Week 39 (16th - 24th December)

Quagi Beach – with its campsite comprised of little enclaves amongst thick coastal bush dominated by banksias 100m from a small cove proved to be an idyllic spot to hole up in for a couple of days. Gentle sea breezes to keep us cool while beach-combing, sunbathing and paddling in the chilly waves kept us occupied for most of the first day. More of the same the following day, or so we thought, when we wandered down after breakfast and within an hour realised that we were in for a hot day. George took a quick dip and on our return to the caravan discovered all the keys had gone swimming too! Back to the beach we went and this time round he luckily found them in a metre of water. As the day wore on the temperature soared to 44°C and blistering hot winds developed. Without power we had no air conditioning to save us this time round. Perspiration poured off us inside Getaway, even our spectacles scorched us and the binding of our paperback books just came apart as the glue dried out. We couldn’t keep cool, and sponging ourselves down brought little relief. Eventually, heat madness drove us over the burning sand into the sea. The relief was immeasurable and we wallowed in the waves for a good part of the afternoon. Interestingly, a team of botanists arrived back at their campsite after a driving ban had been issued due to the risk of their vehicle catching fire while out in the field!
Bees were also feeling the heat as by late afternoon the bucket that catches our waste water from the kitchen sink had attracted what appeared to be the entire hive! Feeling rather like Keith and Colleen in their film Snake Killers of the Kalahari when the wet towels they used to keep themselves cool attracted swarms of bees, our wet costumes had a similar effect. As for the bush-flies – they were out in full force using us to keep out of the hot wind. Turning away from the wind only made it worse because then they would try to keep cool up our noses and behind our “sunnies” and we didn’t dare speak! Fortunately by late evening cloud had moved in and the hot winds disappeared but the flies and bees continued to hum around Getaway until night fell around eight o’clock.

Quagi Beach

The bees woke us early next morning and overcast skies gave lie to yesterday’s heat. A good day to travel and we moved on to Munglinup Beach. Just as the Zulus use Kwa meaning “place of” so the Aborigines attach “… up”. Consequently, as we travel through this part of Western Australia many town names end in “.. up” derived from Aboriginal names. Like Quagi Beach campsite, Munglinup Beach site was also Shire run. Graders were re-surfacing the dirt road in, in readiness for Christmas and we were the first to travel the newly smoothed road and found we had the camp to ourselves. The dense cloud cover stayed with us for the rest of the day turning our turquoise blue seas into a mixture of deep green tones. The steep profile of the beach made walking difficult as we made our way to the mouth of the Munglinup Inlet that we followed a quad track along the crest of the fore-dunes and were dismayed to discover a hidden labyrinth of “quad heaven” with little regard to the sensitivity of the environment.

The dawn of another grey day pushed us on to sunnier climes, not that we counted on that from our past experiences of this region. The Southern Ocean is renowned for the cold fronts that it generates across here.
Approaching Jerramungup the first sounds of insects ricocheting off the windscreen brought a smile to George’s face. Locusts? News headlines in Esperance had advised that a locust plague in the Mt Barker district was likely to sweep through the wheat belt. We’d pricked up our ears as we were booked into Mt Barker after Christmas. Before long we were in no doubt as we passed through blitzes of flying grasshoppers. Birds of all sizes were dicing with death as they feasted on the ‘hoppers carpeting the road. We continued to encounter swarms right up to our bush camp in the Pallinup River Nature Reserve where, surprisingly, they weren’t at all intrusive. We did, however, get whiffs of something smelly, perhaps a dead kangaroo? Our evening walk took us down to the river and the closer we got the stronger it became. We were appalled to find our “smell” was emanating from stagnant pools within the rocky bed of the river. Lea felt quite overwhelmed by the noxiousness of it all and even more horrified when George pointed out that the gas bubbling up from the floor of the pools was hydrogen sulphide. A few months back we’d watched an ABC documentary on a new theory regarding an unsolved double murder in the 1960’s where a couple involved in an elicit affair had been found dead on the edge of a river. Nothing could account for their death at the time until all these years later a scientist proposed that they may have been overcome by the an up-welling of hydrogen sulphide from the polluted sediments of the river. To avoid having the same fate befall us we moved out of the designated camping area to a site downstream of the bridge where the greater volume of water had no smell. Nevertheless, this river has a severe water quality problem. The bridge carrying the main road turned out to be of interest while we were down in the odorous part of the river bed as it had been built entirely of timber, certainly not apparent when we had crossed it.

