“You mean – really… could I come along for Easter? Wow, this looks amazing. I have never been in that region”, a strongly German accented voice excitedly exclaimed.
We were planning to head to the ‘remotish’ Yilgan region north of Southern Cross for the Easter break. Enormous monolith rocks, the spectacular Great Western Woodlands, red dust dirt tracks and no madding crowds – what could be better?
“OK mate, you’ll need a swag, cooking gear, water and no – your Mondero won’t cut it”, I advised our European friend Christoph, a little overwhelmed by his huge grin and animated excitement.
So, on the Thursday before Good Friday, we managed to escape the big city workday traffic and headed east towards the welcoming land-of-no-traffic-lights. It was always a big challenge to guide the Landcruiser and Lucy the Glamper Camper out of town without some moron cutting us off and generally raising our blood pressure to unacceptable levels.
It wasn’t long before we were refuelling at Mukinbudin and trying to locate our top secret No-One-Goes-There Rock, just west of Bullfinch. The twisty, red sand entrance track is well concealed by acacia and salmon gum. It terminates at a perfect, hidden clearing just big enough for a small group.
Pat and Jeff welcomed us with drinks in-hand and a crackling mulga wood Snowpeak fire. Christoph had yet to appear, so we closely monitored the radio as it was his first 4WD trip. In this case it was Google Maps – no reception, no tracking; and the distance too far away for UHF.
We had a sat phone – he didn’t. However, soon the newish and very clean white rental Prado skidded into camp accompanied by a beaming smile – “Wow, this is fantastic, it is so much fun!” he grinned widely. The Rock is segmented by small, lush lowland valleys just begging to be explored. It is surrounded by dense mulga and acacia that makes access somewhat challenging. The view from the top is truly awesome, the valleys below begging to be explored. Small ponds bubble with tadpoles, the overflow running off down into the valleys, enticing us to follow. Hanging rocks tower over small caves with evidence of resident wallabies and emus. Jeff even managed to spot a reclusive echidna.
Next morning we tackled the winding red dirt Mt Jackson Road north from Bullfinch. The spark of adventure was starting to rumble deep down, civilisation was behind us and the dust was flying. Threatening dark thunder clouds approached, heralded by a few big splats of rain. As sandy as the track looked, we were a little concerned that it could quickly turn to mud and threaten our long-weekend plans. It wasn’t long before the small convoy had to plough through slippery bog holes or if available, the more welcome chicken track option even though this inevitably added new pinstripes to the already trail worn duco. Once the sound of red mud splattering the Cruiser was an eagerly sought after medal of honour, now we cringe as we think about the inevitable post trip maintenance cost.
Lunch saw us at a little known historical trough sitting on a granite outcrop about 50 km north of Bullfinch. In the early goldrush days these troughs were built to water bullock driven wagon trains on the way to the thriving Kalgoorlie goldfields. Craftsman spent quite some time laying this impressively cut and tightly fitted stonework using local rock. Low-set walls channel the rain into a trough where there is fresh water most of the year. It would be a great campsite, off the beaten track, open and flat, green and welcoming.
The change from dense woodlands and red dirt to the stark white of salt lake country is very dramatic. The increasingly damp road crosses a foreboding Lake Hamersley framed by dark threatening clouds – the clatter of damp salt against our wheel arches is a reminder that more rain will not be welcome!
The tenacious Goldfield pioneers cut timber logs to form a better crossing across the bog for their wheeled wagons. What an incredible effort that must have taken I thought to myself, as I settled into the Landcruiser’s plush leather seat and drove off in pampered comfort. After I’d been spruiking it up to our travelling companions, the old Mt Jackson homestead was quite a disappointment. The roof has now gone, rubbish littered the site and vandalism was evident. to make matters worse, our precious solitude was invaded by a convoy of caravans, campers and dirt bikes – time to go.
The freshly graded Bullfinch Evanston Road is a mining super highway. Smooth and fast, courtesy of Mineral Resources – working hard to dig up the whole Yilgarn in search of cash whilst keeping nosy outsiders out. Oh well, must keep the economy going!
The drive into Pigeon Rock is an entirely another matter, but well worth the effort! Tortured memories of a previous attempt to visit the nearby and very beautiful Die Hardy Range float back – 8 hours, 16 kilometres and several blown tyres – please don’t mention the war! Twists and turns, bumps and scrapes eventually leads us to a small, encircled picture perfect oasis, surrounded on 3 sides by the huge Pigeon Rock monolith. Secure and safe we set up nose-to-tail and immediately set about building a fragrant mulga wood Snowpeak fire. This is the reason for the trip – dancing flames, good company and a glass or two of everyone’s choice ale! That was until the rain started! It pelted, threatening to extinguish our glowing fire.
