Our Aussie Adventures

I am quite literally telling the truth when I say that it was freezing overnight. I got up this morning to find that the bowl of water we leave in the back seat of ‘The Beast’ for the dogs had a thin layer of ice over it, an explicit indication of just how cold it got. As for us, we were warm enough, rugged up in the van until such time that I switched the generator off, and therefore the power supply to our electric blankets. It wasn’t until the wee hours of the morning that we noticed it however, with the cold slowly but surely invading the confines of the tin can, like a dripping faucet filling a plugged sink to overflowing. Bethany I think was the first to realise that the temperature had dropped to a level well below comfortable, as she sought refuge on the bed, snuggling between Bec and myself, in a tight little ball of hair, trying to maintain her own body heat. Alvin, well he remained resolutely on his own couch, albeit snug in the fancy doggy jacket we had clad him in before bed last night, knowing full well that he feels the cold. As for Bec and I, it was all good and well until our conscious minds came alive, screaming a harried chorus of (insert your choice of expletive here, but to give you an indication, our word was rather robust and strong willed and started with an ‘F’) it’s cold! Oh the joys of free camping!

We quickly dressed, packed up the van and sidled into the heated seat of ‘The Beast’, making tracks through the bush back to the main road. We have a day of driving ahead of us again today, with no more than a quick stop for fuel planned as we inscribe a path along the Stuart Highway, heading ever further southward, where the weather can only promise to get even colder. Now there’s something to be looking forward to.

True to our word, we maintained an even pace through the desolate, yet alluring desert plains, where we found that in stretches, even the road was a matching red hue to the surrounding dirt. The only thing we saw of great interest was the deteriorating sun ravaged carcasses of road kill, surrounded by giant wedge tailed eagles hungrily pecking away at the decomposing flesh. Yes, it sounds slighty nauseating, even maybe a bit morbid, but these magnificent birds, standing almost a metre in height when perched on the road side are the most beautiful and graceful avian creatures you can imagine.

Oddly, Even The Road Is Red Out In These Parts, Although…

…The Resurfacing Budget Didn’t Extend To Line Marking!

It was not until we reached Coober Pedy that we took a break, where as well as feeding ‘The Beast’ another load of diesel, we decided to partake in a feed ourselves. The roadhouse had come to us well recommended, so we perched ourselves in booth by the window, overlooking the fuel stained forecourt, to feast upon burgers of gargantuan proportions. Apart from being sizable enough to satiate even my almost perpetual appetite, they were delectable, accompanied by a decent serving of equally delicious beer battered fries. Dining in also gave a spell from bouncing about in ‘The Beast’ on what was to become our second longest day on the road thus far this trip.

Get That Burger Down Ya.

We generally plan to spend no more than about 5 hours driving on any given day, which can see us comfortably cover about 400KM, while giving us time to take an occasional break. Therefore it was to be about 3:00PM that we would be looking to stop for the night tonight, at a rest area I had chosen blindly, based solely on the distance we needed to cover. A quick check online over lunch indicated that it might not be as suitable as what we desired, so the coordinates for another flat area of earth were dutifully entered into Shazza, before we hit the road once more.

An hour and a half later, we blew by the originally planned rest stop, agreeing that it wasn’t all too appealing. Purely a roadside rest stop with only a minimal chance of getting off of the road far enough to allow for a campfire. A further kilometre down the road however, we had passed the point we had instead been heading for, failing to locate an access track, so we were now looking at plan ‘C’, a further ½ hour drive to the next rest area. It was frustrating, as by this time we had hoped to already be parked up, beer in hand, sitting by a blazing fire.