It began raining during the night and was still drizzling when we got up and left for Cape Riche campground, the access road giving us 18km of red, sticky mud to travel on. Two wet looking kangaroos met us at the gate and virtually led us into a lovely site overlooking a wide bay with the sound of waves whooshing on the beach just below us. After a warming cup of tea we donned our jerseys and walked westward along Shed beach, with sand so fine that it squeaked underfoot, onto a rocky headland where we were delighted to find a kangaroo and her big joey. From there we had a good view of Cheyne Island, a nature reserve that lies 1km offshore and is home to Fairy Penguins.

Western Grey Kangaroo on rocks at Cape Riche campground

Following a fisherman’s track through the heath we were bombarded by locusts flitting across our pathway. So they had reached here too! The next beach, Home beach, took us round to the Cheyne lagoon and up into rolling heath-covered hills which in the misty, damp weather seemed reminiscent of Scotland. Perhaps the Scottish couple, George and Grace Cheyne felt this affinity when they established a trading post here in 1839.

Grey weather followed us into our second day here. Just as we set off for an easterly walk along Schooner Beach a small group of kangaroos feeding on the coastal verge between our caravan and the beach, held us up as we curiously observed each other mere metres apart. Best was the little joey’s face and ungainly legs sticking out of his mothers’ pouch. We had to clamber over brightly coloured orangey-yellow rocks to get onto Schooner beach, a conservative 3km stretch of flat beach backed by sheer sandstone cliffs. There we discovered a lemming-like situation ... within the flotsam of the high water mark were thousands upon thousands of drowned locusts. This got us thinking of the food chain frenzy that has resulted from this plague and whether it spills over into the marine environment.

Locusts washed up on HWM at Schooner beach

On our return we had a break in the skies. Our green seas turned back to their beautiful mottled blues and we were able to enjoy the beach until the ultra-violet rays sent us back to the cover of Getaway.

On leaving Cape Riche we decided it had been our most aesthetically satisfying campground and if it hadn’t been for the restriction on dogs would have been perfect for our Christmas break. Confusingly, Cheyne’s Beach where we were to spend Christmas, was another 50km west and out of Cheyne Bay. Arriving very early, we set Getaway up on our site and drove on to the City of Albany (an hour away) to stock up for Christmas and send / collect emails. Parking was horrific and to our disbelief there were no internet cafes. A worse situation than Uluru! We dashed back to camp, full of excited anticipation for the arrival of Saxon, Paul and Harley dog. To add to the occasion the sun finally came out and we were able to distract ourselves in the waiting by getting all our laundry done and having a good scrub up after 5 days of a lick and a promise. Our youngest family arrived without us recognising them! Paul driving his mother’s brand new Commodore and towing his parent’s newly acquired pop-top caravan. The “belly” came first with much patting and feeling before we were able to help them settle in.

Quality time on Cheyne’s Beach

It was pot luck selecting Cheyne’s Beach Caravan Park. Disappointingly, we found it situated well back from the beach with no view of the sea which was a pity because it is a picturesque area with granite boulders balanced on peaks surrounded by a national park and a wide, flat sweeping beach that swoops eastwards for at least 20km. Christmas season means no choice. From our adjoining sites we have watched the park steadily fill up with families. Opposite us a particularly large site has five caravans and a marquee set up in a horseshoe with their vehicles closing the laager. Just behind us was a group of six young yuppies with their “boy’s toys” which includes their fancy vehicles, quad bikes, fishing tackle and surf skis. Kids playing cricket on the roadway; boats on trailers and tractors line the front end of the park and quads in general definitely rule. Our nights have been cold and the first parts of the day very “English” – grey and drizzly with cold winds blowing that campers are togged up in beanies, jumpers and jackets. Fortunately, between each passing “front” we get good bouts of sun around midday. Regardless, we happily enjoyed family time, leisurely brunches, exploration of beaches and a visit into the National Park on 4WD tracks. This, to the glee of Paul and Harley being bounced around Skiv but not the best thing to do with a seven month pregnant daughter!

