Riding the Red Rock Roller-Coaster

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Having faced unexpected trials and tribulations during my first three days on the Larapinta Trail, it was with a fair degree of trepidation that I rose to greet the day on Thursday (August 12th), knowing that - according to the map guide at least - I was about to face one of the most difficult days on the trail. Still, it also promised to be one of the most spectacular, with the route climbing up and over the Chewings Range before descending to a campsite near a picturesque waterhole. Despite wasting fifteen minutes trying to buy a lip balm from the kiosk at Standley Chasm (the less said about that the better) I managed to get going by 9am, as planned. The fact that each of the three ladies with whom I had been camped had gotten underway a full hour-and-a-half before me I considered irrelevant. They were clearly more acclimatised to the cold mornings than I was.

After paralleling the access road south for five hundred metres, the trail then took a right-hand turn and followed a dry creek bed for the next kilometre, before turning sharply again and beginning to climb up the side of a valley towards a prominent saddle at the far end. With doubts still swirling around my head after my suffering of the previous day, I was surprised to find myself powering up this slope - despite the fact that I was carrying 6 litres worth of water, which would have brought my total pack weight to around 24kg - and was astonished to find myself at the Bridle Path Lookout by 10am. I had covered 5km with 200m of elevation gain in exactly one hour, without stopping once! Where had this sort of energy been yesterday?!? Admittedly the temperature was only forecast to hit 20° - where the previous two days it had reached 28° - but surely that alone didn't explain my performance. I was completely dumbfounded.

With views of plunging ravines, sweeping valleys, shapely peaks and faraway horizons, it wasn't just my newly-rediscovered hiking prowess that had me shaking my head in amazement. But what REALLY blew me away was the wind: the forecast had predicted 30-40km/h south-easterlies gusting up to 60km/h, and if anything that forecast seemed to have been on the conservative side - damn, it was windy!!! Never would I have imagined I would be ADDING layers of clothing during a sweaty climb up a mountain in the heat of the Outback, but that's exactly what happened. And the higher I climbed, the stronger the wind got. But so too did the views get better and better, with the colossal geological forces that have shaped this land being displayed to full effect. The amount of force that must have been required to take horizontal layers of rock (laid down over a billion years ago when this area was a river delta) and buckle it until it was tilted at all manner of different angles - from diagonal to vertical - is simply mind-boggling. And yet everywhere I looked, angular slabs of rust-red rock striped with layers of less-resistant rock stared back at me. This was the ancient landscape that I had yearned to see for myself, and the Larapinta Trail was laying it out on a platter for my viewing pleasure.

After negotiating the numerous peaks and troughs of this roller-coaster of a ridge, I eventually arrived at the highest point in this section of the Chewings Range: Brinkley Bluff, at 1209m above sea level. This also happens to be the highest point reached by the Larapinta Trail until it ends on the summit of Mount Sonder, which was still well and truly out of sight over a hundred kilometres away to the west; and as such, the summit was marked by a gigantic rock cairn about three metres high! I had thought the summit cairn atop Mount Bogong in Victoria was impressive, but this one would definitely give it a run for it's money. Still, the mountain does only rise about six hundred metres above the surrounding plains, which makes me wonder if they're not over-compensating slightly.

But at least the over-sized pile of rubble atop Brinkley Bluff offered some semblance of shelter from the wind, without which I doubt I would ever have been able to boil the water necessary to rehydrate my beef teriyaki for lunch. And though Bree, Victoria, Stacey and a group of five guided hikers (plus their guide) were all gathered at the summit when I arrived, it wasn't long before I had the place all to myself. This, when combined with the discovery of a trapdoor compartment that housed a summit logbook embedded within the rock cairn, sparked a quest to somehow capture a summit photo of myself using the self-timer on my camera. A simple hand-held 'selfie' would never have worked, given that the incessant wind had whipped my hair into a frenzy - so that any background would have been almost completely obscured behind my waving locks. Ultimately I was able to extracate a particularly pointy rock from the enormous pile jenga-style, which I could then use to prop open the trapdoor so that I could place my camera inside - thus keeping it level AND out of the wind that would otherwise have blown it over in half-a-second! After that, it was simply a matter of setting the timer, lining the camera up as best I could (without having any way of seeing exactly what would be in the frame), high-tailing it into position, and hoping for the best!

