Going walkabout in Australia's red centre

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Day 231: Sunday 15th February - First encounter of the outback

Approaching Alice Springs in the plane, the contrast between the lush Daintree rainforest of Cape Tribulation where I was yesterday and the barren red desert couldn’t be starker. For the 10 minutes or so before we land at Alice Springs there is nothing, just desert until up pops Alice Springs over 1000km from the nearest settlement of any size. Despite Alice Springs’ small size - the population is only around 25,000 people - the airport is still 15km from the town centre, so I’m glad for the free transfer the hostel provides. Once settled, I walk into the town centre for a look around. One thing that strikes me immediately is the high proportion of Aboriginals that make up the local population. Previously, I’ve only really encountered them in any number in Cairns, and even then they were very much in a small minority. Another observation is this feels very much like the outback town it is, horizontally laid back and very spread out. Nothing much is open in the town with it being a Sunday but I do stop off at the Royal Flying Doctor Service Base for a look around.

The Royal Flying Doctor Service (RFDS) is nothing short of a phenomenon. 21 bases cover 80% of Australia’s area (that is bigger than the entire area of Western Europe), providing healthcare to the outback population. No doubt without it the development of inland Australia would be seriously retarded. The tour includes a promotional video, a look at the operational control room which covers an area of 600km in every direction from Alice Springs. For once I don’t begrudge paying the entry fee, it going to provide funding for the RFDS which surprisingly is only partly funded by the government.
Back in the hostel I take a dip to try and wake myself up from my general lethargy and to cool from the heat. It’s 33 degrees which isn’t too bad and at least there’s no humidity to contend with like there was in Northern Queensland. In the early evening I call home to wish my Dad a happy birthday, otherwise it’s a welcome early night for me ahead of an early morning wake up for my red centre tour tomorrow and I need to catch up on some sleep after last night.

Day 232: Monday 16th February - Kings Canyon

For the second time in Australia I have forgotten to adjust the time on my mobile phone when crossing time zones. This time my alarm goes off half an hour early rather than an hour late and I can roll over and have an extra half hour in bed. I need it, it’s still just gone 5am when I do crawl out of bed. I have to meet downstairs in the hostel at 6am for my 3 day red centre tour. The bus is packed, 22 of us on board including Mike our guide. The fact that the bus is packed isn’t necessarily a good thing as we have 1500km to cover in the next 3 days and despite early starts it’s still going to be hot. Our tour encompasses Uluru (Ayers Rock), Kata Tjuta and Kings Canyon, all sacred aboriginal sites and what everyone comes to the red centre to see. A common misconception is that Alice Springs is close to these three locations. By Australian standards I guess it is but it is still 500km to Uluru-Kata Tjuta National Park which must be about the same distance again from Kings Canyon. On the way to Kings Canyon we make several stops, one at a Camel Farm and the other at a roadhouse (service station). At the service station I make sure I pick up a fly net. $10 (£5) is steep but already in Alice Springs they have been bothering me something rotten. More remarkably at the service station I bump into Malin and Laura, two Swedish girls I did Fraser Island with. This is the weirdest occasion when I’ve bumped into people in the same country on my travels. I’m in the middle of the desert with nothing for miles around......no way! On the east coast you bump into familiar faces with a good deal of regularity but in the desert??

Closing in on midday we arrive at Kings Canyon or Watarrka as it is known to the Aboriginals. Armed with 3 litres of water, my trusty fly net and in temperatures in the high 30’s I embark on the Kings Canyon Rim walk with the rest of the group. Almost immediately I’m glad of my fly net as the flies are terrible. It’s something I’m sure they don’t mention in travel brochures, but really this is the must have item if you ever travel to Australia’s red centre. They may not give you itchy bites like sandflies, mosquitos or Marsh flies but they buzz around your face incessantly in huge swarms. The Kings Canyon rim walk is 6.5km and involves an initial steep climb up a 100 metre high cliff face, after which it skirts the canyon’s rim and then enters the Garden of Eden at the halfway mark. The Garden of Eden is a lush gorge in the rocky Canyon with a pocket of cycads around a natural pool. In the heat of the day everyone is glad for the opportunity to take a dip to cool down. The next section of the walk winds through a maze of giant beehive domes and offers more opportunities to gaze in wonder at the yawning chasm of Kings Canyon. The sandstone formations are something that have to be seen to be believed and offer some of the best landscapes I’ve seen in Australia.

