Rover Rockhole: In a Gammon Gorge
Walked May 2024, Posted Sunday 17th November 2024
Last night I was awake for a long time thinking through the options for today. Rover Rockhole was my only hope of finding water out here. On average it’s more likely to have water than Bunyip Chasm1, but with the country so dry, and so long since any rain, I wasn’t sure that applied.
I added up how much water we had left, and how much we needed. If I failed at Rover then we would have to immediately start heading down South Branch Italowie Creek towards the car. There would be just enough water for another dry camp and getting to the car, but we might be thirsty by the end. Even having the luxury of this option was the payoff for carrying such a heavy load of water from Bunyip. Without that we’d be in dire straits if we needed to abort the walk.
There was also the matter of a side trip to Cleft Peak. Along with Bunyip Chasm, Cleft Peak was one of my major aims for this walk. I’d planned to squeeze in a visit to the peak on the coming day’s walk, but our progress over the past couple of days had been much slower than I’d anticipated. Cleft Peak would take maybe two hours or more. No matter how I looked at it, I just couldn’t get it to fit given the uncertainty about water. With great reluctance I decided that Cleft Peak would need to wait for another time.
The night was colder than at Bunyip, though I slept well enough. When I got up during the night I disturbed some nearby animals, roos most likely. I didn’t see them, but I could hear the thumping of their footfalls in the otherwise silent night.
By morning we had condensation inside the tent. Some of the walls of the tent were quite wet, and this had transferred to the sleeping bags. I assumed it was condensation from our breathing that was the problem, but after another night like this I changed my mind.
We were up with the sunrise, eating our breakfast and boiling up water for tea. A couple of young kangaroos hopped slowly past down near the creek while we ate. I wondered how they could survive in such a harsh environment. A few brilliant green ringneck parrots flew over, squeaking excitedly.
A couple hours after sunrise we’d finished packing up and had made a start on the day’s walking. We crossed over the dry bed of the main creek and headed up into Wildflower Creek. Both creeks ran in multiple channels near their junction, and I double-checked to make sure I was following the right one.
The wide bed of Wildflower Creek near where it joins North Branch Italowie Creek.
Making a start up Wildflower Creek.
We walked on the banks or the raised ground between the channels where we could, wandering amongst the pines and red gums. Where the banks were too thick with vegetation we walked in the creek bed instead. I wondered what the creek would look like when the flowers (dry and dead now) were blooming. The display must have made an impression on someone to have earned its name.
We made the most of the cool morning and the shade. The creek was bordered by low hills, so it wouldn’t be long before we’d be in full sun. When we’d been walking for about an hour we found a pleasant spot with somewhere to sit and had our morning tea.
Wildflower Creek was mostly rocky and open.
A grass tree masquerading as a pineapple.
The creek narrowed and steepened as we walked upstream, and was sometimes so constricted that we had to leave it to bypass a tight section. Small rocky waterfalls began to appear. At times there were vague tracks to follow, but they were most likely just animal pads since they tended to wander off all over the place.
LS bypassing a constricted section of the creek.
One of the small waterfalls.
Beside us the orange valley walls rose higher. To our left was Cleft Peak. One of the side creeks must have been Cleft Creek, though it was hard to be sure which one — keeping track of all the twists of the valley and various side gullies was hard.
The main navigation today was to locate where to leave the creek and strike up to the right to reach Wildflower Saddle. It was getting close, so I paid attention. During another rest break — the sun was very warm despite a little high cloud — I scouted ahead without my pack, and decided to go a little further before climbing out. When we left the creek it became apparent we’d been reaching its end anyway: ahead the valley was cut off by the ridge that ran from Wildflower Saddle across to Cleft Peak.
Climbing up to Wildflower Saddle, with the Wildflower Creek valley behind.
As we climbed it became progressively harder. It wasn’t just the steepness: the dry earth was so loose that it was difficult to find purchase on it, so we slipped back a bit with every step forward.
Upon reaching the saddle my first impression was that I was standing on the edge of the world. The drop down the other side was so precipitous that I wondered how we’d be able to get down. We were definitely due for a proper break, so we took our boots off to cool our feet while we had tea and a snack.
