The sandstone gorges of Carnarvon National Park first captured my imagination as a teenager. For many years my grandmother gave me a subscription to Australian Geographic for my birthday. If truth be told I often didn't read much of the text, but I loved exploring different parts of the Australian landscape through the stunning photographs of the magazine. One of the stories that did leave a lasting impression was an article about an impressive gorge somewhere in Queensland. Twelve years later, I finally got to do some exploring of my own. Carnarvon National Park is about nine hours drive north-west of Brisbane in the sandstone belt of Central Queensland. The long drive is rather flat and boring - our main entertainment was provided by a yokel who repeatedly mooned us from his car window! But we arrived with daylight to spare at the Takarakka campground, along with hundreds of other Easter visitors. For some strange reason the national parks campground is only open during school holiday periods, so the hordes descend during the same few weeks every year.
The park rangers hosted a Steve Irwin-style slideshow that evening highlighting the attractions of the park, complete with a vocal imitation of a sugar glider. They were keen to emphasise the potential dangers of venturing off the well-beaten track, with a 'do not go here or you will die' focus to their message. I suppose they get all types of visitors. On returning to our campsite we discovered that the people beside us had coloured Christmas lights adorning their tent!
Saturday morning dawned clear and bright. We dutifully signed the register for 'remote wilderness walkers', then started down a path that looked like it was maintained by rangers on quad bikes. Here the gorge is wide and spacious, with sides gently sloping up to 200m cliffs. The main walking track meanders along beside the creek, with regular crossings by way of conveniently placed stepping stones. Cabbage palms decorate the lower slopes while macrozamias and spotted gums contribute to a sense of majesty. But perhaps the loveliest parts of this gorge are to be found tucked away amongst the sandstone walls. Aboriginal people are thought to have visited this gorge for over 20,000 years. One of the most significant sites is a place known as the Art Gallery. This magnificent overhang is backdrop to a beautiful and fragile reminder of the local Indigenous culture. We timed our arrival there with perfection, just in time for some story-telling and oral history of the area from a charming old gentleman of the Karingbal people. Elder Fred Conway explained that the entire gorge was a sacred area, reserved for ceremonies and special occasions rather than habitation. He spoke about the different types of artwork such as stencilling and engravings and the stories they tell, both personal and spiritual. I felt quite moved to witness a relict of this ancient culture, and to be present in a place that served both as a burial site and a birthing area.
In addition to the rich cultural heritage, Carnarvon is also made up of an intricate system of slot canyons. Compared with the Blue Mountains, the sandstone cliffs here are not as high, and so the canyons are not as deep and sustained. However a few exploratory walks in from the bottom indicated that they are just as narrow, and just as beautiful. Unfortunately these canyons will probably remain largely unexplored, as the management have a blanket ban on all rope sports within the national park.We camped overnight at a big bend in the creek, about 10km up the gorge. It was a balmy evening shared with a handful of other campers. Bats flittered in and out of holes in the sandstone wall which shone with the white light of the full moon. The rain overnight soaked straight through our tent - it must be time to get a new one!
In the morning we wandered for a kilometre or so up Boowinda Gorge. Recent floods had scoured this impressive canyon clean. The mossy walls were separated only by a floor of pebbly stones, and intriguing clefts in the rock opened up every now and then on either side. Without finding the upper end of the gorge, we eventually decided to turn around and spent the rest of the afternoon retracing our steps back to the visitor centre. Back at camp, we enjoyed the last rays of a wonderfully peaceful afternoon lying on the grass with our books.
If Carnarvon was within three hours of Brisbane we would undoubtably be back to attempt some more remote off-track walks. And I'd be very tempted to pack a short length of rope, just in case! But I don't think we'll be making the long drive again anytime soon. Next time I hope we'll have a bit more time to explore, perhaps when we finally do the big road trip to the top end.