Dropping steeply down the side of Brinkley Bluff, I soon passed Stacey who, by her own admission, was in agony as a result of the blisters that had formed on her toes. The uphill section had posed no problem for her, but with every step downhill on this knee-jarringly steep terrain, she was sliding further into a world of pain and doubt. I on the other hand was still flying - though I did have to stop to remove my outer layer once I had dropped out of the worst of the wind - and after finally reaching the dry creek bed at the base of the mountain, I beelined it straight through to the campsite in no time at all. The difficult, 8.5 hour day described in the map guide I had knocked off in a leisurely 6.5 hours, including a full hour's break for lunch. Suddenly my body didn't feel so battered and broken any more; and while the cooler temperature had no doubt contributed to this - I had after all only used up three of the six litres of water I had brought with me, simply because I had no need for the rest - I couldn't help but wonder whether it hadn't been so much my body but my mind that was to blame for the previous day's predicament, for setting unrealistic expectations regarding just how 'easy' the day's walk would be. In any case, this had been by far my favourite day on the trail so far; and it had gone a long way towards rebuilding my confidence for the challenges to come.

But the day wasn't quite done yet, so after enjoying the obligatory post-hike cup of tea I headed around to the nearby Birthday Waterhole (where the guided hiking group had their camp set up) to see if Bree had followed through on her commitment to indulge in a birthday swim. As it turned out she had. And what's more, her fellow hiking guide presented her with a celebratory slice of 'birthday bruschetta', complete with a lit candle on top. When I was offered a slice, I promptly hopped from one rock to another across a narrow section of the waterhole to accept... and in the process dropped my sunglasses pouch in the water. 'No matter', I thought, 'it will float'. So I turned my attention to the lovingly-crafted little bruschetta, only to turn back just as my little black pouch disappeared from view into the inky water. It wasn't until later when I was back at my tent and tried to locate my comb that I realized - it had been inside the pouch, and was no doubt responsible for weighing it down and making it sink. So now I would have to face the next ten-plus days not only with broken sunglasses and a badly-perforated cooking pot, but also with no way of controlling my already badly-behaving hair, which I had avoided cutting for the entire nine-month duration of my trip so far. And just as with my sunglasses, I'd left a spare comb in Alice Springs, assuming it wouldn't be needed. It seemed 'wardrobe malfunctions' were fast becoming my speciality.

Returning to the campsite at the Section 4/5 Junction, I had just finished putting up my inner tent on the platform underneath the campsite shelter (for added insulation) when an older man who was also intending to sleep under the shelter confided to me that, rather than having to get out of his warm sleeping bag to pee in the middle of the night, he would simply pee into his water bottle and then pour it out (and presumably rinse it thoroughly) in the morning. 'Oh well, each to their own', I thought. Of course it was only later in the night when I actually woke to the sound of him 'filling his bottle' that I realized how downright creepy I found it! I've had to resort to using my earplugs for all sorts of reasons on this trip, but this was an entirely new one. Presumably he doesn't get invited to very many slumber parties.

Section 5 promised to be another memorable one, leading from the junction near Birthday Waterhole (where the official campsite used to be located) through to Hugh Gorge. Whereas the previous day's route had climbed up and over the Chewings Range, this time we would be threading our way through the mountains... then climbing up and over them... and then weaving through them again just for good measure! Despite measuring only 15km, the 'estimated time' needed, at least according to the official map guide, was 9.5 hours! To put that into context, there are only 11 hours of daylight in this part of the world at this time of year - and that estimate doesn't allow for lunch breaks! Nevertheless, I was looking forward to getting up close and personal with the convoluted topography on offer, and was equally confident that I would take nowhere near as much time as was suggested to complete the day's walk. This was just as well, since I had once again managed to get going later than intended (about 9:30am) after a particularly chatty young woman had suddenly turned up at the shelter (she'd been camped down at the waterhole) just as I was starting to pack up.

