Tramping tales for May 2014

Rain played havoc with our plans... or did the bread begin about the change in plans?   Augusta Woolies had run out of our bread flour and we decided to spend the weekend down the eastern side of the Eyre Peninsula. This was further justified when SKV’s service required a part unavailable in the workshop. If the order was received by Monday the service provider was able to squeeze us in otherwise no appointments were available until well after mid May. A horrifying thought and basically impossible for us! We didn’t mind small delays in our departure for the north as heavy rainfalls over the last couple of weeks have closed roads we planned to take. Small date deferrals gave us hope the sun would dry them during the days ahead. Weighing up costs we decided to stay put in Port Augusta. Extra time at the crossroads of Australia gave us the incentive to walk the perimeter of this pretty town set at the head of the Spencer Gulf. From the bridge crossing the upper reaches of the gulf we have always admired the picturesque wooden wharf dating back to the 1800’s, edging a town that once was a thriving port and centre for pastoral industries. It reminds us of the wooden wharf in Jacksonville, Florida. Shoreline Caravan Park where we always like to stay gives pleasant walks along the tidal inlet that stretches on beyond the town. It appears like a river mouth yet that, it is not. Aside from the heavy vehicle traffic en route through Port Augusta there is also a busy railhead. The Indo Pacific and Ghan railway lines meet here on their east/west or north/south journeys.  Trains carrying coal from Leigh Creek to the important South Australia Power station on the east side of Port Augusta, add regular shunting movements on the opposite bank from the caravan park in a surprisingly quiet manner. Our week in Port Augusta, the last major commerce centre in the region,  showed us a different face to the usual one seen by travelling public stopping overnight in readiness for the long road west or north.

When sun broke briefly through the rain clouds we broke free of Getaway’s confined space. Most worthy of mention was our visit to the Australian Arid Lands Botanic Garden – a 250 ha tract of scrubland beside the  upper reaches of the Spencer Gulf which, since 1993, has been devoted to the conservation and promotion of Australia’s arid zone flora. Commanding superb views of the Flinders Ranges and containing an extensive network of meandering walking trails filled with the most extraordinary array of native plants, we thoroughly enjoyed what was a very informative experience.  From the Matthew Flinders Lookout above distinctive Red Banks similar to those along the Murray River, we looked down the gulf towards our caravan park and Port Augusta.

We bought a 12L Multi–function Convection Oven from Cheap as Chips all thanks to two different young butchers in two different vicinities raving about the oven in the “master’s ear”!  Never mind, sister Shell, Amanda, Di Ryan et al had all talked up this versatile and small oven over past years. In all conscience, Lea has to add that until she personally evaluates the worthiness of a product – she is very rarely prepared to buy on hearsay. However, when a catchy shop name stays in George’s brain and the hardware shop he requires to fix a broken drawer - comes to be across the road from Cheap as Chips – fate takes a firm hand!  There is definitely truth to the aphorism: the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach... talk of crispy roast chicken and pork roasts was just too much for George and out we walked with a box!  A quick stop at the supermarket for a fresh chicken for testing purposes that very night passed with flying colours as did the pork shank (it started the whole thing rolling!) the following night. Orange poppy seed muffins further increased the value of the oven.  Microwave having broken the rails of the drawer with its weight was relegated to a spot under the bed and ‘oven’ given pride of place in the safety of the newly repaired drawer.

Thankfully SKV was sorted on the Monday afternoon and we were A for Away northwards the very next day.  We stopped at Monalena Lagoon Rest Area 102km along the Stuart Highway for our first night. This was a lovely spot full of Myall trees which have certainly taken our fancy since our visit to Port Augusta’s Botanical gardens, where this Western Myall was chosen as it’s symbolic emblem.  It is a long lived and distinctive tree found in arid salt bush and bluebush country and we had enjoyed looking out at the strange and shattered forms of the Western Myall as we travelled this very same terrain. It is a tree that relies totally on seed reproduction which may occur only four to five times during a century depending on prevailing weather cycles. Its longevity and survival was never at risk until European settlement came along with its land clearance and concentrated grazing by rabbits, sheep and kangaroo which further suppressed its very limited seed growth. George recalled his friend Ken Tinley having to conduct a field assessment 3 years ago and identifying many areas of Myall dying from soil drought. The topsoils had been stripped off by sheet erosion in heavily grazed areas. This had rendered the stressed trees prone to infestation of white fly and in cases where the main lateral roots had become exposed, to crown die back. The trees we saw however were completely dead so something else must account for it. 

 

Monalena Rest Area: Interesting is the tendency of the multi stemmed form of mature aged Myall trees to collapse outwards with the sheer weight of its limbs and die.  

