Once on the other side we climbed quickly up the plateau, with views back over the savannah woodlands of El Questro to the south and over the tidal flats and west arm of Cambridge Gulf to the north. The landscape changed gradually – at first hilly, then much flatter with a savannah of low stunted trees.

What a glorious spot for a dip at dawn, a swim at six – the sun was just lighting up the paperbarks and the low red rock walls of the Manning River as we emerged to enjoy a lazy breakfast (swim #1 for the day).

Eventually, we got organized and headed off for the days outing to Manning Gorge – a 6km return trip. This walk starts at the edge of the waterhole at the camp site and it quickly became obvious why there were a pile of polystyrene boxes beneath the trees at the water’s edge. These are to put your gear in as you swim it across the Manning River (swim #2).

From the far bank, the track led us on a gentle climb up the sandstone ridge on the north side of the river, past a scattering of wildflowers and a small dragon scurrying across the rocks, while brightly coloured wrens flitted from bush to bush. The passing cloud bands kept the temperature down and beyond the slope, the savannah woodlands of the Kimberley stretched dryly to the horizon. 

Reaching the top of the ridge, we traversed it parallel to the river before descending again, first to cross a steep but shallow dry creek bed, then the descent into the Manning Gorge itself on a slope lined with sharp-edged rocks.

The walls wouldn’t have been more than 50m high, but were sheer in places. The track brought us out onto red rock ledge below one such section; to our left we could look down the Manning Gorge to a series of long tranquil waterholes, while ahead to our right the sound of rushing water indicated the closeness of the falls. As we traversed the rocky ledge, we noticed some faint aboriginal artwork on one smooth rock wall – something we were not expecting and a timely reminder that we were guests on the land of the Kupungarri people.

Almost immediately after, we could see the falls; a wide arc of silver tumbling down black-stained rock into the (now) best pool we had seen in the Kimberley. It was huge, dark, deep, clear, cool, invigorating and could swallow up the the other campers who were there to enjoy it, so we didn’t feel part of a crowd. From our small and private cove on the rocky edge, we swam out across the pool and under the waterfall to sit and admire the red sandstone walls of the gorge through a sparkling screen of silver drops (swim #3).

After an energetic swim around the large pool, we climbed up the red rocks of the side walls to reach the top of the falls and see what lay beyond; another waterhole, still, deep and fringed with a sandy beach. The Manning was rapidly becoming our favourite Kimberley river.

Packed up and on the road again, we were once again heading westward on the Gibb River Road, again a little rough, a little stony and a lot very smoothly graded (I have driven on sealed roads that are far worse). The colours of the road continued to amaze, varying here from shades of red to shades of mauve.

Thirty odd kilometres down the road, we saw a sign pointing to Adcock’s Gorge and followed a roughish single lane 4WD track in for 5km to stop at stony ford of the Adcock River. From here we walked, crossing the ford and following the track for a short distance to reach a picture-perfect landscape of white-trunked eucalypts on a green grassy floor, backed by the low walls of Adcock’s Gorge. It is more a cleft in the escarpment than a gorge, but that does not detract from its natural beauty.

We wandered past a tranquil lily pond to reach the dark green waters of the pool, framed by red and black rock walls. Clambering across the rock slabs on its northern side, we found a spot to sit and simply enjoy this lovely setting – dark green water, red rock sidewalls lit by the morning sun and changing to black where the falls flowed over in a gentle stream. At the far end, the shore was lined with grassy tussocks and paperbarks – idyllic!

After three superb days at Mornington Station, we found ourselves once again on the Gibb River Road, sometimes red, sometimes the more natural earth colour. Contrary to conventional wisdom, the road seemed to be getting worse, the further west we drove, as we found ourselves bouncing along its uneven surface. Fairly quickly, though, we found ourselves at the famous landmark of the Immintji Store set beneath the rugged King Leopold Ranges. It was a good place to stop for a carton of ice cold chocolate milk – strange the cravings one gets – luxury! The store is obviously a popular stopover, as many other Gibb River travellers had pulled in – interestingly, for every vehicle heading west there were three heading east. Clearly, we were swimming against the tide.

Still, we had other swimming in mind (what else in this natationally-oriented trip) and a little later turned off to follow a good 4WD track with a couple of obligatory creek crossings northward towards Bell’s Gorge. In this land of many gorges, Bell’s is considered by some to be the most beautiful – a tall claim that we felt obliged to check out.

Heading towards the King Leopold Ranges and Bell's Gorge

We first stopped at the very pleasant Silent Grove campsite to claim a shady spot and have some lunch, then drove the final 11km up to the gorge area. Lots of cars and a bus were already there and our spirits sagged a little. However, as we set off down the track, cobbled with the rough brown stones of these time-worn hills, we passed many people on their way back. Apparently, just after lunch is the changing of the guard at Bell’s.