We have a 250km drive to Curtin Springs when we leave Kings Canyon. Curtin Springs is halfway between Kings Canyon and the Uluru- Kata Tjuta national park where we are going tomorrow. We arrive in time to watch one of the most stunning sunsets I’ve ever seen. The changing colours of the desert as the sun falls in the sky are spectacular. We’re camping in swag bags which is similar to a sleeping bag, but has a thin mattress inside and you can zip them up just like a sleeping bag. We arrange the swags around the fire and then sit back and relax in the cool of the evening having dinner and a few beers. Our camp is in site of Mount Connor which looks similar to Uluru from a distance having a flat, plateau like summit. The night sky is wonderful. It is so clear and the only time I’ve seen as many stars in the sky was in the Atacama desert in Chile....wow! I get talking to a Polish girl called Marta who is really interesting. She lives in Nottingham and is studying Russian and Chinese. She’s just been to China and tells me about a cool ice festival in Harbin. She shows me pictures of some cool ice sculptures. I’ll log that in the brain as somewhere which sounds cool to visit.

Day 233: Tuesday 17th February - Kata Tjuta

It’s another early start, this time 6am for the 250km drive to Kata Tjuta. The Olgas as they are known to westerners, are a striking group of 36 domed rocks that cluster together to form small valleys and gorges. They are simply amazing, I’m speechless at the site of them. We’ve passed Uluru to get here and my initial impression is that Kata Tjuta is more captivating then its prominent neighbour 30km down the road. The tallest rock is Mount Olga which rises 546 metres to 1066 metres above sea level and is 200 metres higher than Uluru. Kata Tjuta means ‘many heads’ in the local Aboriginal language and is of even greater significance to the Aboriginal people than Uluru is. I ask Mike, our guide why all the tourism is geared towards Uluru when Kata Tjuta is perhaps more spectacular. His response is that there are restrictions on advertising Kata Tjuta. Fonts used to advertise it are only allowed to be a certain size and the authorities are happy to have Uluru as the centrepiece of the region, keeping the hordes away from the more spiritual Kata Tjuta. He even believes that Kata Tjuta could be closed to tourism in the next 10 years, which would be a great shame if it was but you must respect the wishes of the Aboriginal people.

At Kata Tjuta a number of us walk the unmissable Valley of the Winds walk, a 7.5km loop trail that traverses varying desert terrain and yields wonderful views of surreal rocks. The view from the second lookout is out of this world, I don’t remember a better view in Australia. As you walk around you feel that this is a spiritual place and yes you also feel the strength of the sun. Even though it’s mid morning when we walk the trail it is red hot. The trail closes at 11am due to the weather conditions for safety reasons. During the walk we see a Perentie, the world’s second biggest monitor after the Komodo dragon. Mike also tells us about some of the Aboriginal initiation ceremonies. At 4 years of age children are sent to wait in a cave near a water source. Every day Aboriginal women take up food. The purpose of the initiation is to teach patience and as they are not allowed to talk to ensure they become well practiced in the hand signals that Aboriginal people use to communicate. At 6 years of age the boys have to smash out one of their front teeth to show that they are ready to become a hunter.