So it was that we eventually pulled into the next rest area, only to find that it was too small, too busy, too close to the road and worst of all, too smelly thanks to a combination of the nearby long drop dunnies and the close to overflowing industrial sized garbage hoppers. There was nothing else to do, but move onto plan ‘D’, so back onto the highway we wheeled, aiming for yet another rest area which promised to be just as miserable as the last two, but hopefully not as malodourous. It was pure luck then, that only half a dozen kilometres down the road, down an access track to a station, we noticed a wide open patch of dirt, wheel tracks and old extinguished fires a good indication that we wouldn’t be the first, and highly unlikely to be the last, to pull in here for the night. Even luckier, as I sailed past the junction, there was a second diminutive pair of wheel tracks a few hundred yards down the road, leading back. In a maneuver that I am sure nearly had the tin can sliding sideways, we slewed off of the highway and onto the soft dirt. Sure enough, there was a great expanse of earth, concealed by the surrounding brush from the main road, and best of all there was no one else around. Oh, that and there was an abundance of dead wood lying about just waiting to be incinerated!

With the van sidled into a cozy position, we set about our tasks. Like the hunters and gatherers we have become, while Bec set about gathering the firewood, I went hunting. Hunting for the satellite that is, from which we hope to lure pictures, to be displayed on our TV later this evening. It might be camping. It might be in the middle of nowhere. But it needn’t be roughing it, without all the luxuries of home!

Hunter.

Gatherer.

By the time I had the tele set up, Bec had the fire stoked up, prodding and poking at it with enthusiastic animation, with a long slender stick in an effort to get it just right for the cooking of our dinner, all the while impressing upon me the urgent need to gather and hoard more and more timber. A feast of jacket potatoes, roasted in the coals, served with all the fixings is to be highlight our evening repast.

“More Wood” She Said.

There is nothing quite like fire roasted spuds, the enticing aroma tantalizing your nostrils before your first bite teases your taste buds, they were as delicious as they sound. To add further to the scene, we ate then fireside, the gentle licking of the flames providing a generous warmth, while in the background, through a screed of bushes the setting sun lit up the sky in amazing tinges of oranges, pinks, purples and blues, while the dogs perched themselves contentedly on their bed between Bec and I, no doubt hoping for a stray morsel of potato to fall their way. No such luck, as we almost licked our plates clean.

Spuds A Roasting…

…And Dinner…

…Is Served.

Had we of collected more firewood, I could have seen us sitting out doors all night, mesmerised by the flickering tongues of flame sprouting luridly from the ever growing hillock of coals which was rapidly amassing. Alas, with our pile of timber dwindling to just a few scant twigs, we let the fire burn down before making the most of my hunting skills and kicking back inside the van, eyes agog at the flickering and mesmerising lights, of the TV, which we can power, along with our electric blankets, for as long as we desire tonight by the generator, as there is not another soul around. Yep, it’s just us, and the beauty of the great outdoors.

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

The toe bone’s connected to the foot bone, the foot bone’s connected to the ankle bone, the ankle bone’s connected to the leg bone, the leg bone’s connected to the knee bone, the knee bone’s connected to the thigh bone, the thigh bone’s connected to the hip bone… And how do I know you might ask? Well because when I tried to arise to cancel the not so dulcet chimes of the alarm this morning, each and every one of those joints was stiffly reminding me that they desperately feared what today will bring.

Arising early as we did, we were met by a frigid cold that was only a few notches above freezing again, although the clear sky promised to bring about a beautiful day as soon as the sun was allowed to do its thing. Regardlessly, I donned several layers of clothing in an effort to maintain a measure of warmth in my aching muscles, while we cruised back into the national park to ensure we make the most of our three day pass, our aim today being to meat out a little more punishment to our bodies by taking a few short walks that veer off the main Uluru circuit walk that we were not energetic enough to cover the other day. For these we can park nearby and like well trained commandos, make sneaky sorties into the bush.

Our first port of call was again the main Mala carpark, which as well as being the starting point for the base walk and offshoot to Kantju Gorge, it is also from where you can commence the actual climb of ‘The Rock’. As we parked, I jokingly pointed out that had the climb not still been closed, I might have made an effort to clamber part way up the steep face of the rock, at least reaching the end of the chain. For those unfamiliar with the rock climb, there is a guide chain that you can use to drag yourself up or alternatively assist in impeding your downward progress. This chain however is only a feature of the lower ¼ of the climb, after which you are left to your own devices to follow the dotted white line that guides you through the easier section to the actual summit. Maybe next time I said, still jestingly.