With the map guide having broken the day down into nine separate mini-sections, the first eight of which were all estimated to take about an hour, it didn't take me long to realize just how absurdly generous these times were for someone like myself - every single one took me just on thirty minutes, allowing me to then rest for ten minutes at each landmark along the way without ever having to worry about time pressures, or getting particularly tired. Starting out with a climb over a low saddle, the trail took me through the tight confines of Wanga/Spencer Gorge, before emerging into the light once more and climbing steeply towards the exposed backbone of the Chewings Range - where the aptly-named Razorback Ridge then added a touch of excitement to proceedings, with the trail tip-toeing along a sometimes knife-edged ridge. Surprisingly though, after leaving the even-more-aptly-named Windy Saddle the wind gusts had died down somewhat, so that against all odds I considered stopping atop the Razorback for my lunch break. But with a sound understanding of Murphy's Law dictating that as soon as I got my gas canister and portable cooking stove out the winds would suddenly pick up, I instead pressed on down the far end of the ridge towards Fringe Lily Creek, where a most enjoyable lunch break was spent in the shade of a tree edging the dry creek bed.

Continuing in a westerly direction after lunch, I crossed another saddle before dropping down the other side to the junction with Hugh Gorge (known to the Arrernte as 'Ntyitja Ntyitja'). Although the main trail turned left and headed downstream, I had been tipped off by a hiker passing by in the opposite direction that if I had time I really should make the effort to check out the waterhole about a kilometre upstream from the junction. This was something I had come to enjoy about the Larapinta Trail - the brief encounters with passing hikers (of which there would probably be an average of between three and six parties per day, most of whom would either be in pairs or solo) who would invariably stop for a brief chat, imparting as they did so any facts they considered to be particularly relevant about the section they had just walked, and listening intently for any useful information in return. Most likely they weren't so much social butterflies, but, like me, were absolutely buggered and looking for any excuse to take a break! But in any case the existence of the Larapinta Grapevine was not only indisputable; but also indispensable.

So after dropping my pack and having a healthy swig of water, I followed the dry creekbed for the best part of 25 minutes, with the towering walls of red rock on either side of the gorge simultaneously growing larger and drawing closer together, until it felt like I was walking into the very centre of the earth. Hadn't Jules Verne come this way?!? As steep and forbidding as those cliffs were, it was possible to see straight through them from the edge of the small waterhole to the far end of the gorge - though what lay beyond that I couldn't quite tell. But though I wasn't sufficiently tempted to get the gear off and go for a swim - which, given the lack of sunlight penetrating the depths of the gorge at this point would have necessitated an emotional farewell to my testicles - I was more than satisfied with the taste I had gotten of Hugh Gorge's sheer-sided, cliffs-a-glowing awesomeness. This was just as well, since the rest of the gorge downstream from the junction turned out to be a bit of a disappointment by comparison, if I'm completely honest!

But the day had been a good one, and again had not caused me any significant difficulties. I had also more accurately guessed how much water I would need - this time carrying five litres worth, and drinking four. So it was with an upbeat mood that I entered camp late in the afternoon, to discover that Stacey's blisters had forced her to skip the day's walk (she had managed to get a lift from Birthday Waterhole to Hugh Gorge with the driver for the guided group), and that she would be doing the same again the next day before hopefully being able to continue the walk from Rocky Gully. Victoria would have been happy to skip Rocky Gully and head all the way to Ellery Creek (almost 30km away) in one go, but had no choice other than to wait for Stacey to recover. Bree meanwhile had no such constraints, and was adamant she would be at Ellery Creek the following night. But having made it through what I expected to be two of the toughest days of the entire trail with flying colours, I decided it was time I thanked my body for giving such good service, and elected to go only as far as Rocky Gully (about 16km) before continuing onto Ellery Creek the next day. I said my goodbyes to Bree and wished her the best for the remainder of her walk; but fully expected to see both Victoria and Stacey at Rocky Gully the following evening. After chatting to Victoria briefly the next morning, I never saw any of them again.