Heading into the interior we had expected big sky country to be all blue above with red and grey flattening out below. Instead, thick grey clouds scudded across the skies. Early and unusually high rainfalls have totally transformed the landscape into a carpet of green in every direction over the past many weeks and travelling up the normally arid Stuart Highway was no different; the soft greens transfused the red or stony gibber plains and our journeying became a more pleasurable view-shed. The ghastly Woomera as a Detention Centre had besmirched our first visit in 2006. This time round, it took on a far kindlier face and we pulled into the town to enjoy a more preferable facet of its history. Back in 1947, Len Beadell and his small team of men and a dog was given the responsibility of preparing a Top Secret site with a network of roads within a demarcated range in readiness for a new, Top Secret Military ‘No – Go’ town relating to a joint British/Australian project to develop and test experimental armaments. It was aptly given the name Woomera after the Aboriginal throwing stick used for propelling a dart or spear. Coming across the Great Central Road last year we’d intersected a couple of Len Beadell’s famous inland tracks, stopped at some of his historical plaques and visited the Giles Weather Station where his trusty bulldozer has been   safely archived after creating 6,500 kms track through the most formidable terrain. In following up on his story we had to revisit Woomera. 

 

An extensive showground was given over to the experimental rockets, weapons, missiles and jets as well as rocket debris recovered from the deserts in honour of Woomera’s National Heritage.

Aside from the learning about the town, its extensive rocket tracking routes and discovering that it was from here Australia launched its own satellite; the 4^th country in the world to do so- we met up with a couple of members of the Ulysses Club and discovered why the Stuart Highway was buzzing with motor bikes.  They were all on their way to Alice Springs to attend the Ulysses AGM from the 12-18^th May. Over 4,000 members from all over the country were estimated to attend. Mostly grey-headed and bearded their motto is “growing old disgracefully’ which rather intimates bad behaviour and they are far from that – better would be growing old adventurously! Throughout our days on the Stuart Highway we’d have small groups whizzing past us with a friendly wave. They brought good business to roadhouses and towns all along the way. Awaiting the ferry crossing from Tasmania in 2012, a beautifully made trailer being towed behind a motorbike drew huge attention. Self made the owner was happy to show it off - two years down the line trailers have become commonplace and opened up a huge market within the biking fraternity, giving them more comfort than a pup-tent or swag on the ground.

The nifty trailers that opened into tented beds for Ulysses travellers. Some stayed in the same bush camps as us, others in the same caravan parks.

Leaving Woomera, it seemed appropriate to spend the night at Lake Hart. More normally it is a dry expansive salt lake, used in bygone days as the Woomera launching pad for some of the large rockets. We took up a pleasing spot overlooking the lake with its sheet of shallow salty water.  On our evening walk along the lake edge we came across a large mound of salt that appeared to have been harvested and then abandoned to solidify into a hard rock-like form.

 

We spent the next night in the Ingomar Rest Area – it was the last one before Coober Pedy and it was to be the most unattractive area throughout our trip up the Stuart Highway. As is our habit, we travel in easy stages stopping before lunch to take advantage of the best sites available and position ourselves comfortably. Over the lunch hour the passing traffic stopped by but didn’t stay – put off no doubt by the noisy removal of concrete litter bins by Transport SA who have gone to a lot of trouble to construct six major and 18 minor rest areas to provide the travelling public with convenience and service in the form of picnic shelters, rainwater tanks and interpretive displays and the concrete bins! Unfortunately human nature being what it is there are always the few unthinking travellers who find a bin full and discard their bags beside it. Birds soon rip them open and rubbish blows in the next breeze to entangle itself along the boundary fences.  A real eyesore!  Ingomar Rest Area was a perfect example of this and Transport SA arrived soon after us, to try a new remedy. They loaded all the litter bins onto their truck with a fork lift and replaced them with a large skip.  All the noise and movement taking place around us pushed travellers on and we found ourselves the only inmates for the night. Ingomar still fell within the Woomera Prohibited Area and with all the fencing there was nowhere to walk and by evening a drizzle had set in.

Throughout the night rain was to fall and it seemed set to stay that it chased us into Coober Pedy Caravan Park. The town roads were awash with red mud and water as we rolled in and the last downpour of the day moved on east.  Once we’d set up in our caravan site and dressed warmly we set off to walk town. On our first visit to the Opal capital of the world it had been so hot and dry that we’d happily sought brief refuge in the underground Radeka Downunder Motel connecting to internet for mail before visiting St Peter and Paul’s Catholic church underground and getting out of town swiftly.  What a difference the rain made! While we were in Burra, a month ago Coober Pedy had received its annual rainfall in one single event, flooding out all the mining pits in the area. Although we stepped warily along newly muddied paths the town we recalled with its thick coating of red dust, grime and scruffiness befitting a remote laid back community appeared to have undergone a ‘facelift’. It had a   clean look about it and the few trees, so carefully hand reared added their fresh, green welcome touch. We certainly didn’t remember the Desert Cave Hotel elevating itself above the other buildings to provide a modern architecture and change in status to Coober Pedy. Josephine’s Gallery caught our attention with a sign giving feeding times for orphan kangaroos. We were just in time for the midday feed and we scuttled in fast. Too wet and muddy to go into the orphanage however, Terry (Josephine’s husband) is responsible for the day shift feeding schedule and he brought out the only baby in the nursery at present. ‘Brook’ was brought in on Good Friday after her mother slammed into the tow bar of a truck travelling a dirt road and killed herself. Lea can never get enough of these ‘rescue units’ observing the dedicated service given the Joey’s and hearing there are folk who check dead roo’s for young. Her concern, heaven forbid we should hit a kangaroo let alone come across an injured one, is WHAT TO DO? Terry produced their pamphlet “How to Rescue a Joey Kangaroo”. This proved to be a real eye opener and has been safely kept in the caravan for any eventuality.

