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(>Pictures at the bottom)
… our third try to reach Darwin
Our decision was absolutely spot on; apart from a bit of rain, we really didn’t experience a thing in Dongara, about 70 km south of Geraldton! We were almost a little disappointed that we couldn’t watch this natural spectacle of the Zylon Narelle from the comfort of a safe accommodation. The following day, the roads towards Geraldton were open. Further north of Geraldton, as well as from the south – i.e. coming from Perth – all the roads were closed. Somewhat relieved, we set off, hoping that the road closures north of Geraldton would soon be lifted.
The traffic on the road was unusually quiet, and even in Geraldton there was no hustle and bustle. The supermarket was short of some fresh produce that day, and to top up our gas we had to visit several suppliers before we managed to get our 4 kg propane cylinder. In the meantime, we planned our onward journey and found a parallel route inland, i.e. around 150 km from the coastal road, as this was still closed. So we continued our journey with full confidence; somehow it would work out.
We reached our parallel track via Butchers Track. To ensure we had enough fuel in the tank, we made a short detour to the nearest petrol pump so that both our tanks were properly full. However, this roadside shop only had 50 litres; there is a war on and no more oil is being supplied from Iran. Well, even these 50 litres topped up our supply and so we pressed on northwards through the vast Australian outback.
After about 120 km, our brisk drive took us past the ford across the Wooramel River; the water was deep and the current very strong. Alone and with the Toyota, we had no chance of reaching the other side. You have to expect surprises like this after heavy rainfall in the Outback. Just above the ford, we found a wonderful spot to spend the night.
The next day – what a coincidence – an employee of the local council (Shire) drove past us and asked about our plans. He also gave us a lot of valuable information straight away, so that we could still reach our northern destination despite the many flooded tracks. But to our disappointment; in the vast area where we were currently situated, there was no passage anywhere; neither eastwards nor westwards. Even the Butcher Track we had driven the previous day had since been closed. We had only one option left open to us, namely to drive over 300 km south again, 150 km east to Mount Magnet and from there on via the Great Northern Highway. At that moment, it was the only route still open for all northbound traffic; all other roads were cut off.
In the end, the detour was a really long one for us and more of a necessity than a choice. Huge road trains were travelling along the Great Northern Highway, transporting all manner of raw materials to the nearest port. Until 1978, there was a railway line from Geraldton via Mount Magnet to Meekatharra. Presumably, mining was significantly scaled back at that time, or perhaps other minerals are being mined in the meantime. Gold mining must also be very lucrative in this area. But for the few kilograms of gold and a few tonnes of nickel, a railway is probably no longer needed.
The route from Meekatharra towards Newman stretched a long way through the Australian outback, and just before Newman we crossed part of the Little Sandy Desert. But what a disappointment for us; we had expected something like a desert with barren expanses and sand or stones. The bushes and trees were admittedly a bit smaller, but the whole landscape was still a lush green! Even the dromedaries roaming freely made an almost surreal impression on us!
The mining town of Newman was visible from afar, and everywhere we looked we spotted the mining sites where entire landscapes had been dug up. The iron ore is extracted using huge shovel excavators in open-cast mines and transported to Port Hedland on extra-long trains.
Between Newman and Tom Price lies Karijini National Park, wedged between the thriving iron ore mining operations. Presumably, the foreign exchange earnings are more important than the national park, and so new areas for ore mining are being opened up in all sorts of corners of the park. Perhaps in the next hundred years the entire national park, with its deep gorges, will be stripped away and the ore sold to China. Despite the industrial encroachment, we didn’t let that stop us from driving through the mountains; we stopped at countless gorges, looked down into the depths from there, or hiked down to the water pools. Thanks to the recent and very heavy rainfall, there was plenty of water in most of the gorges and valleys.
Tom Price and looks almost identical to Newman; everything revolves around mining and iron ore extraction. You can easily buy large bottles of alcohol, but the liquor shop only stocked small bottles of wine and the selection was also limited. In return, I obtained permission for us to drive along the Tom Price Railway so that I (Tom) could experience some really heavy trains up close. Whenever I spotted a train, I pulled over completely and was constantly amazed at the speed with which these heavy trains roared towards the seaport. These mega-trains are hauled by three six-axle diesel locomotives. On certain routes to the port, trains are also coupled together, meaning two trains are joined to form a single train. The figures for this ‘industrial railway’ are impressive even for a former railwayman. The trains are several hundred metres long, weigh 28,000 tonnes and run autonomously, i.e. driverless. The entire operation is remotely controlled from Perth, 1,500 km away, where the respective operators are based; crazy Aussies! Almost like a model railway that you control from your bedroom on a tablet, steering it around your house.
We had planned to set up camp that evening in the western part of Millstream Chichester National Park. But the heat on the Fortescue River plain was almost unbearable for us. So we drove over a high plateau to the north side of the national park and found a lovely campsite near Python Pool for the following night. The spot was truly perfect; alongside a wonderful view stretching out across the wide valley, the night conjured up a fantastic starry sky across the firmament.
