Alice to Kakadu

We are sitting in the dark with the hiss and yellow light cast by the spirit lamp, warming the air beside us. There is that softness so helpful for arthritic joints, and there are many of those around us here in the (rather lovely) caravan park at Jabiru. This really is a club. Members are jolly mostly, always ready to be helpful, and certainly happy to have a chat for just as long as you’ve got. That mix of now quite familiar faces with the addition, now we’re in the international travel spot of Kakadu, of many young European things having a “get to know you” experience in their Britz vans. Fritz 'n Britz.

Last night we sat here and wondered at the unmistakable cry of a very young crocodile somewhere in the park behind us (we’ve both watched enough Attenborough to remember that), and pondered on the whereabouts of its mother! The receptionist assured us it must have been a Butcher bird imitating a young crocodile. Oh yes, at 11pm? Every walk we go on is now preceded by 1.5x1m signs explaining what a rather silly idea moving anywhere in this place is, unless in thick armour. The howling of dingoes on most evenings is music by comparison.

We were in Alice when we last posted, having the suspension fixed up. We spent that day at the Alice Springs Desert Park. If any of you are there even for a short time, it is worth experiencing what the desert can be like after a good drenching. Alice had not received any rain for over a year, so drip irrigation was essential to show the full glory of the flowers and trees, and the songs of the amazing birds that feast on them. This is a very good place, well laid out and with informative displays that are sensitively managed. The Nocturnal House is not to be missed, being the only way you will see our dwindling (thanks largely to feral cats) native wildlife. Quolls, Bilbies, Dunnarts, Spinifex Hopping Mice, and some wondrous lizards and snakes.

News flashed around the caravan park the morning we left. There were people at Ti Tree a hundred klicks up the road, taking fresh fruit and veges off folk as they entered the mango growing area up there. “Par boil your spuds, peel the onions” was the call. H called the info number who confirmed that this was indeed the case, as they were worried about the fruit fly disease risk (so many Victorians). As the spuds were boiling another champion who had actually visited the info centre said “turn them off – it’s not compulsory”. Parboiled spuds are OK for a couple of days travelling in a damp plastic bag, but after that, phew! These are the challenges

There is little reason, once north of Alice, not to put the figurative foot down, and start to burn up the miles, because there is a long way to travel. The countryside is broad and scrubby with distant ranges, for hour upon hour. It becomes mesmerising and is not boring, but a little tedious (H disagrees - never finds it tedious). As a southerner used to people around it is extraordinary, this complete absence of housing, workshops, anywhere within sight. Occasional “towns” set aside from the main road, cannot be by-passed because of a need to make some sort of contact with people, even if the excuse is a Weiss bar. This is the land around Barrow Creek, where poor Mr Falconio met his end (we have just had lunch in Darwin with a colleague of H’s, who was at the local pub when his girlfriend was taken there, all scratched and bruised, after that dreadful event).

Entering these places is about confronting the, in some cases, appalling poverty endured by the aboriginal people there. Places like Aileron. A wheelless Holden smoulders under a tree, with a dense blanket of smoke overpowering the nostrils. A dozen or so people hanging around the roadhouse, their only source of community, or so it would seem. Dereliction is everywhere really. But against that, the children are playing gleefully in the dust in a way that is almost forgotten to us now, who have become so obsessed with cleanliness and appearance. But still I think we’ve dealt these people a very poor hand.

With these experiences fresh in mind, we approached Tennant Creek with a little trepidation, caused mainly by the inflammatory remarks of the manager of the mango farm at Ti Tree (their mango ice cream is worth the side trip for). Tennant Creek – where a native land claim crafted by the local mob took 19 years to bring about due largely to the resistance of the NT government of the time. Tennant Creek, where the traditional owners of the land were once banned from entering the town perimeter, and who now walk the streets with perhaps a greater sense of purpose (the financial counsellor colleague of Helen’s at Anglicare here in Darwin assures us we were wearing rosy glasses at the time).The Nyinkke Nyungu aboriginal culture centre had good displays by local people documenting their history, the land rights struggle, local art, and artefacts retrieved from various museums. The old telegraph station outside Tennant Creek was a slice of white settlement history.