With quite a crowd having coalesced at the Hugh Gorge campsite (ten independent hikers, plus the guided group of five set up a few hundred metres away) my plan for section 6 was brilliant in it's simplicity: sleep in. With the trail essentially making a diagonal crossing of the broad Alice Valley that separates the Chewings Range in the north from the Heavitree Range to the south, I could expect plenty of small hills but no major climbs for the next thirty kilometres - which meant I should have no problem maintaining a fast walking pace. And since I had decided to spread the section across two days anyway, it meant I could afford to take an extended lunch break at Ghost Gum Flat, about halfway through the first day's walk to Rocky Gully. According to the map guide Ghost Gum Flat had the only table between Hugh Gorge and Ellery Creek - and if I could get there late enough I might just be able to score it all to myself.

Stopping about an hour into the day for my first drink break on the edge of yet another dry creek bed, I was kept amused by the antics of the resident budgerigars - two of whom in particular seemed to delight in provoking each other into aerial dogfights! At one point the two were perched a couple of feet apart on a branch of their favourite gum tree, when Budgie A quite deliberately flew over and landed right beside Budgie B, before chest-butting him as hard as he could... at which point Budgie B decided he'd had enough and promptly launched the attack that Budgie A had no doubt intended to incite in the first place! Kicking out and flapping their wings at each other, they soon locked feet and began plummeting to the ground, before eventually the hold was broken and they each retired to their respective corners - no doubt to prepare for the next round of their battle. I could only assume they were brothers.

An hour later I arrived at Ghost Gum Flat, where my suspicion that there would be only one table to sit at (it was actually a low platform) proved to be correct. It was perfectly shaded beneath one of a pair of Fork-Leafed Corkwoods, with the eponymous Ghost Gum - complete with three large burls - standing resolutely just back from the clearing. Unfortunately for me there were already five people availing themselves of this shady perch; but I was prepared to play the long game. For fifteen minutes I stood with my arms folded, glaring at the folks in question while tapping my foot repeatedly on the ground (not true - I actually sat in a semi-shaded patch of dirt about fifty metres away) until, lo and behold, goodbyes were exchanged and everyone sauntered off in their respective directions. And like a vulture I immediately swooped. Having stalked my prey so successfully I wasn't about to give it up anytime soon, and in the ensuing two-and-a-half hours I recall drinking at least three cups of Dilmah Extra Strength (no weak teas for me...) and seeing only two other hikers. My plan had worked a treat.

And best of all, I only had another 9km to go for the day, which would take me just on two hours. With no shelter or tables at the Rocky Gully campsite, I selected a spot far enough away from the composting toilet that I wouldn't be woken by the constant opening and closing of it's squeaky steel door throughout the night (come on ladies, just wee on a tree already...) and retired to my tent to relax with the latest issue of Wild magazine, which I had somehow managed to cart around in my backpack without bending, folding or tearing for the past six days!

With a warmer day forecast for the Sunday (my seventh day on the Larapinta Trail) I decided I really ought to get going reasonably early, and figured that if I set my phone alarm for 6:30am (half-an-hour before sunrise) I could be on the trail by 8:30am, which in turn would allow me to walk in the cool of morning and potentially arrive at the Ellery Creek North campsite by midday. And inexplicably my plan for the day went off without a hitch! By the time the sun started spreading it's warmth across the land I had already rolled up my sleeping mat, sleeping bag and inflatable pillow and was clutching a much-needed mug of coffee. Forty-five minutes later the first of the morning's departures ventured forth, to be followed at intervals of about fifteen minutes until, right on cue, I hoisted my backpack just a smidgeon after 8:30.