…Led To This.

We then struck out for the Gorge, partly along the track we had set out upon only a couple of days ago, before reaching the junction where we turned right and followed the shady, tree lined path to where we found a dried up waterhole nestled in the coarse sand against the base of the imposing precipice that soared above our heads. It was a relaxingly short walk of only 2KM. Like childs play compared to what we have conditioned our lithe bodies now to accept.

A Tree Lined Path…

Heading back towards the carpark, Bec exclaimed excitedly that she could see the tiny ant like figures of people clambering up the side of ‘The Rock’. “They must have re-opened it.” she cooed. The implication was clear. I was going to be going climbing, especially she said, as that I had already reneged on one dare this trip in not going for a swim in Alice Springs.

From The Starting Point, I Just Need To Make It To Where The Red Meets The Blue.

Sure enough, upon returning to the carpark, the climb had indeed been reopened and pedestrian traffic up the side of the cliff was brisk. I looked up, to where I could vaguely see the termination of the chain guide rail. There was nothing else for it, I stripped off my layers, the sun finally making its power felt, leaving but a thin cotton t-shirt emblazoned with ‘ULURU’, as if I needed reminding, as I headed for the tumble of boulders that made up the foothills. Bec wisely decided to stay at ground level, offering to keep an eye on me and produce for me a photographic record of my venture.

Starting off strongly, I pretty much ran up the first few metres, to meet the beginning of the chain, where I continued my feisty assault on the mount, a feisty assault that lasted all of another few dozen metres, by which time I was feeling the burn. My breath was coming in ragged great gasps and my heart was beating an SOS message in double time against my rib cage. Slowing down, I decided that a steady pace might be a better idea, as I continued dragging myself up the steep side of the solid face of rock, looking back only every now and then to give Bec a better perspective to photograph than that of my ass straining tightly against the stretched fabric of my dacks.

What Was I Thinking?

The Climb Begins.

The Climb Continues…

…And Continues…

…And Continues…

…And Continues…

…And Continues…

…And Continues…

WOO HOO! Made It. And While Bec Took This…

…I Took This.

Sure enough, with no small amount of effort, I gained an altitude at which I ran out of chain, where I turned to give Bec a quick wave of acknowledgement, before turning around to tackle the descent. Going down was actually a much easier proposition that ascending, as I wrapped my hands loosely about the smooth worn links of cold steel, almost running down the rock face first in a practice that closely resembled forwards rappelling. 45 minutes after starting out, coated in a viscous sheen of perspiration, still sucking in great lungfuls of pure clean air, but riding on a wave of euphoria (or possibly just feeling a bit lightheaded from the exertion) I was back down to ground level, ready to continue on with the activities for which we had actually planned.

This Is An Easy One.

And what we had planned was to drive around the base of ‘The Rock’ mimicking what we had done on foot, stopping next at Kuniya Carpark, from where we could take the tranquil easygoing, even on my now jelly like lower limbs, 1KM amble into Mutitjulu Waterhole. True to its name, there was actually a little stagnant water left in the depths of this pool, owing to the folds of rock that keep it shaded and cool for the bulk of the day.

We had one final stop to make before heading out of the park for the final time. This break was at the sunrise viewing platform. Not being morning people by any stretch of the imagination, there was to be no suggestion that we would see Uluru at a time for which this lookout was named, but it made for a worthy stop even as the sun reached the zenith of its arc, providing an as yet unobserved aspect of the iconic monolith with the added bonus of having Kata Tjuta hazily visible, perched on the distant horizon.

Selfie Time.

With Kata Tjuta In The Background.

Returning to the van, we had just enough time to pack up a few things in readiness for an early departure tomorrow morning, before getting ourselves ready for a night out on the town. We are heading off for the ‘Sounds Of Silence’ dinner, Yularas version of a theatre restaurant. Picked up by coach, we were driven out to a non-descript sand dune in enough time to witness the sun flailing through the final degrees of its daily sweep, all the while, the ever changing colours of Uluru acting out the first act of the show. With exotic canapés and glasses of effervescent, golden sparkling wine in hand, the show had begun, as couples and groups all shouldered and nudged each other, cameras being handed about with gleeful abandon to all and sundry in an effort to get that singularly perfect portrait against the background of ‘The Rock’. We got ours, amongst much giggling from Bec, who had found that 2 glasses of bubbles is maybe a little more than she can handle.