Before checking roadkill there are 3 things to remember SAFETY, SAFETY, SAFETY!   

Now     

• ·        Pull the dead animal away from the road
• ·        Check whether it is male or female
• ·        A joey in the pouch is usually visible unless it is very small. Place your hand over any lump you may see within the pouch and gently feel.
• ·        When removing the joey from the pouch remember it may have sustained injuries unseen so be very careful as kangaroos rarely show pain.
• ·        If the joey is still suckling on the teat- Do not pull it off. If it is a furred joey, gently ease it off the teat
• ·        If it is a pinky – furless joey: cut the pouch open down the side from inside very carefully so as not to cut the joey. Cut the teat off at the base with scissors and tie off that end with string, shoelace or even a safety pin to pin it to whatever you are going to wrap the joey in. Do not pull the teat out of the joey’s mouth.
• ·        Gently wrap the joey in something soft (tea towel, t-shirt or pillow case) It is important to keep the joey warm but not overheated.
• ·        COLD is the biggest killer at this stage so the best place could be down your shirt or jumper.
• ·        Make sure radio is turned off and keep the joey in a quiet, dark and warm environment.
• ·        Do not try to feed the joey as it is very easy to drown them if you force feed.
• ·        If you are concerned the joey is dehydrated because mother has been dead for some time – Wet your finger with a little water or any sports drink (Powerade, Gatorade etc) and dribble over their lips every 20 -30 minutes.
• ·        Stop at the next town, roadhouse or Police Station and ask for the local wildlife carer. 

Coober Pedy surrounded for in all directions by thousands of mullock heaps thanks to the human termites that spend their lives burrowing into the earth seeking the illusive wealth of ‘painted ladies’ and black, reds and harlequins while making a living out of ‘potch’.  Australia supplies 95% of the world’s commercial opal and the largest percentage comes from the fields around Coober Pedy. A mining operation set in motion after a 14 year old boy found pieces of surface opal while his father’s syndicate were searching for gold. William, if we recall correctly was never to realise how significant his ‘find’ was as he drowned a few years later. We happened to stop at a grave during our peregrinations with Paula last year while seeking Kidman’s Tree in outback QLD and discovered the grave belonged to this same young William Hutchinson who’d taken a swim in the river while droving cattle and inexplicably drowned. Coober Pedy is a harsh environment and water was always a big problem. Today water is piped in from a distance of 24kms. Pumped from underground, its source being the Great Artesian Basin, it is then filtered by reverse osmosis. We had no access to piped water in the caravan park. Showers were metered with 20c pieces and to refill our caravan tanks we pulled in at a 24 hour Filling Station rather like fuel service – the water pumps worked on a 15minute cycle and you paid 20c for thirty litres. We were lucky the caravan before us deposited a $2 coin and as no change was given, we were able to fill our tanks at his expense and still leave ‘free water’ for the next in line. We thought this was a very good and reasonable system, fully justified. Pity, we don’t have more of these conveniences elsewhere, instead we have to cope with highly mineralised bore water or the sediment laden waters of the Murray. Our water tanks require a good flushing as we suspect movement resuspends traces of silt dating back to a caravan park along the Murray when we unwittingly refilled there. 

      

Blue skies, we continued north through the green surrounds of the Mullock fields to Matheson’s Bore – a good rest area on the same side as the railway line and we enjoyed a good walk down the line noticing a number of borrow-pits where fill had been taken to raise the rail line above ground level. Plenty of animal tracks in the red sands but the only sign of life was a little inchworm. During the night we heard dingo’s yelping though. Another blue sky day had us up and away early next morning for Cadney Roadhouse where George enquired about the road to the Painted Desert and on through to Oodnadatta. Open to 4WD but far too sticky for caravans; we signed into the caravan park, unhitched and away we went east on our little adventure. The deep muddy ruts we’d been warned about were beginning to dry out well and the landscape around us had George stopping often for photos as we followed the red gash taking us through remote stations, gibber plains and across attractive stony creek beds to the Arckaringa Hills and the Painted Desert. In the midst of admiring the views and keeping a watchful eye on the road conditions we were somewhat thrown to hear a jingle of music. No mobile network service or radio stations for days on end we were somewhat bemused to receive an alert from Telstra - a Mother’s Day reminder! At least we realised it was a Sunday way out here...  Eighty kms down the track we approached the Arckaringa Hills and pulled to the side to allow a large party of ‘Tagalongs” depart the parking area freeing it up for us.  It had been well worthwhile trip to reach this multi-coloured and eroded moonscape of unusually shaped hills with panoramic views across the desert- The flush of green vegetation had brought out locusts and as we wandered through the hills that reminded us of Cappadocia, Turkey we spied kestrels riding the updrafts and swooping down to feed on these locusts we presumed, by their aerobatics. 