But most amazingly of all, there was still one person left at the campsite as I went to leave! This was truly unprecedented, and I couldn't help commenting to the young lady (who had only arrived minutes before sunset the previous day) that this was the first time I had 'beaten' anyone out of a campsite all week - though to be fair she was tying up her shoe laces ready to leave when I approached! She laughed and said that she too had been the last person to arrive and the last one to leave at every campsite she had passed through, and for a few moments we revelled in slandering those 'early risers' ('who are they racing against anyway?!?') content in the knowledge that there was at least one other person on the trail operating under the same time zone (Central Australian Late Rising Time). I couldn't help noticing the young lady in question was rather beautiful too - if only she'd not been heading in the opposite direction...

Nevertheless, with a spring in my step, a cooling breeze at my back, and the impressive sight of the Heavitree Range's one pencil-straight ridge to focus on, I positively flew through the remaining 13km in just three hours, arriving at Ellery Creek North at 11:30am. Aside from giving me the rest of the day to relax around camp, it also meant that I would be able to finally indulge in a well-deserved and much-anticipated swim at the Ellery Creek Big Hole with the sun shining down from almost directly overhead. This would hopefully minimize my chances of suffering hypothermia, which believe it or not is a very real concern in these Outback waterholes that generally only see the sun for an hour or two each day. Dropping my pack at the shelter, I headed down to the waterhole - which is believed to be up to 25 metres deep, and which permanently blocks access (other than by the occasional small inflatable boat) between the walkers' campsite at Ellery Creek North and the car-based campground at Ellery Creek South. It was from Ellery Creek South that I would be collecting my food drop the next day, but despite the two sides being separated by just 150 metres as the crow flies, it would require a walk of 8km EACH WAY for me to retrieve my food!

In any case, it was with great excitement that I rolled up to the water's edge, kicked off my thongs, and proceeded to inch my way into the water. By the time I reached knee-depth, I could already feel my body going into shock. The water was colder than anything I had ever experienced. Inching my way in further, I was hoping to find a spot where I could squat down and completely submerge myself, however brief it may be. As I crept forward, I suddenly detected the cold water lapping against my balls... and as far as I was concerned, that was my point of no return! I dunked myself under for a fraction of a second, before immediately springing back to my feet and racing for the comforting embrace of my microfiber travel towel. It was only ten minutes later as I returned to the shelter that the stinging sensation in my toes finally subsided. Later that day I was joined by a couple I had met a couple of days earlier, who admitted to also being shocked at how cold the water was... but even more shocked when they watched a young guy (whom they had previously met) swim the length of the waterhole just to see what the campsite was like on the northern side, before swimming back again! According to the couple, he didn't look like he was in any particular hurry to complete either of his crossings. Unbelievable.

With no need to break camp the next morning I could afford to have a sleep-in, so it wasn't until 10am that I finally headed off with an almost empty backpack (containing only three litres of water and my rubbish from the previous week) to tackle the 8km walk around to the food drop point at Ellery Creek South, which involved backtracking 3km along the northern side of the Heavitree Range, before climbing over a low saddle and then heading back along the southern side of the range. This was the original alignment for the Larapinta Trail, which then continues along the southern side of the range for a further ten kilometres towards Serpentine Gorge. But in recent years the National Park has constructed a parallel walking trail on the northern side of the range - which also continues on towards Serpentine Gorge - to allow people to avoid the cars and crowds on the southern side. Despite this, many people choose to follow the old alignment in order to collect food drops from the campground at Ellery Creek South without having to backtrack. Not too many people (in fact none that I have met) choose to do as I had done and stay on the northern side but VISIT the southern side to pick up their food, but then again I never was one to follow the established order!

