unexpectedly fall from the flat, baked earth into an
antediluvian waterhole-strewn realm, daubed with such
unlikely contrasting colours that it makes your brain hurt.
Despite the impossibility of hues in the gorges, most
people in the outside world only see one colour in the
Hamersley Range; you see, Karijini sits in the guts of iron-
ore country, the backbone of the Pilbara, where rusty red
blankets the landscape like outback snow.
Amateur geologist (at the time) Lang Hancock saw an
inland sea of dollar signs when he flew over the Pilbara’s
escarpments for the first time in the middle of last century.
That flight, of course, led to mass mining in the area
around Karijini and beyond; the windfall still resonates
in his daughter Gina Rinehart’s bank accounts today.
Right on Karijini’s boundary is Marandoo mine. And
60 kilometres to the west is Rio Tinto mega-mining town
Tom Price (WA’s highest town), which has a tight long-
term community of resident miners, and infrastructure
enough to host the area’s battalion of FIFO workers, who
are more likely to visit Kuta than nearby Karijini.
The hills around town look like an angry sore,
which underlines just how important national parks
like Karijini are for the next generation of Australians
and, indeed, this generation of traditional owners:
Banyjima, Yinhawangka and Kurrama peoples. After all,
the quirks in Karijini’s landscape were used as meeting
places and shelter long before humans really even
knew what to do with iron.
While its physical splendour could easily place the
national park on the Natural Wonders of the World list
(yes, really), what the exquisite images on these pages
can never convey is the intangible energy and personalities
of each and every Karijini gorge. As the bumbling lawyer
from The Castle says, “it’s all about the vibe” out here.
Karijini rewards the lively, adventurous traveller; this
certainly ain’t the place for a flop-and-drop long weekend.
Several of the gorges are fairly easily accessible. Joffre, for
example, acts like a backyard swimming pool to the Karijini
Eco Retreat (see page 73), although it still requires a steep
walk-in. For the rest, jump in your jalopy and go forth to
meet them. While there are a few outstanding lookouts in
the park, which offer grand views and perspectives, you
truly have to descend to revel in what the fuss is all about.
At the low-key car parks, eucalypts and low mulga
woodlands camouflage the gorges with military precision.
It’s not until you basically stand on a 100-metre cliff edge
that you realise this isn’t just normal pancake-flat outback.
Up on the surface, you won’t see too many large animals
hanging out in the midday heat, save for a sun-baking
goanna, who suddenly decides to saunter away, with a
Straight Outta Compton gait, when she decides you’ve
breached her personal space. (Dusk and dawn are best forCLOCKWISE FROM THIS
IMAGE: Centuries-old paperbarks
survive wild torrents every wet season;
Ropes are your lifeline when adventuring
here; The rich, fecund vegetation in
the gorges contrasts with the tropical
semi-desert landscape above; Pete West
of West Oz Active Adventure Tours;
Canyoners make their way through
the gorges, truck inner-tubes in tow.1