From Kata Tjuta we drive to Yulara, the resort where people stay to go to Uluru. Here we stop for lunch and to have a look around the visitor information centre. The funniest thing at the information centre is the ‘Sorry Rocks’ book. Every day, rangers at Uluru-Kata Tjuta National park receive parcels containing souvenired rocks and sand sent by guilty tourists. More often than not, the parcels are accompanied by letters of apology. It is for this reason that the returned rocks at Uluru have become known as the ‘sorry rocks’. The letters reveal that many visitors return the rocks because they recognise the error in their ways and wish to see the pieces of Uluru return home. A small number of visitors returning rocks believe that they have been riddled with bad luck or even been cursed as a result of removing the rocks. The Anangu people, the traditional Aboriginal owners of Uluru recognise no specific curse associated with removing the rocks and I certainly don’t believe people are being cursed either. It is amusing reading the letters though as a whole range of people illogically link bad luck in their lives with having taken a piece of rock. At Yulara resort we spend the afternoon playing in the pool to avoid the hottest temperatures of the day. From Yulara we drive around the base of Uluru stopping to view the sunset.

We are the first group to arrive at the viewing point for sunset. We claim the best spot and enjoy a few beers in the early evening sun. Before long the car park is heaving with tourists on expensive packages who have glasses of wine to greet their arrival. They are soon snapping away in front of our spot as Mike had predicted, without a care for the fact they are standing in front of us even though there is enough room for everyone. I have an idea to stake our claim by ‘fencing’ off our viewing location with beer cans and dirty dinner plates. It works, the posh tourists soon stay on their side of the imaginary barrier, no doubt disgusted by the scruffy, rowdy travellers who are spoiling their view and ambience of the changing colours of Uluru. To be honest the sunset is disappointing. The sun sets behind our location and whilst the rock does change colour, it is subtle if anything. After watching the sunset we return to Yulara to camp for the night. Someone didn’t put their swag on the bus so we’re one short. I decide that I don’t mind sleeping without. Last night I was cold with just my sleep sheet inside the swag but I’m concerned I’ll be too hot with my four season sleeping bag inside the swag. Sleeping in just my sleeping bag I’m the right temperature but my back is killing the next morning due to the hard ground.

Day 234: Wednesday 18th February - Uluru

It’s still dark when Mike wakes us at 4:30am to make the short journey to Uluru for sunrise. The sunrise is more spectacular than the sunset and is one lie in worth missing. Uluru is probably along with Sydney harbour the most iconic symbol of Australia. No matter how many times you’ve seen it nothing prepares you for the hulk on the horizon. Uluru is 3.6 km long, solitary and rises 348 metres from the surrounding scrubland and is the world’s largest monolith. After breakfast we start on a two and a half hour basewalk. It is still early in the morning, it is windy and there is cloud cover so it’s not that hot walking around the base. The summit walk isn’t open due to high winds and concern over temperatures. Mike tells us this is typical in the summer months. I do the walk with Sif, a Danish girl, and Laura, a Dutch girl. The three of us are the slowest out of the whole group, having to drag ourselves around the 8km walk. My excuse is that the breakfasts simply do not fill me up and I’ve always been useless if I don’t get a good feed at the start of the day. The base walk is in places quite a distance from the rock as you are not allowed too close to sacred sites which are located around the base of Uluru. The walk is pleasant enough as it circumnavigates the rock, passing caves, sandstone folds and geological abrasions along the way but for me the scenery is a bit samey and it is certainly not up there with the spectacular walks of the past two days. At Mutitjulu we stop to look at the Aboriginal cave paintings. By the time we get back to the bus to meet Mike to do the Mala walk, the last kilometre of the base walk he has already left. The three of us can’t be bothered to catch up so we hop on the bus and wait for him to return.

Two years ago, myself and my good friend Mr Ellis were discussing doing a trip to Australia and the sticking point was Uluru. To him it was just a rock and not worth the considerable effort to get there. To me it was an essential part of any trip to Australia. Whilst I understood where he was coming from given it was only a 3 week holiday that we were planning, my view remains unchanged. Uluru is more than just a rock and the red centre is much more than just Uluru. Indeed, in my opinion Uluru whilst it may be the iconic symbol of the red centre is not its highlight. Kata Tjuta is more impressive and more spiritual and possibly my favourite spot in Australia. Kings Canyon is also just as impressive as Uluru. So, more than just a rock, the red centre for me is a must do on any extended trip to Australia.