We huddled under awnings and worried about Christoph who was planning on sleeping in his swag next to the fire, now a little damp! The Gods then smirked and the rain somewhat lessened and then finally stopped. This gave us an opportunity to climb the steep rock – it requires much caution, however will reward the brave with a stunning panoramic 360 view of a virtually unpopulated virgin landscape (except for the miners ugh!) and the ping of incoming messages signals Telstra 3G.
I always feel a little downbeat when packing up and leaving good memories and a great camp, however it doesn’t take long to be replaced by the the warm adrenaline rush from heading to somewhere new, the unknown. We leave the washaways and suspension challenging rocks to again cross the vivid red Bullfinch-Evanston mining super highway. Just a short hop north should be our preferred turn off East, onto the Mt Manning track. Having travelled this picturesque route a few years ago, we were equipped with our Memory Map and an accurate GPX track to guide us. The route meanders around Mt Manning and provides access to a striking lookout half way up the Range. It then passes through ancient granite rock country, occasional gnamma holes and in-season incredible wildflowers, before the track circles around and approaches the Hunt Range from the north, and then onto the Helena Aurora. Or it used to! We were only 150 metres in and found our way deliberately blocked.
Some precocious mining company had bulldozed extensive dirt berms across the track, stopping us dead – I was furious, I mean this is clearly shown on the Hema and Topo maps as a gazetted route! We couldn’t easily find our way around and the more law-abiding in our party felt that this 4WD travesty must be an authorised and legitimate barricade (not me of course!). Vowing to come back one day and spend time finding an in-your-face mining company bypass (legitimate), we retreated and headed the 25 odd kays southwards down the red super highway towards Marda. ‘Mining Activity’ signs abounded, huge triples and quads growled passed, showering us in rocks and dust, the drivers glaring at us as if we were unwanted intruders in their territory. This was offset by one friendly grader driver in his PPE reflective yellows greeting us with a friendly wave.
The left hand turn to our way East arrived very suddenly, concealed by a huge mine wall. It led us down a much smaller and tighter bush track towards the old Marda Tank. It felt like a glorious outback day – the sun was warm on our back, the bush flies hovering, black ants marching in line across the Mars-like red rock surface. Cawing bush crows echoed back and forth and we were delighted by the antics of Pink and Grey cockies squawking and wheeling overhead. Marda Tank is a small earthen dam built around a natural catchment. It is unclear when this was first built, however mining around Marda commenced in the 1890s. Time has now taken its toll with its roof long gone and the whole thing looking very dilapidated. It seems to be mainly used as a watering hole for stock as evidenced by the shrivelled and mummified remains of an ex-cow.
Firing up the V8 Cruiser we led the convoy further East until we came across attractive undulating ridges, tall trees and some welcome shade – a perfect spot for lunch. Oztent Big Goanna camp chairs out, Jetboil bubbling and Amanda’s fantastic fresh ham, salad and cheese wraps, washed down with a freshly ground Little Owl coffee. It was pleasant sitting under the Salmon Gums, drowsingly warm, the low background buzz of cicadas and the hint of scrub eucalyptus incense overlaid with the aroma of fresh coffee. The usual harsh and intrusive sounds civilisation were thankfully missing. The drive towards Helen Aurora is similar to travelling the Holland Track – this is Great Western Woodland country. The red dirt track isn’t too bad with some washaways, evidence of the recent heavy rains courtesy of a couple of cyclones and tropical lows that have tracked down through the Pilbara and the Red Centre. Glowing, vivid salmon gums loom around every tight turn challenging the trailer, astringent and earthy wattle tang when crossing the low wet ground, mallee shrublands and even bright green spinifex! I’m always amazed when I re-learn that the Great Western Woodlands contains the largest and healthiest temperate woodland remaining on Planet Earth, covering almost 16 million unspoilt hectares (bigger than England and Wales) and supporting 20% of Australia’s plant species!
The main track has been diverted north around the Mineral Resources Mt Jackson iron ore mine. The mine is slowly encroaching on the Great Western Woodlands which contain the last reserves of banded-iron formation in the Southern Hemisphere. The area is a biodiversity hotspot and contains rare flora and fauna including a unique and rare species of trap-door spider. The spiders construct deep burrows and build a network of web sensors extending out from their subterranean house. When an insect trips a strand of the cunningly laid silk, the spider rushes out to gobble its prey.
Winding around the dense salmon gums, occasionally we encountered large fallen trees blocking the way.
