Three months ago we bid farewell to Broome once again. Leaving that town never gets easier. Our ‘unexpected’ visit had lasted for almost 5 months & had not only left us with some wonderful memories of good people & their lovely pets, it had restored our dented faith in both ourselves & in others. Special mention must go to both Louise & Mick.
Talk was of a ‘good’ wet season & we had kept an eye out for the re-opening of the Gibb River Road, preferring the shorter dirt road route eastward to the bitumen. There was no certainty that it would open in time to suit our leaving date, in fact it seemed increasingly unlikely as the time came closer, but we ‘got lucky’, & it re-opened pretty much dead on cue for us. This was excellent news as it meant we could travel it with the road in reasonable condition, before it became horrendously corrugated by a season’s worth of tourist traffic. Going early in the season meant that there would be more water crossings than we have experienced on that route in the past, but that just added interest for us.
Of course we had an ‘obligatory’ (for us) stop at Langi Crossing, approximately 175kms from Broome, a good place to spend a few nights to re-acquaint ourselves with ‘truck living” & the routines which make truck living work. Even so, only a few kilometres outside of Broome, once back onto the Great Northern Highway we were having a repeated conversation, smiling & telling each other of how ‘normal’ it felt to be back on the road again.
At ‘Langi’ someone had already got our favourite spot, so we just camped nearby for the night hoping he might leave the next morning. He did and we executed a speedy pack up & re-took ‘our’ spot just 10 minutes after he left. Our shortest daily travel distance to date. No more than 50 metres, but that 50 metres provided the best river view combined with the privacy of being surrounded by trees & bushes on three sides. We like that when in places shared with others. Folk at Langi camp along the Fitzroy River’s western bank for several kilometres, & the privacy of this spot enables us to place our ‘Portpotti’ outside & unseen, rather than hidden behind the truck, inside the truck or inside our ‘toilet tent’ (all options employed on occasions as necessary).
This visit was more comfortable than our last (in September ’25) as the constant wind was no longer present. Still less birds than we have experienced there on past visits, but we think that has to do with the grasses/spinifex just back from the river not being in seed. Nevertheless there were always a few Yellow-tinted Honeyeaters, Double Barred Finches, Long-Tailed Finches, Red-tailed Black cockatoos & the “Report Report” or “Bob Hawke Bob Hawke” calls of the ubiquitous Bar shouldered doves (depending upon whether your interests are more on schoolteachers or politicians). There was however a little excitement on the ‘new bird front’. We heard it after dark at close quarters. Our spotlight showed it to be a Barking Owl, just a few metres from the truck, calling from a dead tree branch. No pics, but a very good sighting.
A bit of teeth gritting as we rattled & bumped our way over the pot holes & corrugations back to the highway, with louder than normal conversation to make ourselves heard over the clattering noises. We agreed that this was likely to become the norm for the 600kms or so of the Gibb River Road. We hope not, but were preparing ourselves for what we might find. A quick duck into Derby town to use their dump point & to do a little re-stocking of fresh produce & fuel before heading for the 3rd time since Sept 25 along the Gibb.
The first 100kms or so of the Gibb is sealed, all the way to the Lennard River Bridge. The absence of grasshopper/locusts compared to our westward trek along this section of road near the beginning of the year was welcome. Driving through clouds of them, splatting all across our windscreen & front of the truck had left their yellow gooey guts which had baked on quickly in the hot sun & subsequently required a fair bit of elbow grease to wash off. Often we saw smoke from bushfires on the horizon, but on reaching it could never see nor smell it. Quite odd. What was odder, & quite disconcerting was the sudden change in behaviour of our automatic gearbox. It seemed to have developed a rogue mind of it’s own. Changing up gears unexpectedly & then not holding that gear so suddenly revving high again. It was disconcerting to say the least, more so because we were heading away from Derby where there are mechanics knowing if things persisted as they were there would be no assistance available until we reached Kununurra some 700’ish kms away. We kept driving for a bit, unsure if the problem was getting better, worse or staying the same on the undulating road, my mind constantly scanning the possible causes I could bring to mind, in between bouts of unwarranted optimism where I tried to convince myself I was imagining things.
