In crossing the border, we have moved back into tourist territory. This is apparent from the dearth of Europeans in rented Britzes, and campgrounds full of snorers, whistling kettles, sliding van doors, and people who like to share their loud music. If that is not enough, we are also reminded that human nature sucks. There is always someone who will collect firewood despite signs forbidding it, and use it to make fires anywhere other than the pits provided turning the campground into an ashpit.
Our first stop across the border is Uluru.
If I recall my primary school lessons correctly, it is the largest monolith in the world.
It is an Australian icon.
It's where a dingo (allegedly) took Lindy's baby.
It is an Australian legend.
It's also one of the most offensive tourist rip offs in Australia.
Not since El Questro have our tourist dollars disappeared so wantonly.
If it weren't for the fact that the Kata Tjuta is so nice, you could almost skip visiting the place.
So, what can you get for $26? An unpowered tent site for two people, a pizza, or three days in the national park for one person. We stayed three and a half days, and it set us back a hundred and forty bucks. (The extra sunset on the day we arrived cost us six fifty each.) Surprisingly, the fuel at Yalara is cheaper than at any of the roadhouses in the area. A few days later we would have to pay even more to camp at Kings Canyon Resort. You have to pay, so you do, and so do the thousands before and after you, and you visit the park.
Helen, being the mountain climber she is, wanted to climb the rock.
They ask you not to, and advise you against it, but every now and then the climb is open and you can risk your life to conquer it.
On our first day, the climb was closed, so we flipped a coin and drove out to Kata Tjuta.
The canyons and hills that make up Kata Tjuta are spectacular to look at from any angle, but the flowering shrubs and bird life through the Valley Of The Winds was what really got our attention.
We instantly recognised the western bowerbird from a glimpse, the striking pink flash bringing back memories of great bower birds during our visit to the BBO.
The park seems to be run by a bunch of dictatorial wankers. The parking areas are designed so it is very inconvenient to park in any way other than as designated. There isn't enough parking provided anyway, so people park everywhere. There is just one (desperately in need of maintenance) toilet between the three parking areas at Kata Tjuta, with signs up telling people to drive 3 km when the urge strikes. It is little surprise then, that should you look behind the trees near the carpark, it is a sea of used toilet paper. People are ratbags, but worse when forced.
The next day the climb was again closed, so we hiked around the base of the rock exploring its waterholes and caves, averting our eyes and camera from sacred sites. We joined a botanical walk where we learnt a few fascinating flora facts, and ate nectar from two different desert flowers. After mulga (an acacia, a group that includes wattles), river red gums are the most dominant tree species in Australia. The desert oak is a relative of the the whispering bulokes around Wycheproof (and other casuarinas, of course). It has two very distinct stages of growth, like a pencil for 30 years until its roots reach the water table, which enables it to become a real tree.
On our third day, the rock was finally open, and we did the climb.
In doing so, we trampled over the spiritual beliefs of the traditional owners, just as our ancestors have done before us.
We were amused by the bus loads of Japanese tourists, each with their white gloves for the chain.
Even more staggering were the tourists who struggled against their fears, crawling on the rock trying to reach the chain.
(Probably a wise choice to start the chain part way up the climb.)
It brings back visions of Koreans in suits at the water's edge on Bondi beach.
From there we headed up to Watarrka National Park. The walk around Kings Canyon is a loop around the rim, with a few diversions. The dictatorial attitude extends to this walk, which may only be undertaken in a clockwise direction, which apparently limits the environmental impact of using the trail. Go figure. Where the walk crosses the upper canyon there is a permanent waterhole, but the highlight for us was spotting a pair of peregrine falcons at a nest on the canyon wall. The rocky outcrops and hidden waterholes are very reminiscent of our visits to Mutawinji, Kalbari, and Karijini.
On the way out of Watarrka, we hiked to Kathleen springs. Like other water sources, it was exploited by aboriginals and then the settlers. The settlers' stockyards mimic the hunting techniques of the aboriginals. Despite the red backed kingfisher we spotted on the hike, there were tadpoles galore in the waterholes below the spring. Back on the highway, we disturbed a huge flock of red tailed black cockatoos. Our next stop, Illamurta Springs, is very similar to Kathleen Springs, with zebra finches, white plumed honeyeaters, and black faced cuckoo shrikes everywhere. The one major difference (apart from being a smaller spring) is the ruins of the police outpost, which may be the first example of subsidised inactivity (food handouts to eliminate cattle rustling).
From there we headed east to the Henbury meteorite craters.
The four craters (each the size of a house) were created by the impact of meteorites that were about the size of a 200 litre drum.
One has captured part of the flow of a small creek, creating a lush bowl full of trees and birds.
We were fortunate to arrive early enough while they were still active, including a pair of mulga parrots.
On the highway we stopped for a cuppa, and spotted a bird nest in a tree.
Based on our new bird book, we were able to identify it as that of a magpie lark, despite a lack of occupants.
We moved on to Rainbow Valley to enjoy the sunset on a ridge of coloured rocks.
Then it was on to Chambers Pillar, more coloured rock but this time an obelisk that stands as a sentinel in the middle of the desert. Needless to say it was used by the early white explorers as a major landmark, but the aboriginals believe that it is a Geko ancestor turned to stone for his sins. Hearing the aboriginal stories reminds us that all races have stories to explain the world around them. How different is the Geko ancestor turning into stone for his misdeeds from Lot's wife being turned into a pillar of salt? If Australia had been colonised by the Taliban, would they have dynamited the geko ancestor?