  

We loved our slow wander up the Stuart Highway and although we were disappointed not to take the Oodnadatta loop we hope there will be a next time. Our last night in South Australia was spent on Agnes Creek and we left with a new respect and liking for this State where we have spent almost five months. After the pay-back problems that arose from our trek across the Great Central Road in April 2013, we’d been forced to postpone a visit to the Geographical Centre of Australia, also known as Lambert’s Centre, until we returned to this region of central Australia a year later. Part of a bicentennial project, undertaken by the Royal Geographical Society of Queensland in 1988, the idea of locating the Geographical Centre of Australia was accomplished with the aid of a computer calculating where the centre point lay from 24,417 points, each about 800m apart around the coastline of the continent. The “magic spot” was found to lie at latitude 25 deg 36 min 36.4 sec South; longitude 134 deg 21min 17.3 sec East. In 1994, a 5m high replica of the flagpole on the National Parliament Building in Canberra was installed to mark the centre and named after Dr Bruce Lambert, who had been a prominent figure in surveying and mapping Australia. A year had turned over and hopefully we’d reach our two specific destinations - 13^th May 2014. On reaching the South Australia/Northern Territory State border we immediately kept eyes peeled for any sign to The Johnston Geodetic Centre shown to lie not far from the border and just off the Stuart Highway on our map. It was the ‘unknown’ of the two ‘Centres’ we were determined to visit and learn more about. No signs indicating its whereabouts materialised as we crept along the road and we were soon in Kulgera. We called in at the Police station to enquire about it only to encounter a newly posted policeman who knew nothing about either of the Centres or the state of roads! He suggested we ‘Google’ not realising that we’d had no communications whatsoever since Coober Pedy! Kulgera Caravan Park was under new management and he knew ‘nothing’ either!  We unhitched and headed into the “woop- woop” following the old Goyder stock route (now a dusty gravel road) towards Finke, a remote Aboriginal settlement on the periphery of the Simpson Desert, 335km east of Uluru. Some 123km from Kulgera we came across the turn-off to the Centre. It lay at the end of thickly sanded, badly corrugated and rutted tracks that rather confusedly looped back and forth between the red residual dunes of the Simpson Desert. 

A ‘selfie’ under the flagpole exactly as described in books except a torn, tattered and weather beaten   Australian flag hung forlornly from its post.

In the middle of nowhere having not seen a single soul coming or going and feeling a bit like a mad twitcher – ticking off an item on a list; we were glad to find this spot recorded as the Geographical Centre of Australia because one source of reference we’d read beforehand led us to believe the object of the exercise had been to locate the Centre of Gravity! We could not imagine anyone, let alone the Royal Geographical Society of Queensland, setting out on such a pointless exercise knowing full well that the thickness of the crust, the distribution of weight, the distortions of gravity and the continent’s surface were all unknowns. In any event who on earth would want to know where, if suspended, the continent of Australia would be in perfect equilibrium? Overlooking this centre of attention we ate lunch inside SKV unwilling to share it with the flies before returning to Kulgera – mission 1 accomplished!  Regarding The Johnston Geodetic Centre – that too will have to wait another day...

A night was spent in the very popular Desert Oaks Rest Area – probably because of its good location to the road out to Kings Canyon and Uluru. Fortunately, as is our habit, we arrived early in the day to choose a site amongst the rolling red dunes and another very attractive tree related to casuarinas – the Desert Oak with its ‘weeping’ foliage. At evening time we walked out into the dunes and discovered a myriad of tiny blue butterflies. George had pointed out the tiny insect in the Arid Botanic Gardens, difficult to notice with its wings closed on host plants. Once conscious of their presence we saw them everywhere...

Of course we had to spend a night overlooking the oldest river in the world! Not sure how Scientists establish that; although an important factor seems to be that the Finke River has followed its present course for fifteen to twenty million years and the same general path for a hundred million years.

Finke River rises in the far West MacDonnell Range and disappears into the Simpson Desert.