Taking a break at Wildflower Saddle, with a steep drop down into the next gorge.
Up here where it was more exposed most of the pines were dead. The grass trees were thriving, however, providing a splash of green against the orange earth. We could see right to the base of the gorge below us, the valley floor grey-green from the leaves of red gums and pines. On the far side rose the slopes of Centre Hill, the earth and rock both orange under a haze of grey vegetation. Rover Rockhole was just over half a kilometre upstream. It seemed an unlikely place to find water.
While we rested I looked again at the steep drop down into the gorge, and found a route along the base of the rock face to the right. We descended carefully on the loose dirt and rock given our heavy packs, slithering to the bottom a bit dusty but otherwise fine. Down in the gorge we found a few campsites. While they were too sandy to make for pleasant camping, they were fine for a lunch break.
LS on the steep descent from Wildflower Saddle.
Following the base of the rock face down ito the gorge.
We found a convenient rock to sit on while we ate. We had our usual wraps, cherry tomatoes, baby cucumbers, and marinated olives. Today there was a new addition: wasabi. It was amazing! Though it took some semi-painful experimentation to find the right amount to spread on our wraps. While we were eating, a rock dislodged itself from the gorge wall nearby and clattered to the ground. It could have fallen by itself, but it seemed more likely that something dislodged it.
It was time to visit Rover Rockhole and learn our fate. I filled a light backpack with the empty water containers, and we set off up the gorge. The anticipation of hopefully finding the first water in two days was building up.
Setting off to Rover Rockhole.
LS on a terrace nearing Rover Rockhole.
We hadn’t got far when LS called out from behind me: I’d walked straight past a yellow-footed rock wallaby! It had fled as soon as I’d passed, which is when she saw it. I dare say we’d found the explanation for the falling rock during lunch.
The gorge was beautiful, the best we’d seen: narrow with high walls, boulders scattered everywhere, and lots of ripple rock. Past a long terrace2 the gorge got rougher, then we reached a small amphitheatre. Ahead I could see a waterfall, stained where water had run in the past. The waterfall didn’t look too high, but as we got closer that proved to be only the lower part. The top, where Rover Rockhole was located, was about twice as high.
A rougher section of the gorge not far below Rover Rockhole.
Rover Rockhole is at the top of the two-level waterfall.
At the base of the waterfall was a large, dry hollow. In wetter times it can contain water, but given the current conditions I hadn’t expected it today. I still felt a twinge of disappointment though.
My spirits were soon lifted when I noticed the excited chittering of birds somewhere over the top of the waterfall above. Presumably they were congregating up there to drink, so it appeared water was available… I just needed to reach it.
I started climbing to the left of the waterfall. The stone had been worn very smooth by the flow of water over countless years. I made some progress, but the worst of it was still above me. While I knew this route could be climbed, the risk was too much for me.
Contemplating the climb directly up the waterfall to the rockhole.
The rest of the walk hinged on this moment, and I felt the weight of it. If I got water our walk would continue, but if I failed we would be heading out towards the car this afternoon.
We walked a short way back downstream, looking for an alternative place to climb the cliff. There was a small gap on the righthand side, so I started climbing up. It wasn’t overly difficult, but I took my time to ensure I had solid handholds and footholds as some of the rock was loose. My thoughts strayed to what it would be like getting down again: I usually go a lot better ascending than descending. However, that was a problem for the future.
I found an easier place to climb to the clifftop.
I reached the top safely, and stacked a few rocks to mark the place for my descent later. I headed along the clifftop towards the rockhole. The rockhole itself was nestled into the top of the waterfall, while above it was a pool at the end of a terrace.
As I neared it I could see a huge wedged-tailed eagle drinking from the upper pool. Though its back was towards me, it noticed me immediately. It lumbered up the gorge looking very ungainly, then took flight and soared away. Being so close to the bird it seemed massive. What a special moment!
Clifftop view of Rover Rockhole: the rockhole itself is bottom right, while the pool where the birds were drinking is upper left.
From the clifftop there was a scramble down to the rockhole. There was plenty of water there, cool and dark, contained in the narrow trough worn into the rock. There was also the remains of a dead goat at the edge of the pool, which moderated my excitement.