When we pulled over I had come to the conclusion that there was only one thing I could do, & if that failed we would have to return to Derby for assistance. I checked the auto transmission fluid level & whilst not grossly low, it was low, so I topped it up. Driving the next 10 kilometres we became increasingly confident that the problem was fixed & so decided to carry on. That night we stopped at the free camp just before the Lennard River Bridge, at the turn off to Windjana Gorge. Had the place to ourselves. We had seen very little traffic so far, a combination we surmised of being right at the beginning of the season & less folk travelling because of fuel price/availability uncertainty as a result of Donald Trump’s warmongering actions in the middle east.
The following morning we set off, on dirt road now, which we were pleasantly surprised to find in good condition, occasional corrugations, but little ones which we could maintain 50 to 60kph on, more of a ‘mild buzz’ than terminal sounding death rattles. Our goal that day to reach the Bell River free camp, just a couple of kilometres before the turn off to Bell Gorge & just on the eastern side of the Wuuamin-Miliwundi Ranges. Our hope was that the aggressive March flies which had been back in early January would no longer be there. Without them it would be a pleasant creek-side camp out of sight of the road.
As we got closer the road up the range got both steeper & rockier, & we had a vehicle behind us. Perfect timing (NOT!) for our engine to begin cutting out on us. The first thought was that it was the auto transmission playing up again, but it wasn’t. We were losing power, at times pushing the accelerator pedal to the floor had no effect whatsoever, no revs, but then unpredictably the engine would cut back in again. This repeated many times whilst I hoped & prayed we could maintain at least some momentum up the rocky hill. What the driver behind us must have thought of my very erratic driving I don’t know, but I don’t suppose it would have been very complimentary. All I could think of was that we needed to get over the range & from there it was all downhill to our planned stop for the night. MrsTea suggested once or twice we stop, but I was having none of that, I was stressed & uncertain what was causing this problem, so less than certain if we stopped that we could start again. We made it to the top,(Phew!) and of course all the way down the other side of the range to our planned stop on the Bell Creek..
With much self talk & fortitude I accepted that trying to fault find around a hot motor would be unlikely to help, just unpleasant & likely to burn, so with MrsTea’s encouragement decided to leave things until the morning. I do recall a pleasant stroll along the creek & a small waterfall, but it was a long night with my mind doing what my mind does in these scenarios. Constructing possibilities & their consequences, alternating with me telling myself to take things one step at a time. Somehow we reached morning with a simple plan to empty the driving cab, remove the passenger seat & to get the best view inside the engine compartment as is possible. A combination of weather forecast via Starlink & a look at the ominous dark clouds approaching saw us decide to move a few hundred metres to be off the rutted red dirt we were on, before doing anything else. It wasn’t a good spot to be if it rained. The OKA fired up quite normally & I drove it to a more ‘weatherproof’ spot without any issue.
By this time the ominous looking clouds were a lot closer, filling the entire sky to our north, & the first few light drops of rain had fallen. Now, I mentioned the need to remove our passenger seat. The OKA has a QD seat removal setup. No bolts to undo, the seat can be removed in 30 seconds. BUT getting it back in has taken the pair of us up to an hour on occasions! The problem is that additional sound deadening/ noise reduction , together with sheepskin seat covers has reduced clearances to virtually zero. Add to that the great technical difficulty MrsTea experiences when it comes to differentiating between the concept of left & right, getting that damned seat back in is a struggle to say the least.
Having the seat sitting out in what would likely soon be heavy rain, turning the ground to red mud was not appealing AND the truck hadn’t missed a beat over the few hundred metres to where we were, AND if we did break down, surely it would be better if we were on the road where passing traffic (if there was any) could see us & we could try flagging them down (Phew, take a breath) would be a better option.
