I can’t forget the Bungle Bungle. Not because of the funny name, but because it is one of the strangest places I have ever been. The Bungles are an isolated mountain range in the middle of the Kimberley, the vast wilderness in the north-west corner of Australia. They consist of dozens of egg-shaped domes, a kind of naturally wrought Angkor Wat, but striped red and black, like Dennis the Menace’s jumper. And the best of the Bungles comes at the end of a walk through the foothills of these geological tea cosies. There is a place where a waterfall has scooped out an immense cavity, like the nave of a church. This enormous space, flooded with light from above, is as cool as a fridge and as silent as a monastery. At the centre of it is a green algae-covered pool, opaque and lustrous like a marble floor. And as in some man-made structures such as St Paul’s in London, you can clearly hear someone speaking 300 yards away, on the far side of the natural auditorium. This was Cathedral Gorge. I sat here for a long while, like a reflective pilgrim at the end of a long journey.
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