Home Valley Station

The Uys Huis looking wonderous after another Pentecost River crossing,
the Cockburn Ranges in the back ground.

After the commercialism by El Questro of the natural attractions of the Gibb River Road, we were keen to get away from the crowds and experience some much quieter Kimberley camping. I didn't hold much hope for that at our next stop, Home Valley Station, which had the dubious selling point of having a pool and playground; not really what we were looking for in our foray into wild Western Australia. But onward we drove, through spectacular scenery as the Cockburn Ranges imposed themselves on the landscape.

The not so mighty Pentecost River.
It had been quiet a 'dry' Wet Season, and all the creeks and rivers were pretty low.

We crossed the 'hazardous' Pentecost River (though after daily crossings getting in and out of camp at El Questro, it really seemed pretty tame, just long) and turned into Home Valley,  which on first impressions did have a more authentically 'station' feel to it than our last campground. We decided to check out the unpowered riverside camp area, 4kms from the decidely busy looking main camp. What an excellent decision.

Crap photo of a crocodile on the opposite bank.

Not only was it much quieter, but the amazing views of the Cockburn Ranges, the now definitely mighty Pentecost River and crocodiles sunning themselves on the opposite bank were stunning. Fiela, salivating at the idea of fish for dinner couldn't contain himself past the camper being set up and was off, fishing in the croc infested waters, knee deep in mud and adrenaline.

The Pentecost River and Cockburn Ranges.

We spent our days gazing at the view, Fiela fished, the kids played (with the Doves and instant friends for all the kids turning up), I read a bit and we generally just decompressed from I don't even know what. There was talk of going up to the main camp for a meal and beer at the bar which actually looked really cool; the interior decorators had got it right which is hard to do with a big shed and horse riding paraphernalia. But we were too lazy to leave the delights of the riverside camp.

More river action.

Fiela took Max and Wilkie,  the older Dove children fishing, much to the anxiety of Lizzie and Mike, nervously watching their kids walk around mud flats with dead bait as crocodiles patrolled the river. I realised how blasé I've become in regards to my husband's at times reckless fishing habits, and became a little concerned for the boys' safety myself. Anyway, since you haven't seen us on some dubious current affairs program as an example of outrageous lack of duty of care, you can assume correctly that the fishing went off without incident or even lack of life (even in regards to the fish, with a catfish being the only thing silly enough to get hooked on their lines).

Fireside star and range gazing.

Lots of oohing and aahing occurred with every sunset and showers were had looking up at the Southern Cross. Suddenly we'd spent three nights at Home Valley Station and it was time to move on to more GRR Goodness.

Our sunset view of the Cockburn Ranges.

The Uys Huis, including Puppy Dog,

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