While It Looks Like A Painted Backdrop, That’s The Real Deal.

With the sun having set, we were led down to our alfresco dining room, nestled amongst the red sandy dunes, where tables clad in white table clothes and laid with linen napkins awaited us, surrounded by an ample number of invigorating gas furnaces. We were seated on a table with another couple of couples who I would like to say were our age, but I suspect were actually a bit younger. They were all good value and promised to be excellent company for the evening.

Alfresco Dining At Its Best.

While drinks flowed freely, seeing Bec become even more giggly as she decided to quaff a couple of glasses of dry white wine that would usually see her sticking her nose up, entrée was served, followed by a buffet selection of curiously remarkable Aussie fare, in the form of kangaroo steaks, grilled Barramundi, Crocodile ceaser salad, along with more standard provisions such as chicken and lamb for mains. Main course was accompanied by act two of the theatre, with a rousing didgeridoo serenade being played live in the background, leading directly into the pre-dessert act three. With all of the lanterns dimmed, a stargazers paradise opened up for our perusal, the more common constellations being pointed out and explained. By this time, desert was at the forefront of our minds, and we weren’t to be disappointed, as a selection of delicious cakes, slices and puddings were laid on in the self service bain-maries.

Having had much more than our fill of both food and drink, we had just enough time to make our way down the dimly lit path to where a couple of telescopes had been set up to give us an even closer look at the sparkling jewels of the night sky. One was aimed at a cluster of stars, of which the naked eye was lucky to make out but a couple. The other had the planet of Saturn swimming in the viewfinder, the rings clearly visible, looking much like a childs drawing of the planet.

All that was left was the short bus ride back to the caravan park, accompanied by some more tittering from an ever so slightly over imbibed Bec.

PS: We will likely be out of touch again for a couple of days following tonights update. Please don’t worry, you will all be in for a blog marathon upon our return to techno-civilisation.

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

Following what we thought was a fairly epic wander through the bush yesterday, our bodies were screaming out for a rest, so we gave them just that, to an extent. Rather than rushing back into the national park at an early hour as we had originally envisaged, we took a much more comfortable direction instead.

This started with a late morning wake up call, followed by a quick bout of housework. It never ceases to amaze me that each morning we can sweep the equivalent of a couple of sand dunes worth of soft red sand from the van, and even before you can empty the dust pan, more small piles are already building. It doesn’t help that the dogs track much of it in upon their furry little, sand grabbing feet.

With all the chores completed, bar the hanging up of the still tumbling washing, we set about on a task of a much more appetising nature, the task of cooking up a scrumptious breakfast, although time wise it could also have safely been considered a lunch, of protein and energy laden bacon and eggs. Ten eggs, eight rashes of thick greasy bacon, and six bits of hot buttered toast, we could have feed an army. Well, could have if we hadn’t have been as hungry as we were, a sensation that was fully satiated once we had devoured the lot all on our own.

By the time we eventually built up the required enthusiasm to get our act into gear, it was already nearing 1:00PM, which we figured would allow us plenty of time to complete the little adventure that we have in store for today. With only a limited amount of time here in Yulara, we have decided that today we would head for the other main attraction around here, taking the 50KM drove from the van park to the domed rock formation of Kata Tjuta, which in the local language means ‘many heads’. And as you approach it on the road, you can assuredly see where this name comes from, as dozens of huge hemispherical rocks rise vertically from the ground. While probably not as well known as Uluru, Kata Tjuta is a worthy site to visit. In fact, if not for the proximity to Uluru, I could imagine them being a tourist mecca in their own right.

