We indulged ourselves on an outing to Horizontal Falls in the far north, seeing as you don’t get to pass this way too often.

On the map below you can see there are no roads to Horizontal Falls (in green font at the top of the hatched area), it’s a long way in a boat from Derby, so flying in and landing on the water is the way to go!

We’d heard great reports about this day out, and couldn’t resist the opportunity to go. We booked it when we were way back in Derby on Monday. The first available trip was on the Saturday, so having been up the Dampier Peninsula and down to Broome, we left at stupid o’clock to drive the 220km back to Derby from Broome (not using any of John’s short cuts this time) and met our sea plane pilot at the Derby Airport at 8.30am.
After a short briefing and donning the lifejackets, it was up and away over Derby, across the mudflats, the amazing river systems, and finally to land on the water right next to a massive pontoon of floating houseboats.

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Arriving in Broome late afternoon, we headed to one of the six caravan parks. Full. Then the next. Full. And so it went, for the rest. We ended up at the overflow camping at the YMCA. It’s just a yard, and no shade to speak of. But they have dust, much like the others.
Having seen very few of van fraternity across the Gibb River Road – we found them. Broome is where the Nomads congregate. They head north from Perth, and stop here for the winter. Just like our eastern states Nomads head to Queensland. Thing is, Queensland has plenty more places to spread them out. Over here in the west, it’s Broome – with nothing much for hundreds of kilometres. So here they are – filling all the caravan parks. We’ve even seen one who puts a cover over his pristine Ford Falcon each night.
Plus! It’s Broome Cup week. Ladies day on Tuesday. Knew I should have packed my fascinator. Then on Friday, the Rodeo that was in Derby moves on to Broome.

We came across the school bus in Beagle Bay. Not your average bus, hey? You need good clearance, a couple of spares (including crane to get them off the back), and some chunky tyres.

Not quite the same as the Coles Coaches model that does the country roads for our school.

After a morning paddle from Middle Lagoon and failed attempt at catching more fish (see – it is a hoax), we took a back road to Beagle Bay. Yes, it was a short cut, but not one that John found himself. It’s a “locals only” road that the lady at Middle Lagoon said we could use. So it wasn’t an epic.
Beagle Bay started as a missionary settlement, and has been run by various religious orders since 1890, including caring for children of the Stolen Generation. The church was built during World War 1, and decorated with shell and cowries. It’s a work of art.

Most people will have seen this pic of the church somewhere. It’s pristine white – which is amazing, given how much red dirt there is round here.

They’ve even used a clam shell for the holy water!

It is still the parish church for the area, with mass said daily.
Once you’ve seen the church in Beagle Bay, you can pretty much leave. We tried to visit the store to get some bread during trading hours, but it was closed. You get that.
From Beagle Bay to the bitumen on the Great Northern Highway (about 120km), it’s really red, really straight and really WIDE. You could have a four lane dirt freeway there. Easy. There is a bend, maybe two. So you have to keep your eyes open.
We left the wide red dirt road for a narrow red dirt road out to Willie Creek. We had planned to camp there, but found it to be small and over grown, with hard core fishermen filling all the vacant space. Whilst there, we looked at the Willie Creek Pearl Farm. A top notch award winning showroom, café and all the extras – tours of the pearl farm and chopper flights over the area. Quirky, given it’s a stone’s throw from the dreadful camp sites.
So it was on to Broome – along a bit more of the wide dirt road.

This was confirmed by John, Fergus and Harry yesterday after many attempts and consistent failure. But they persist. Head against the wall stuff. It’s admirable really, never quitting. They even dragged a lure behind the kayak for 20km yesterday in the most fishable paradise there is. Nothing. Nada.
BUT – today everything changed.

Above is the catch from this afternoon’s dive – a Batfish and a striped Sea Perch. (Roy will correct me if I’m wrong there).
As I write, both these fish have sacrificed their life in our camp oven for our dinner. And they tasted great.