Argh, whose idea was it to get up at 7:00Am in the bloody morning? Oh, that’s right, it was mine. I was having serious second thoughts as my eyes slowly creaked open at the first sounding of the hideous notes of the alarm. I peered outside, only to find that the serene light of dawn was still illuminating the eastern sky. Far from being a morning person, there was little choice this morning, as we have a strict timetable to which we are working and today it calls for a repositioning drive of some endeavour.

With that I mind, I rugged up against an early morning cold that threatened to hang about all day, maybe just as a reminder that we would be passing back over the Tropic of Capricorn today, going the wrong way and returning to the temperate parts of our fabulous continent. But I digress, as we still had to complete the packing up job, which I had begun yesterday afternoon, before reminding ‘The Beast’, what it is like to be a packhorse. With the cold biting through even my wooliest jumper, I felt like every move I made was in slow motion, my limbs swinging through an invisible surround of molasses.

Pack up we did though, the clock pointing out that it wasn’t quite 8:30AM as we fired up the throbbing power plant of ‘The Beast’ and negotiated the dirt track out to the Plenty Highway. That tiny strap of erroneously christened bitumen is anything but a highway, but with little opposing traffic at this early hour, the 70 kays west to the Stuart Highway was a much simpler affair than what we experienced on the way in to the park.

Before we knew it, we were soon indicating left, while left wishing we were turning right, as we pointed our noses southbound, heading back in the direction of Alice Springs. An hour later we crossed the invisible line in the sand that is the Tropic of Capricorn, hardly noticing a change in climate at all. If anything, by the time we rolled into the outskirts of Alice Springs another ½ an hour down the track, it was feeling warmer than it had all morning.

Our plan was to stopped in Alice Springs for an hour or so, to resupply our food stocks and replenish the tanks of ‘The Beast’, before making a dash for the border, so to speak. It was all going to plan to, as we first stopped at a recommended butcher, managing to park our 14 metre long rig across a dozen car spaces. The butcher was a little out of town, so with a load of fresh protein safely stowed in the fridge, we navigated through the centre of town to the designated caravan parking area. I find it extremely frustrating when there are but 10 spots to enable the parking of a caravan, only to find half of them playing host to an unencumbered car. Thankfully, we managed to snag one of the final positions, although we still only just squeezed in between the lines.

Our first stop as we walked into town was at a little art gallery you might remember us having visited a week or so ago. We had finally made our minds up, or so we thought, that if the painting we both so liked was still hanging on the wall, then we would make it ours. Even before we walked through the door, I could see. The painting, it was still hanging alluringly where we had left it. We looked at it again. Then looked around the remainder of the gallery again. Then looked at THE painting again. Then looked at each other. Then walked around the gallery again. Then looked at THE painting again. We really weren’t so sure after all, but it’s being delivered and we should have it by the time we get home. Gee, I hope we’re sure about it by then!

Since that event took a little longer than imagined, we then struck out on foot for the supermarket, where we quickly loaded up a trolley full of groceries that we ‘might’ need for the next stage of our journey. Another week away from civilisation, we even remembered to account for lunches this time around. It was just then a matter of struggling back to the van, our arms laden with bags full of shopping, leading me to consider that by the time we got back, either my arms were going to be longer, my back was going to be shorter, or maybe, if I was lucky, a combination of both.

Back at the van, we struggled to fit all of our new purchases within the compact compartments, especially the chilled goods, which had to be fitted into the fridge using a technique I refer to as ‘The Tetris Method’. It was all going well, until I realised that the remnants of a bottle of Becs wine was never to fit back in. I saw a problem, while Bec saw an excuse to have an early afternoon tipple. So making like a local, being that we were parked on the banks of the dry Todd River, a gathering place for many a local, she suckled the wine, sans brown paper bag, but straight from the bottle, before depositing the empty in the bin above which a ‘no alcohol’ sign was ostentatiously displayed.

There was then just the last remaining errand of fueling up ‘The Beast’ and taking the best advantage of the cheaper prices in town, the couple of empty fuel cans we’re carrying in the back. What should have been a quick and easy task of course took longer than expected when I loosened off the breather valve on the jerry can I was filling, only for a geyser of diesel to spurt quite spectacularly from the opened valve at a rate similar to the rate at which I was pumping diesel in. Leaving a decent volume of oily fuel on the forecourt by the pump, I tried in vain to clean up the tank as best I could before wedging it back into the tray of ‘The Beast’ and finally, somewhat later that we had hoped, we were ready to make tracks again. Well, that was the plan.

As we mounted back up in ‘The Beast’ Bec made a sound of annoyance. I looked over at her, to see her sunglasses sitting somewhat askew upon her face, while she unceremoniously held an unfortunately amputated sunglasses arm aloft in her hand. A quick look through the console of ‘The Beast’ confirmed that a spare pair of glasses had not been packed and while Bec emphasised that she could still wear them, she finally saw the light (so to speak) and it was decided that a new pair should be sourced prior to leaving the Alice.

As Desert Dwellers, the camping shop whose catchy jingle on TV proudly proclaims that “our camping guru says: If we don’t have it, you don’t need it”, was fortuitously just around the corner. While I double parked out the front, Bec ducked in only to find that either the camping guru is wrong, or that she really doesn’t need sunglasses. Personally, I would have asked to speak to this so called ‘camping guru’, but time is short, so back into town it was, where I double parked again to let Bec out, while she ran into K-mart. More luck was to be had here and not only did she get a new pair of sunnies, but she also got a spare pair just in case. That’s my girl.

Finally, at an hour at which I would generally prefer to be pulling off of the road for the day, we were leaving Alice Springs still with a 3 hour drive ahead of us. We continued south as far as Erldunda at which point we turned right to head west. In what might be our final diversion further away from home, we are planning to camp out tonight, arriving at ‘The Rock’ tomorrow.

Our Camp For The Night.

Yet Another…

…Day Done.

With A Shutter Time Of 2 Hours And Taken In Pitch Darkness, Those Lines Are Actually The Trails Of Stars As They Move Through The Night Sky.

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