Karijini National Park is another of WA’s hidden jewels. Unheard of by most of the world, this park is a goldmine of dramatic red gorges, tumbling waterfalls, secret pools of crystal-clear water and a host of wildlife. Karijini is truly a kaleidoscope of constantly changing colours – with the gradually changing light, or even just a bend in the road, the landscape switches from reds to oranges to greens to blues to purples. Jagged wounds slashed through the heart of the land form the gorges, the constant stream of water flowing through them the lifeblood which sustains the gum trees, spiky spinifex bushes, and tall reeds trying the eke out an existence in this harsh climate. Layer after layer of red, craggy rock stacked up to the sky, ripples of chocolate coloured rock topping a waterfall, liquorice allsort-like slabs of rock tossed here and there. Each gorge was different, each had its own character. It is impossible to get gorge fatigue here.
The nights were shockingly, nose-numbingly cold, which forced the need to wear an entire wardrobe in bed. The early mornings weren’t much better – we had to wolf down our cooked breakfasts in a futile effort to eat them before they went stone cold - and it was incredibly hard to imagine stripping down to shorts and t-shirts but that we did. As the sun broke through the clouds and rose higher in an increasingly bright blue sky, the temperatures also climbed. It made hiking pleasant but we still weren’t hardy enough to venture into the icy cold waters of the pools and streams deep in the gorges. From the screams emanating from each person jumping into the frigid water, we were sane not to. Instead, we clambered over rocks to venture deeper into each gorge. I felt very Lara Croft. Except, that was, when I followed The Brother up the wrong path trying to get out of one of the gorges and bashed my knee against a particularly sharp-edged rock. I don’t think Lara Croft whimpers at the sight of blood. She probably also wouldn’t manage to get herself locked in a public loo, then panic that she’ll never be able to get out and will have to spend the rest of her days sitting next to a smelly drop-toilet.
The trails we followed ranged from fairly easy to an unsteady scramble up a steep gorge along barely discernable paths – the sort of one wrong foot and you’re a gonner type of walks. We didn’t even attempt the class 6 trails, for which you needed to be a competent abseiler and rock-climber with your own gear. Others do, some more successfully than others. The nearest town to the park, Tom Price, operates a volunteer rescue service for those trapped down in the gorges after an accident or because they thought they could handle more than they actually could and have got stuck. One sad reminder of how this beautiful park can turn deadly is a memorial to one of those volunteer rescuers (a husband with two children) who died trying to save a visitor who couldn’t make it back up the gorge. We knew our limits and were careful but it would be so easy to slip on one of the loose rocks or misjudge how much room there is to anchor your foot as you pull your body up a virtually sheer rock face. Luckily, the little cut on my knee was the only accident to befall us in Kairijini. And that was bad enough. What? It really hurt!
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