Starting the Gibb River Road: Windjana, Tunnel Creek, Mount Hart and Adcock Gorge
- Adventure Lifestyle
- Jun 6
- 6 min read
After more than two months on the road, we finally made it to the Gibb River Road. Six hundred and sixty kilometres of red dirt, river crossings and remote gorges, cutting straight through the heart of the Kimberley. We'd been dreaming about this stretch for years, and now we were here, with the wet season still hanging on, half the tracks barely open, and a north west cloud band already building somewhere out west.
Here's how the first stretch played out.
The Start of the Gibb River Road - The bit no one talks about
Everyone shows you the red dirt. What they don't show you is the 130 kilometres of bitumen east of Derby with barely a hill in sight. We rolled out of town with Windjana Gorge in our sights, and the drive in was, frankly, a snooze. One crocodile sighting along the way (Paul saw it, I didn't), and that was about the extent of the excitement. Worth knowing if you're picturing dramatic country the moment you leave Derby. It comes, just not straight away.
Windjana Gorge
The park had only reopened the day before after months shut down by the wet, so we half expected water over the road. There wasn't any. The campground is a bit of a free-for-all, a huge area where you pick your own patch, and it turned out to be one of the nicer national park sites we've stayed at. Fire pits, hot showers, clean toilets, and a view of the gorge. Hard to fault.
We did the gorge walk in the late afternoon once it cooled down. It's only about a kilometre each way, but the moment you drop into the creek the temperature falls away and the walls close in around you. They're ancient barrier reef, and they look it.
Like a lost temple someone built and walked away from. The camera never quite captures it, so do yourself a favour and go see it for yourself.
The website warned of around a hundred freshwater crocs in the gorge. We spotted a few, which was the plan. What we didn't plan on was the saltie. On the walk back we heard a big growl come out of the bushes, close. Real close. We never saw it, which is somehow worse than seeing it. A couple of European tourists wandered down shortly after, so we gave them the heads up. Whether they fully grasped the difference between a freshie and a saltie, we're not so sure. We did our bit.
Tunnel Creek
A short 34 kilometre hop from Windjana took us to Tunnel Creek, and we walked the whole thing, right through to the far end. The water was only knee deep and croc free, which was a touch disappointing after we'd psyched ourselves up, but the cave itself more than made up for it.
The history here is heavy. This was the final stand of Jandamarra, the Bunuba warrior who led an armed resistance against police and pastoralists in the 1890s. He worked the stations, learned to track and shoot, then went back to country and waged a guerrilla campaign before being shot near here. Walking through the dark with that story in your head gives the place a real weight.
At the far end the tunnel opens into a pocket of green, with tree roots spilling down through the rock and a little run of water that looks like something a millionaire would have built in their front yard. We had the whole cave to ourselves, mostly because we turned up at nine in the morning just as everyone else was packing up to leave. Two tips. Bring the brightest head torch you own, not the sad little Energizer one Paul packed. And consider coming in the middle of the day, when the cave is cool and dark and you can have a swim at the entrance to beat the heat.
Mount Hart Wilderness Lodge
With Bell Gorge still closed and due to open in a few days, we needed somewhere to wait it out, so we pointed the rigs up the 50 kilometre track into Mount Hart. The road in was rough and threaded with water crossings, some of them deep, and then it just opens up into this surprisingly bougie wilderness lodge. Cocktail bar, glamping tents, scenic helicopter flights, and a river you can swim in, freshies only. Not our usual kind of jam, but if you've ever struggled to talk someone into a camping trip, this is the place that would win them over.
We did pick up our first Gibb casualty on the way in. A thin sliver of stainless steel, wedged into a tyre like a knife blade. We swapped it out on the side of the track and carried on.
The real reason we came was the gorges. Staying at the station unlocks a few spots you can't reach otherwise, and almost no one visits them.
We hiked out to Matthew Gorge, a run of rapids dropping into a deep, peaceful pool, and had it to ourselves for a good while.
We even found a shirt someone had left behind. Sorry Barb, it's Paul's now.
We had a crack at Annie's Pool too, but the road out was closed with a deep crossing, so we doubled back. In the afternoon we headed to Barker Pool, a fifteen metre stroll from the car park to crystal clear, shallow water over a clean rocky base.
No mud, no crocs, the kind of spot you could easily lose a whole afternoon in with a couple of drinks and some snacks.
Adcock Gorge
We left Mount Hart with the cloud band building and rain forecast for the next day. The 50 kilometre track back out was its own bit of fun, and then it was over an hour along the Gibb to Adcock Gorge.
Adcock surprised us. The walk in is a choose your own adventure rock scramble with no marked track, through a little pocket of jungle, and then it opens onto a waterfall and pool that sat well above what we'd expected.
The clouds rolled over while we were down there and the temperature dropped, which only made the swim better. We had the place to ourselves for over an hour, in and out of the water, and could happily have stayed longer.
A magic spot to wait out the wet
On our way on, we followed a side track off the main road, more on a hunch than anything, and stumbled onto another little gorge tucked away on its own. Shallow, crystal clear pools, a waterfall, and not another soul around. The kind of find that makes all the slow bitumen and flat tyres worth it.
There was a bit of debate over which pool to settle into with a beer. I'm partial to the shallow ones, where you can see straight to the bottom and know for certain there's nothing in there with you. Paul wasn't fussed. This, for the record, is why women live longer.
The rain we'd been watching all week finally caught up with us, so we found a quiet spot just off the road and hunkered down for the next three nights while the weather swept through. Next time, we shake off the wet and keep pushing east along the Gibb.
Keen to see more? Watch our full episode on the western leg of the Gibb River Road 👇🏼
Karleah & Paul
Adventure Lifestyle
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