North-west Australia. Even as a born, bred and well-travelled Aussie, it takes me a minute to imagine exactly what might be lying in store for me. Massive iron ore mines perhaps? Red dirt and mullets? And what about the main reason for my mission – Port Hedland’s North West Festival.
Could this far-flung corner of the globe, let alone the country, really blow me away with a music festival? I’m prepared, it’s fair to say, for serious bush bashing and bogan wrangling. Oh, how wrong I was.
Feeling jumpy
We first meet our Karijini host, West Oz Active’s Pete West, in Pilbara mining town Tom Price. Launching head first into an uncanny impersonation of mockumentary survival expert Russell Coight, West relays an incident involving an airborne West Oz bus, dutifully named the Pilbara Lady, and a now deceased cow. After a few beers and a seriously entertaining dinner we bundle into the slightly worse for wear Pilbara Lady and set off for our home for the night, the Karijini Eco Retreat camp ground.
If you’re yet to experience the phenomenon of ‘glamping’ (that’s extra comfortable ‘glamour camping’ to the uninitiated), let me put your mind at rest. Sure, I stumble into the open-air en-suite to find some very jumpy frogs in the toilet, but apart from the friendly amphibians (well, okay, and the canvas roof and walls), you’d never know you were in a tent. And so, when heading to the restaurant the following morning to fuel up for our upcoming nine-hour adventure, it’s fair to say I’m feeling more refreshed than I have for months.
I wouldn’t call myself athletic, but I’m not afraid of some hard work and getting a little wet. So it is with equal levels of terror and excitement I sit with our group and listen to the plan for the day’s activities. “The gorges aren’t easy ya know,” starts Pete. “They need respect. They need caution and they need your bloody attention. People do die in there, but if you do what we ask and follow instructions, you’ll be fine. Grandmas can do it.”
Scared? Well yeah, a little.
Simply gorge-ous
With those comforting words we sign our waivers and head over to base camp where Pete’s off-sider, Brenton Boothey, gears us up with wetsuits, harnesses and all the other intimidating gadgets necessary to get lowered over boulders, abseil down cliffs and climb up waterfalls.
It’s not long before we are making our way down Knox Gorge, heading into the Class 6 restricted areas of the Karijini – accessible only to those with the right qualifications. Or gung-ho guides. The first hour is more or less spent in a steep decline, sweating buckets in full-length wetsuits until we come to the start of the fun (read: shit yourself) bits. From here it is a constant wave of cursing from fear, and being rendered mute in awe. Emerging into Red Gorge is an experience hard to describe. With West rattling off all sorts of statistics about the age of the rock (it’s the oldest exposed rock in the world), it’s a struggle to comprehend how privileged we are to be having this king of gems in our backyard. It’s rare that I’m lost for words, but floating into Junction Pool after around 1.5km of paddling I’m momentarily stumped. There is a circle of crystal clear aqua water framing a submerged paper bark tree that’s glowing such an intense level of glittering silver it look’s as if it’s from the set of Stargate. The effect of the pure spring water reflecting off the tree and surrounding rock is so surreal that we’re all speechless.
The moment soon passes, however, and I’m suddenly on my stomach, sliding rapidly back down a rock face having narrowly missed West’s outstretched hand – I’m taunted by his sly earlier remark – “the Karijini, she doesn’t give her beauty up easily”. No shit.
People power
If the near miss of a natural mastectomy wasn’t enough to make that sink in, then the remainder of the trek out of the gorges certainly does. Despite the physical and mental exhaustion (a fear of heights and some fairly acute claustrophobia make the journey very interesting at times), we arrive at the finish line high fiving, joking and a little disappointed the day is over.
It’s not until a couple of hours and a few beers later, when we are sitting with our host, fighting for speaking time and topping each other’s stories, that the day sinks in. Our dinner companion, the region’s tourism bigwig Glen Chidlow, looks chuffed as we rave about his backyard. Indeed, the way we go on about Pete and Brenton you’d be forgiven for thinking they’d put on a guide’s search and rescue pantomime. It’s often the people that make the experience, and this was certainly the case this time around.
The Karijini is beautiful yet dangerous and it’s not until the following day, during a tour of the park (this time from the top, thank God) that Pete gets serious. Flash flooding, extreme conditions and, in Pete’s words, “idiot wizzbangers” – the term he uses for backpackers in vans – can make for a fatal combination. He explains, “We’ve all got a responsibility. Sure we can talk about how beautiful this place is, but we’ve always got to talk about how dangerous she can be.”
