South Branch: In a Gammon Gorge
Walked May 2024, Posted Sunday 17th November 2024
Last night the breeze died off after sunset, just like the other nights. And it was another eerily silent night, with nothing more than the occasional clatter of falling rocks. By morning there was condensation in the tent again. I was now certain that condensation was caused by damp air from outside rather than our breath.
We were up with the sunrise for our breakfast. It was a cold morning. A couple of billy goats watched us from the valley wall above our camp, their flocks further back.
The plan for today was a morning side trip up towards The Terraces. In the afternoon I wanted to move our camp downstream a couple of hours to shorten our out day tomorrow, since that was going to be a long day. Apart from the greatest distance to be walked, we’d also be driving to Port Augusta. Anything we could do to shorten it was worthwhile.
We made an early start while it was still chilly, using my pack as a daypack. As soon as we left the junction the creek narrowed and the orange walls closed in. We were mostly in the shade, while the upper walls glowed where they caught the morning sun. The floor of the gorge was covered in pale rocks, which were easy to walk on, even if progress wasn’t fast. I was feeling very at home walking in these rocky gorges.
Starting our walk up to The Terraces.
The gorge scenery was fantastic.
As we’d seen in the other deep gorges, the trees and other plants here seemed fresher and healthier than in the surrounding country. A few times I smelled a very pungent minty aroma, but couldn’t figure out where it was coming from.
We hadn’t got far when we found a lone black goat browsing the plants in the gorge. When it took fright it clambered up the wall of the gorge and peered timidly over the edge to spy on us.
Someone is watching us…
The gorge provided continually changing scenery as we progressed, with one delight after another. The walls varied from tall and straight to low and crumbly, and were frequently undercut on the turns. In a few places steep chutes cut into the walls, with the black stains on them showing they’d be waterfalls in rainy weather. While much of the floor was small rocks, there were big chunks of ripple rock and plenty of boulders. On one large boulder I saw a yellow-footed rock wallaby (the first of three for the morning), seemingly acting as a sentry.
A typical section of the gorge: narrow with high walls.
Further along I heard a crashing noise ahead — somewhat perturbing given we were used to being alone out here. A few moments later a grey kangaroo emerged from the vegetation, and bounded further up the gorge. This happened a couple more times, with our presence unintentionally herding the unfortunate creature up the gorge. Eventually it decided it’d had enough, and made a wild dash past us to head back towards where we’d first seen it (the walls were lower back there, and it could get out of the gorge).
The kangaroo makes a desperate dash past us.
One of the features of this gorge is The Bathtub. When we reached it I was surprised by how big it was, despite already having an idea of what we’d find. The gorge narrowed considerably and the floor dropped down to form a gigantic trough. The walls were weathered into strange shapes and coloured black, white, and orange.
The dry conditions were in our favour today, as there was no more than a tablespoon of water at the very bottom of The Bathtub. If it’d been full of water we’d have been stuck. But even dry, getting out at the far end was harder than expected due to the steepness and large boulders, especially for LS who lacked my height.
The Bathtub was a highlight of the day.
The colourful, weathered wall of The Bathtub.
Perhaps there is a peculiarity in the rock around this location, as beyond The Bathtub there were several more deep holes in the creek bed, though none of them blocked the entire gorge like the original. In this section we also had lots of huge boulders that were piled up and choked the gorge, more than anywhere else we’d seen.
With The Bathtub providing a solid fix of our location, I was confident I’d found the entry to Fern Chasm a short way along. I decided to head in as far as the first obstacle (reputedly difficult to pass) for a quick look. However, we walked in further than I expected without finding it. This was costing us time we didn’t have to spare, so I decided to cut short the side trip and we returned to the main gorge.
LS climbing through some boulders just past The Bathtub.
The main gorge near where Fern Chasm branches off.
Continuing on we came across a small waterfall, which was easily climbed, then another taller one on a right-angle turn. After figuring out the best way up, this was straightforward to climb with ledges all the way, though it looked impressive from ground level. At the top we found a long terrace.
Climbing the first waterfall after the Fern Chasm side trip.
LS climbing the second waterfall.
We explored a short way further. The gorge became quite narrow and rough within its high walls. But we’d already passed what I’d picked as our turn-around time, so we turned back and chose a pleasant spot on one of the terraces for our morning tea.
Above the waterfall was a long terrace.
A tighter section of the gorge.
At this point the gorge appeared to have cut straight through a hill, with the wall opposite tracing the profile of its peak. The sheer cliff was peppered with grass trees that had miraculously found a foothold on the vertical rock.
LS admiring the view where we had our morning tea.
The gorge appears to have cut straight through a hill.
The sky was dulled by high cloud. I recalled the mares tails I’d seen yesterday, and wondered again about the weather. While I didn’t expect there was much chance of rain in the short term, it did bring to mind what a gorge like this would be like if it did rain: it could be a scary place, and with limited opportunity to escape.
We began the return journey to our camp, once again enjoying the breathtaking scenery. With the sun higher in the sky, the lighting within the gorge had changed, and it gave a different feel to everything. We stopped a few times for selfies — it’s always nice to justify carrying my tripod by making use of it.
