Karijini is Australian for "Off the Hook" (Which is a Colloquialism for "Cool")

I'm not sure why our tour guides were so certain that we would need our rest for the second day. It, too, was spent entirely in the bus.

At the end of the day, we ended up in Newman, Western Australia. For those who have never been to Newman, there is good reason to keep it that way. The place is small, isolated, and worst of all, the liquor store doesn't sell cheap boxed wine. (This is the most affordable drink to buy in Australia. It is referred to as "goon.")

We were staying in a caravan park, which was, as caravan parks tend to be, a place not fit for those who appreciate the outdoors. Aside from being inside city limits, polluted by generator noise, and populated by drunk miners, the proprietors of the place made it even worse with their rules. Do this, don't do that, blah, blah, blah. The signs didn't just block out the scenery, they practically propped the place up. While I'll admit this is a complaint I have about most trailer parks, I felt particularly offended to find that it is also the case in the land of no worries.

Aside from ranting about the caravan park, nothing is interesting about Newman. Fortunately, we were up at 6 a.m. to pack and get the hell out of Dodge. We piled onto the bus and pulled out of town, with nary a member of the group regretting that we left. It was to be the first, last, and only place we stayed about which I can say much of anything to the negative.

We drove for a few hours to arrive in Karijini National Park. Without having done the research that a good travel writer would have, I cannot tell you about the history or the heritage of the park. I can't give you its area, the name of its founder, or even an anecdote about some of the strange things that happened there before it was tamed. I will admit that this is a rookie mistake and offer this site as a concession to those who need that kind of information.

The first thing I noticed upon entering Karijini is that it's not immediately obvious why the area should be protected. At some parks, it's obvious miles before you enter that the area possesses scenic value. (See: Tetons, Grand) At other parks, there is at least a hint that you will see something amazing, like the first small fumaroles you notice along the side of the road in Yellowstone. Karijini, on the other hand, looks just like the last 1,000 km you've just driven. There is a small self-pay station and a single road sign, and those are the only indications that you've entered an area that might merit further examination.

Karijini's treasure is hidden below ground level in gorges. Wait, that's not quite right - the gorges are the treasure. We spent most of our time exploring these gorges, and that time was the highlight of the Northwest trip for me. Everything about the gorges is right. They are beautiful. They are nowhere near the city. They are rugged and rusty and ridiculous. Paradoxically, they were an entirely new environment to explore, but they reminded me of my favorite environments in the canyon country.

Best of all, the gorges were unregulated. We got to hike, climb, swim, and lounge in the gorges. Sure, there were a couple warning signs. But that was it. There was no ranger to discourage jumping from the cliffs. No razor wire to discourage climbing the cliffs. No waivers, no regulations, no queues, no restricted areas. Just a giant playground for big kids.

The gorges have red walls - a result of their high iron content. The iron also makes the rocks very hard - something you need discover only once. There are plants of many types. Near the top, it is typical dry vegetation and brush. Especially predominant is spinnifex, a brittle, sharp grass that made me itch insanely every time it stabbed me. I quickly took to calling it "asshole grass." Going from the rim into the gorge transported you from the desert ecosystem into another entirely. It is a world like Christmas - red (rock) and green (plants). Trees, ferns, and all score of other green things grow inside the gorges.

This change is the result of the presence of water. Each of the gorges we went down had running water at the bottom. Sometimes it was only a trickle, other times, wide and deep enough that those inclined could swim instead of hike. The best water features, however, were the pools. Because it was near 90^o, jumping in for a swim after hiking to the pool was the greatest form of reward for our efforts.

This place ruined swimming pools for me. Forget concrete - give me red rock. Forget indoors - give me overhangs. Forget the crowded puddles of suburbia - give me the pools of Karijini.

Give me Kermit Pool, hidden deep in Hancock Gorge. Instead of paying someone and passing through a locker room, we hiked through the Spider Walk, a part of the gorge so narrow one can spread-eagle and walk along both walls.

Give me the pool at the base of Fortescue Falls. Looking around here was as refreshing as swimming. On two sides, we had giant red walls. If we looked down the gorge, we could see vegetation and plant life growing as the gorge stretched on, inviting us to explore. If we looked up the gorge, we were looking right up the waterfall. We weren't in Kansas anymore.

Give me Fern Pool. Upstream from the waterfall, buried in a jungle completely out of place in the Outback, this pool was the best. It was surrounded on all sides by lush vegetation (lots of ferns, not surprisingly). An overhang about twice my height was at one end of the pool. I sat under it and let the water tumbling off massage my back.

After days full of hiking and swimming, it was back to camp. I will always remember this time as the source of one of the best moments I've had in Australia:

I was standing with a warm Emu Export in my left hand, manning the barbee with my right hand. I was covered in red dust and tired to the bone. A night under the stars awaited me after a dinner of sausages and lamb. Everything about the moment was right. The beer had to be warm, and I had to be dirty. We were, after all, in the wilderness. The grill had to be hot, and I had to be behind it. I am, after all, a bloke. I had worked hard in so many ways, and now I was getting my reward in a million senses. I would describe the way I felt as deeply content, but I was much too excited to be simply content. I was thrilled, vindicated, and just plain happy. It was joy, pure ecstasy.

It was why I came to Australia.