All the way to Highway 1, numerous signposts along the track tempted us to take additional detours, and even the vast valley was dotted with many little surprises. We then continued along Highway 1 towards Port Hedland through open countryside, where huge herds of cattle stood in the lush green grass, gorging themselves on the fresh foliage.
According to my information, Port Hedland is currently the world’s largest ore transhipment port. In any case, even from a distance, the entire infrastructure for loading ore onto ships was very impressive. Simply everything on a massive scale! To our surprise, east of Port Hedland, sea salt is harvested across vast areas and piled up into huge salt mounds; here too, simply everything is on a massive scale!
It was still around 500 km to Broome along the coastal road, which actually runs many kilometres inland through farmland as well as the typical Australian outback. For a change of scenery, one could drive along Eighty Mile Beach. But as a single vehicle, we weren’t keen on this sandy adventure, where walking times impose severe limitations. We didn’t want to flood our car with seawater straight away either. Instead, we were once again looking forward to the western part of the Great Sandy Desert, wondering if we might finally get our desert fix there. But far from it – Australian bushland – mile after mile!
We visited Broome outside the peak tourist season, and even life in Chinatown was extremely quiet. Although it is a very beautiful place, we couldn’t curb our urge to move on; we simply wanted to keep going; it wasn’t the right time for pearl diving either. So we left Broome with a freshly serviced car (oil change) heading east. In Derby, there was supposed to be another highlight of the Western Kimberley, but because it was the off-season, even the flights to the Horizontal Falls had been suspended. Slowly but surely, the feeling began to take hold in me (Tom) that we had chosen the wrong time to visit this area.
After Derby, we hoped that the Gibb River Road would be open. According to my prior information, this road link was supposed to be open from April. But this year, not only did Cyclone Narelle sweep along the coast, but other low-pressure systems brought above-average rainfall. Presumably, there are still too many salties (crocodiles) lurking on the soggy sections of road, all too eager to come to the aid of stranded tourists. ☹
So we were forced to continue our journey along the Great Northern Highway 1, where a detour into the outback near the Oscar Range yielded a scenic surprise. In a landscape reminiscent of a silver lake, we found a unique place to sleep that isn’t mentioned in any guidebook. Wow, what a surprise!
We then followed the two-lane tarmac road via Fitzroy Crossing to Halls Creek. The journey was long and monotonous. Instead of driving through the Kimberley, we had to make do with this tedious route. Shortly before Halls Creek, we turned south. The Wolfe Creek Meteorite Crater National Park tempted us to take a detour. However, we didn’t reach the crater that day; the rough, bumpy track (corrugated) was simply too much for one of our heavily worn all-terrain tyres, and the outer sidewall of the tyre resembled a Swiss cheese board more than a solid tyre. The spare tyre was fitted quickly, but to carry on without another spare; no, we didn’t want to take that risk and turned back.
In Halls Creek, we managed to track down three tyre shops and hoped that one of them would have something suitable for us. It was Saturday, around 11 am, when we reached our destination. According to our information, two of the three shops should still be open. But far from it; they had all already closed and gone away for the weekend. I could feel Chantal’s anger! Even at the sight of these so-called tyre dealers, we soon got the impression that we would hardly have got what we wanted from them straight away. Wait until Monday only to be told they’d have to order the size we wanted? No, we didn’t want to stay in this place.
So we continued our journey to Kununurra, which lies in the far north-eastern corner of Western Australia on the border with the Northern Territory. By then it was Monday, and we managed to get our tyres fitted at the very first tyre dealer we visited. After a quick stop at the grocery shop, we visited Mirima National Park. But it was already far too warm for a hike through the narrow gorges. Perhaps it will be a bit more pleasant further south in Purnululu National Park, where we’re keen to visit Cathedral Gorge.
Unfortunately, our anticipation was premature; due to Cyclone Narelle, the seasonal closure of Purnululu National Park has been extended until the end of April for the time being. So we continued our journey straight away and headed once again for Wolfe Creek Meteorite Crater National Park. With our new tyres, we’ll safely make it to our destination along the gravel road and over the most dreadful corrugated surface we’ve driven on so far. We reached it and stood at the edge of the crater, where some 300,000 years ago a meteorite struck the Earth and carved a crater into this flat landscape. With a diameter of 850 metres, it is the second-largest known meteorite impact on Earth. (The largest meteorite impact is in Arizona, USA.)
The next day we drove back to Halls Creek and were amazed; because of the flat tyre, we had covered over 1,000 kilometres and hadn’t even managed to visit all the places we’d wanted to. But what are 1,000 kilometres in Australia? The Aussies think in a completely different scale!
From Halls Creek, we wanted to head east into the Northern Territory and were planning around the next uncertainties. After leaving the town, we were more than just curious to see what else lay ahead. At the town’s exit, there was a sign stating that our chosen road was closed; according to information on the internet, it was supposed to be open all the way to the Northern Territory border. With a touch of unease, but full of a thirst for adventure, we set off on our onward journey eastwards; as they say, hope dies last, and it’s still a long way to Darwin.😊
Chantal and Tom / mid-April 2026
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