Cross-bedded and multi-layered sandstone outcrops on top of Kings Canyon
The 300km drive to Yulara took us through open sand-dune country characterised by stands of widely spaced desert oaks and the grey skies stayed with us all the way. Shortly after turning onto the Lasseter Highway George pointed out “Uluru” on the horizon somewhat stunned that we could see it when we still had 130km to travel! When we stopped for lunch just east of Curtin Springs we began to have some doubts and soon realised we were looking at Mt Conner, a forgotten monolith. Once within the Uluru-Kata Tjuta National Park “The Rock” loomed large and iconically familiar. We had no option than to book into the Ayers Rock resort, a town in itself. Although cloud cover precluded the likelihood of a sunset we set off for the World Heritage Site, paid our park entry fees (valid for 3 days) and drove around the perimeter of Uluru. Never did we imagine there were so many different faces to this gigantic red rock as the typical views suggest it is essentially smooth with rivulets running downwards. To the contrary it is heavily indented, pock-marked and stained. How we wished Lea’s Dad had been with us as we so often discussed whether the granite mass of Ngomo-kurira in Zimbabwe was equal in bulk to Uluru. We concluded Uluru may be larger unless its desert setting enhances its size!
Just as we finished our round at the point where people climb Uluru (closed due to rain) the sun broke through the clouds and the western face of the rock started to assume a deep shadowy red. The climb is not prohibited but it has great spiritual significance for the Anangu people who request visitors respect their law and culture by not climbing. With half an hour to sunset we joined the throng at the sunset lookout. Many highly organised for the dipping of the sun with their tables and chairs, chilled wine and snacks.
We returned to Yulara keen to send off last week’s blog before the internet kiosks closed. We were told there were no laptop facilities available unless we went to the Sails in the Desert Hotel where, to our horror, the only option was to purchase a 24hour package for $25! It is very hard to believe that in a compulsory tourist venue as large as this there is not the usual $2 for 15 minutes access. Back in camp we had two feral rabbits nonchalantly hopping around Getaway while just over the dunes Saturday night’s disco disturbed us well into the early hours.
Nevertheless we were up with the larks and off on the 50km road trip to Kata Tjuta (the Olgas) to do the 7.4km “Valley of the Winds” walk. Our timing has proved perfect considering the high temperatures we’ve been subjected to up until this weekend as the National Park closes its walking tracks during periods of extreme weather conditions. We had blue sky covered in thin sheets of cloud and a sharp nip in the air as we began our circuit through some of the 36 tall, steep-sided, awe inspiring domes of Kata Tjuta. They are often overlooked – the tallest dome is in fact 200m higher than Uluru. True to its name the wind speed was accelerated by the tunnel-like walls that twisted and turned, rose up and down, between the massive heads of rock. The path took us over a variety of rocky surfaces that tended to spoil our appreciation of the place because of the vigilance needed for every step. After two consecutive days of challenging climbs Lea’s knees sounded as if they were grinding sand within them and she was glad to reach Skiv where, on the homeward journey dozed off until George braked suddenly for a Thorny Devil in the middle of the road. After taking this unusual little ant eating reptile to safety it refused to remain still for a clear photograph. How delighted we were to see one in the wild.
Within the Valley of the Winds - Kata Tjuta
That evening we were well prepared with a ginger beer shandy and snacks for the going down of the sun. We arrived in good time to find ourselves a park on the sunset strip with clear visuals of Uluru. George busied himself taking photos of couples! One fellow battling to balance his camera on his stock of bottled water for a “self take” was very grateful; another lady was all embarrassed by his offer only to change her mind as he walked away. Looking through his binoculars George began giving a running commentary on people climbing down Uluru backwards. We became so interested in the goings on I that directon that we checked the position of the sun behind us and quickly drove to the point where climbers ascend/descend. It was fascinating to watch the cautious way folk descended, some on their bottoms, others treading sideways holding the climbing chain and taking frequent rests. Once down many had to do stretching exercises to unlock their aching knees. We noticed six plaques attached to the rock and found they all were to the memory of people that had fallen to their death on Uluru, mostly in the 1960’s. Just days ago we heard on the news that a man had to be choppered off the top after he had made the climb in plastic shoes (probably the fashionable crocs), which he took off half way and by the time he reached the summit his feet were so badly blistered he couldn’t walk. Considering the severe gradients involved it defies belief that someone would wear such inappropriate shoes. In deference to the wishes of the traditional owners we resisted the itch to attempt the climb and dashed back to partake in our sundowners overlooking “The Rock”.
Packed up and ready to go Monday morning we returned to Uluru one last time to do the 9.4km Base Walk. Being up close and personal to Uluru towering 348m above us we became particularly aware of the many caves, gullies and erosion features that one would otherwise miss as vegetation conceals them. Pools of water from the recent rains we’d had indicated the amount of water that must stream off the rock mass down its numerous gullies. To be there during a heavy downpour must be pretty spectacular. On the north face were most unusual patterns of erosion, which Lea thought resembled ancient Sanskrit messages written at a time when the level of the sandy plain was much higher. On occasions the path would lead well away from the many sacred sites that occur around the rock and, although perfectly understandable, spoilt that part of the walk. Rustic benches beautifully crafted from carefully selected branches of natural hardwood were placed at restful places and although they looked inviting Lea was not prepared to linger in fear of her stiff joints seizing.