Invariably hikers tend to add the odd luxury food item to their food drops, and I was certainly no exception... somehow a large packet of corn chips, jar of spicy tomato salsa, two packets of pizza shapes and two packets of jelly snakes had found their way into my container! The shapes and snakes were lightweight so they could come with me, but there was no way that jar of salsa was going in my pack, so I had no choice but to plonk myself down on the grass beside the southern side of the waterhole and devour the entire supply of corn chips and salsa! I felt like a (fat) king. How on earth I was going to fit the rest of the food (approximately eight days' worth) into my backpack along with all of my other gear the following morning I had not the foggiest idea, but that was a problem for future me to deal with! For now I was free to revel in the fact that I had made it to the halfway point of the Larapinta Trail, and as far as I was concerned nothing was going to stop me from completing the trail now.

Where the previous night there had been six people camped down in the dry creek bed beside the waterhole at Ellery Creek North - leaving me to enjoy the comfort and convenience of the shelter on my own - there was only a solitary young woman there the following night, so another very quiet night was passed with my only company being a pair of industrious little mice - who unlike the ravenous vultures at Simpson's Gap seemed to be finding more than enough to eat by simply digging amongst the oversized pebbles that formed the floor of the shelter. An uneasy truce seemed to have settled over the war between mice and Matt - I could only hope the peace would hold. In other good news, it seemed my prayers for a replacement 'hair control device' had finally been answered in the form of a hair brush that one of the women from the night before had left behind at the shelter. Whether they had done so accidentally or deliberately I couldn't be sure (though I suspect the latter) but one thing I was certain of was that whoever it was, they weren't going to be coming back for it! Given that I'd had to resort to using my camp fork to comb my hair for the past couple of days (not recommended) this was a highly-prized gift from the Trail Gods indeed!

Finally leaving the campsite at Ellery Creek North almost 48 hours after I had arrived, I had the pleasure of walking a sublime section of trail that weaved amongst the lower slopes of the Heavitree Range's one ruler-straight ridge, with views stretching out across the Alice Valley back towards the Chewings Range. And it seemed I had the entire trail to myself, for it wasn't until I had finally reached the next gap in the range (about nine kilometres from Ellery Creek North) and dropped down into a narrow gorge, that I finally encountered another hiker. Once through the unnamed gap I had just another 3km to go before I arrived at my next overnight stop: Serpentine Gorge campsite; all in all the section had taken me just over three hours! This gave me plenty of time to enjoy a leisurely lunch, before strolling up to the permanent waterhole at the entrance to the gorge, which acts as a barrier to not only humans but also predators like dingos - allowing a healthy population of Black-footed Rock Wallabies to thrive within the protected confines of the gorge system. But while I failed to see any wallabies while I was there, I was kept entertained by the countless flocks of budgerigars and zebra finches who would come to the waterhole to slake their thirst - as animals do all over the Outback.

Time and again a flock of budgerigars would land in a tree on the opposite (northern) bank of the waterhole, where they would have a little rest and reorganize themselves before fluttering their way down to the water's edge and drinking for barely a second, and then just as quickly as they arrived, they would fly past me and wheel off to wherever it was that they called home. I never was able to figure out whether it was the same flock of budgies flying around on a continuous loop or a whole bunch of different flocks, but they certainly kept me amused! So too did the little zebra finches with their gorgeous little multi-coloured faces looking like miniature Puffins (and who doesn't love Puffins!?!), though they seemed to come and go from the waterhole somewhat more haphazardly! In fact my favourite moment at the waterhole came as I watched one particularly adventurous little zebra finch, who decided that rather than having to stand in the dried mud at the edge of the waterhole to drink like everyone else, he would find a way to rock-hop down the rocky slope on the eastern side of the waterhole and then drink his fill from his own little private spot! When he'd had his fill to drink he then flew straight past my head, missing me by no more than twenty centimetres in the process!