A special breakfast stop after a free camp beside the road at Taylors Well was the Devil’s Marbles outside Wauchope. Wonderful piles of granite in all sorts of configurations.

At 23degS we crossed into the tropics and from about 18degS the vegetation began changing from scrub to woodland. Up on the Barkly Tableland the Spinifex grasses gave way to savannah woodland with more grasses, and the termite mounds became larger, the air softer. A night at Daly Waters pub caravan park was a good introduction to the tropics, followed by the thermal pools at Mataranka where we took an early morning bathe followed by another of H’s botanical walks. This is We of the Never Never country, complete with a replica of Jeannie and Aeneas Gunn’s Elsey station built for the film.

Nitmiluk NP (Katherine Gorge) follows, where you have to settle down for some serious gorge cruising shared with many others. Descriptions of this place in the wet are amazing, with 11 and occasionally 18 metres of water rushing through this gorge in that season, enough for crocodiles to be found in the fresh fish section of Woolworths, in Katherine (third largest town), some miles downstream. Katherine Gorge is in fact a series of about 13 gorges, of which the lower three are readily accessible by way of a change of boat at the start of each. In the first is Jedda’s rock where for those who remember the film she plunged to her death. The guide explained more extraordinary geology, and the uses indigenous people made of various plants. At the head we took a short climb into a large swimming hole with waterfall – the Lily Pond. The escarpment above is marked by very old rock art in ochre dealing with women’s birthing business. These are once secret places where the women took their young girls and gave them instruction in the changes they faced as puberty came, and the does and don’ts they would need to deal with adulthood.

Further north the next day and after Pine Creek, we turned right and headed into Kakadu. As the sun was heading down we went off the main road for 40kms, to Gunlom on Waterfall Creek. This place was fantastic – no other word for it. It’s a really low key place to camp but with good facilities and a charming local couple acting as gatekeepers. After receiving assurances that the parks and local people had done much work to make sure there were no saltwater crocodiles in the area after the flooding of the wet season, we took off straight away for a lone swim in the 100m diameter plunge pool at the bottom of the 200 m high water fall. The following day we climbed to the top of the falls, onto the plateau, where this lovely creek carved its way through a series of pools and short rapids, before reaching three deepish and perfect swimming holes, then plunging over the edge to the valley floor below. We arrived after the tour bus left, so peace and the attraction of Merten’s water monitors and other wild life made this a special few hours.

Kakadu for the first timer does surprise because for the most part it is nothing like the tourist brochures. It is very large at 20,000 sq.kms, and in the dry season looks largely woodland. It is mostly the catchment area that then feeds the wetlands below, through deeply incised cracks in the sedimentary rock. All of this land is subject to patch burning at this time of year, to limit fire risk at the end of the dry season in a few months time. There is a lot of smoke, familiar to country Victorians particularly! As you drive closer to the main rivers, being the East and South Alligator Rivers especially, you experience the great expanse of flood plain that is 4 metres under, in a wet year. The abundance of everything is plain to see, and Kakadu is apparently the only place in Australia where there have been no extinctions of local species. Mostly there are numerous spots where you approach billabongs and creeks through patch burnt woodland, looking rather scruffy as a consequence. There is a certain surreal quality as you steel yourself to advance through the bushes to spy some quite deep gully, with grey brown muddy sides steep enough you hope to at least slow the progress of an advancing large reptile.

