Many of the places in Kakadu, as in most of northern Australia, have both an Aboriginal name and a western name.  This is not uncommon as the two worlds continually adjust their relationship and naming rights become a key issue.  For instance, Ayers Rock is now Uluru, Katherine Gorge is now Nitmiluk and the Bungle Bungles are now Purnululu.  In Kakadu most places have two names and this causes a moment of pause at times to follow the signs and read up on the places.  One destination we knew we had to go to is called Jarrangbarnmi, otherwise known as Koolpin Gorge. And it turned out to be the highlight of our trip so far.

But Koolpin Gorge does not come easily.  We had heard it was the jewel in the Kakadu crown but you need a special permit to get there and such permits require signatures on pieces of paper with witnesses and the like.  Not easy when you’re living in a roof top tent.  Our first application failed due to the lack of signatures and a long weekend in the Territory.  Our second attempt was supported by staff at the Cooinda Lodge who helped us print out and witness our documents.

With the passage of a couple days and the paperwork finally out of the way we backtracked 100 klm down the road, took possession of the magic key to let us in the secret gate, and then drove the nine klm down a rough track to the empty campsite in the shadow of a rocky ridge.  And our joyous arrival was greeted by millions of very aggressive flies. Oh joy.

The few photos we had seen and paragraphs we had read of Koolpin told the story of rare flora and fauna and beautiful pools of water connected through a narrow gorge by waterfalls during the wet season.  Swimming in the various plunge pools we had been to along the way had become a key theme of our trip and we were determined to see Koolpin for itself.  And what a magical place it turned out to be.

The afternoon we arrived we followed the pools up the gorge as best we could, climbing over the huge boulders, crawling along rock ledges and hopping over gaps in the rock.  The going was slow but the surroundings were stunning. The first two lower pools (Campground and Vegetation Pools) are not swimmable due to crocs but they had clear clean water at the base of the red rocks with Panandus trees all around them.  Then we climbed up to the Pink Pool, so named because of the pink tone in the rock, and then the Black Pool, or pool number four, for its black rocks.

I had a quick swim in Black Pool but our goal was to get further up the steep canyon.  By ignoring the 32 degree heat, following a steep line up the ridge and scrambling over rocks and through the bush, we managed to stay above Pool Five and Pool Six and came out on a long flat stretch of barren rock with obvious signs of deep fast moving water rushing over the rock in the wet season and sculpturing its surface.  Frequently the surface was pitted with deep holes where a loose rock had been lodged in a small hole and over many years slowly ground out a huge hole.  The beauty of the high gorge walls, the deep pools of water and the fascinating signs of nature doing its handiwork in this forgotten place was dizzying for both of us.

But Pool Seven was the real prize, water so clear you  could see the deep bottom, sandy beaches on both sides, water trickling in from a higher pool and out to the lower pool.  We swam in the cool waters and marvelled at our surroundings, amazing stuff.  The afternoon was waning and we vowed to come back tomorrow.

We backtracked down the ravine, again carefully shimming along the edges and boulder hopping around the other pools until we made our campsite. The flies stayed until well after dark but a big fire and a few beers made for a great night.

The next day we retraced our steps, alone again in Jarrangbarnmi.  When we got to Pool Seven we continued upstream, not always easy as the water was usually set in a narrow canyon and we frequently had to explore which side of the creek we could negotiate and whether we had to climb high or hug the lower ledges.  Pool Eight and Pool Nine (our naming system was a bit bland to be fair) were both long narrow pools with steep walls and at times we were pushing and pulling each other to climb vertical ledges up and over the rocks.  There might have been a couple dubiously safe manoeuvres in all this but we made it in the end and were rewarded with some magic scenes.  We only turned around when we could see Pool Ten and had run out of time.  But what a treat.

On our return we stopped again for another swim in Pool Seven, really the stunning best of the ten pools we saw, then continued our return journey back down the canyon to the mighty Cruiser which was waiting patiently in the campsite.  By this time it was past midday, the sun was blazing hot and reluctantly it was time for us to move on.

In talking to a few other people in various campsites, including a few people from the Territory, it seems very few of them had ever been to Jarrangbarnmi.  And it’s true that the permit system seems half designed to dissuade people from going as well as limit the numbers and protect the sacred land it is on. Fair enough, that’s important, but for those who persevere they are treated like we were with a spectacular experience virtually by themselves and memories to last a long time.