It always amazes me the length four wheel driver’s will go to avoid having to get out of their vehicles to move or cut up the tree! Inevitably, a 4WD chicken-track will barge its way around the offending obstacle and back onto the main track! Ah, more unnecessary work avoided. The dark emerald Helena Aurora Ranges loomed before us, rising from the plains like some ancient and mysterious lost world, enticing us to come closer and explore. The track became tighter as we approached, dense Acacia’s closing in on all sides accompanied by the familiar soundtrack of squeaky chalk on a blackboard. We blindly cruised around one tight bend straight into a deep and long mudhole. I hate mud and try hard to avoid it, fully aware of the maintenance and cost implications. In this case, the suddenness of it meant only only one workable response – I floored it!
The Cruiser plus Lucy the Glamper Camper equals mass, so forward momentum was my go-to solution – and it worked – just! We made it to the other side, a-swaying, a-sliding and a-slurping accompanied by the big howling V8, somewhat surprised into sudden action. Ugh, what a mess. We managed to get a call out on the UHF to halt the other guys before they too had a free mud bath. They managed to find a mostly concealed, very tight and scratchy long way round chicken-track. Jeff unfortunately hit a small, stump slightly damaging his precious MUX side step – he was distraught! Eventually we joined up and headed the wrong way! Mike hadn’t accessed the Range from this direction before (only exited) so took a right instead of a left – duh! Eventually back on track we were gobsmacked to drive into a bustling ‘Piccadilly Circus’ of four wheel drives, tents, campers, caravans and even fluttering flags. The Parks and Wildlife camp ground – usually deserted was packed with people, vehicles and banners proudly proclaiming the the Toyota Land Cruiser Club of WA was in town. Other groups were dotted around causing an involuntary shudder – what happened to our remote solitude? Oh well, we drove on right by (with a wave) and much further on, turned right into the dense bush, following a barely discernable track until we were well and truly isolated and surrounded by attractive trees. One thing we won’t have to worry about is firewood….
We circled the wagons in a convenient flat clearing, under the close and watchful eye of the looming Helena Aurora Ranges. The centre piece was a roaring Snowpeak fire fueled by the plentiful scented gum and blackbutt. The Prado protected one side, with Christoph organising his swag, him quietly fussing around and setting up a 4WD only camp.
Pat and Jeff soon protected side 2 with the Lifestyle camper quickly opened up and the kitchen out. Lucy the AOR Quantum only takes minutes before the first frosty beer is pulled out of the fridge, the Oztrail Big Goanna comfy chairs are set up close to the warm fire and the companionable campfire chat is underway. Sheer bliss, good friends, an almost full moon bathing us in golden light, no wind, no insects and the stars brightly twinkling better than any man-made planetarium. The mouthwatering aroma of a bushwood seared thick fillet steak, followed by a rich and full flavoured Margaret River wine. The freshest air and Lucy’s comfortable queen bed meant the best night’s sleep, a background of softly pulsating circadas, salmon gums gently whispering in the slight breeze, the faint aroma of the Australian bush and the cosy warmth of a thick doona.
Just before dawn it was very still, nothing stirred. I could see some glowing coals peaking through the velvety darkness. A few dry sticks and the fire blazed into life, shadows dancing over the tall salmon gums. Soon the black, scorched billy was bubbling and the delicious wafting fragrance of freshly ground Little Owl beans overwhelmed the surrounding earthy bush smells . This has to be my favourite time of the day – the glowing fullish moon still up, the faint glimmer heralding a new dawn just peaking over the Ranges, me hunched over a warm, glowing campfire and sipping my favourite coffee soothed by the intense quiet of the surrounding bush. Soon people will emerge from their swags and campers and the new day in this remote paradise will begin.
The Toyota 200 led the way from camp, following the GPS dots to find our way out of the dense bush maze and hopefully back onto the main track. On track, we heading to the top of the range, a little concerned that it could be packed with tourists. The steep track up the Range is quite narrow and the space on top limited. I’ll guess, we’ll soon find out. Jeff in the MUX gave up his coveted ‘tail-end Charlie’ possie to Christoph in the hire Prado, who wanted to take his time. We were all in close contact with the UHF radios.
Driving passed the main camping spots we were quite surprised to see that they had mostly emptied out – perhaps there is some hope of solitude on top. The well graded and deep red main track heads north, winding towards the start of the ascent up the Range. It has been tastefully signposted by the WA Parks and Wildlife Service and helpfully points to ‘top of range’ and ‘ridge track’. The untouched bush either side of the track is superb almost rendering the track invisible as it twists and turns and slowly starts to ascend. Soon we encounter washaways, engineered speed bumps to reduce flooding and erosion. The track starts to twist back and forth, with a few steep drop offs at the edge. Speed is now reduced and in a few spots, low range is engaged.