MrsTea did what she does when I told her the plan had changed & that we would try to get to our next stop, the Manning Gorge Campground, where there would be other people. She went with the flow & accepted my decision!. We were still a tad uncertain & stressed though, so before leaving made a better than usual departure check, knowing full well that in these sort of circumstances it is all too easy to forget something which can come back to bite us. Our previous plan to return to a lovely little, & special camp alongside a river & a big old boab we had used last year on recommendation from a friend was shelved in lieu of getting to Manning Gorge/ Mt Barnett Roadhouse. Distance to drive there was approximately 90kms & the rain was getting steadily heavier. What could possibly go wrong!
Amazingly, the road did get wet & slippery in places, but wasn’t too bad, we didn’t created any ruts, and at no time were at risk of becoming bogged so long as we stayed on the road …. AND the engine didn’t miss a beat in the entire 90kms. Really quite a mystery, but one we were happy to live with , at least for the time being.
The folk at Mt Barnett remembered us which was nice, they were our ‘neighbours’ whilst at Mt Elizabeth, about 60kms away. The relative uniqueness of the OKA makes us easier to remember! We initially booked into the campground for a couple of nights, but it’s a nice place to be, & the walk out to the Manning gorge falls is well worth it. We last camped there in 2019. We set up camp & relaxed, the decision to stay longer made on the first evening, with Glen, the caretaker giving us a discount on the longer stay, & the pressure being taken off as a result. The next day we took the seat & access panel behind it out & I began what I expected to be a lengthy & uncertain fault finding search, with little to guide me on my way. The thought of very expensive recovery to Kununurra, now about 400kms away , & RAC not covering recoveries on the Gibb River Road were at the forefront of my mind, but I had to have a look. To my great surprise I found what I thought was a likely culprit within 10 minutes, a bit more than just wishful thinking as what I found would fit very nicely with the intermittent nature of the problem we had had. A loose connector on the common rail fuel pressure sensor. a 20 year old plastic 3 pin connector. Of course it was in a very difficult to access position, tucked down behind the air conditioner compressor, but it was most definitely pretty loose & wobbly. Easy to imagine it wobbling about & losing electrical contact as we had bounced up that rocky incline. (and not doing the same on the relatively smooth section of road between Bell Creek & Manning Gorge).
Removing the connector was a scary idea. If the 20 year old plastic were fragile & I broke it, that would be a recovery job. Instead we resolved to stabilise it as best we could using a combination of electrical tape, zip ties & the contortion skills of a circus dwarf! It worked, not only to get us to Kununurra, but worked well enough to give us renewed confidence to explore a few other places along the way, rather than a ‘must get there by the most direct route’.
With confidence born of sticky tape & cable ties, we were able to relax & enjoy our surroundings. The Manning Gorge campground hadn’t changed a great deal in the 7 years since we were last there, even Lizard (Glen) was a constant. The dingy used in conjunction with a rope stretched across the river was washed away in a wet season flood & has not been replaced. Instead folk walking to the falls now have to immerse themselves in the river (very pleasant) & push floating half barrels with their belongings they want to keep dry to the other side to commence the walk. Seeing freshwater crocodiles basking in the sun, on top of rocks is commonplace. Part of the entertainment is pointing them out to folk in the chest deep water, who haven’t yet seen them. Reactions varied considerably. 🙂 Back in the grassy campground, along the banks of the river the big old boabs still kept watch on their surroundings, tall & imposing, but never sharing their secrets.
We walked, climbed & rock hopped our way to the falls, drawn by the knowledge that they were still flowing. Last time we had seen them they were dry.The return journey tested MrsTea’s knees in ways they hadn’t been tested when she was 7 years younger. She made it there & back, but grit & determination to push through the pain replaced the more youthful physical ability from back when the path was taken in her stride & had not been remembered as an obstacle course to be conquered. Upon arrival at the falls she collapsed into the rocky channel of fast running water – the final hurdle that younger folk seemed oblivious of. A knee gave way & she went down. There were a few quiet tears, but not from pain, instead from being helped by others & feeling for the first time that she was disabled. It took me a while to understand that, at the time all I could see was her stoicism & determination to ‘get there’, knowing it was hard & feeling pride that she wasn’t going to be beaten. I think it was at this time we both accepted that bilateral knee replacement is on the cards. How soon is most uncertain, but that it is needed is no longer in question. The falls were wonderful, I swum (if you can call sitting on a pool noodle & paddling with my hands swimming) across to the falls whilst MrsTea, now composed sat, rested & watched me, wishing she were doing the same, but acutely aware that she needed to save her knees for the return walk.
