Nowadays, Len Beadell’s Gunbarrel Highway is about as far off resembling a highway you can get (unless you’re used to travelling on NSW highways, in which case you may have grounds to argue that point). It’s one of those top 4WD bucket list destinations where it’s the journey that is the experience. A rite of passage for many 4WDers is to have “done” the Gunbarrel, but on this occasion our little group was going one better. Yes, we were pitting our 4WD’s against whatever the Gunbarrel Highway could throw at us, but we were also bringing our glamper-campers along for the ride. Fabulous trip, or complete folly? We’d soon see.
Our little group was made up of five couples in total with a combination of LandCruisers and one lonely Landrover doing the tow work, pulling a range of different model Australian Off Road camper trailers. The manufacturer touts that for all their luxury they are extreme off road capable, and we were certainly planning to put that to the test.
We congregated at the Gunbarrel Laager, just out of Wiluna, which is a logical kick off point for a Gunbarrel trip. Gil and Mal have done a great job tarting the place up, with a great undercover camp kitchen area and communal fireplace. A last taste of life’s little luxuries was on offer, with homemade ice cream, Devonshire teas and strong, hot showers in the donga style ablutions.
The start of Gunbarrel Hwy is deceptively well graded and actually goes by the name of Wongawol Road. We knew we were into the desert through and starting our adventure as we spotted our first camels. Lunch was a stop at Wongawol Creek crossing. There are cattle yards on south side and a track in on the north side to a small loop where you can get off the track for a stop. There were still pools of cool water and, though not quite nice enough to inspire us in for a swim, they made for pleasant scenery whilst we ate lunch and were entertained by the local perenties.
Back on the track, before we could get lulled into a further false sense of security one of the Tyre Dog sensors started alarming – relentless slow leak in one of Lucy’s tyres (Lucy being our glamper-camper). We limped into Mingal Pool to find that the brand new Cooper tyre had been staked straight through the tread, despite lowered tyre pressure. With all hands on deck we soon had it changed, the damaged one plugged and up on the wheel carrier just in case it needed to be called back into service. On a previous trip we had overnighted at Mingal Pool, and there is ample space along with a shelter and BBQ. That time we had even braved the pool for a swim (it was April and stinking hot) only to be told a few days later by a local that the pool was full of dead horse carcases (still not sure if that was true or someone having a bit of a laugh at the tourist’s expense).
Carnegie Station was the spot of choice for our first night’s camp this trip. With a warm welcome we were pointed over to the camping area, a circle of gravel around a central fireplace with ablution blocks (two toilets and two showers) behind the camp kitchen. There’s interesting memorabilia on both the station and Len Beadell to peruse in the camp kitchen, though my favourite was the old Bundaberg Rum add (see breakaway). There were also a menagerie of animals to see and cuddle behind the station homestead (the potty calf and friendly chickens being favourites).
After an amicable evening around the fire, next morning was city-life déjà vu as we cued to top up fuel (at $2.50/L) before heading off. The eftpos connection was a bit hit and miss, a good reminder that it is worth carrying at least “a tank’s worth” of cash when you are travelling remotely, as it’s not uncommon to come across issues like this. Peak hour rush over, we were on our way again.
The wide graded track continued though to an expansive, very dry claypan before narrowing to a grader-blade-width track which only had distant memories of having last seen said grader. Once you exit the Shire of Waroona all signs of the grader cease and it’s rutted, corrugated trails often with a number of options to choose from as those who have gone before leave mark of their indecisiveness on which path was the better option.
Whilst negotiating this web, a call came over the radio from our tail-end-charlie that there were a couple of motorbikes moving up past us. They were followed intermittently by others until seven in total passed us by. The corrugations felt punishing, even from the lounge chair comfort of a Land Cruiser with beefed up suspension. Even as a female I was wincing in sympathy at how those poor boys must have felt bouncing up and down with the primitive springs on their trail bikes – no wonder they all seemed to be spending most of their time standing rather than sitting on their bikes.
Not far behind these trepid travellers was Steve of Outback Adventure Treks, driving the support vehicle. As the track was blocked with a tyre change in progress, we had a chance for a quick chat. The group of seven European tourists on the dirt bikes had come from Perth and were on a more or less direct path diagonally across Australia up to Airlie Beach in Queensland. Their journey lasts twenty days, sleeping in swags, with Steve making running repairs as needed on the bikes with just one in reserve in case of an irreparable breakdown. Steve then turns around and makes the return journey with a new group of masochists, and he’s been doing this now for twenty years. Does that make him the biggest masochist of all? Or does he have the best job in the world? It certainly made me think I should never complain from the front seat of my Landcruiser about dust or corrugations again.
After skirting the dry Mangkili Claypan, we took the obligatory photos at one of the plaqued Len Beadell Trees before setting up camp at Geraldton Bore. Attributed to the Geraldton Historical Society, a hand pump was installed in 2007 by the Department of Environment and Conservation and some four wheel drivers to allow travellers to access the water. We found it still working well today with nice clean water (requiring just a bit of man-power to pump up). As the sign says, it may save a life: Use it. Respect it. Leave it here.
After skirting the dry Mangkili Claypan, we took the obligatory photos at one of the plaqued Len Beadell Trees before setting up camp at Geraldton Bore. Attributed to the Geraldton Historical Society, a hand pump was installed in 2007 by the Department of Environment and Conservation and some four wheel drivers to allow travellers to access the water. We found it still working well today with nice clean water (requiring just a bit of man-power to pump up). As the sign says, it may save a life: Use it. Respect it. Leave it here.
Over the next day we covered all of 88km, averaging about 20km/hr. A few more tyre fatalities and a dented rim from an unplanned slide down a wash-away did slow the pace, but the track wasn’t made for going much faster. Though it is easy to simplistically argue that the more rubber you have on the ground (ie towing) the higher your chances of getting a puncture, in our group’s case the high tyre-fatality rate had more to do with someone’s experiment with a new brand of tyre, one which clearly in retrospect wasn’t up to the harsh conditions (even though extensive prior research had suggested it should be). Live and learn. There were admittedly a couple of towing-specific casualties; the dented rim from a slide down a wash-away did occur on one of the campers (luckily the rim was a steelie, so nothing a mallet and some thoughtfully applied brute-force couldn’t fix) and the second incident was undeniably towing related in the form of stone-strikes to the trailer plugs requiring generous application of cable-ties and tape to keep the connection happening.
It was a day of dramas, but we eventually arrived at Mt Beadell, home to the monument of a replica of Len Beadell’s theodolite and our last night’s camp on the Gunbarrel. A hike to the top of the mount rewards with panoramic views of nature at its best. Sunset and sunrise both offered stunning variations on this theme, with changing colours and awesome vistas. If the Gunbarrel Highway has a “destination” then this would be it. The next day for us was a short hop, with a quick look-in at Camp Beadell, before taking the Heather Highway southwards to join the Great Central Road and then on to Warburton for refuelling.
So the final verdict – fabulous trip, or complete folly? We all made it through. We did it in comfort. We got out to the places we’d all rather be and shared a meal and a yarn under the stars with a group of great mates. Do you need a glamper-camper to do that? Obviously not. But I’m getting soft in my old age. Sinking into an innerspring mattress at the end of the day, after a hot shower, and knowing that you don’t have to brave the mozzies for any middle-of-the-night pit stops. Call me a Princess, but for me that just takes a great trip up a notch to being truly, fabulous.