Upon arriving, we were happy to see that today the sun is shining brightly through a clear blue sky bereft of any cloud what so ever. What a contrast from what we had experienced yesterday. Despite the shining sun, there was still a cool breeze tickling the trees, enough so that Bec decided to retain both a long sleeved top and a thick puffy vest, preferring to stay warm rather than getting cold.

With that, we set off. There is a choice of several walks here, from the 2.2Km stroll to the Karu Lookout, to the 5.4Km walk that takes in both the Karu and the Karingana lookout, to the burger with the lot 7.4Km Valley Of The Winds full circuit that passes both lookouts, before descending to the desert floor for a trek around the base of the towering formations. This final walk was graded as being difficult, with a very rough and steep track and recommended for experienced hikers. Or so the sign said. We looked at each other as we passed by the information sign, deciding that having trekked 11Km around Uluru yesterday, we could now consider ourselves experienced.

Only 15 minutes and less than a kilometre into our tramp, Bec was having second thoughts about her wardrobe decision, already determining as we scrambled up a loose rocky path that her vest was not going to be required. Being that we hadn’t gone too far, I offered to run it back to ‘The Beast’ in favor of carrying it along of the remainder of the afternoon. It was surprising how far away the carpark already felt as I jogged down, before scampering back towards where I had left Bec happily taking photos at the first lookout. Breathing heavily, for all the wrong reasons after my unplanned extra kilometre or so, we continued on. The path degenerated after passing the first lookout, only identifiable by the narrow strip of well worn rock that had taken on a yellowish tone against the rusty orange of the surrounding rock as it descended steeply. More worrying at this stage was that however far we decided to walk from here, we would still need to return along this same path, the ascension something to look forward to.

Continue we did though, traipsing carefully as we clambered up and down and up some more, along a path that felt more like we were rock climbing that bush walking. The final crawl up to the Karingana Lookout, brought us to a crest straddling the valley created by two of the domed edifices, from whence we could indeed lookout, staring across a wide plain, past which further rocky heads broached the landscape. It was from here we had to make the decision to either turn around and head back the way we had come or continue onward. From our vantage point, neither option was overly appealing, given that we knew what lay behind us, whilst directly ahead of us, all we could see was the path disappearing deeper into the chasm.

KATA TJUTA IN PICTURES.

With a little bit of thought, we chose the later, deciding to tremble down the steep scrabble of rocks to the plains we hoped lay beyond. Our cognitive analysis was that walking along in the plains would be an easier effort than the rock climbing which had seen us reach it to this point. How wrong could we be? Sure, the walk along through the lower region was minus the rock climbing element, it was far from a walk in the park. The stone strewn trail took a meandering path up and down dale through the bush, from which admittedly dramatic sweeping vistas could be witnessed. It was by far the longer route back to our starting point however, and I am sure that Bec was using her frequent photo stops as quasi rest breaks.

Done It.

After what felt like hours, but was actually only hours and the shadows were getting decidedly longer, we made it back to the point at which we had to retrace our steps up the side of the mountain, over which we were left with only a short walk back to the carpark. Far from being the saga we had envisioned having been, seen and done worse in the interim, we quickly found ourselves back at the top and heading for the carpark, the comfort of ‘The Beast’ and the promise of an icy cold beverage straight from the fridge.

Assuredly a well worthwhile effort, more so even than our walk yesterday around the circumference of Uluru, it was a much tougher effort despite being in the vicinity of 4Km shorter, but provided much better views, as well as a much better sense of achievement. By the time we were back though, I was thinking that new knees wouldn’t go astray, nor would a hip or two, as my joints decided that they wanted to freeze into place. I can only begin to imagine what I shall feel like by tomorrow.

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

Today was the day. Since we had been waylaid yesterday afternoon and hadn’t had the opportunity to view Uluru, apart from at a distance whilst standing atop the roadside sand dune, we are going to make sure we get a chance to get up close and personal with what has been titled, albeit incorrectly I am led to believe, the worlds biggest monolith.