In days following we took further but less taxing walks around the campground, which extended along the river far further than we had previously realised. In regard to ‘paid campsites’ on the Gibb River Road we think Manning Gorge is the best.
After 6 (perhaps 7) days we decided to move on. I can’t say there wasn’t a smidgen of anxiety about how the OKA’s motor would run, but it hadn’t kept me awake at nights, & was accompanied by a level of confidence which trumped it. That confidence, it turned out was well placed. The road took us past the turn off to Mt Elizabeth Station, which we happily bypassed, along many kilometres of road which was still wet & treacherous unless we remained on the dry ribbon snaking along it’s middle, & on to the junction with the Kalumburu Road. We knew that this was still impassable with the black soil road north of Drysdale River Station still wet. However the road to Drysdale River Station had been opened within the past few days & we had been led to believe from friends that there was a chance that we might be allowed to camp by the river at the station rather than in the station campground, & if so that this would afford us some good birding opportunities. The fall back option was the free camp by the Gibb River crossing just 5 or so kms from the junction. We passed that crossing, continuing on for around 50kms to Drysdale. 10kms or so before reaching Drysdale a group of 6 4wd’s came up behind us at speed, most were plastered with advertising for a few different 4wd accessory companies. We pulled off to the side to let them pass, which they did at high speed & in huge clouds of choking dust, causing us to sit & wait for some time before we could see the road ahead. It was an act of selfishness on their part. No ‘thanks for pulling over” on the UHF, no passing slowly as would have been the polite & considerate way. Disappointingly (for us) the area by the river where we had hoped to camp now houses a permanent camp for the Outback Spirit coach tour company, & it seems that like most of their ventures, they like to keep locations exclusive for their wealthy patrons. So permission to camp anywhere but the uninteresting Station campground was denied. Knowing that the camp spot back at the Gibb River Crossing was a far nicer location we chose to return there. The group which had passed were at the Station when we arrived. Well known You Tube ‘influencers’ & their film crews, who can remain nameless here, but are folk well known for their often reckless off road behaviours. Lacking in respect for both country & others they purport to serve, interested primarily in the earnings they receive from the clicks & subscriptions to their online channel. Anyone genuinely interested in 4wd’ing generally would have acknowledged our presence with reference to our OKA, but this inward looking group saw only themselves, with the exception of their indigenous ‘guide’ who was the only personable chap among them. We later learned that the group had ignored the road closed signs, continuing north, chewing up the road & doubtlessly keeping it closed for longer for others. These ‘go hard or go home cowboys’ are what gives the 4wd community a poor name.
The free camp at the Gibb River crossing is a lovely location & we nabbed what we think is the best spot & stayed for 3 nights. We would have perhaps stayed longer were it not for the ‘mystery smell’ . The smell was an unpleasant one which was only noticeable now & then. We thought perhaps some previous camper had dumped their toilet waste nearby & spent a while looking for this with the aim of covering it if found. We didn’t find it, but we did eventually find the cause. A rotting cow carcass downstream from us on the other side of the crossing, half in & half out of the water, reportedly pulled in by a croc when it went to the water to drink, & left by the croc to ‘break down’ . Once we knew the source of the smell, it was obvious we only were aware of it when the breeze blew in our direction. Unpleasant, but that’s how things go in this sort of wild country. It’s not all roses.