After checking out the view of Serpentine Gorge from a lookout perched atop the cliffs, I made my way back to the shelter where I was surprised to find the one guy that I had passed (going in the opposite direction) on the trail that day. His name was Francisco and he was Spanish, and it turned out that he had been headed west just like me, but had come from Ellery Creek South on the southern side of the range. He was sick of the endless twists and turns of the Larapinta Trail (with this I could certainly sympathise - it does meander a lot!) and so when he spotted a section of trail up ahead to his right - while the trail seemed to be leading him to the left - he had decided to take a short-cut across. Unfortunately for Francisco he had done this right before the junction where the onward trail to Serpentine Gorge continued on ahead while the alternative route to/from Ellery Creek North branched off to the right... and this was how he had ended up on the same trail as me, only going in the opposite direction!

When I asked Francisco how far he had gone before he realized he was going the wrong way, he replied "oh, only about three kilometres". Curiously though, it was the distance markers that were suddenly going in descending order that tipped him off, rather than the fact that he was heading east on the northern side of the range when he was supposed to be heading west on the southern side of the range! Still, he took it in good humour, and admitted that he had 'made a note in his journal' not to take short-cuts in future! Perhaps he might have made another note about improving his sense of direction - when he left the campsite to 'continue on a little further' shortly before sundown, he headed off in completely the wrong direction and had to be shown the correct path to take! You sure meet all sorts of characters on a trail like the Larapinta!

Section 8 promised to be another short one, at just 13km. But this would include a 400m climb to the crest of the Heavitree Range, and I wasn't going to make the same mistake I had on section 3 (to Standley Chasm) by thinking that 'short' would equate to 'easy'. It didn't. That climb was an absolute bastard, with the trail winding it's way up the southern flank of the range in a manner that suggested the trail builders must have thought to themselves 'well anyone that has made it this far - from either end - should have no need for switchbacks any more!'. Halfway up I passed a group of six older ladies carrying little daypacks, and their dreadlocked guide who carried a rucksack even larger than mine! After finally reaching the crest of the ridge and following it to the west I then passed a group of eight guided hikers - it seemed this was going to be a busy day on the trail! But by the time I reached the junction for Counts Points I had put some space between myself and the chasing pack, so I dropped my backpack and grabbed the final packet of pizza shapes from my food drop, then continued on to the high point of the ridge where a stunning panorama was waiting for me... along with Francisco, who kindly made space on the sturdy wooden seat that adorned the lookout at Counts Point.

Now if you're thinking to yourself: 'I hope those young(ish) boys gave up their seats to the older ladies when they turned up', the answer would be a resounding 'HELL NO'! We had struggled up that mountainside with 20kg+ on our backs, while they had to carry nothing more than water, a fleece top and their bloody iPhones! Plus the seat was only big enough for two, and there were six of them. We didn't want any fights to break out. In any case, those pizza shapes went down a treat gazing out at a view that looked straight down the westward-leading ridge that we were on, which had by now sprouted a twin running parallel immediately to the north, separated by a narrow, steep-sided and gunbarrel-straight valley. And out beyond the end of these duelling ridges Rutjupma/Mount Sonder (1380m) - the end point for the Larapinta Trail - could be seen for the first time; while further to the right the Northern Territory's highest mountain, Urlatherrke/Mount Zeil (1531m), could also be seen; and off to the left the 140 million-year-old meteor crater of Tnorala/Gosse Bluff also broke the horizon. It was a truly stunning view, even if the map guide had ruined the 'wow' factor by publishing a double-page spread of the exact same view!

