Speared for Taking Happy Snaps?

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Issy opts for a rest day, so I bravely set off alone along the Ross Highway to explore the wonders of the East MacDonnell Ranges.

First stop is Emily Gap where a sandy dry river bed has created a deep sheer sided gap through the range … well it’s not actually dry, there’s a swimming hole here complete with jumping rope. There’s a sign to the effect that taking photos in the bit of the gap beyond the swimming hole is not allowed for cultural reasons … which is probably a bit superfluous … the water completely fills the gap, so you’d a need submersible camera, or ropes and crampons to climb around the water on the rocks … well actually no, it’s just the submersible camera option … you’re not allowed to climb the rocks. I assume there must be some indigenous rock art through there somewhere. The signage goes on to add that it’s completely off limits to indigenous women and children, they’re not even allowed to look at the art.

Next cab off the rank is Jessie Gap. You can walk through this one via the sandy river bed, but photos are still a no no. The only other people here are a couple of German guys, and they’re snapping away at the only bit of rock art I can see like there’s no tomorrow. I hope for their sakes there aren’t any security cameras here. I wonder what the penalty is for taking prohibited happy snaps. I‘m pretty sure they still punish infractions in some remote communities in these parts by spearing the miscreant through the leg from close range. Our happy snappers might struggle to explain that sort of wound back in Berlin.

Next up is Corroboree Rock, a spectacular large steep sided monolith sticking up out of the sand. It seems I’m not allowed in here until I’ve bought a National Park pass … which I can only buy on-line … or I would be able to if there was any phone reception out here in the middle of nowhere. I decide to risk it and go on, but I’m suddenly feeling like a criminal. I hope I don’t get speared.

I take the turn-off down the dusty track towards Trephina Gorge. It seems I need a National Park pass to get in here too, but I still haven’t got any phone reception, so now I’m feeling like a serial criminal. I pass a sign leading to the Park Ranger’s house. Oops. His job must surely be to check for passes and lock up anyone who hasn’t got one. I hope I’m allowed a phone call - Issy might get a bit curious if I’m not home by morning - oh hang on, there’s no phone reception. I drive on into forbidden territory, and my phone suddenly springs to life, so I can buy my pass. The NT Government are an inquisitive lot. I can’t make my purchase until I set up an account providing my full name (including middle initial), email address, full postal address, the colour of the handle on my first cricket bat …. And I need a password that’s got a minimum of 14 characters. Fourteen! That’s insane! I hope they’re not inquisitive enough to read this entry and realise I trespassed on one of their sites before I got my pass. I wouldn’t want them to come hunting me down at my “full postal address” when we get home.

The Gorge is absolutely stunning. I wonder how it is I’ve never heard of this place before - a massive wide sandy river bed between sheer towering red, orange and brown cliffs. I follow a path up the cliff on one side, then down into the gorge and up and along the other side. The views are breathtaking - a real highlight. There are quite a few campers here, and some of them are stretched out on towels in the river bed as if they were at the beach …well except for the minor detail of there being no water.

Back in Alice Springs, and I tell Issy they’re making a movie down the road from where we’re staying. They’ve set up caravans for food, costumes, and accommodation. I ask her if it might be a movie we’ve seen … so it really has been a long day …

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