it had to happen. you obviously can’t travel the gibb and expect to get away scot free. you might get lucky, but don’t expect to. we very nearly did, though, but not quite.
i can’t say we weren’t warned: the people we shared a camp fire with last night told us they had a flat tyre just a few kilometres from ellenbrae and so had six other people who pulled into the camp, all coming from the direction we were heading. we were hoping that this would be a sufficiently significant sacrifice to whatever gods cursed that particular stretch of the gibb, especially since it was going to be the last ‘real’ gibb day; in the evening we’d pull into home valley and we would be able to almost smell the black top from there (apart from the ‘small’ matter of crossing the Pentecost river of course – out of the way crocs).
however, some people we met had also told us that the first part coming from kununurra was the worst: corrugations big enough to swallow a car and van, slowing down to walking pace etc. things tend to get bigger and scarier around the camp fire.
tyre pressure on any stretch of outback highway is a black art. recipes are shared in a hushed tone of voice, usually with lengthy explanations about road, air and tyre temperatures, surface materials, references to geology and sometimes astrology and admiring or deriding comments about car makes and suspension design. it’s even worse on the gibb, where you find yourself treading a fine line between too hard (having the fillings shaken out of your teeth) and too soft (living in constant fear of that nasty pointy rock hiding between the other more innocent boulders on what passes for a road here, just waiting to dig it’s little heels in and pierce an unwary bulging sidewall).
which is exactly what happened. not even 10 kilometers from ellenbrae, in exactly the spot that ate 7 tyres the day before. it’s probably not entirely coincidental that ellenbrae station also offers tyre service.
we carry three jacks: an inflatable one, a bottle jack and the original one that land rover buried so deep in the belly of the car that you need a map, a flashlight and probably a sword and a wand to get to. then you start jacking the car up and it is amazing to see how far those long springs that provide unparalleled comfort on these outback roads can stretch when you want to get a flat tyre off the ground. in the end a german backpacker girl heading from her job on the station to town (kununurra seems to be what passes for a town round here) helped us out with another bottle jack so we could first lift the chassis rails and then compress the rear wishbone just enough. we still had to deflate the spare tyre to get it in.
learning from the experience we immediately re-inflated the tyres to almost highway pressure, effectively choosing tyre life over comfort. As ist turned out we were in luck: that mythical gibb river road grader that some don’t really believe in must have been out there grading it’s heart out, because most of the road into home valley was smoother than as northern beaches thoroughfare after the winter rains (which is of course the real reason why so many people on the northern beaches drive these massive four by fours).
so here is the ‘damage’ from the gibb: one staked tyre (that one must be classified as fubar and will have to be replaced), one slightly dented rim (still serviceable and probably also repairable), one broken off arm on the grey water hose ball vale (five bucks at bunnings). oh and inside the van one little screw unscrewed itself – a 10 second job to put it back in its place.
were we lucky? or not? who knows, but we still feel the gibb was a great adventure and amazing way to experience the kimberley.