Erosion features on north face of Uluru
We drove steadily for the rest of the day re-joining the Stuart Highway and finally stopping at the Northern Territory/South Australia Border in a particularly well-laid out and immaculately maintained rest area with display boards giving historical information and attractions in both States. A wonderful example of State co-operation for the benefit of the travel weary!
Mercy! You actually have to do this drive along the Stuart Highway to believe how over-grazed, flat and desolate the northern parts of South Australia are. We keep seeing Commonwealth Prohibited Land warning signs suggesting there is little use for these ‘wastelands’ other than for military purposes or, heaven forbid, nuclear waste disposal! 35km out of Coober Pedy, the opal capital of the world, steadily makes an entrance with conical heaps of white waste rock spreading across the horizon, becoming more and more extensive as the town draws near. In a town where the sun beats down relentlessly we saw no trees, no lawns, no greenness of any description, just rusted equipment lying higgledy-piggledy awaiting a day it might come in use amongst corrugated iron shacks. The main street full of places selling anything and everything to do with opals and all we wanted was an internet café. Spotting Radeka’s with easy parking for our rig George went in to send off our belated blog. He was back in next to no time beckoning Lea to leave the hot truck and join him in the coolness of an underground internet café. Walking into the motel a ramp led us below ground level into a reception and bar area before opening into a circular room with a rough textured domed ceiling carved out of white and orange rock rising from tiled floors. Arched recesses displaying opal jewellery had been carved into the walls on one side and computers installed on the other half. We were intrigued by it all and the receptionist readily told us that of the 3 000 people living in the town, more than half live underground. She provided us with a town map and suggested the best mole- ish places to visit.
Underground internet cafe at Radeka's - Coober Pedy showing colour of rock walls
We followed her recommendations and went to the underground Catholic Church (St Peter and Paul’s). Sadly for us Faye’s underground home, usually open to the public was closed and our attempt to find the home of eccentric old “Croc Harry” failed amongst the labyrinth of dirt roads out in the opal fields.
With temperatures back in the forties it was too hot to hang around and we got back on “The Track” and kept going until evening before pulling into a ‘major’ rest area as South Australia calls them if they have toilets. No trees, barely a breeze with stony orange ground going for ever. However, to compensate we had a spectacular moon rising, burnt orange in colour due to dust. To cool down before bed we took a bucket bath in the moonlight.
We had more of the same landscape next day this time round with a few dry, gleaming white salt lakes to break the monotony. Lake Gairdner is one the biggest inland salt pans in South Australia used on occasions in attempts to break world land speed records. Along this stretch of the Stuart Highway we saw far more of the Trans Australia Rail line which made us wonder whether overseas tourists travelling on The Ghan into the interior are dismayed at the starkness of what they see. On the other hand history comes alive when thinking of the likes of Sturt, Stuart, Burke and Wills and others traipsing around in unbelievable heat in this flat, featureless land searching for water and a route across the “promised land”.
At the Pimba junction we crossed the point we’d passed in April this year, en route to Andamooka, so closing a 28 000km circuit. That’s something of a milestone for the Rubber Tramps. We hoped to replace the gas regulator in Port Augusta. It should have been done in Broome when it first began giving trouble only it meant hanging around for a gas fitter. The gas stove is non-functional and of three gas fitters in Port Augusta no-one could find time to help. That seems to be the story in the Outback – tradesmen are overworked!
A bush stop was preferable to a caravan park and we rolled on westwards out of Port Augusta taking the Eyre Highway across the top of the Eyre Peninsula. Once again the western sun began to blind us and we pulled into a roadside rest area. We were disappointed to find it too close to the road until we noticed a track leading off into a network of bush camps. We took the furthest one. When one comes upon an unexpected gem we get a real kick out of it. When George came to mark the spot on our map he found we were actually camped on the edge of the Lake Gilles Conservation Reserve, a large tract of undisturbed mallee woodland. That evening temperatures dropped to the extent that we had to haul out our “Skehel rugs” again. The proximity of the Southern Ocean was evident. We slept well in the cool air, arose late and changed routine by spending the morning at rest and only going back on the road after lunch.
We were out of flat land. The long black road rose and fell like a serpent or dragon’s back in front of us running through huge fields of yellowed wheat stubble. Heat was getting at us and the sun seemed too high for the hour by the time we stopped at the Old Perlubie School Site for the night. George checked South Australian time on his computer and found time zones had caught us again along with day-light saving.
Little temperature drop during the night and we knew we were in for a bad day when the thermometer in Skiv shot up 10 degrees in the first hour of morning. By the time we reached Ceduna a hot, strong blustery wind whipping up dust had set in and the temperature was back in the 40’s and climbing. We booked in at Shelley Beach for the weekend and laid low in the tormenting weather. A new gas regulator was fitted.
A walk on the beach late Friday night was hard going and this weird weather continued into Saturday. Just as well we are not attempting the Nullarbor under these dreadful conditions and hope the approaching cold front will cool things down before we leave Ceduna tomorrow- Sunday.
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