Towards the top it gets much steeper, the washaways quite deep in places whilst we get teasing glimpses through the dense bush of remarkable views before the next bump and bounce draws our attention back to the task at hand. “Text Message” belts out of the phone as we occasional 3G reception. The scratchy UHF announces ‘three motorbike riders coming’ as we also spot a small convoy of 4WD’s descending in front of us. This can be problematic as we are down to a single lane with few opportunities to pull over. A flash of headlights and a “thanks mate” as we all managed to squeeze passed each other. Now in fulltime low range, the bonnet rocking and rolling before us, the track tightens and the going is slow and careful – the BF Goodrich ATs handled it really well, they really are my favourite all round tyre. Even the Prado shod only with the standard Dunlop Grand Treks did well, mind you our tyre pressures had been dropped quite a bit.
The one-way section at the top led us to a small plateau surrounded by gently swaying acacias, dryandras and salmon gums. Pleasingly, it was very quiet with no one else in sight. Equipped with cameras and the drone, we clambered towards the edge and gazed in awe at the cliff faces and the endless velvety green woodlands stretching far across the plains. The Ranges were named by John Forrest in 1869 after an early settler’s daughter. They are 700 metres above sea level and rise 200 metres above the surrounding plains providing spectacular views of ancient rock formations, shallow caves and the endless woodlands and sandplains. As we drove out to visit the adjacent ridge we could see Bungalbin Hill to the south at 640 metres.
The top and edges are home to acacias and eucalypts rising above the soft grass that resembles spinifex. At this time of year the flowers are scarce, unlike our last trip in August when the area was a riot of beautiful colour. Tall majestic white gums grow on the slopes with surrounding patches of multi-stemmed mallee. It is truly a unique landscape unlike anything else we’ve seen in our extensive travels of Western Australia. There is a long history of greedy miners wanting to dig up this priceless jewel together with a Government that seems reluctant to take a firm stand. Its’ current status as a ‘conservation park’ does not afford it any protection from the excavators.
Heading back down we were again reminded of the very fine bulldust covering the small convoy in huge red clouds. It seeped inside everywhere, coating the dashboard, fridge and every vinyl surface – you could even taste it, even though the aircon was firmly switched to recirculate. I can see a serious Landcruiser dustproofing project on the horizon.
The last night of any great trip is cloaked with some melancholy. Our team was separating and sadly we would all soon be back in the routine weekday grind. Until then though – the glowing campfire, sparks rising into the air like fireflies, a few ales and many tall stories and much laughter as the dark, velvety night surrounded us.
The next morning dawned clear and crisp, the remnants of the full moon shining in the West. After firing up the dirty and tired 4WDs, we all slowly meandered through the dense eucalypt bush, again trying to find our way out to the main track Long thin streamers of salmon gum bark brushed the windscreen, the sharp acacias adding to our growing bush pinstriping. The AOR Quantum follows like a faithful puppy, just missing the large trunks as we snake through the tight twists and turns.
The trip south mixes it up with a variety of clouds of fine bulldust, sandy tracks and a few unwelcome muddy bog holes. The Mining Monster seems to have removed all signage as we approach Koolyanobbing, a place that looks like the surface of the moon or something out of an end-of-world movie. The earth has been ripped apart, all vegetation gone, glistening red mud everywhere and tiny people clambering over the rock piles like an ant’s nest infestation. We flip a coin and take the wrong road, and unfortunately head deeper into the mine rather than our preferred direction of anywhere-but-here. All is saved as a very officious water-cart lady driver squawks at us in no uncertain terms (via the UHF), that we are trespassing and to follow her immediately out of the mine. As we had the very same objective, I didn’t complain too much and thankfully we were soon out of the apocalyptic nightmare maze and heading back towards relatively safety of Southern Cross and then home.
A wet Perth welcomed us with dark brooding storm clouds and lashing rainstorms, but at least it help wash off the dust and mud. All in all, a fantastic trip in the wilds away from the noise and turmoil of the city. Great company, fun tracks, no traffic lights and a lot of most welcome solitude. The Helena Aurora represents a rare slice of the past ringed by an almost untouched Great Western Woodland – there is nothing like it anywhere else in the world, and the sooner we make it a protected national park, our kids will have a precious, irreplaceable inheritance that otherwise will be dug up and destroyed in the name of growth, jobs and ‘prosperity’.