Luckily for us, the danger is now over. With our legs enjoying a well-earned rest, we savour a mellow sightseeing tour of wildflowers and Mt Bruce that ends our time in the Karijini and sends us on our way to Port Hedland, just in time to recharge and head to the North West Festival.
Port of cool?
From fields of wildflowers straight into a mining port – the contrast between the Karijini and Port Hedland couldn’t be be more extreme. As we roll into the red town, the scale of the mining industry becomes very clear, very quickly. The scope of the industrialisation, especially in comparison to the purity of the Karijini, is overwhelming to say the least. However, we’ve little time to dwell, as after settling into our digs at the Cooke Point Holiday Park, we’re off to the Port Hedland Yacht Club.
I’m not sure what I’m expecting, but it sure wasn’t what we get. The Yacht Club is packed with young families lapping up the Friday fish and chips special, and the vibe is electric.
After a night cap at the Esplanade Hotel, a saloon-inspired refurbished hotel that as if it belongs in inner-city Sydney, I hit the hay thinking maybe Port Hedland isn’t that bad after all.
Of the things I expected to find in Port Hedland, a gold mine of arts and culture was not on the list. However, when we decide to kill some time before the festival with a visit to the Courthouse Art Gallery, I’m quickly thinking I’ll be eating my words sooner rather than later.
Crowd pleasers
Fast forward a couple of hours and I’m sitting on my own among picnicking festival-goers, soaking up the sun and listening to the crooning sounds of Vance Joy, while wondering where all the mullets, wife-beaters and footy shorts are. The crowd is as diverse as any other, with just about every possible demographic on display.
The Vance crowd starts sparse, but soon the punters are filtering in. Indeed, by the time he and follow-up Abbey May have departed and Blue Juice have taken the stage, the crowd is on its feet and getting into the groove – thanks in part no doubt to Blue Juice frontman Jake Stone spending much of the gig climbing up the stage’s rigs, taking his manager out with a wayward mic and making the more ‘family’ elements of the crowd cringe with frank stories of a lesbian ex.
The energy grows exponentially so that by the time reggae outfit Black Seeds and Aussie icons Grinspoon have done their thing, hip-hop favourite 360 enters the stage to a pulsing sea of amped-up, sunburnt, beaming faces. While I’ll never shy away from hip-hop, to call me a fan would have been a stretch. Yet standing sidestage, physically reeling from the waves of energy rolling off the moshpit, I’m truly converted.
Things mellow as 360 vacates and Bernard Fanning’s crooning takes over. The crowd takes the chance to spread out, fuel up and get a little restless. I get chatting to Emily, a 24-year-old who moved to the area a couple of years ago when her partner joined the mines. Probing her thoughts on Port Hedland I’m, yet again, surprised to learn the Melbourne native gives a glowing report.
Expecting an eye roll and variation of ‘it’s a shit-hole’, Emily is upfront. “I thought I’d hate it here, and I burst into tears when we first arrived. But you have to make the best of it. If you resist the town, all you’ll see is the dust and high-vis. It’s not about that. It’s about the people, they’re incredible. We have an amazing, young community, beautiful beaches and there are always new people around town.” I make a mental note to give my snobby wrists a much-needed slap later.
With a growing appreciation for the town and its people I wander back into the crowd for Paul Kelly’s headlining set. If you’ve never seen Paul Kelly, shame on you. He recoups the energy and takes the festival out with a bang thanks to one hell of a closing acapella.
Leaving the festival with a manic grin, I get to thinking, expectations are a funny thing. I thought we’d find a hidden tribe of bogans in a red sand pit. Instead we got a town full of hidden gems, spectacular beaches, palm trees, art and some of the friendliest locals you could hope to find. Before I’d wondered why anyone would travel so far to experience somewhere so remote and yet still in Australia. Now I just want to keep it for myself.
Details: North West Festival will be back in August 2014 northwestfestival.com.au;
Unpowered sites at Karijini Eco Retreat cost from $35pn karijiniecoretreat.com.au; day Karijini tours with West Oz Active cost from $245 westozactive.com.au; sites at Port Hedland’s Cooke Point Holiday Park cost from $42pn big4.com.au; Day Karijini tours with West Oz Active cost from $245 westozactive.com.au