Week 38 (10th - 15th December)

The weather man got it right! By Saturday evening banks of clouds were moving in on Ceduna and that night temperatures plummeted from 45°C to 25°C, the air conditioning went off and we awoke Sunday morning to very overcast skies and a change in wind direction. It appeared to be a good day to travel until we were on the road dealing with strong crosswinds! Approaching Yulata we somehow missed the longest fence in the world - The Dog Fence which stretches 5 300km across three States – for the second time! We missed it on the Stuart Highway near Coober Pedy and again on the Eyre Highway. We must have blinked at the wrong moments! Since our first sighting of the dingo fence in April we have learnt that solar powered electric fencing is used in some places and boxes emitting high frequency sounds to deter dingoes in others. Heavy rains may sweep away kilometres of fence and patrolmen must get there to fix it as soon as the boggy ground allows. In 1989 some 20 000 sheep were lost to dingoes when the fence in South Australia was washed away. Predictably, without dingoes to keep foxes, cats and kangaroos in check on the other side of this 1.8m high protective fence, their numbers have proliferated. Second time along this route and our timing hasn’t coincided with the whale watching season. Hopefully, third time lucky next year!

We chose to overnight in one of the scenic lookouts on the edge of the Bundy Cliffs and suffered a very disturbed night with heavy gusts of wind battering Getaway. The noise and the motion wouldn’t let up, even the clothes hangers in the cupboards were rattling and by first light we wanted out of there! We made for the State border with a tail-wind in our favour, munching on our stock of apples in an effort to finish them before we reached the Quarantine Inspection Centre.

Nullarbor “Christmas trees” captured our attention as we whizzed by that we had to turn back each time to photograph them for this festive season.

Nullarbor Xmas shoe tree - CHEERS

The Madura Pass lookout above the Roe plains was an ideal place to pull off for lunch at 1:00pm. With lunch finished Lea collapsed on the bed feeling the effects of the night’s sleep deprivation. Both of us were inclined to camp there overnight until strong up-draughts of wind rising over the escarpment set Getaway into a rocking motion again. Further, to our consternation, George discovered that it was 10:30am Western Australia time! This threw us and our meals into disarray and by 2 o’clock we departed in search of a camp that would give us a decent night with good wind protection. We wound up at Moonera Tank, a camp we used last time round with trees to take the brunt out of the wind.

A hop of 350km the next day brought us through a bit of cooling rain to the Fraser Range where the rest area overlooked an empty large red clay pan, striking against the fringing white stemmed eucalypt woodlands. George walked out into the centre to take a photo and returned with clay encrusted feet ensuring we’d walk around the edge later that evening as the sun dipped away.

The next morning a clear blue sky contrasted against this red pan and we knew we were in for a hot day as we set off for Norseman. We were held up for an hour at the site of a road train accident with tow trucks equipped with cranes hauling up the over-turned trailers. The driver obviously didn’t heed the warning “Don’t Drive on an Empty Sleep Tank”, the horse squashed flat, together with three cars being transported and a huge load of steel pipes.
While re- fuelling in Norseman we again admired the unique corrugated camels on a roundabout in the town centre, a tribute to the early camel trains which carried freight and influenced the width of streets so that camel trains could turn. In keeping with the Festive Season we have popped in a photo of them.

Tin Camels in Norseman

En route for Esperance we stopped off to see Bromus Dam, a strange earthen, above-ground catch dam in the middle of nowhere. A small square shaped impoundment, almost empty, with no explanation as to its purpose. We ended up staying for lunch and by the time we got back on the road a strong headwind from the coast had developed and rather than battle against it, pulled into Kumarl Siding for the night taking shelter amongst a thicket of mallee and melaleuca.
Driving towards Esperance the next day the first of Western Australia’s wheat-fields arose and with them we began to see many dry lakes with white, salt encrusted floors, a reminder of the region’s salinity problem arising from the clearing the land of naturally occurring deep-rooted forms of vegetation. The Pink Lake is another exceptionally large salt lake on the outskirts of Esperance close to the caravan park we booked into. The pink colour of the lake is produced by a green alga and a bacterium that are able to survive in the extremely high salinity of the water and protect themselves from “sunburn” by producing a red coloured pigment (carotenoid). This same pigment produces the pink colour of flamingos in the salt lakes of the Rift Valley in Africa and in the Hutt Lagoon (north of Geraldton) the algae are farmed for the food colouring and dietary supplements derived.