Returning to camp through an unusually bouldery section of the gorge.
Petrified ripplemarks from over 600 million years ago are fairly common in the Flinders Ranges1.
The brighter light brought out the colours of the gorge. Some of the rocks that had seemed white before were revealed as delicate shades of pinks and yellows. We found a patch of orange fungi, the first we’d seen in the Gammons. And the sun had encouraged a couple of varieties of purple flowers to open.
Orange bracket fungi. This was the only variety of fungi we found, and very rarely.
Rock nightshade (Solanum petrophilum) is well protected by spines.
This side trip had given us the best walking of our trip. The gorge scenery had been varied and spectacular, with outstanding highlights like The Bathtub. We’d seen more flora and fauna here than anywhere else. And it’s always pleasant to have less weight on your back! Overall I felt well compensated for having missed Cleft Peak.
Heading downstream back to camp.
The trees glowed in the sunshine, in contrast to our morning in the shade.
We reached camp at lunchtime. The wasabi was again the star of our lunch, and it’s certain to be a fixture from now on. While we were eating, a tiny yellow butterfly2 fluttered unexpectedly through our camp.
We got our campsite packed up, then set off downstream along South Branch Italowie Creek. Initially the going was slow and difficult. The creek bed at this point contained a lot of large rocks, which were more awkward for walking than the smaller rocks we’d had this morning. The warmth of early afternoon didn’t help.
A channel of the creek, which was wide and braided.
The gorge had become much wider, but still retained the high walls.
Where possible I headed for the little sandy islands mid-stream, or to the banks. The trees here had been colonized by the same huge spiders we’d found a couple of days ago, so it paid to watch for them to avoid being caught in their gigantic webs.
A Golden Orb Weaving Spider (Nephila edulis) in her web.
I’d expected the walls to decrease in height as the gorge slowly ran out towards the plains, but I was wrong. While the gorge did get much wider, the orange walls continued to tower above us. And they were very orange down here — much more than we’d seen upstream. We found a few small caves in the walls, which had the same odd blocky appearance I’d seen back at Bunyip Chasm.
LS in the gorge: the scenery was very different to this morning’s walk.
One of the small caves. Inside the cave the sandstone is white, but where exposed to the elements it’s orange.
Navigation in the gorge was harder than I’d expected. Although following the main channel was easy, working out how far we’d come was the difficulty. The twisting course of the creek made it hard to keep track of which direction we were facing. When side creeks came in it wasn’t always obvious whether they were ones that featured on the map, or were just a minor side gully. But one thing they shared was that they were universally a pain to cross where their channel met the main stream.
I was aiming roughly for where Junction Creek joined in. I was confident I’d picked it when I saw a large creek enter from our right and our heading matched the map. I started looking for a good campsite. We passed a huge old red gum, grey and dead, standing alone like a sentinel. Beyond it we found some good flat ground on what would have been an island if the creek was running, and decided to stop.
The sentinel tree.
A family of a dozen or so goats were browsing the vegetation. I tried clapping my hands to mimic a gunshot, wondering if they’d be gun-shy after the recent culling3, but they took no notice. There was the same lack of reaction when I yelled at them. It wasn’t until they saw us that they took fright and scattered.
We’d travelled about an hour and a half downstream. Although we could have pushed on a bit further, I was satisfied. We chose a spot near one of the channels with huge orange cliffs on the other side — the southwestern slopes of Cleft Peak as it happened. We pitched the inner of the tent, again using rocks to hold it instead of pegs. And again we built porches, this time with flat stones from the creek bed. I wondered what subsequent adventurers would make of our abandoned porches.
Our campsite below the orange cliffs. There’s a deep channel of the creek between us and the cliffs.
I had a pleasant snooze, enjoying the silence of our isolated camp. While I was cooking dinner, several big groups of ringneck parrots flew past chittering noisily. I kept a close eye on the cliffs across the creek for rock wallabies since it looked like ideal terrain for them, but didn’t see anything.
A small plane flew over, coming from the south, and it doubled back shortly afterwards. It was a curious event, but one we couldn’t explain — not at the time, anyway4.
Darkness fell quickly in the gorge. I sat up for a while, writing my notes for the day’s adventure. Once again I heard bats squeaking. Far above I saw the lights of a passing jet, but it was too high to disturb the silence. I wouldn’t have traded places with the occupants for anything.
Part of this morning's side trip: heading upstream shortly before reaching The Bathtub.
Continue to Part 5: Worturpa Pound
Footnotes
- Bonython, C. Warren (1974). Walking the Flinders Ranges. Rigby. p 140. ISBN 0851792863. ↩
- Small Grass Yellow (Eurema smilax). ↩
- The park had been closed for the week immediately prior to our walk for feral animal control, during which 300 goats had been shot. ↩
- During our walk a couple in a car towing a caravan had vanished for three days before being found after taking a wrong turn and getting stuck. With hindsight I wonder whether the plane may have been part of the search. ↩
