Day 7 and 8 - Logue Brook Dam to Nglang Boodju Campsite

Was he really smiling?

Along the trail we have been graced with frequent sightings of wallabies and kangaroos, though I have doubts that we shall ever see a koala. Day 7, as we cycling along the southern end of Lake Brockman enjoying the dawn light through the tall trees, an emu at top speed flashes onto our path, bewildered by our presence it darts hither-thither before thrashing its way back into the bush, disappearing from sight. The stunned look on my once-was-pommie travel companion says it all.

Just north of Stirling Dam, with another frustrating detour under our belt, we stop for a coffee beside the river at Five Mile Bridge and unanimously vote to make our own path though the pine forest to Stirling Dam. Three hours later after crossing rivers, carrying bikes and trailer over logs and undergrowth, a bodgie salvage of my derailleur and several terse discussions over the map, we get our first clear sightings of the dam; grey gums stand eerily neglected in the piercingly blue still water.

At the end of the day, exhausted, we urge each other up the steep incline of Lancaster Road into Yarri Campsite. We set up camp, bathe in the river, laze together in the hammock reading,

Under the belief that the trail leads us to Collie, described in the guidebook as a large, service town, we consume the last of our supplies and then consult the map to plan the following day. Shocked realisation hits us both simultaneously. Collie is a superfluous spur in the trail! If we had supplies for 2 days we could by-pass it all together. We stick to our excuse. We are now on map 4 a new addition to the trail maps that we purchased on arrival in Perth this trip.

The Last Supper

A fitful night on leaves, we decide to wing it and by-pass Collie. With only one ration of muesli remaining, in penance I skip breakfast. As the days roll on the Munda Biddi certainly lives up to its meaning in local aboriginal, Nyoongar, Language, ‘path through the forest’. The tall Kaori trees are particularly breathtaking this morning. Just when it seems like this beautiful journey will go on forever; the trail joins a tarmac road which winds its way like a shiny black snake into the distance. To the amusement of my travel companion, I stand in the middle of the road and flag down a ute towing a speed boat. A bit of charm and moments later I have procured bread and mushroom pie from the male driver. As our Good Samaritan suggests, we ride on to the nearby mine canteen for more supplies only to be stopped by the serious young security guard who, after a little coaxing, proffers tea bags, packet soup, jam and milk.

Armed with supplies we check the map and decide to head to the next campsite, Nglang Boodja 40 km away. The track descends into Honeymoon Pools through a series of switch backs and excellent single track.  Arguably the most exhilarating and technical section of the trail which my experience mountain biking companion skilfully drives the ibex bob trailer down gleefully at frighteningly high speed.

Hitting the main road heading towards Honeymoon Pools, there is foreboding in the number of 4WD vehicles thundering past us. Sunday and it’s packed with families enjoying the exceptional, almost sterile, facilities. We find a relatively uncrowded spot, savour the mushroom pie and like lizards plunge into the chilly waters and then reheat on the rocks surrounding the pools.

Slightly reinvigorated we head up the bank to the spot where we half considered camping. It’s been taken over by a burley truckie and his smiley, soccer mum companion. We hit up a conversation, show them our maps and find that Al, who loves a bush bash is surprisingly knowledgeable about the tracks and trails around these parts. We explain where we’d like to head to, essentially another 10 kilometres of steep uphill climb. He looks at our exhausted faces and exclaims, “Chuck the bikes in the back of the ute and I’ll drive you up. I want ta check that out anyways.”

I’ve secretly made it my mission to scalper a couple of beers from someone, anyone at this campsite. I spy a slab of beer in the back of the ute, as he reaches for his third, take up courage and land two coldies. Not to be outdone, his partner decants port into our water bottle and supplies us with food for dinner. Jackpot!

We exchange guilty looks as we unload the bikes and head to Nglang Boodju campsite. Three tiered with the tent sites set high over the river valley below, after the day’s events it’s difficult to tell if it’s the solitude or the location that we fall in love with.