Road must surely be the Gibb River
Station, amongst the Ngallagunda
Community. It’s a stop many tour-
ists or even travellers would seldom
make, preferring the relative ‘safety’
of the commercial operations. It
comes at their loss.
Clyde and Linette (Russ) greeted us
with open arms. A cold, sugary drink
was a welcome relief to the heat of
the mid-afternoon sun. Clyde, quick
to point out that “that stuff will kill
you.” I agreed and took another gulp
of the fizzy black stuff. We laughed.
With our tent erected on the
soft green lawn of the camp area,
amongst numerous swags set out for
the Aboriginal Rangers, all in the
area to meet and discuss the future
of the station and community, we re-
turned to the Ngallagunda store and
sat beneath the shade of a giant gum
tree. Linette joined us. Her history
of the area was beautifully told, but
suggested we speak to Clyde for his
version. We were warned it would
take a while. We laughed.
Clyde went into great detail how
his grandfather, Fred Russ Junior had
established the station in the 1920s,
running cattle on around one million
acres of what was the land of the
Ngarinyin people. Those that worked
on the station were paid with food,
tea and tobacco. This changed in the
1950s when money was also paid (one
pound per week).
In 1989 the land was handed back
to the Aboriginal Development
Commission and the running of the
station was handed to the Tradition-
al Owners through the Ngallagunda
Aboriginal Corporation. The Gibb
River Station which, includes most of
the length of the Gibb River itself, has
had its challenges but one thing is
certain … It is the truest representa-
tion of Traditional and European life
in the Kimberley. A great experience.
We laughed. Invited to watch a
screening of an animated feature film
we sat amongst the children from the
TRAVERSE 88
Ngallagunda community. Clyde and
Linette joined us, many of the chil-
dren wandering off home as it was
getting too cold, amazingly the tem-
perature had dropped from the high
30’s to low teens within a few hours.
Four adults remained watching a film
aimed at children. We laughed.
“Please ride safe,” one of the Rang-
ers smiled as we said our goodbyes.
It was with a tinge of sadness that we
rode away. Clyde’s last words, “if you
were staying here longer I’d take you
to very special cultural places.”
“Bastard!” I’d laughed to myself.
We would certainly be back to visit
this very special place.
Laughter roared from the river
bank. I’d slipped trying to climb the
muddy bank, from the dingy used to
traverse the river crossing, only just
making it to safety of the shore.
“Be careful the crocs don’t get
you,” laughter broke out again. Three
men, three women, alcohol drinks in
hand, had a vantage point to watch