Ford Everest adventure series: Taking on the Territory

Sitting at my desk, with a view I’m lucky to have, mind you, I couldn’t shake the desire for fresh scenery. That’s what prompted a last-minute trip to the Northern Territory, swapping window for windscreen.

A quick call to the friendly folks at Ford Australia landed me a schmick new Everest Sport, which would be perfect for a trip like this - a mix of on- and off-road adventuring in comfort and style.

I had days, not weeks, to plan this trip so in the name of expediency I opted to head from Darwin to Litchfield National Park. Litchfield is smaller, simpler yet in my opinion just as epic as the more popular Kakadu National Park.

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Driving about 120km south-west of Darwin and into Batchelor, a small town that borders the national park, the landscape becomes even more arid

I picked up the Everest Sport from the legends at Hidden Valley Ford in Berrimah, with a boot full of the latest ARB recovery gear, and hit the road. The striking Blue Lightning colour is my favourite of the various Everest paint options, feeling especially suited to Litchfield with its many sapphire-hued swimming holes.

Driving about 120km south-west of Darwin and into Batchelor, a small town that borders the national park, the landscape becomes even more arid, signs of life disappear and it all starts feeling like the ‘middle of nowhere’. That’s what I wanted to feel - so we’re on here.

Batchelor is an interesting town, as if it is deserted during the long, hot days. But by 3pm the one pub - attached to the iconic Litchfield Outback Resort - starts filling with thirsty locals and tourist types as the town comes back to life.

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If you’re passing through, the Litchfield Outback Resort is an absolute must, ideally for an overnight stay but at the very least a pub feed and cold schooner. The hot, sticky weather up here somehow makes every beer feel ‘well earnt’, too.

Chatting to the resort owner and his father, the outback destination has seen some big names through the doors. Mentions of the Packers and other big hitters gave me the impression that if the walls could talk, they’d have plenty to tell.

The roller shutters came down, signalling that it was time for the thirsty locals to call their lift home, but I stayed up to chat with the owner a little longer - in the name of ‘research’. After shooing the last of the stragglers away, he poured an ‘on the house’ beer and leant in close to ask an unusual question.

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“Ever seen a dingo, mate?” he said. “Not up close,” I responded, already knowing where this was heading.

Next minute, there’s a ‘half-dingo-half-mongrel’ stray cutting laps of the pub. The resort owner apparently found it as a pup and raised the wild dog alongside his Rhodesian Ridgeback - both very friendly but no doubt fierce when they need to be. Guarding the only pub in a remote town is no small task, but I think these two dogs are up to the task.

The next morning, day one of my Litchfield adventure, I had a chat to a few locals over breakfast. “Don’t walk through any of the water crossings,” one local 4x4 enthusiast told me, hinting at the likelihood of crocs lurking beneath the surface.

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A common line from locals up here is, “I wouldn’t swim in there” when asking about a body of water. I heard it from park rangers, farmers, and if that dingo knew how to talk I'm sure he’d say the same. The crocs own the waterways up here.

Litchfield is a 1500-square-kilometre ancient landscape shaped by water, and much of the park’s charm lies in its picturesque swimming holes - most situated under cascading waterfalls.

However, for those who prefer staying dry - fairly impossible in or out of the water given how hot it was - there is also plenty to do outside of swimming.

Following the natural order of attractions along the ring road, which snakes through the park offering incredible scenery, made sense and I was in no rush whatsoever. The Everest munched miles with ease, its turbo V6 producing a more-than-adequate 184kW/600Nm through a ten-speed gearbox that has really grown on me, but it was begging to be let loose off road.

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I thoroughly enjoyed the stark contrast of the rich, red soil against the ashy, back-burnt trees and shrubs at this time of year, as the emerging generation of flora litters the landscape with vivid green signs of life.

If there was ever a visual representation of the circle of life, it was Litchfield in Spring. As one life ends, another begins, out here - similar across plants, people, and even planets, I thought as the solo traveller monologue played on in my head.

The Koongurrukun, Mak Mak Marranunggu, Werat and Warray Aboriginal people have lived throughout this area for millenia, and it is said their ancestral spirits formed the breathtaking landscape, plants and animals here. You definitely feel it, out here, and nowhere more so than my next stop.

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I pulled up for a bite to eat and (canned) coffee at the Lost City, a stunning off-road detour, via the tabletop swamp - more like a desert at this time of year.

Engaging four-wheel-drive is easy in the Everest, done via the press of a button, and an outer-ring on the 4x4 dial allows you to choose from Normal, Eco, Tow/Haul, Slippery, Mud & Ruts, and Sand drive modes.

I actually left the system in 4A - the automatic mode - for the majority of off-road driving because it does such a good job of making adjustments. More time to take in the scenery, I figured, and less time thinking about drive modes.

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Once on foot and in the thick of it, the Lost City resembles just that - a city-like-scape of stone structures that have stood here for thousands of years.

They’ve seen more than you or I ever will, which gives the tall sandstone structures a wise, distinguished energy. They really do feel as though they’re watching you.

Before I knew it, the sun was gone and I'd lost hours exploring the Lost City and then a couple of the nearby waterfalls, all involving a decent amount of walking. Take plenty of water if you’re heading into Litchfield, because you’ll need it - losing what feels like a litre of sweat every time you set foot out of an air-conditioned car.

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There is a certain energy throughout Litchfield National Park, which I couldn't quite put my finger on. I discussed this with a few locals later that night, who agreed some sections of the park had a ‘bigger than you’ feeling about them.