After finally dragging myself away from the view and following the trail all the way back down the southern flank of the Heavitree Range, I reached the shelter at Serpentine Chalet Dam around mid-afternoon. Francisco was there already, but again he was only stopping for a rest before pushing on towards the end of the day - apparently he had done pretty much the whole trail this way, preferring to camp by himself wherever he could find a patch of flat ground, rather than spending the night at the shelter campsites were most (though by no means all) other hikers tended to congregate. As it turned out I would be sharing the campsite with just two other people: a lady named Belinda whom I had met the night before at Serpentine Gorge; and a girl named Lucie who had walked all the way from Ormiston Gorge (almost 30km away) in the opposite direction.

This was the dreaded section 9 - the one long section on the trail with not a single water tank or any other guaranteed water source along it's entire length. The night before Belinda and I had met a couple of veteran hikers who had already walked all the way from Alice Springs to Mount Sonder, and were now on their way BACK to Alice Springs, who had said that yes, their was water at Waterfall Gorge (at the halfway point) and that 'people had been drinking it'... though they declined to say whether or not they had been prepared to do so. Seeking confirmation of this from Lucie, however, we were met with a resounding 'no'.

A spanner had officially been throw into the works.

To be continued...

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Photos

Knife-edged Ridge
Scenic walking on the trail between Bridle Path Lookout and Reveal Saddle

Valley Views
The view back down-valley from near Bridle Path Lookout

The Mountains' Rugged Spine
Looking back along the crest of the Chewings Range from Brinkley Bluff

Touching the Sky
Approaching the high point of the day at Brinkley Bluff

Feeling the wind in my hair
On the summit of Brinkley Bluff on the windiest day of my walk

Clifftop Trail
Dropping off the ridgetop on the way down to Stuart's Pass

Halfway Down
The view ahead (and below) from Stuart's Pass

Shaded Waters
Birthday Waterhole, at the end of day four

Mirror Still
Reflections in Birthday Waterhole

Sign of the Times
Windy Saddle was well named

Rocky Roller-Coaster
Hitting the crest of Razorback Ridge

Glowing Ramparts
The sheer rock walls of Hugh Gorge

Greenery amongst the Red Rocks
Small waterhole in lower Hugh Gorge

Cloud-dappled Sunset
The first clouds I saw on the Larapinta Trail, at the end of day five

Punk Rock Pigeons
A pair of spinifex pigeons

Colourful Clowns
A pair of brawling budgerigars taking time out from their battle

Extended Lunch Break
The picnic platform at Ghost Gum Flat

Farewelling the Day
Sunset at Rocky Gully campsite

Welcoming the Day
Sunrise at Rocky Gully campsite

The Halfway Mark
At Ellery Creek North shelter on day seven

Beautiful but Freezing
The cliff-lined Ellery Creek Big Hole

Golden Glow
Watching the early morning light hit the bluff behind Ellery Creek North's shelter

Shaded Beach
Ellery Creek Big Hole, from the south side

Social Distancing, Outback-Style
Enjoying the early morning sunshine at Ellery Creek North

Rocky Bluff
Looking back towards Ellery Creek from the trail

Curves and Contours
Weaving along the base of the Heavitree Range on day nine

Miniature Puffins
Zebra finches drinking their fill

Tranquil Waterhole
The waterhole at the entrance to Serpentine Gorge

Shaded Sanctuary
View of Serpentine Gorge from above

Twin Towers
Termite mounds on the side of the Heavitree Range

Another day, another ridgetop viewpoint
Lapping up the views at Counts Point

Barren Landscape
Section of trail that looked like the surface of Mars

Rocky Peaks
The view from Reveal Saddle

Angular Slabs of Rock
Uplifted quartzite exposed by time

Tricky Terrain
Shattered rock underfoot on day four

High Point
The summit cairn of Brinkley Bluff

Outback Panorama
View from Brinkley Bluff - take one

Outback Panorama
View from Brinkley Bluff - take two

Outback Panorama
View from Brinkley Bluff - take three

Outback Panorama
View from Brinkley Bluff - take four

Tree With A View
Heading out along the Razorback Ridge

A billion years of history on show
Vertical bands of rock exposed in a mountainside