Our next stop was Stuart’s Well Roadhouse and we were relieved to find a washing machine and get the laundry out of the way before making another red gash dash on the east side of Stuart Highway along brain shaking, ear bashing corrugations to visit Rainbow Valley Conservation Park. Contrasting the red, dusty track splitting the countryside was the fine green carpet below mulga trees and shrubbery, giving an unexpected park-like appearance.

Rainbow Valley gave us free standing scenic sandstone bluffs and cliffs that form part of the James Range. Sunrise and sunset highlights the rainbow-like rock bands hence its name.

A pretty hot afternoon, nevertheless we took the two walking tracks in this carefully protected Conservation Reserve. First one took us along the perimeter of the clay pan that extends below the cliffs and we were delighted to find a shallow sheet of water at the far end with a heron and some little waders high stepping around while on land an explosion of wild flowers and insect life also captured our attention. The tiny ‘Blue’ butterflies were out in force again as were creamy moths with speckled wings. The other track took us through the valley to Mushroom Rock. The weathering and erosion responsible for the valley shape had also sculptured wonderful Wurre formations, rock faces and squared towers for us to marvel at from the honeycombed plastic walkway through the dunes.  Back at Stuarts Well the inside door handle broke in George’s hands leaving him imprisoned until his wife returned from her shower.  Just as well it had not occurred with both of us inside, in a lonely location!  After many efforts to repair the handle George had to resort to using a pair of pliers for the next two weeks until Getaway received a scheduled service.

It was well overdue to replenish fresh foods and we decided to try out a caravan park close to Heavitree Gap in the Eastern MacDonnell Range not only because it was well situated to the Ross Highway that would take us east of Alice Springs; it was in the vicinity of the Transport Hall of Fame we were most keen to visit and it was an easy trip into Alice for fuel and fresh supplies. Lea was beginning to suffer severe withdrawal symptoms due to lack of emails, TV and radio news after two weeks without signal. Despite being very busy for an unexpectedly early start to the winter season the reception we received at G’Day Mate Caravan Park on the southern outskirts of Alice Springs was welcoming and hands on by Alan. Close to the famous Todd River with its dry bed and gums giving shade to the clusters of Aboriginals that gather there – we were able to enjoy evening walks along this stretch.

The Transport Hall of Fame outside Alice had been earmarked in red on our calendar ever since our stay at MT Carbine after reading the book “Toots” Woman in a Man’s World prior to our Cape York adventure last year. Toots was the remarkable lady truckie who had serviced the peninsula through thick and thin; 50 trips a year over twenty five years until she was accidentally killed in Weipa. The last chapter in the book of her life had indicated that her aging 25.280 M.A.N. diesel truck had been restored and relocated to Alice’s Hall of Fame and we had been keen to pay our respects when we next came Alice way. 

We searched high and low within the massive  grounds of the Transport Hall of Fame; asked all the volunteers but sadly, no one knew the whereabouts of Old Girl

Although we failed in locating Old Girl, the M.A.N truck our visit was certainly not wasted. We found a photo of ‘Toots’ Holtzhiemer hanging on the Wall of Fame and learned about many more wonderful characters in the trucking industry and walked ourselves to a standstill amongst the first 1934 AEC Government Road Train; the famous Bertha a 1942 Diamond T 980 and another whole showroom museum dedicated to Kenworth Mack Trucks right up to a brand spanking new 2013 Kenworth. These wonderful mean machines plying the road scare the hell out of us just with their colossal ‘horse’ bearing down on us, let alone the trailer lengths. Inside the cab it was state of the art for the driver of these monsters. We also delighted in coming across three vintage motor bikes on display one of which was an old Indian. Paul, our son-in-law had bought George the book not only because we’d raved about a film in which a New Zealander participated in speed racing an Indian over in the USA but because it was written by a Queenslander named George Begg! Most of the visitors to the Transport Museum that day were Ulysses Club members and we found a group amongst the ancient iron steeds having the workings of an acetylene powered headlight, explained to them by an old fella member. He was happy to describe it all over again for us.

A glorious sunset had us stay yet another day at G’day Mate enabling Lea to watch her favourite Monday night TV!

