PILBARA GORGES

There is a wide selection of gorges and choosing between them was dictated by a combination of distance and their comparative spectacle. It took 46 kilometres of dirt road driving to get to the prime site which was made even less pleasant by the inconsiderate driving of mining company and exploration company employees. Their pennant toting tray trucks barrelled along in clouds of dust, often not even bothering to adhere to their side of the road.

But the vista from the viewing platform set above the junction of four mighty gorges was well worth the effort.

TRIBUTE TO JIMMY REGAN
On a tragic note, a striking celtic cross, thick with floral tributes,marked the heroism of an Irish rescue worker who drowned in a 2004 flash flood whilst pulling people from the bottom of the drowned canyon.

A CAUTIONARY TALE
As I took the staircase leading down into the bowels of Meago canyon there was a stark warning of the possible hazards-the warnings of deaths and need for wet suits and special skills dissuaded me from taking the route down into the deepest part of the canyon system and instead I walked along a stream bed beneath towering red sedimentary rock walls.This seemed safe enough but one had to remember that in the event of heavy rain all of this space would be filled with a mighty torrent of water.

FORTESCUE FALLS GORGE


FERN POOL
I was hot when I returned to camp and set off, at once, on foot for the Fortescue Falls and the lovely Fern Pool which provided excellent, refreshing swimming in warmish water. Even the waterfalls were warm.
BACK TO THE COASTAL HIGHWAY
The run back to the coast road was a mix of magnificent red mountain scenery-one expected 'Indian scouts" to shadow my "wagon train" from adjacent mesas-and flat, featureless spinifex plains.At last I attained the Northern highway again and came to horrible Port Hedland. The first sight of it was giant mounds of salt being loaded onto ships and otherwise its approach reminded me of Wollongong and Newcastle in the 60s when BHP did what it pleased environmentally and was not questioned.Pleased to read in Tim Winton's "Dirt Music" that he agreed with my take on the place

All that was edible in a small cafe, in the centre of town, was a sausage roll( usually never eat them )the middle aged lady who served me was friendly and helpful but looked a bit work worn. So I was heartened when a man in reflector safety overalls came in, hugged and kissed her-obviously her man going on shift. At least love flourished despite the dust and ugliness of that place.

I took a risk, considering the kangaroo clash in poor light,in pushing on 300k to Sanfire roadhouse, which I could just make by dark, placing me half way to Broome.I should have stopped at Pardoo roadhouse which had a grassy camp site and tempting licensed restaurant. i found to my regret that Sanfire's hotel had burnt down, the campsite and showers were disgusting( at least only $5) and the last half hour of driving risky, with roos and cattle at the roadside.

SANFIRE SUNSET