Like a broken record, I must report that for yet another day we awoke to the sun streaming through the narrow gaps in the drapery, as the alarm sounded its relentless commotion at 10:00AM. Despite the moderately late uprising, we had a jam packed day ahead of us.

So with little delay, we set about our morning errands, feeding ourselves, running the dogs ragged around the park, hanging out another of the relentless loads of laundry and generally ensuring that we had all that we would need for a day of reconnoitering.

With everything set, we bid farewell to the bubs in a routine that they have grown as accustomed to as us, bounding onto the bed waiting eagerly as Bec reached into the special cupboard in which their treats are stored. They now seem to realize that this means that we will be out for some time.

Setting off, we pointed the nose of ‘The Beast’ eastward, the engine loping along with measured ease without the extra bulk of the tin can chugging along behind.

Alice Springs is nestled against the lower reaches of The MacDonnell Ranges, which tower over the township while spreading out to the east and west. There are marvels to be seen in each direction, but today we had decided to spend a day amongst the natural wonders of the East MacDonnell Ranges.

As we headed out of the confines of suburbia, the road constricted from a decent strap of tar, to a worn out goat track that wove its way meanderingly through the countryside, barely able to accommodate the breadth of ‘The Beast’, let alone another passing vehicle. Then there were the lengthy zones of road works, where the reduced speed limit seemed to be a guide rather than a delineated maximum, as tour vehicles came hurtling towards us trailed by billowing clouds of ochre dust. And there was no way I was moving too far onto the soft shoulder, as we had already passed one of the road building machines idly sitting at a precarious angle, almost to the point of being on its side, after the edge had given way beneath it.

Nearly an hour after leaving the van, we turned off of what passed as the main road in these parts, to traverse the 10Km dirt track down to the Traphina Gorge car park. As we drove towards the main car park, there were several families scattered about, sitting on blankets or at the provided tables lunching on a range of delectable looking goodies. It was at about this time that our own memory was jogged, remembering the fare we had set aside last night to bring for our own lunch today, only to forget to pack it this morning. With only a box of dry crackers in ‘The Beast’ our lunch was to be a rather modest affair.

Putting lunch out of our mind for the time being, we poured over the information contained on the board at the car park, checking out the numerous walks of varying degrees of difficulty, length and duration on offer. As Bec metaphorically donned her work out clobber, we decided on the walk that would take us up and around the rim of the gorge, before returning to our starting point via the gorge floor. The saunter was destined to take us either 45 minutes or an hour, depending on which sign you believed.

Heading Up.

Not far from the car park, we located the first bright orange triangular route marker, pointing off to the left, through what almost looked like virgin bush. We were soon ascending however, no so much up a path, but scrambling over well worn tessellated blocks of ruddy rocks and shale, bounding tentatively as we traversed from one marker to the next. In parts, evidence of a track was negligible and it was solely the effervescent orange triangles that indicated we were still bearing in the right direction. As we reached the climax of our uphill scrabble, Becs asthma saw her gasping for breath, but she fought on, and we were soon looking down over the precipice at the white sandy gorge base far below us. Not only down were the scenic vistas realised, but all around us also presented amazing 360^o outlooks that stretched out enticingly as far as the eye could see.

At The Top…

…Of The Gorge.

Taking A Breather.

Heading Down.

Looking Up.

Looking Down.

Returning to the interior base of the gorge was nearly as breathtaking as the ascent, as we negotiated the steep natural conduit, clambering ever vigilantly down the boulder strewn route. Once down, we moseyed through the core of the gorge, struggling through the deep powdery sand that sucked at our shoes with each step. From here, we could peer upwards towards the craggy ledges from whence we had just descended. From ground level, the bright red, jagged cliffs appeared almost menacing, soaring contrastingly from the stark white sand into the cloudless vivid azure sky. We strode back to the car park, weary, but euphoric, 50 minutes after we had set out. I conjectured that the signs therefore average out.

On the way out of the Traphina Gorge Nature Park, we stopped fleetingly to marvel at a giant Ghost Gum. Not just any giant Ghost Gum, but ‘the’ giant Ghost Gim which is believed to be the oldest such tree in Australia. It towered above us, its canopy extending broadly in all directions from its bold white trunk.

The Old Spectre.

Setting off again, we travelled back towards Alice Springs, a few more cessations to our passage yet planned. Encountering little traffic on our return jaunt, I could better take in the surrounding scenery, enjoying the panoramic views of rocky rises, jutting from the savannahs as I piloted ‘The Beast’ along the narrow ribbon of potted pitch.

The Scenery.

Our first scheduled stop on our journey back to town was at Corroboree Rock, where another short walk greeted us, circumnavigating Corroboree Rock, a blade shaped rocky outcrop rising tall above us. It is a sacred site, being part of the Eastern Arrernte Perentie Dreaming. That much I garnered from a sign at the car park, but little other information was available to explain the sites significance in indigenous history.

Corroboree Rock

Our final two breaks were only minutes away from each other and Alice Springs, at Jessie and Emily Gap. At both of these locations, a short wander down the dry creek bed brings you to a display of ancient Aboriginal rock art, viewable on the rocky walls. The story goes that the artworks depict three different types of caterpillar, but honestly, all I could see were some vague red and white lines that almost blended in with the colour of the surrounding rock.

Aboriginal…

…Artwork.

Back at the van, worn out from a big day of sightseeing, we pranced the very excited that we were home, dogs around the caravan park, before setting out for a quick shopping expedition into town. There were a few supplies we had managed to neglect yesterday, which we were going to need for tonights dinner.

Until next time, have fun, stay safe and don’t forget to write.