Thus, after a quick bite to eat for breakfast, we rugged up against the cold that again seems to be invading our immediate vicinity, bid farewell to the four legged babies and pointed our noses in the direction of the park. Uluru, along with the lesser known Kata Tjuta are both located in the aptly, although not overly originally named Uluru-Kata Tjuta National Park. The entrance to the park is only a matter of minutes drive away from the caravan park, although it is about 20 kilometres to reach the main carpark at Uluru itself.

A Sight We’ve All Seen Before.

Not long after leaving the limits of Yulara, there it stood, the instantly recognisable amber dome of Uluru, reaching up into the overcast sky. There is only one word with which the image it imprints on your retinas can be described, and I did try to avoid uttering it, but find that to truly portray the picture, I must, as the view truly is iconic. Nothing else says “central Australia” as simply as this singular lump of rock jutting skyward from the plains with which it is surrounded. In todays cloud softened light, it takes on a muted tan colour, but with each alteration to the light, the hue of the rock makes a corresponding adjustment.

We arrived at the carpark from which there are two choices, by just before 10:00AM. It is from here that you can choose to ignore the warnings and urgings of the local indigenous tribes ancestors and scale the side of ‘The Rock’, or take a more leisurely walk around the boulder. The choice was taken out of our hands this morning however, as the climbing access was just being closed by a ranger as we arrived as a result of ‘strong winds at the summit’. We were not concerned, as we had climbed to the top on our last visit. Knowing just how difficult it is, even on a good day, we had already made the pledge to hike the trail encircling the base. Listed as a moderate, 10.6Km loop, we were already starting to regret our decision before we had begun, having to walk nearly ½ a kilometre just to access the public restrooms.

Just Follow The Arrows. How Hard Could It Be?

At 10:00AM, there was a talk given by a local ranger, taking in a couple of sights along the start of our planned ramble. We decided to tag along, but grew bored at the slow pace, not to mention the cold. With little sun to speak of, only occasionally peeking its warming rays earthward from behind a dense cover of cloud, it was the wind that we noticed the most, blowing icy daggers through the air, to which no amount of layered clothing could protect us sufficiently to prevent the stabbing feeling of cold. A feeling that we have quickly relegated to our memories since we left Melbourne not all that long ago.

Thus, a relatively quick clip was adopted, as we strode along the hard packed dirt trail, stopping here and there for quick rest breaks or to take the obligatory snaps, craning our necks aloft to take in the vertical panorama of the towering cliffs that rose up high above us.

SIGHTS ALONG THE WAY.

While the walk was slated to take 3 ½ hours, we shaved a good 45 minutes off that time, even at the eventual dawdling pace we maintained as we dragged our weary feet back into the carpark. I might upset a few purists here, but by the time we strode back to our starting point, we had decided that the actual climb is the achievement that we will forever remember. Being so close to the steep walls of the rock as we were, it is impossible to get an overall view and the meaning is lost. A few trees and a steep rock wall rising up out of the ground at our sides, we could have been walking through the great Aussie bush anywhere in Australia. That said, by the time we got back to ‘The Beast’ we figured that we had covered in excess of 11KM and that is an achievement in itself, for which I am sure that our already pained joints and muscles will be reminding us of tomorrow.

Woo, Hoo. Made It.

With our trek complete and the sun now deciding to make a welcome appearance, we stopped in at the park information centre, which houses a small gift shop, gallery of Aboriginal artworks, café and cultural education display. Nothing caught our attention here, so it was but a brief visit, peering at the displays and wares for sale, before heading back in the direction of the caravan park, where a well earned rest was in order.

With no rest for the wicked, we managed only a stunted repose, before we were rallied to action again, with the promise of a touch of shopping. We had decided to head for the shops once more, stopping along the way at a further Aboriginal Art Gallery and Interpretive Centre. We then had just enough time to partake in the very unenthusiastic retail therapy which is available here in Yulara, before making another trek into the national park, this time to bear witness to the right of passage that is the setting of the sun over Uluru. We, along with what seemed like the entire tourist population of Yulara squeezed into a slightly too small carparking area, everyone jostling for a position offering a clear view of ‘The Rock’ as the sun set behind us, throwing an ever changing glow across the dome. Iconic. It really is.

The Different Hues…

…Of Sunset.

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