Our heads bumped the roof as the troupie fled down the desert highway, orange dirt blurring the view from the back window. Speed limits don’t exist on the barren desert highway, only the rare Boab tree and a bush mountain horizon.
“We’re heading to El Questro, Emma Gorge!” said our tour guide, a local Kununurra charity worker-turned-nature-expert-for-the-day. She described the canyon as a once-flourishing seabed, with the shore hundreds of metres above us.
“See those ridges up there, that was the edge of the water back in prehistoric days. If you have a look, you’re bound to find some crystals hidden in the stones. Agate, amethyst, you name it – it’s bound to be there.”
Specs of greenery dotted the old sea floor, a sign of the once fertile soil, now dried up and dusty.
As we sped through the valley, the mountains came closer, the red dirt giants and ragged cliffs stood tall against the cloudless blue sky. A windy path led us to the resort; a humble yet jarring contrast to the barren desert only 100 metres away. Lush green patches, sprinklers at every corner and a gourmet restaurant. However we weren’t here for the relaxation. We unstuck ourselves from the troupie, the hot leather seats clinging to our skin. One by one, like an army, the group jumped out, ready for the hike ahead.
“Sunscreen?” Check.
“Water bottle?” Check.
“Hat?” Check.
We were ready to roll. Our shoes crunched as we began the 45 minute hike through the gorge to the centre. Impressive rock formations surrounded the excavated walking path, some nearly as tall as the gorge itself. Spinifex bushes nestled around quaint streams, a foreshadowing of the surprise at the end of the hike. The sand path came to an end and we began climbing through the dense rock structures. Stepping stones led us over now gushing brooks and small waterfalls. The trees had begun to provide shade, and the air felt fresher: the centre was near.
Like a vision, the centre of the gorge appeared in front of us. The towering walls of the gorge almost met with perfect symmetry, the sunlight spilling from in between. A glistening waterfall trickled down the left side of the gorge, the speckles of water glowing like sprites in the midday sun.
The perfect sky gave the natural pool a brilliant shade of blue. Fresh water sunk to untouchable depths, yet the clarity of the water acted like a window to the bottom. Children played and jumped off a submerged rock in the centre like mermaids while the others scaled the face of the wall, looking for a place to jump.
The pool was like a mirage as it beckoned us, drawing us in for sweet relief from the heat. Clothes were shed and we leaped into the water, the cool sensation was worth the blistering trek we had just endured. We floundered in the water like children, jumping off ledges and taking gulps of the purest water in El Questro.
Our guide tipped us off to the hot springs to the right of the gorge; the temperature rose as we swam closer. The secluded area acted as a spa as the heat from the strong desert sun travelled through the rocks and into the water. Droplets decorated the caves below the wall, tiny showers for children and adults alike to play in.
It felt like I could spend an eternity at the gorge. It was like a fairytale story brought to life, where Peter Pan and his mermaids could live forever and time could stand still just for a little while.
I’ll always remember Emma Gorge as the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen, a prestigious title considering the foreign countries I’ve visited and my home on the Gold Coast. But the award is not given lightly: I guess you have to see it to believe it.