From there we made our way to Alice Springs, where Tom (after getting over the shock of us finally arriving) gave us a comfortable place to stay.
Not only that, but he offered up three seasons of Stargate on DVD for our viewing pleasure.
We visited the Alice Springs Telegraph Station, which was converted to a mission for aboriginal children when the telegraph line was superceeded, and is now a historic reserve.
Alec, our guide there, was an elderly man who had grown up there as a boy.
His first hand insights into the history of the place provide a much more vivid picture than the general signage.
We explored some potential work opportunities in Alice itself, and finally headed west into the West Macdonnell Ranges.
West Macs
We decided to do the loop around the West Macs clockwise, making our first stop at Boggy Hole.
It was a great four wheel drive in along the river bed between the walls of the gorge, to an excellent campground on the edge of a deep permanent waterhole on the Finke River.
The name boggy refers to deep sand, which was removed by the floods in 2000 leaving a rough and rocky track for those travelling further south.
Almost 2 km of water provided us with another unexpected kayaking opportunity, and ample fishing for dozens of black cormorants.
We discovered our second magpie lark nest in as many weeks in a red gum on the river's edge, explored the ruins of the police station, and hiked up a side gorge to several small waterholes.
You could stay a week enjoying the peace and quiet, but we were on a schedule.
Hermansberg, the only real town on the loop, was created against difficult odds by a handful of German missionaries determined to save a few aboriginal souls.
Perhaps the best thing the mission did was to provide paint to Albert Namatjira, who went on to be Australia's greatest aboriginal artist, and in the process founded the aboriginal art movement.
As we always do, we shook our can, uncovering a surprisingly friendly town and landing a single small job.
The serenity we had enjoyed at Boggy Hole evaporated instantly - Palm Valley is overrun with tour busses despite 4WD only access. The campground would be lovely, if three quarters of the campers weren't there. We walked along Palm Creek seeing the only red cabbage palms in world, another livistonia related to those we'd seen last year on the Mitchell Plateau. The other major walk in the area (the Mparra walk) had many more flowers and birds, including western bowerbirds, grey crowned babblers, rainbow bee-eaters (the first we'd seen in ages), grey headed honey eaters, and variegated fairy wrens.
At the outermost point on the loop is Tnorala, which is not actually a crater (even though it somewhat resembles one), but the remnants of the inner rebound cone. The aboriginal stories tell of a baby falling from the Milky Way, an odd coincidence to see a level of agreement between black and white on any issue. Like every other natural feature in this part of the country, it is yet another sacred site, and virtually the entire place is off limits. There is even a ban on camping, because it's on a inter tribal warfare massacre site (though it's not clear if that's reality or legend).
Redbank Gorge on the other hand has two excellent campgrounds, one set among the trees, the other on a hill with magnificent views.
They don't attract many tourists, presumably because they lack showers.
For our stay we were joined by another couple who were on a similar adventure to ours, two years into working around Australia.
The gorge itself is very narrow and doesn't have much water.
In some ways it is reminiscent of our visit to Karijini, but once you've been there, no other gorges really compare.
Glen Helen Gorge was something of a disappointment , there's not even a decent hike. A deep waterhole blocks the gorge entrance, preventing ready access to the gorge proper and its "organ pipes". That left us plenty of time to study the reeds, where we finally made a positive id on the clamorous reed warbler. At least the nearby lookout provides a decent view of Mt Sonder and the ridges of rock in the plain.
The next in the succession of gorges is Ormiston Gorge, which leads into Ormiston Pound. It offers an excellent loop hike which traverses over the edge of the pound and out through the gorge. The rim was ablaze with flowers, and the birds were plentiful, including spinifex pigeons and painted firetails. We were however, beginning to wonder if those cuckoo shrikes were following us. The campground is a disappointment, small, crowded, and poorly laid out. Like so many other popular locations in this area, the amenities provided are past their "use by date", and are in need of relocation and expansion.
From there we progressed rapidly through a series of sights.
The failed Serpentine Resort now offers some secluded bush camping (we should have camped there instead of Ormiston).
The Ochre Pits are another "look but don't touch" sacred site, where multi-coloured rock strata burst through the surface.
Our stop in Serpentine gorge was quick, being another where a waterhole blocks access to the gorge proper, but the hike to the lookout showed us more bowerbirds and mistletoe birds.
Big Hole at Ellery Creek was another quick stop, just long enough to distinguish the hardheads, coots, moorhens, and grebes making a home of it.
Our final night on the loop before returning to Alice was Owen Springs Conservation Reserve. Once again we are witness to another degraded cattle lease being relabelled as a park. They allow bush camping on a short stretch of the Hugh River in Lawrence Gorge, and we much prefer this style of quiet, secluded camping. We enjoyed the budgies, ringneck parrots, rainbow bee eaters, and major mitchells that make the gorge their home.
We have been enjoying the warm days and cool nights of the desert winter. The winds drop off at sunset, and return after dawn. Debris stranded up to five meters above the riverbed in the red gums, and damaged pitted bark on the upstream side remind us of why riverbed camping can be dangerous. Recently we have had a few campfires, an unusual treat. Flood debris is the main fuel, but in the process we destroy the homes of all manner of creatures.
Returning to Alice, we packed a few things from the cruiser, and jumped on a flight to Sydney. Bill's sister Shayne was flying in from London with a nephew neither of us had ever met, creating the perfect excuse to check on the townhouse, visit the accountant (another year in the red), do a bit of big city shopping, and catch up with Cliff. Needless to say, we were invited to give our attention to a few computers in need. Many thanks to Fred & Jen and Bob & Margaret for making us welcome and looking after us.