We leave Uluru in the late morning stopping at Curtin Springs for lunch where we get harassed by an emu who wants to be in on the action. From Curtin Springs we drive all afternoon to arrive back to Alice Springs. The group meets along with Mike in the Annie’s bar (our hostel) for a cheap meal and some drinks. It’s been a good group and it’s a nice way to finish off the tour. A number of us head into town to Bojangles for a few more drinks. Bojangles is a wild west affair, swinging open the saloon door to boots, barrels and bones. One local has even brought his pet Python out with him! (Only in Australia!) The toilets are an experience too, with the handles on the wrong side of the door and the taps connected to the wrong sink. If you were drunk it would confuse the hell out of you. After a few drinks and some dancing in Bojangles, myself, Marta, Sif, another Danish girl called Mette, a Londoner called Grant and an American called Mike head home. On the way we (or should I say I) requisition a trolley which is just lying in the road, load Marta in it and then push her all the way back to Annie’s place. Being the mature 31 year old I am, I then have the idea it would be funny to put it on top of the Mulga bus ready for the tour tomorrow. I really should have outgrown such pranks a decade ago!!

Day 235: Thursday 19th February - Riding on the Ghan

My head might be a little hazy this morning but at least I get something of a lie in. After checking out and leaving my bags in storage I decide that I haven’t had enough of walking the past few days and venture up to the telegraph station. It must be a good 4km walk along the dry Todd River from the hostel to get to the telegraph station. Along the way I pass hundreds of grasshoppers, with what seems like an equal number of flies hovering around. Unfortunately, I’ve left my fly net back at the hostel so I just have to grin and bear it. I also see a couple of kangaroos bounding over the scrub ahead of me which is pretty cool. The Todd River for me is the highlight of the walk. Apparently, to become a local you have to have seen water flowing in it 3 times. This takes about 20 years. Still, it doesn’t stop them holding the Henley on Todd boat race where they cut out the bottom of the boat and run along the dry river bed!

The telegraph station dates back to 1872 and operated until 1932. The Alice Springs telegraph station was midway along the overland telegraph line from Darwin to Adelaide which played a key role in Australia’s development. Opened in 1872, the line suddenly reduced the isolation of Australian’s from the rest of the world. The exchange of personal and business messages now took hours instead of the months it previously took by sea once the line was opened linking the population of the south of Australia with Asia and beyond. It’s incredible that they managed to build the line along with a dozen stations along the way across 3000 kilometres of unforgiving terrain. In the historical reserve is the spring which Alice Springs took its name. Despite feeling weary in the heat I make the effort to see the school of air which is a 3km walk from the telegraph station to one of Alice Springs’ outlying suburbs. On the way I pass the start of the Larapinta Trail, a 12 section walk that covers 240km through the desert. That sounds too much like hard work, no thanks!

Alice Springs School of Air was established in 1951, recognising that children living in remote conditions were lacking social contacts and believing that radio could be used to provide a community aspect to the education of children living in these areas. When it started it used radio to broadcast lessons, today the internet is used to allow interactive distant learning. The 100-200 children who are enrolled have an average of a one hour lesson every day, complementing this with private lesson time, home tutoring, home visits from the Alice Springs teaching staff and 3-4 in-town visits when the students are required to come in to Alice Springs. When I arrive there is a lesson in progress, with around half a dozen children participating. The Alice Springs School of Air claims to be the largest classroom in the world, covering 1.3 million square kilometres - that is 10 times the size of England. Students live anything from 80 to 1300 kilometres from Alice Springs, on cattle stations, roadhouses or in indigenous communities. It runs just as any normal school would, with the same holidays and the same curriculum.

