people were really selfish and rude, and it seems that I might now be one of them. The views are spectacular, but I think now might be a good time to leave.