Pink Lake - Esperance

Having spent a couple of camping holidays in the Esperance area in the past we were eager to re-do the 36km long Great Ocean Drive where the sheer beauty of the white beaches and bluest of clear blue seas with their breakers pound against massive granite headlands never fails to impress. Just offshore the many islands of the Recherche Archipelago add to the grandeur of it all, a drive not dissimilar to tripping around the Cape Peninsula.

Esperance beaches - Great Ocean Drive

Friday took us east of Esperance to the Cape Le Grand National Park with its rugged granite peaks, sweeping heath lands and blinding white beaches. Our plans to go and stay there changed when we heard a fire had swept through the park last weekend closing it. In Esperance we were told only parts were closed and having been there eight years ago we knew it was well worth a day visit. The weather was perfect for walking on the 22km length of le Grand Beach which easily rivals Cable Beach, Broome for all but its warmth. All the beaches in the SE corner of Western Australia are remarkable for their magnificence, the sense of wilderness one feels and the absence of commercial exploitation.

This is our last opportunity before Christmas for our blog manager Saxon to load this update. We have arranged to meet Paul, Saxon (with bump) and Harley dog next Friday at Cheyne Beach, approx. 400km west of Esperance, for 10 days together. The next blog will only be posted in the New Year and in closing we wish you compliments of the season.

Week 37 (2nd - 9th December)

Our first overcast skies with fine drizzle provided ideal walking conditions on Saturday morning for King Canyon’s Rim. Early morning or evening hours tend to co-incide with tour groups and this morning we had to be particularly nimble to get up and away before the bulk began the strenuous ascent the trail begins with. Lea was gasping and quite weak at the knees by the time she reached the top. From afar the George Gill range appears very ordinary yet concealed within those mountain tops a warren of layered terraces and tiers of cone shaped rock formations carved over millennia by water and wind erosion. Natural platforms opened out at numerous points on the lip of the gorge providing wide vistas of the desert and the 270m drop below. Deep crevices and chasms, wooden bridges and precariously placed gangways all added excitement to a remarkable hiking experience. In the upper reaches of Kings Creek with its rare and relic plants the calls of delighted frogs and birds drifting upwards from the chasm containing the “Garden of Eden” was a sight to behold. The effort the Territory has put into selecting an exciting route and installing the infrastructure required (emergency radios included) is first class. “You will never, never know, if you never, never go”! Our opinion of Kings Canyon changed from the ordinary to become truly majestic. No wonder Qantas used the rim for their TV ad. of the Australian Youth Choir singing “Still calling Australia home”.

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.

Week 36 (27th November - 1st December)

“A town like Alice” …. is like no other! We simply weren’t prepared for its incredible setting and we have been blown away by its unique and rugged desert feel that somehow epitomises an outback town in quite the best way. The restricted vision of a single photo has really come home to us in this town because the broader panorama creates the very essence and sense of place that we have experienced. The dry, sandy bed of the Todd River, lined by magnificent red river gums, weaves its way through the town. The large rocky outcrops (kopjes) skilfully integrated amongst the urban fabric, including Anzac Hill overlooking the CBD, with its wide vistas of the ancient, heavily fractured MacDonnell ranges displaying the distinctive “Gaps” that serve as the entry and exit routes to the town.

Looking down on Alice Springs from Anzac Hill with Heavitree Gap in background
This was certainly not the time of the year to visit Alice. We have found it hard to walk around in the grip of hot, dry winds desiccating our skins and sun beating down relentlessly. It has made us very aware of the calibre of the early explorers and settlers that did without all the creature comforts we are reliant upon to make life bearable. Not to mention those who died from this merciless heat and dehydration. Our air conditioner has been running non-stop. The fridge has worked overtime to keep us supplied with cooled water. It is not inefficient it is unable to keep up with the demand. Within Skiv the amount of warm, solar heated water we’ve consumed, in desperation to quench a thirst must be a record! For our sanity we have decided that from here on to take powered sites in temperatures of 40 plus to run Getaway’s air conditioning unit.
We walked Todd Mall to see its points of historic interest and to get a feel of Alice’s heart and inhabitants. We walked Desert Park – a particularly wonderful window on desert ecology incorporated within the town limits which is another remarkable attribute. A dramatic feature was the enormous screen in the cinema that dropped away once the film was over to reveal the majestic MacDonnell Range. And we walked the Telegraph Repeater Station alongside the Todd River with its “spring” (really a water hole named after the wife of Todd, the telegraphic superintendent of the Overland Line) that eventually led to the town of Stuart being renamed Alice Springs to avoid confusion. While in Darwin the headline “Lost Brit Lampooned” in the Northern Territory News had caught our attention and on reading about the “bumbling Brit” who wandered off a well trodden path at the Telegraph Station, became disorientated and spent four days lost in the bush! He was rescued after calling the police on his mobile phone and came back looking like a freshly cooked lobster. Before leaving Alice Springs the bumbling Brit proceeded to get lost a second time! We didn’t understand the situation never having been there on reading the article at the time. Now of course it sprang to mind being at the Station and no ways could we credit being lost for a day, let alone four.