I walk the 3 kilometres back in to town as I can’t be bothered to wait for the bus. In town I check flight prices to Bali which don’t seem too bad, buy some snacks for tonight’s train journey and buy a Kangaroo leather hat which I’ve wanted for a while now as a souvenir from Australia. On the way back to the hostel I once again encounter many Aboriginals sitting around on the grass. These are often Aboriginal people who have been kicked out of their own communities for drinking or other issues and they end up in non-indigenous communities on the edge of society, often viewed as not contributing postively. Having been brought up living on the land, once confronted with western civilisation they don’t have the necessary tools to survive, whether it be an education or even knowing how to prepare foods or what to do with objects we take for granted in everyday living. With this to deal with it is hardly any surprise that many turn to fast food, alcohol and other substance abuse. It is in many ways the biggest challenge that faces Australia. I just hope that a better way is found to allow non-indigenous and Aboriginal people to co-exist together and that somewhere down the line we are not lamenting the fact that the world’s oldest culture has died out.

At 6pm I jump aboard the Ghan, the train that runs twice a week from Adelaide in the south to Darwin in the north. It is called the Ghan after the Afghan camels that were used to create a route through the desert from north to south. Whilst the train has run for 75 years from Adelaide to Alice Springs, it is only in the last decade that a line was put down linking Alice Springs with Darwin. The carriage I’m in is only about a quarter full meaning that I get 4 seats to myself to hopefully relax and enjoy the journey. I watch the world go by until the sunsets on my trip through the red centre. The next time I see daylight we will be in the greener, tropical north. Having said that I am surprised that the red centre is greener than I thought it would be. On my way to the buffet carriage to pay for my transfer tomorrow to Katherine Gorge I bump into Dee, an Irish girl I had dinner with in Puerto Madryn in Argentina! The world is indeed a small place. Dee is the third person I’ve bumped into in Australia who I met travelling in South America. Meeting one would be weird but three different people, what are the chances of that? We sit talking to each other finding out what each has been up to in the 3-4 months since we last met, before we both retire to catch up on some much needed sleep. For me it’s another uncomfortable night’s sleep despite the fact I’ve 4 seats to myself. You just can’t beat the comfort of a bed.

Day 236: Friday 20th February - Katherine Gorge

The outside world suddenly has got a lot greener overnight as I awake. The Ghan is approaching Katherine and we are now in the subtropics. Katherine is the Northern Territory’s third largest town, but that does not make it big. Its population is a little over 10,000. At 9am the train pulls into Katherine station. It will not leave here for 4 hours giving everyone on board the opportunity to go to Katherine Gorge, 30km north of town if they so wish. I opt to take the transfer, the bus taking half an hour to reach Katherine Gorge, passing through the sleepy country town that Katherine is. The Katherine River cuts through rugged sandstone country in Nitmiluk (Katherine Gorge) national park. Over centuries, the river has left a series of gorges in its wake known as the Katherine Gorge. With time limited, I have enough time only to hike around the rim of the first gorge, stopping to admire the views of the gorge on the way. It takes about an hour to cover the 4km circuit and by the time I reach the Nitmiluk centre I’m dripping with sweat. The dry heat I can handle but the humidity here is high and it’s still 300km north to Darwin, where the humidity if anything will be worse.

The bus drops us back at the train station and then we have to endure an agonising wait of two hours when the train doesn’t go anywhere. Why couldn’t we have had another 2 hours at Katherine Gorge if we were going to stand still? The speed of the journey is sedate anyway but 2 hours without moving is frustrating. Nevertheless, 24 hours after leaving Alice Springs the Ghan trundles into Darwin station, 1500 kilometres north of Alice Springs. I like travelling by train and the travelling north by the Ghan has been a pleasant experience. It has not however been the unmissable experience that you hear of in some quarters. Perhaps a lot of that is due to the fact I took a cheap seat, rather than a plush cabin to watch the world go by. Nevertheless, with its departure time from Alice Springs only an hour or so before sunset, you don’t see a great deal of the red centre and when you wake the scenery is completely different, so you don’t observe a gradual change. The train station is a good 15km from the city centre so I need to catch a shuttle into Darwin. At 7:30pm I arrive at my accommodation and in dire need of a shower to freshen up. I pack my daypack for Kakadu and then sink into the luxury of a proper bed, albeit one that doesn’t stop squeaking anytime you move an inch.

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