I’d seen a large, grey buffalo earlier in the day and, while he was alone, I figured he had friends nearby. Buffalo are not native to the Northern Territory, so they’re likely bandits that escaped one of the nearby farms many moons ago.

Sure enough, driving out of the National park after dark, a road that consistently felt longer on the way out than it did heading in, I had to hit the brakes fairly abruptly after seeing three or four of the bitumen-coloured buffalo crossing the road.

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Thankfully the Everest would have taken over with its full suite of safety tech, but I’m glad it didn’t come to that.

No matter how careful you are, in remote areas where wildlife poses an unpredictable danger, onboard safety systems provide a level of assurance I'd rather not live without.

After slowing down to let the shady-looking buffalo cross, animals ‘on the run’, Siri gave me a hand calling the Litchfield Resort to make sure they’d still be serving dinner.

Apple CarPlay is, in my opinion, a must-have on long, solo road trips. Without a passenger to help change music, make a call or add a stop in the GPS, a good infotainment system is a real luxury and the Everest delivers with a massive 12-inch screen and all the functionality I could want or need.

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I’d called the resort because I was worried the kitchen would be closed.

In a place this rural, kitchens often close by 8pm (ask me how I know) and the thought of a muesli bar for dinner after such a long day was cause for concern. I was met with a chirpy voice on the other end, a backpacker I presumed, based on the British accent, who told me quite matter-of-factly, “you’ve got 15 minutes because the chef is in a good mood, but after that I can’t help you.”

The GPS said it would take about 15 minutes to reach town - beauty. The locally-caught Barra was about a million times better than a muesli bar and the serving size was bloody generous, too. No points for guessing what it was washed down with.

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“That things pretty flash, is that yours mate?” said the owner of the resort, who was peering out at the Everest with a few locals or, in pub speak, ‘regulars’.

They thought it looked pretty impressive and, after showing them some of the tech inside, they couldn’t believe it retails for less than the most popular 4x4 model in these parts (cough, cough) at less than $70,000 for the one I was rolling around in.

Day two was all about testing - scientifically, of course - the various swimming spots around Litchfield, but first I wanted to have a quick crack at the gnarliest 4x4 trail on offer - Reynolds Track.

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I couldn’t shake the fear of crocs whenever I encountered water here in the NT - even puddles put me on edge. I’d watched too many videos about how they lurk inches below the surface, watching you through murky water, ready to gnaw at whatever dangles closest.

This fear was no greater than when we entered Reynolds Track. The off-road trail kicks off with a fairly long, 50-metre-or-so water crossing that’s only around 500-600mm deep but murky as hell.

The issue was that while the wading depth on the Everest is a respectable 800mm, I could feel the crossing getting deeper after already passing the 600mm ‘deepest point’ marker - perhaps due to the soft ground being dug out by other off-roaders.

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I couldn’t walk the trail, as I would normally do in Queensland, Victoria or New South Wales, because the muddy water was home to opportunistic crocs. I kept going, slowly assessing any change in depth.

“Yeah, they’re definitely in there mate,” the park ranger told me when I queried this particular crossing earlier that morning, talking about crocodiles of course.

After getting through, the deepest point being around 700mm, and unaware of how deep the next few crossings would be, I decided to turn back. Best not to risk it in a car that isn’t mine, and the only real downside to turning back was the heckling I'd receive from locals that evening.

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Now, onto the swimming (or lounging around in crystal-clear water holes) that I spoke about, in non-croc infested water.

After taking a dip at the usual culprits - Florence Falls, Buleys, and the truly insane Wangi Falls - I’d been told about some hidden creek spots in the Central Valley Escarpment I wanted to suss out.

The Central Valley only opened a couple of years ago, offering paid-permit-only camping and access to some pretty incredible tracks between May and November, but you do need to pick up a key in Palmerston or Katherine because it’s gated.

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I only wanted to get in to explore, but after taking a look around I wish I’d packed the swag.

All three of the campsites on offer were well looked after, picturesque and suitably secluded. The fact they were gated meant limited traffic, too, keeping numbers down at swimming holes and on bush walks.

The small rock pools within Central Valley were absolutely stunning, with the clearest water I saw on the entire trip. Of course, the croc risk was slightly higher in these creeks, which didn’t help with my reptile paranoia, but with water this clear you’d see a scaley friend coming from a mile away.

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The tracks heading in are challenging, but not difficult, and can be done in high-range 4x4. I crawled around in low-range, but only because I was in no rush and it meant I could take in more scenery.

On rocky, low-speed terrain the Everest soaks up bumps, better than a vehicle with 20-inch wheels ought to, keeping my bad back in check. Worth noting is that it is equally plush over heavily-corrugated dirt roads, of which there are plenty up here, even eating a few potholes for breakfast when I couldn’t safely avoid them.

After a few freshwater dips, some four-wheel driving, and a disappointing canned-tuna lunch, it was time to start heading back out of Litchfield and onto Darwin.

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I stopped briefly at the Magnetic Mounds on the way out, gawking at the up-to-four-metres-high termite mounds - alien-like as they litter the fire-ravaged landscape as far as the eye can see, seemingly unharmed.

Just like that, my Litchfield adventure was over. It was time to head back to civilisation, but with a renewed love for the outdoors and a stronger than ever belief that the best view in outback Australia is often through a windscreen.

Looking out of my hotel room back in Darwin, I could see the Everest in the parking lot below. Visually, it’s a vehicle I liked the moment I saw it. But in terms of everything else, I couldn’t be happier with where it took me and how it did so - rugged and capable but also luxurious enough to please even the fussiest of occupants. Ford Australia really nailed this one.

For information on the Ford Everest range and features please visit here [↗].