Moving on eastward we crossed the Durack River, the second widest body of water to cross on the Gibb (The better known & wider Pentecost River is further east). Our crossing was uneventful, unlike that of someone who’s video of the crossing we saw on youtube a short time later. They had crossed at a fast pace, towing a large caravan & had hit a hole in the middle of the crossing which we had driven in & out of slowly without any difficulty. In their case they literally ripped the caravan’s axle off the van! Seeing the carnage on their video we reminded of why we take our time. Easier when it’s a lifestyle & not a trip to be fitted into an otherwise busy life. I’m not criticising folk who do it differently to us, I just feel lucky we can do it our way. We spent a few nights camped overlooking the Durack from a high bank, just a few hundred metres from the road. It was here another problem reared it’s head!
We have a diesel cooktop which we use as our primary means of cooking. Although it takes longer to heat up than a gas cooktop it has endeared itself to us, it works well, using diesel from the larger of our truck’s fuel tanks. Unlike our diesel heater however, the fuel isn’t take directly from the main tank, but instead has a small ‘lift’ pump to fill a stainless steel tank under the sink. This has a sight glass showing when it is full. We have no idea how long that tank would last us, but suspect it would be many weeks as the cooktop is very economical on fuel. We have a weekly routine where we top it up every Sunday. When the tank is full the fuel being pumped is returned to the main tank if we forget to switch the pump off straight away. The cooktop uses electricity economically too. Most when switching it on when it operates a glowplug so draws a higher current for a short time. Once the stove has fired up it uses a negligible amount of power to keep a fan running. However…… here overlooking the Durack River MrsTea, in her best stomach churning voice, reserved for when something has gone wrong, informed me that the stove wouldn’t work.
Now although we have both a plan B & a plan C for cooking (an induction cooktop & if all else fails, a camp fire) the failure of the diesel cooktop was officially ‘not good’! This primarily because if it needs replacement the current version of it has a different footprint, & we lack certainty that it would fit. They are not a low cost option either. Flashing lights on the cooktop controller indicated the problem was with the ‘glow circuit’. Here in the middle of nowhere, 100’s of kilometres from the nearest phone signal we were thankful that we had Starlink. Within an hour or two I had had a phone conversation with the chap 1000’s of kms to our south, in Cygnet, Tasmania, the importer & distributor of these Wallas brand products (from Finland & mostly used in yachts). Who did his best to assure me that the most likely problem was a failed glowplug (“They can become brittle with age & the corrugations on the Gibb River Road could have caused it’s demise, but if it’s not that, the less likely possibility is a failure of the glow circuit electronics”). I ordered a replacement glow plug, getting it sent to our friends in Kununurra, hoping like mad I could get access to change the plug without removing the entire cooktop, & that a new glowplug would fix it. In the meantime we would use the induction cooktop – a test of our solar/battery system to keep up to our needs, & requiring a change to how we cooked, given that the diesel cooktop enables the use of two pots/pans, whereas the induction only a single pot/pan. This is MrsTeas’s domain & she managed exceptionally well. It was to be another 10 to 12 days before we would get to Kununurra & if I hadn’t have known she was doing all the cooking on a single cooktop, I would not have noticed. We might have struggled power-wise if we had had a long cloudy stint of weather, but we got lucky on that front. We could have driven more frequently if needed to get charging from our motor as we did so, but this wasn’t necessary. The sun kept shining.
After the Durack our next stop as on the eastern side of the Pentecost River, a popular free camping spot, affectionately referred to by some locals as the Pentecost Car Park as a result. We broke up this leg of the journey with a couple of stops along the way. One a side trip into an unsignposted old gravel quarry, now full of water giving a pleasant & private outlook for a mid morning stop, & later another stop at Bindoola Falls. Also unsignposted via a small rocky track from the rear of a small roadside rest area. Although this was our 6th time on the Gibb River Road since our first time in 2009, I had never before been aware of these falls, & they were well worth a couple of hours to wander around!
As expected the Pentecost ‘Car Park’ was busy, not so busy that we couldn’t get a waterside camp spot, but nevertheless for us who with the exception of Manning Gorge, had been camping alone all the way across the Gibb it seemed crowded. Here we had other campers either side of us , just a few metres away. Folk who seemed to think that instead of coming to say G’day would fly their buzzy little drones over us, hovering over us to check out the OKA. I would have been more than happy for a chat. Still an enjoyable night watching the sun set over the iconic Pentecost.