We finally had the pleasure of meeting Anne & Will Cormack after all the years of being told that if we ever got to “Alice” we should look them up. First, by Coralie when we immigrated, later by cousin Anthea after she raved about her stay in their Nthaba B & B Cottage and then more often by his sister Liz! Our phone call immediately elicited an invitation to dinner in their beautiful home where we spent a wonderful evening in their company joined by their son and grandsons. We didn’t see the roses Anne is renowned for as kangaroos had devoured them never the less her garden’s a fine example of what can be achieved in such aridity – the Oleander frontage the showpiece in our minds!

Out we rolled Wednesday morning down the broad valley between the serrated mountain ranges of the West MacDonnell National Park to Glen Helen. En route we stopped briefly at the memorial to John Flynn, the founder of the Royal Flying Doctor Service. His ashes are interred in the memorial topped by one of the Devil’s Marbles brought in to honour his achievements.
The sealed road ended at the Glen Helen Homestead where we camped for the night looking up at the towering red cliff face of the Pacoota Range. The Finke river said to be the oldest river in the world and 700km long, runs through the Glen Helen Gorge. A large waterhole lies at the entrance preventing access into the gorge. This is one of nine permanent waterholes to be found along the length of the entire river. In the afternoon we drove to the Ormiston Gorge – a breathtakingly beautiful gorge with red walls that simply soared upwards on the one side. After George had a swim in a waterhole that was too rich in algae for Lea’s liking, we sat on the shady side of the gorge absorbing the silence broken at odd times by a crow’s harsh chattering.

Ormiston Gorge

We drove a section of the gravel road, a short cut to Kings Canyon, to gain a feel for its condition before we purchased the permit required to travel through Aboriginal land the next day. Stepping out to go to the ablution block that night a lovely sight met our eyes. The Homestead below us had floodlit the red cliffs. As we stood in the balmy air admiring them the first drops of rain began thudding into the dust around us. We turned off the air conditioner in error thinking we’d have a cool night of rain but within the hour it was stifling again.
As the orange glow of dawn broke behind us (part of our new “cool” travel strategy) we carefully made our way down the Namatjira portion of the road that led to Tnorala Conservation Reserve (Gosse’s Bluff) where we’d planned to have our breakfast. This extraordinary ring of rugged hills that rises abruptly from the surrounding plains is an ancient meteorite crater. George stopped a couple of times to photograph the early morning sun hi-lighting the rim. The track leading towards the crater looked dreadful and required 4WD that we decided against a visit and on the next rise further down our road we stopped to breakfast overlooking the Bluff. Entering Getaway we found the fridge door catch had snapped and our tray had shaken off the seat. Not bad for 60km of off-road travel! MacGiver George fixed the fridge making a catch with an ice-cream lid and taped the door for extra strength. Over breakfast we decided the road was no worse than The Savannah Way so we would take the Mereenie loop road that we had the permit for.
Back on the move we came to the sign-posted entrance to the Tnorala Conservation Reserve. 4WD was recommended yet the road looked fine. We took a chance and turned in only to find it narrowed and looked pretty sandy. With the crater so near we couldn’t give up. Executed a U-turn, unhitched Getaway and off we went in Skiv. Most surprised to find that we were able to drive through a gap into the centre of the crater. To stand and gaze around at this remarkable astro-geological feature, 5 km in diameter created 140 million years ago with the impact of a comet apparently one million times more powerful than the Hiroshima bomb brought home the climatic repercussions of these large scale explosion events that periodically led to the mass extinction of life. We didn’t linger too long and returned to Getaway.