The brownstone track led us down a gentle slope to meet a side creek of the Bell River, at the place where it formed a tranquil little lily pond. Rounding a rocky crag, the path continued on, following the pleasantly shaded creek-valley on a much flatter line.

A short distance later, the track broke out into Bell’s Gorge.

The tranquil lily pond en route

Here the river flowed in from the north across the pinkish-tan water-polished sandstone slabs to tumble over the falls and into a large green plunge pool. Upriver, the reflections of a conical rocky hill rippled in the river water. The immediate impact of Bell’s Gorge was … wow!!!

We walked a little upstream to cross the river via series of natural stepping stones and then climbed the tilted slabs of glossy pink sandstone up to the top of gorge, high above the actual falls. From here, a bit of rock-climbing and boulder-hopping brought us to the base of the falls and plunge pool. It was a spectacular sight -  between the steep and jagged orange-walled cliffs, the waterfall tumbled foaming down a set of five tiers into the deep green pool. The water was the perfect temperature for a hot afternoon and, strangely, we found ourselves alone (at least for an hour) at the Kimberley’s favourite swimming hole.

How pleasant to swim laps from shore to falls or swim downstream to explore the full length of this long waterhole with its narrows, shallows and cascades. It is a curious thing – the urge to see what lies around the next corner – and in the case of Bell’s Gorge, the pools continued on.

A bit of sunbaking on the sloping pink rock slab that served as a beach, a bit of swimming and a bit of exploration on foot – it was a great way to while away the afternoon. Eventually, the late afternoon wave of visitors arrived with swimming on their mind and we (antisocial as ever) left to follow the brown brick road home from Oz, tired and contented.

As has been the pattern, we were woken by the chorus of bush birds announcing a new day, and were up as the sun rose, washed, breakfasted, packed and on the road by 7.30am. Soon we were back on the Gibb River Road, heading west as always. For the past couple of days we had skirted or traveled alongside the King Leopold Ranges – today our flirtation with these rugged hills was over – on a sealed “jump-up”, as climbs are called here, the Gibb River Road took them on, winding up and over the rocky hills to follow the creek valleys down on the other side.

The landscape changed completely from the flat plains and mesas of further east. Once the climb was over and the bitumen ceased, we found ourselves on a much smoother dirt road. It seemed that the central section was the only part of the road that was still a bit rough, perhaps because it is at the extremities of two distant shires. This is just an observation, not a criticism, as overall we have been very favourably impressed with the condition of the road (it is now early June).

Once the King Leopold Ranges were behind us, we found ourselves again crossing a flat plain on a long straight road, a large plume of dust trailing behind the HiLux, slowing only for a feral cat that raced across the road in front – as black as its evil, marsupial and reptile killing ways. A low dark ridge began to grow in size on the horizon until we zipped through a narrow gap and were once again looking at flat plains. We had just passed the Napier Range, the limestone remnants of a long past coral reef. This range was going to be our playground for the day and, after crossing the pretty Lennard River, we turned eastward down a badly corrugated road. This was the access road for Tunnel Creek and Windjana Gorge and, interestingly, is declared suitable for all vehicles, not just 4WDs. Give me the 4WD Gibb River Road anyday.

The dark ridgeline of the Napier Range gradually converged on our left, and we pulled into the Windjana campsite, beneath its jagged blackened walls. Over 300 million years ago, this area was all beneath a vast sea inhabited by Nemo’s ancestors and where trillions of coral polyps built a massive reef system. However, sea-levels rise, land uplifts and erodes and voila, a jagged and narrow limestone range rises out of the flat floodplains of the Fitzroy River. This is Devonian Reef country.

After brewing a cuppa at the campsite, we headed off again along the juddering, bouncing, jolting (see box at end) 35km of road to Tunnel Creek. The darkened limestone ridge was on our left and the flat plains on our right, until we passed through another gap in the Napier Range and reversed the topography.

Shortly after, we reached the carpark at Tunnel Creek, full of vehicles. This is a favourite stop in the Kimberley, visitable by people not intending to tackle the Gibb River Road, and not without reason. The creek has cut its course through the Napier Range, creating a 750m long tunnel in the limestone, through which you can now walk.

The entry lay impressively beneath a sheer black and orange cliff, protected by a jumble of delicate pink and white limestone boulders. Having squeezed our way around these, we entered the halflight of a large vaulted chamber – high above were our heads remnants of flow stone and stalactite formations, long since dried up.

Then it was into the darkness, illuminated faintly by the dim light of our LED headlamps, and wading through shallow pools inhabited by small cave fish. The ceiling height varied from low and flat to many metres high and ornately sculpted. A small bat flitted by as we stopped to find the source of running water – a small subterranean spring that fed the creek.