From the Pentecost it is bitumen road eastward. We aired up our tyres & for the first time in a while travelled at more than 50kph. 🙂 We passed the entry to El Questro, a very popular stopover on the Gibb, & also the most expensive. In fact we have never called in there. There isn’t much doubt that they have some very impressive natural attractions but for us, who were advised many moons ago “It’s a great way to see the Kimberley for folk with a limited timeframe for their travels as it ‘showcases’ much of what the Kimberley offers in one place”, for us with unlimited time & a preference to experience special places without crowds we don’t feel like we are missing anything essential. To others it makes perfect sense to visit it. Maybe one day we should visit – just so we know for sure? What do you think?
We turned northward to Wyndham, first driving to it’s small but well stocked supermarket to re-stock our supply of fresh fruit & veg as well as grabbing a meat pie for lunch, which we took up the hill to the 5 Rivers Lookout. In 2009 we went up there, leaving our Nissan Civilian Bus in town, & rode our off road motorcycles up there. Just like Crocodile Dundee’s “That’s not a knife, this is a knife” That’s not a hill, this is a hill! We had forgotten just how long & how steep the drive up to the lookout was! Very different on lightweight trail bikes compared to a 7 tonne truck! But the OKA did us proud, managing the steepness & the ‘no caravans’ hairpin bends with relative ease, & the pies were still hot when we got there!
Coming back down was a bit more daunting. In hindsight I should have put the truck into low ratio, without locking the hubs, & made use of the engine braking (even with the auto transmission), but I was half way down, gritting my teeth, applying as much brakes as I dared, trying my best not to overheat them resulting in no brakes. I managed, but if I did it again it most definitely would be in low ratio! Heart in the mouth stuff! But absolutely worth it for the views.
It was now early afternoon, & we decided to return to a favourite spot on the King River, a location shared with us by local friends on the basis of not sharing it on the ‘net, that we had loved when we stayed there in late 2025 on our way west. After crossing the mud flats we found the King River Rd a very different proposition to what it had been before the wet season. Much rougher, more corrugations, more washouts & wet patches, a few water crossings where there had been none, but we knew where we were going & managed without any drama. Access to the ‘spot’ was more overgrown & more hidden than previously, but we found it ok & got in without collecting too many branches along the way. It almost felt like ‘coming home’ when we arrived. Our shoulders dropped & we set up for what was to be a relaxing 5 nights. We had learned to think of such stops as ‘Sourdough’ stops. Long enough to make having a campfire useful, to burn our burnable rubbish & to take the couple of days to wake up the sourdough starter, & to prepare the dough for cooking on the coals in the camp oven.
On leaving & returning to the highway we could have driven directly to Kununurra that day, but instead chose to return to Marlgu Billabong, this time finding it extensively flooded & with a different mix of birds in huge numbers. We stayed enjoying the spectacle like kids in a lollyshop for a couple of hours. A highlight seeing not birds but a huge saltwater croc, probably the biggest we have ever seen. Can’t say how long it was as we never saw it’s entire length as it cruised by on the far side of the billabong, but looking at it from the rear we were both confident that it was well over a metre in width at it’s ‘shoulders’.
We stayed on 4wd tracks, to head down the Old Halls Creek Rd again as we had very much enjoyed the opportunity to immerse ourselves ‘in country’ that it had provided last year. Just a pair of wheel tracks to follow through tropical woodland & savannah. Again different after the wet. More lush, more overgrown & still a little wet here & there. As a result of looking different because of lots of new growth , we somehow missed the camp spot we had planned on, not realising we had done so until we reached what had been our second camp spot on this track last year. So we stopped there for the night at the place we called ‘Big Croc Waterhole’, although we didn’t see it watching us this time.
Next morning we were soon back to sealed roads & on our way to our friends in Kununurra.
Below are a couple of compilation videos – each around 5 minutes long.