Gosse's Bluff - Tnorala Conservation Reserve

The Mereenie Loop Road is 154km of gravel and for the first hour we were lulled into a sense of complacency. The road was in good condition, the scenery was interesting, more rain seemed to have fallen in this area suppressing the dust with the odd puddle attracting some brumbies with foals. Along the road we could see a mass of footprints which George recognised as camels, confirmed in the next creek bed where we saw three which pleased us no end. This turned to further excitement much further on when we rounded a corner to see a herd of about 60 camels disturbed by the noise of our rig loping away. Grabbing his camera George abandoned Skiv and rushed over the rise they had disappeared behind. Before long he was back beckoning Lea to join him to listen to the incredible guttural bellowing emanating from these ungainly creatures as they headed up a drainage line. We intercepted them further up the drag allowing us good views of the young ones concealed amongst the herd. The heyday of these introduced freight animals came to an end in the 1890’s with motorised transport. Many were released to run feral in the Central and Western deserts expanding to become the biggest population of wild camels in the world. We spotted several other herds on our journey and the road was littered with their spoor.
Herd of wild camels - 70km N of Kings Canyon

There is only one authorised road side stop within the permit area of this road and ridiculously it turned out to be 27km from our destination. As we grew steadily restless and tired, the road became more corrugated and required even slower navigation. Approaching a corner two 44 gallon drums each with the words “Lift um foot” attracted our attention …. completing the S-bend was another drum scrawled with the same white paint saying “Put um down”. In our hot and hungry state we were further weakened by a fit of giggles! A rock painted “Ginty’s Lookout – 14kms” dashed our humour and the road degenerated further. Crawling into “Jump-Up Lookout” / rest area, as officially named in our permit, we stiffly climbed out of Skiv and opened Getaway’s door to mayhem. The fridge had sheered the screws put in at Broome and once again broken out of the wooden cabinet. As a result the fridge door had broken through the taping and opened spreading the two vegetable drawers out over the floor. The kitchen drawer catch had unscrewed allowing the drawer to fall out shedding our utensils everywhere. Bottles of water, butter and cheese had flown off shelves and burst open. A cupboard door was hanging lopsidedly from one hinge. Cleaning up and seeing to minor repairs in a confined space with heat melting us as well as our groceries hardly made for a good lunch break … and flies came pouring in for the party!
Anxiety building over the fridge and no means of securing it Lea preferred to keep it propped into place with her back for the next 27kms and arrived in Kings Canyon resort looking somewhat shell-shocked, adamant we’ll never travel extensive dirt roads again! Hot and bothered “yesterday man” George immediately began trying to solve the problem of the fridge. Having seen how the fridge had been secured in Broome George now had a good understanding of what was involved. Refusing a refreshing shower and no cool water to quench our thirsts he went off in search of the resort workshop where he was able to scrounge a piece of aluminium and buy some life saving ice to conquer our thirst on his way back. Thereafter, with his own tools he was able to re-secure our fridge - probably in a more stable manner than ever before. We were too exhausted to think of exploring our surrounds that evening let alone think of activities for our next day. Nor could we get up in the night to collect our towels outside when the rain beat down on the caravan and thunder rolled over and above the sound of the air conditioner.

Soon after dawn we were up to find the night’s weather had been more noise than wet and before breakfast set off into the Watarrka National Park for our first visit to Kings Canyon. With a fair amount of cloud cover around we were sorry we hadn’t thought to bring breakfast with us as the conditions were ideal for doing the Rim Walk. Instead we walked up Kings Creek along the floor of the canyon to a platform giving views of the sheer canyon walls before returning to camp for breakfast. We were content to spend the heat of the day reading, writing and being still! Our intentions to return to the canyon for sunset were blown by an unexpected summer thunderstorm accompanied by a lot of lightning, some a little too close for comfort. It cooled things down nicely and while the storm continued to rumble and grumble around us for most of the night the sweet smelling breezes it spawned meant we could do without the air conditioner for a change.
We move on tomorrow at first light to do the rim walk and then make tracks for Uluru, so we are cutting this week shorter than usual.