I attracted LS’s attention and explained the situation to her. It looked a long way down to where she was from up here. LS had been looking around the amphitheatre and had found a logbook on top of a boulder… and had also come across the skull of a goat.
Rover Rockhole… with the remains of a goat at the bottom of frame.
Standing at the edge of Rover Rockhole.
I climbed the smooth, slippery rock behind the rockhole, and reached the terrace above. The pool where the birds had been drinking was up here, just back from the edge of a waterfall. The water was dark with concentrated tannins, but reasonably clear. Beautiful zebra finches and grey-fronted honeyeaters (more yellow than grey) were lined up around the pool drinking.
It was a choice between the bird water or the goat water. Figuring that whatever was in the bird water had also washed down to the goat water, I chose the upper pool.
Looking over the edge of the waterfall to the gorge below.
Since the water quality was very suspect, I filtered the water as I collected it. The filter immediately slowed to the tiniest trickle, far worse than at Bunyip Chasm. I persevered for a while, but when I estimated how long it would take to fill all the containers it came out to hours, even if it didn’t get any worse. It just wasn’t feasible.
By good fortune I’d added water purification tablets to my gear at the last minute as a fallback in case of problems with the filter. They were the best option now, and for added safety I could also boil the water. It was a relief to stop struggling with the filter, and I finished filling the containers in a few minutes.
With a full load of water it was time to go. I slid down to the rockhole, then climbed back up to the clifftop. I located my mini-cairn and started on the descent. It wasn’t as hard as I’d expected, though the bulky and heavy load of water caused some trouble. In the end I lowered my pack down on a rope to make the climbing easier. I was elated to have secured water and locked in the rest of our walk.
Returning to our packs from Rover Rockhole.
We walked back down the gorge, once again enjoying the marvellous scenery. When we reached our packs we loaded them with our precious water, then continued downstream in search of a campsite. After half a kilometre we arrived at the junction with the creek that runs down from The Terraces3. Spread out in the delta between the creeks were many possibilities for camping. Most were sandy and dusty, but we found one that was on good firm ground, with nearby rocks for seats and our kitchen.
Heading downstream in search of a campsite. Already the short autumn daylight had the gorge in shadow.
We got the tent inner set up, then put up a clothesline to dry the sleeping bags, which were still damp after last night. We built porches outside our tent doors again, having a friendly competition to build the biggest and fanciest.
There was time for a short rest before I needed to start cooking. It was a great feeling to know the rest of the walk would now continue as planned. I still felt disappointed at missing Cleft Peak, but it was the right decision in the circumstances, even with hindsight.
The sky was filled with mares tails. Back home this would mean rain on the way in a day or two, but out here I didn’t know what to make of them. Before we’d left, the weather forecast was zero chance of rain for the whole of our walk. Had things changed? I didn’t fancy the idea of being in these gorges if any substantial rain turned up.
Our campsite at the junction of two creeks.
I used the newly-collected water for dinner, reserving the better water for drinking. By luck tonight’s main meal was pasta, which meant the water got a thorough boiling while it cooked. We made our plans for tomorrow while we ate. If LS had wanted a rest day I’d have gone back to do Cleft Peak. But she was happy to do a side trip, so instead we chose to visit The Terraces.
It turned chilly at sunset, with a breeze blowing down the gorge. Darkness once again arrived swiftly.
Continue to Part 4: South Branch
Footnotes
- Rover Rockhole is rated as one of the most reliable water sources in the Gammons, with about a 90% chance of water. For comparison, Bunyip Chasm is rated at about 75%. See: Heard, Adrian (1990). A Walking Guide to the Northern Flinders Ranges. State Publishing. p 22. ISBN 0724365745. ↩
- In this context a terrace is where the floor of a gorge is a long slab of flat rock, and is reasonably common throughout the Flinders Ranges. ↩
- The naming of the creeks around here is not clear on any map I’ve seen. Below the junction it’s the South Branch Italowie Creek. Neither the fork we walked down from Rover Rockhole or the other fork, which leads to The Terraces, seem to have specific names. ↩
