SISTER MARSHMAN AND THE ROAD TO DERBY (1 JUNE 2015)

Derby is one of the three locations from which tours to the world renown 'Horizontal Falls' of the West Kimberly depart. This had been high on my bucket list for years. But it was not to be. My enquiries had revealed that there could be no guarantee that my foot would not get wet. The Matron lowered the boom.....and with good reason I have to admit. 

Things were far from healed, and with the daily effort Liz expended on re-dressing my foot, I could not quibble about her decision. I have taken the time out to share this ritual with you to demonstrate just how lucky I was that Liz could minister to me in the way she did.

Each afternoon the dining table was transformed into a  dressing station.

A thorough dowsing with saline solution was followed by swabbing with sterile pads to remove all the slough of the deteriorating surface skin

As you can see, the healing process was slow....five weeks had now passed since the injury. New tissue was growing from the inside, but the surface condition remained a constant cause for concern. I was more than happy to obey Liz's directions to the letter.

Cleaning was followed by the liberal application of solosite, a special gel which promotes moist healing

before Sister Marshman's deft fingers applied a new sterile pad, a waterproof hyperfix covering

and the final bandaging.

I must again take the opportunity to point out that, without her skills and knowledge, Liz and I would have been forced to sit tight in a town with a hospital outpatients department for what eventuated would have been over two months.....it does not bear thinking about....and I was the most grateful and compliant patient ever!

Fortunately I remained reasonably mobile throughout, if a little slow, and for now it's back to the road north and our 250 kms journey to that fabled 'town of the tides', Derby. Within the scheme of things on this part of the WA coast, this was to be a short journey.



Out of Broome and back to the junction with the Great Northern Highway....we were on our way again. It had been many, many months since our last jaunt anywhere along the Savannah Way.












Not far beyond the Roebuck Plains roadhouse junction we were in no doubt that we were back in savannah country.

Lightly timbered, open grasslands where the cattle wander amongst the myriad of termite mounds was to feature as our view for many kilometres of this day's trip.












We even managed to meet a few of the grazing locals in person.....almost. 

And there it was, our first roadside boab tree, the symbol of the Kimberly. We were to see many more of these in the next few weeks.









This stretch of the Great Northern Highway provided us with another small challenge. Why does the road reduce to one lane we wondered?






The answer was soon all too apparent. In this part of the world the approach to building river crossing bridges can best be described as 'minimalistic'.  What surprised us more than the unwillingness of the authorities to make decent bridges was the complete lack of a Give Way sign on one side or the other. Here in WA (unlike similar structures in QLD, for example) it is first in best dressed. And when the oncoming vehicle is a road train?.....it is always first, no matter how far away it might be on approach!






The second of these odd structures took us over the mighty Fitzroy River, a waterway of real significance in the west Kimberly and one of which we were to see much more later.









Within minutes of this crossing we were pulling into the apron of the Willare Bridge Roadhouse and here we were in for a real surprise.











Apart from the green lawn strip on the edge of the highway, the surrounds of this large, two storey roadhouse and motel are all red dirt, at the front










and to the side and rear where a huge parking area caters for the visiting road trains. This was all pretty much what we would expect out here, but then














as I walked on past the roadhouse water tower and turned the corner to my left,














a great sward of green opened up before me. This is the Willare Bridge Roadhouse caravan park no less. What an oasis and what a find.









Immediately adjacent to the caravan sites, the upper storey motel units















overlook a shady swimming pool











and the adjoining camp kitchen and BBQ area. In the middle of nowhere this was almost too good to be true. We have firmly marked this spot as an overnight destination on any future visit to this part of the world.









This had been a recce stop only...our fuel situation was in hand so we were shortly on our way again.  By now the countryside had changed. Wooded undulating hills had replaced the flat grazing lands.


 


Derby lies just over 40 kms to the north of the main highway. The junction was only a short hop from Willare Bridge. Here the Great Northern turns to the south-east towards the distant Fitzroy Crossing whilst the Derby Highway took us virtually due north to the edge of the jagged inlet of King Sound.

Here we passed the road leading off to the Curtin RAAF Base and the somewhat infamous Curtin Detention Centre before coming across this road sign....the western end of the famed Gibb River Road joins the Derby Highway a few kilometres south of the town. 





Just as we had seen in Cooktown where those returning from Cape York would stagger into town in rigs covered in dust and mud, vehicles limping into Derby in various states of disrepair after the challenges of The Gibb were a common sight (as they were later in Kununarra at the other end of the road).

We both remain ambivalent about The Gibb. The scenery through the East Kimberly in undoubtedly spectacular, but the price many pay in damaged kit and personal discomfort just seems silly to us.  We have friends who have successfully done the trip in a less than totally off road van, but they both have broad 4WD experience. They were quick to comment on just how stupid many of their fellow travellers were in terms of speed and lack of equipment, and did concede that the hours of banging and jolting over constant corrugations (even with deflated tyres) took its toll. Not for us I am afraid....there are some parts of Oz which we'll just have to forgo.

This view has often been confirmed when we have listened in amazement to groups of what we think are idiots all competing in overly loud voices for the oddly dubious honour of having sustained the most damage during their crossing.




The navigator and I were still chatting about the pros and cons of The Gibb when we found ourselves cruising along the boab lined main street of Derby.









A few minutes later we had arrived at the entrance to our home for the next few days, The Kimberley Entrance Caravan Park, where, as we looked at the street around us.














we were very glad we had pre-booked our site. This is a popular spot at this time of the year.






As we were soon to discover there would have been no need for panic. This is a very big park which I'll share with you in my next, together with a quick look at Derby itself and its enormous tides.....a natural phenomenon which more than met all my preconceived ideas.