Then you discover Kakadu’s two main attractions, a wetlands cruise on Yellow Water, and the rock art at Nourlangie Rock, and Ubirr, which is 40 kms from Jabiru and the Ranger uranium mine. We were on the water for a couple of hours before sunset and were able to see many, many birds in their proper place. A fish eagle guarding his nest, father jacanas with fluffball babies, jabiru/black necked storks, herons, 6 different sorts of egrets, submarining darters, magpie geese, ducks, and the ever present whistling kites... there are approx. 240 species of birds in Kakadu. Everyone of course wants to see a crocodile, and we did, but really the action is with the landscape itself. Landscape less affected by the hand of mankind than most areas, though water buffalo used to foul even this place until the RAMSAR treaty was adopted and signed in the 1980’s. The buffalo are mostly gone but feral pigs (and they are big!) and brumbies remain. RAMSAR protects wetlands both here and in those countries where the birds migrate to in Indonesia and Asia. Places where wetlands are being drained at such a frightening rate that in some cases numbers are seriously threatened. The only shock after the cruise was serious attack by heat seeking missiles in the Cooinda camp ground. The mozzies meant very early bed after a hasty meal of baked beans washed down with a bottle of something cold and white.

Oodnadatta to Alice via Uluru and Kings Canyon

I am writing because Helen is always cooking when we stop. She told me to write this. It’s only 90% true. I do all sorts of other useful things that are organisational in nature, important to general wellbeing, diverse and either lifting things or driving. Helen also chooses the number of gorges we will walk up before mid morning and determines how knackered we will be by mid afternoon. She is the keeper of the cupboard too. This is the internal cavity of a spare tyre that is behind us. It carries chocolate, nuts, biscuits and loo roll. It is important to keep the cupboard keeper happy.

An interesting development has occurred that has caused us to change our plans slightly. Guest’s 4WD in Richmond persuaded me that the shock absorber attachments on the Tvan were not ideal, so I spent a lot of money having their whiz bang mod installed. Two days ago I was dropping the tyre pressures and there was my new shocker mounting bent double and next to useless. We had to drive three sides of a big square on bitumen, instead of the planned dirt adventure called Mereenie Loop, to get to Alice so the local guru could eyeball the problem. So tomorrow the Toyo gets its 100K service and Tuesday the Tvan gets its gout fixed up. Wednesday should see us on our way north to Kakadu. But I get ahead of myself.

While on problems though, little things go wrong that could become big things. We lost two UHF aerials to fatigue over the corrugations, at about $40 each, before we had even made our first radio call. Aerial 3 seems OK so far, but clearly being mounted on the bull bar’s outer end is not the right spot even though that’s where the hole for it is drilled. So you are constantly alert to mechanical noises and possible problems that need to be fixed. Dropping a digital camera is not something you should make a habit of, although ours has been back twice for repair over the past twelve months. Unfortunately it was lowered briskly to the gravel on day 2 and the photos have been getting worse ever since. We spent ages using Picasa fixes that do make a big difference to bad images but yesterday we grabbed the opportunity while in Alice to get a new one. Have you seen the new Olympus 850UW? Hearing our story of fumble handedness the salesman grabbed the obvious opening for a sale, picked out this camera from the glass display case and hurled it onto the floor. If he could have dropped it into a 3 metre deep pond he would have, or left it in the snow for that matter. It is fantastic, Scott proof, and cost a third of what I paid for the old one. Pictures on the blog from now on will be greatly improved and I am sorry (well, she who dropped it should be!) that quality has not been up to scratch so far.

Now. We left you half way along the Oodnadatta Track, alongside the Old Ghan. I think H was in the spa. We had a marvellous day 3 finishing the track, but that was where we bent the shock mounting, going into a dry floodway that was steeper than expected, a bit too fast. Towing at about 70 kph seems best for economy although 16 L/100 seems about average. 19 was the number when we had to speed to Alice so we won’t do that again!

We joined the Stuart Hwy at Marla, where fuel was about $2.12, and headed for Uluru after a night with the truckies at Kulgera. Distances are now big, with 150 kms typical for any leg, with no houses or road turn offs to break the monotony. Traffic on the Lassiter Hwy to Yulara and Kings Canyon is very busy though. Most drivers acknowledge you on the road except the women drivers, aboriginal drivers and drivers of Britz motor caravans. Newcomers give a full and enthusiastic open palm wave, whilst those who have driven over 500 kms give a rather half hearted two finger lift off the steering wheel. Then there is the half index minimalist lift usually confined to bus drivers and tradies. When you forget you feel bad, make an effort for the next one who then ignores you, and so it goes.