Winter has been left behind along the road somewhere and having caught up on the world outside us; we departed east along the Ross Highway to explore an area that had caught George’s fancy through an article in Caravan World entitled East of Alice; described as an overlooked region as most visitors focus on Ayers Rock and the West MacDonnell Ranges when visiting the Red Centre.  Our tarred road took us out alongside the most scenically and geologically attractive East MacDonnell Range past Emily Gap and we stopped for a walk through the pretty creek and gorge that makes up Jessie Gap within the Emily and Jessie Conservation Park. Another stop took place at Corroboree Rock further along our route and we had just as much pleasure walking the surrounds of this significant cultural rock formation for the Arrernte Aboriginal people.  What appeared to be a round prominent outcrop actually turned out to be a deceivingly narrow, hand shaped feature. Arriving at our destination – Trephina Gorge and the campsite we knew immediately we’d reached a special place surrounded as we were, by enormous rugged cliffs glowing red in the sunlight. We immediately signed in for two nights- Honesty Box system. Wonderful walks were available although we were only to do two – the rim track twice (not because of Lea’s Leap) rather, it commanded such wonderful vistas. To explain Lea’s Leap; the first day we did this walk the sun was absolutely blinding, even with dark glasses, cupped hand over eyes  as we walked up the steep platform of rock to the gorge rim. With George stopping for photos Lea led the way with head well down watching her footfall. On noticing the next tuft of grass was well below the inclined rock face – she was horrified to look up and see a treacherous drop- who would believe death by misadventure but it was unnervingly close!  Inspired by an artist we spotted parked along the road painting with acrylics; George took out his watercolours and went up to the Trephina Gorge rim the following afternoon to paint.

The next morning we set off to explore the N’Dhala Gorge Nature Park as it was a deemed 4WD high clearance track only. 8kms beyond the Ross River Station Resort it made for a most interesting drive with four or five crossings of the Ross River. At the first, we came across a fairly shallow pond of water that we could virtually skirt around.  Expecting much the same at the next crossing gave rise to a change in Lea’s heart beat when the waves of water built up in front of SKV bonnet and washed scarily outwards reminding her of an incident in Botswana when our Land-rover stalled in deep water. All was well, George drove SKV across with no problem yet Lea’s nerves still built up for the return and of course it was needless. The rest were dry sandy beds of no concern to SKV, and we were able to peer along the avenues of red river gum that lined the banks. Weaving through the red quartzitic sandstone mountains and cliffs with folded rock strata added different aspects of interest. As for lovely, lovely N’Dhala Gorge with unusual rock formations; plenty of Aboriginal petroglyphs engraved into huge slabs of rock; a pocket of rare Undoolya wattle (only found in a few spots in the East MacDonnell Range) sadly, this pocket looked dead after being ravaged by fire. And, as we walked the very rocky creek bed, tiny frogs approximately the size of a thumbnail, leapt into or out of hiding like a miniature biblical plague of frogs! Hmm- interesting: the health of a river system can be judged by its frogs.

On our return to Trephina Gorge campsite we took another 4WD high clearance track to John Hayes Waterhole.

Mama Mia! Mercy me... now this was a track and a half – fortunately only 4kms in distance and that was enough. Probably spectacular in the Wet; the waterhole had shrunk to a size enabling any creature out there a sip of life.

We met the plucky artist we’d seen along the main road about to head into John Hayes Waterhole and we warned her that the track followed a rocky creek bed for a good part of the way and it wasn’t worth hurting her Subaru.  A final stop before reaching our campground took us to see a State registered Ghost Gum of significance.  Over three hundred years old and thirty metres high we had to admire this beauty with its silvery white tree trunk in stark contrast to the deep blue sky and red bluff behind it.

Days like this make life incredibly worthwhile and we count ourselves lucky to enjoy the serenity and grandeur of Nature. Having spoken to the artist George was inspired to return to the rim of Trephina Gorge to paint.  Lea joined him at evening time and watched the odd large black cloud drift overhead and alter the lighting thrown across the extensive broken landscape before us. That night George remarked on the clarity of the night sky thus when raindrops suddenly drummed on our rooftop we were amazed.  No need- they didn’t last long. However, we were awoken to thunder claps just before dawn followed by a good downpour before drizzle set in. Do we - don’t we move on?  Thick cloud engulfed the mountain tops surrounding us and appeared to be well set in.  We decided it was best to get moving in case rising creeks locked us in and we returned to the tarred road in 4WD with no bother. We were soon at the north-east intersection that would take us through to Arltunga and we stared down the narrow gravel track ahead. It was a recognised tourist route looping around Alice Springs which indicated it should be in good repair but the red mud and drizzle didn’t appeal to Lea... We decided to leave that road for a day and continued to the Ross River Station Resort we’d bypassed the previous day. We’d read that the first tourist enterprise began here in 1959 and ‘Resort’ had us think expensive thus we hadn’t planned to stay there. We had, however been interested in taking a peek as we headed for N’Dhala Gorge. How times have changed aesthetically and environmentally – we were not impressed by the old fashioned cabins and set up at all. And, in passing the campground we’d been more interested in the twisting Ross River crossings to pay much attention to that. We collected thick wads of mud on SKV and Getaway using the road between the main resort and the campground – enough to be glad we hadn’t taken the Arltunga road. Keen to clear it off before it stuck hard – George was dismayed to find no water in any taps. Turned out there was a problem with the bore and although it was fixed by the afternoon the problem returned had returned the following day as Lea discovered no water for her morning shower. A most attractive campground set within an open circle of mountains. Lots of tree planting taking place; mostly palm trees for some reason and we enjoyed our time there catching up on our computers until the rain moved off and blue sky returned in the late afternoon, making the campground all the more attractive as the sun caught the mountain tops.