We approached Uluru for ages. Those who have been will I’m sure remember this. You get a preview with Mt Connor - a massive mesa 3x the size of the Rock - then The Rock shows itself, and you drive for about an hour through sand dunes that are always uphill, and obscure the objective totally until you are nearly there. Patch burning was going on as we approached, with four great columns of smoke rising still as stone into the upper air high above us. We rushed to Kata Tjuta (The Olgas) for a quick gorge walk and returned as the sun was setting for the rock sunset. Rows of European youngies more interested in sex than geology, pawing each other on top of rented cars and vans, while the Japanese visitors managed more pixels in half an hour than seemed necessary. Reminded us of those sunsets we saw in Africa I suppose! The following morning we got up before the sun and drove out to see the sunrise. It was bitterly cold, but well worth it. After that we walked around the base of the rock where the still chill breeze, rising in velocity as the sun heated the air, mixed with quite hot zephyrs coming off the rock close beside us. It really was a quite special moment, beside what is nature’s most wonderful sculpture. Better close up. The Cultural Centre (Greg Burgess designed about 15 years ago) is full of very interesting material about the Anangu people of that area, bush tucker and so on.

Then you move on to King’s Canyon along with train of tourists you are beginning to get to know by name. Always this amazing geology that gets older and older as you go north from the Flinders. Kings is a small canyon really, about 6 kms around the rim walk, which we did starting before dawn again. Exquisite it is, with teetering viewing points that scare the daylights out of you when your partner edges closer and closer, and for what? Getting a bit older does affect your sense of space and balance so I had to have words with the keeper of the cupboard. Who actually did take a real pearler on a walking track in the Gammon Ranges (double roll down some rocks but only grazes and bruises) and now she’s as scared about me doing it as I was about her. So that’s OK isn’t it! The canyon has some fine side gorges with shady pools and delightful bird life. We stayed at the resort there and treated ourselves to a 6 course dinner with fine wines under the stars, with a blazing fire and two other guests – called Sounds of Firelight. Very nice and very tiddly afterwards. We found our way back to the van in the dark, and H called up the many local dingoes who all replied in full voice. Caravan parks are very quiet places at 11.30 at night, but you know H when she feels the need for a bit of ululating etc. Next morning we discovered the suspension problem, and headed for Alice.

So yesterday we left the van in the caravan park and set off along the West MacDonnell Range for some more gorge hunting. Some new chums were at Ormiston Gorge and we had drinks and a dinner with them last night before heading to Glen Helen Gorge nearby, where we stayed at abysmal accommodation in a bunkhouse at the “resort” there. This morning, we discover that both Helen and my wallets had been stripped of $350 cash while we were with our friends. We left our car open as we went back and forth getting food and grog, and left it open as we ate. Mistake. So kind of whoever to leave the wallets and other contents intact though! That robbed feeling isn’t a good one.

However it shrank into its proper perspective after a day amidst the beauty of the Ranges (eg Ormiston Gorge at right) with their spectacular cliffs and rocks of bright red, white and purple, contrasted with the bright green and oxide white of ghost gums, dark pools, the odd comet crater, sightings of brumbies, and poignant history of Hermannsburg Mission. We expect to be in Darwin by the end of May providing we survive the mosquitoes in Kakadu people say to expect.

Flinders Ranges to Oodnadatta Track

This is shaping up to be a great trip. There have been a few main objectives and one of them is to experience a wholly different environment to that we have become so used to – the desert. We have made progressive steps by way of the Mungo NP out of Balranald, Kinchega NP just on the west banks of a much withered Darling. Thence to Broken Hill, where we made up again with some new chums from Sydney who were great fun. Their gearbox failed and they were obliged to take a few days in BH whilst their Land Cruiser was taken down to Adelaide to have it rekindled. I hope we are spared that sort of experience but they were taking it philosophically. Every where we have been there are worthwhile things to learn. The history of the mining and the pastoralist experience is extraordinary. You all learnt about it at school of course and I am just doing some catching up! Broken Hill has some marvellous Victorian and Art Deco civic buildings built in mining heyday - this is Trades Hall.