Next day we took the Arltunga Tourist Drive (part of the Binns Track – one of Australia’s epic 4WD journeys named after a Northern Territory man Bill Binns, who blazed the track during his 32 years with N.T. Parks. It is well used by 4WD Adventurers) Also an early pastoral track we found odd sticky patches (especially on corners), plenty of corrugations and rough spots as we slowly travelled up and down, in and out the broken country we found so appealing. Our minds changed tack as we headed in the direction of early mining enterprises. The gold diggers pushed wheelbarrows loaded with all their worldly possessions on board through this ruggedly harsh region from Oodnadatta (600kms as the crow flies) to Arltunga, one of Australia’s most remote goldfields was soon to become Central Australia’s first town, born out of the gold rush of 1887. Predates Alice Springs! Our article had mentioned the Arltunga Bush Hotel had been closed and up for sale at the time of writing. We hadn’t seen anything to indicate a change in that situation until we approached and saw many hand-made signs saying “Open for camping ... $5 per person per night”. We fancied that; stopped and looked around the empty place with not a soul in sight. Furniture on the hotel verandah indicated someone must be living there and we decided at that early hour of the day – the campground hadn’t expected anyone.  Interested to see the Arltunga Historical Reserve we moved on a short way and found the entrance and made our way to a well presented Visitors Centre – all run by the Parks and Wildlife Commission although again, no one around. After reading and learning more about this historic mining area we unhitched the van and left it in the visitor parking lot and spent the rest of the day driving around the reserve visiting what remained of the old buildings (ruins), stamp mills (the Arltunga Battery closed in 1913), mine shafts, declines (adits) and cemeteries, as well as going on a number of the self-guided walks available.

HOPE is an incredible driving force and as we explored in the heat, dust and remoteness of this place. We couldn’t help but think of the miner’s pushing themselves to the limits of their endurance in their drive to find gold.  As a youngster, George recalled following his eldest brother, a geologist, prospecting for minerals including gold. He regularly puzzled over what signs or indicators John was searching for as they wandered somewhat haphazardly over all sorts of terrains for miles on end; John tapping at rocks here and there. We gained a good insight into pioneer life and the measure of HOPE required on a remote turn-of-the-century goldfield. George was also interested to compare the productivity of these mines, yielding 1oz of gold per ton of ore (if they were lucky); with Rhodesian mines of that era where a recovery rate of this nature was not unusual. Some mines for example were known to yield 20ozs of gold per ton. Lea was blown away by the cost of living way out there- $6.50 for an oz of gold yet a tin of sardines was 20c. She recalled a story of a tin of sardines costing sixpence in Troutbeck (Rhodesia) and a furore occurring when a man wanted half a tin as he only had a tickey!    

After all the ground we’d covered on foot during the heat of the day we decided to return to the old Arltunga Hotel and hopefully have a night in the campground. All went well as we were immediately welcomed by a scrawny bearded man of indeterminate age. Peter, preferably ‘Fairbanks’ his chosen name in recognition of his origins (born Fairbanks, Alaska); presently a part-time educator teaching science in an Aboriginal School on the outskirts of Alice Springs. In four weeks time (as we write) he packs away chalk for good. He bought Arltunga Hotel and Campground as his retirement project. The hotel may be hired for any and every self-catering function which includes the bush pub (a pub with no beer for sure). Ample informal space for camping; a family cottage and Dongas (shared accommodation) was to be found in this lovely remote setting.  In spite of showers that dribbled out sulphurous smelling water, not to mention the prospect of dingoes eating our shoes if they were left outside, we enjoyed chatting to Peter about his experiences and an author of a book The Old Man in the Mountain & other stories. On hearing Lea had been an early childhood teacher with a year in Jabiru (Kakadu N.T.) Fairbanks promptly loaned her a copy keen that she read a particular story about an early childhood teacher. The earlier part of the short tale with a twist, certainly resonated – it could have been her story! While the old hotel stood empty for a good few years, Fairy Martins saw an opportunity to nest in the eaves of the hotel verandah. We counted 28 tubular shaped mud nests which tallied with a flock of around 50, Fairbanks has observed. Fortunately he enjoys birds so these migrants from Papua New Guinea are welcomed.

We moved on another 22kms to the Old Ambalindum Homestead although it took us some time to reach this other historic homestead along the rough and ready road. We found a Western Australian couple, Maggie and Keith and their pug from Albany managing the station-stay and campground. Keith was playing hide and seek with a young brumby Banjo – rescued after it had been found all alone out in the bush and hand reared.  Listening to Banjo gallop through the homestead grounds generated a thrill of excitement. Old Ambalindum Homestead dates back to the mining saga as the Assayer in Arltunga obviously saw a lucrative niche and bought this property in the early 1900’s; settled his wife and children and began farming sheep and growing vegetables on the rich alluvial soils around the Hale River to supply the surrounding mining fields. Today, the station covering 3,000 sq kms runs beef cattle. At evening time we walked down to the dry Hale River with its deeply incised channels and a wide spread of young River Red Gums amongst which, we could hear cattle bellowing. As we approached the homestead’s crossing these wild black creatures scattered fearfully in all directions. Only a bull stood his ground which made Lea twitchy. Turned out he was just curious.

For a third night in a row we struck ‘water problems’. We easily forgave Fairbanks as his bush-camp fee excuses him but the two historic Station homesteads both charged $30 a night which we felt steep under normal circumstances. However, when the vibrating growl of a generator sprang into action during the afternoon we were glad to have some computer time and Lea cooked the last of the two extra cheap pork hocks bought back in Augusta and we enjoyed another excellent roast from the ‘oven.

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The oven has been relegated to outside cooking... It  does not heat up the caravan; it’s the blinding light constantly switching on and off that is so violating to eyes within a small space even George objects.

Although the landscape began flattening out as we passed through different cattle stations giving Lea exercise opening and shutting gates along the way; we still had to wind our way over rocky hills, dipping into dry creek beds as we passed alongside different ranges until we reached the Plenty Highway with its narrow strip of bitumen. One handsome dingo on this stretch was the only mammalian wildlife we were to encounter on the entire eastern loop. We pulled into Gemtree Caravan Park – what a gem of a place! They say “We are there to ensure that your Red Centre adventure is the very best it can be” and they truly mean it. This fifth generation Plenty Highway family go out of their way to make their Caravan/ camping property special. Informal, spacious bush camps available for those, like us who wish to have peaceful sites encouraged us to spend two nights. As their name implies- they are into gem fossicking. Tagalong tours are undertaken out to Garnet or Zircon fields. You make room in your vehicle to take the fossicking equipment (sieves, pick, shovel, wash bowl and a 20 litre container of water) provided by your guide who prepares you for a day out giving you a few bumps and some corrugations before allowing you to get down and dirty to find gems. Upon your return, the guide evaluates your stones. There is even a gem room where tumbling, polishing and cutting takes place. All ages are catered for and birthday parties are laid on for children. Although we didn’t partake we were most impressed. Instead we did the 1 hour Nature Walk using a well illustrated and informative guide book specially made by the Granny.  We enjoyed it so much we did it twice in a day, although George began testing Lea to see how much knowledge she’d acquired that morning.  The Mulga ant nests were easy as we have seen many different constructions depending on material available during our loop adventure. Dead Finish – is the acacia we first came across in Meekeethara WA named so because it is so hardy. The old timers reckoned – when this one is dead it’s the finish of everything!

Kate provides Camp-oven dinners every night down by the pretty little billabong in peak season – presently only weekends. However site delivered meals are available if an order is in by 4p.m. Devonshire teas are also served on the garden verandah outside Reception every day. Lea’s frozen cheese scones and muffins made while staying in G’Day Mate served us very well otherwise her husband may easily have been enticed. George discovered Russell the campground handyman and a Gem Guide was available after-hours to repack wheel bearing at a third of the price normally charged by Caravan Workshops in towns.  We jumped at the opportunity to have Getaway’s 4 wheels done by him despite having booked a 28 May service with Joe in Alice Springs- (We have many other jobs for him to attend to).  Russell has lived on the road for the past two years in a large bus he did up for his wife and young son. She home schools their 6 year old and is available for hairdressing and facials. We met her in reception doing an office stint – a delightful couple.

Completing our week long Loop east of Alice Springs we were once more back on the Stuart Highway- north of Alice Springs.  We arrived at the Tropic of Capricorn in time for lunch and were quite staggered and mystified to see the ground literally heaving with lycaenids- that tiny Blue butterfly! They certainly didn’t hover or rest in shrubs as we have seen all the other times. They fluttered en mass just above the surface of the ground without rest and never let up the entire day.  We decided to spend the night in this 24 hour limit Rest Area beside the Stuart Highway, 30kms north of Alice Springs and made an early start into the city in readiness for Getaway’s 8.30 a.m. appointment in Joe’s workshop. He was a ready helper after our Central Desert crossing last year so this was return business, booked six weeks ago in preparation for our Tanami Desert adventure. Joe thought George’s list of things to do included repacking the wheel bearings not realising they had just been done! Worse still, he decided to replace the bearings altogether. Consequently, poor communications led to a costly and unnecessary outcome which left us shattered at the end of a long day hanging about. Back at G’Day Mate Caravan Park we spent the final days of May. Checked food stocks, prepared cooked meals as no fresh fruit or vegetables can travel across the Western Australian border; refuelled SKV’s tanks and both jerry cans and sought advice on the nature and security of the Tanami Track. 

It’s on, come Sunday 1 June.