We cooked up a storm in BH to use up all the fresh fruit and veges that we could before crossing into SA, where Helen shed a tear having to hand over one of her lovingly nurtured pumpkins from home. As we moved south and west the countryside greened up a little towards Peterborough. We stopped at a little garage in Orroroo and had the oil changed because we will be well over our regular service by the time we get to Alice. We enjoyed a night at a little place with just an old stone pub, called Cradock. Great food – goat stew – and then a cold night beside the creek before fuelling up at Hawker, and then into the Flinders Ranges proper.

Approaching the ranges was special. They draw you in from afar. The geology is striking immediately and we knew we were in for something special. As you approach there is a rock called Arakoo about a kilometre walk away, with aboriginal paintings. I’ve seen Lascaux but when you see these without any of the fuss, impressive. Superlatives will be avoided where possible! We walked into Wilpena Pound along the creek afterwards. We were both surprised and a little disappointed. It is smaller and more treed than I imagined, and whilst a fine place we did have that feeling of “what’s all the fuss about”. That afternoon we drove northwards within the Park, to a camping spot called East Brachina which is one of several along the “geological trail”. This is really what the Flinders is all about. The geology is gobsmacking frankly. With rock formations dating as far back as 600m years, and its own newly recognised period called the Ediacarian, when the first soft bodied creatures appeared; extraordinary. Mawson spent a lot of time exploring in these ranges and has a range named in his honour. One of his students was a chap called Reg Sprigg who in 1961 purchased a large unworkable property called Arkaroola in the northern part of the North Flinders Ranges. He turned it into a conservation park especially with the yellow footed wallaby in mind. There are good facilities there and we took a couple of days to do a self drive 4WD trek that was EXTREME by my reckoning (but inspired a lot of confidence in the Prado), and an evening in their observatory on a cloudless and moonless night. The stars were as I have never seen them – even at Currango. The Sombrero galaxy, a globular cluster of 50m stars looking to the naked eye as if it were one, Alpha Centauri (bottom of the two pointers) which is in fact two, or a binary star, capped off with a view of Saturn looking like a big dinner plate on its edge.

A night at Grindells Hut in the wilds of Gammon Range NP, where a gruesome murder was committed in 1918, (we slept OK), was followed by a drive out onto the Plains to Leigh Creek where we attempted to get a blog off, but were beaten by the technology! Next G coverage has been the limiting factor, and it is not that good. H has been quizzing everyone wherever she goes and the customers are not happy I’m afraid. We spent a night at Marree last night and had a good steak at the pub. Six staff this time last year and two now. Williams Creek tonight where there are meant to be 10 residents (it is Australia’s smallest town) and we are down to 4. Drought has reduced jobs so much that everyone‘s vacating. So today we have driven a third of the Oodnadatta Track alongside the Old Ghan. Ruined fettlers' cottages and old railway works like bridges and desalination tanks, pepper the roadside with great regularity. Desert everywhere. Then, an oasis at a water hole, or bubbling springs in the middle of nowhere. This afternoon we had a natural spa at Coward Springs!

Bit of a gap!

We had all the best intentions to make regular postings but hey - who feels like playing with technology when in some gorgeous spot toasting a sunset; besides, camping is hard work so there is very little time! Not to mention Internet coverage (via our much loved datapack courtesy of Telstra) - this has not been available since Hawker right through the Flinders Ranges until now in Leigh Creek.
Flinders Ranges are a geologist's heaven and despite being extraordinarily dry have been wonderful. We expect to be in Alice Springs in a week via the Oodnadatta Track and will hopefully catch up on lots of postings there - about Mungo and Kinchega national parks and Broken Hill in arid NSW before crossing into South Australia. Met some really nice people, some of them having gearbox trouble and watching their car being shipped off to Adelaide 600 kms away on the tray top! Remember our journey to Canberra David E? This blogging is proving murderous and on top of that I can't get my credit cards to work and we're running out of cash. The butcher's got $100 of criovacced meat for collection too! The locals think we are of dubious repute - well, we are from Victoria aren't we!