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Published: August 10th 2007
Kata Tjuta Does Bohemian Rhapsody
Big red rocks in the middle of a desert, similar to Uluru but, some might say - a bit more dramatic. Have all the children been given their spoonful of gin and put to bed/locked in the closet?
Yes? Then come hither; warm your self in the tall leather chair by the fireside - not that close; your shell suit looks flammable - and I shall begin my tale of unexplained and mystical happenings from The Outer Dimensions.
It begins, as any tale from the greasy fingerprinted files of the FBI's X-Files should: a young couple - who are not Mulder and Scully - are alone in their unreliable car, driving through the empty wastelands of a dusty red desert. Leave-less, lifeless trees bent into crooked shapes intermittently offer hopeful vultures a place to rest and wait for their meals-on-wheels to reach a halt…
Note: the events below are almost entirely true and based on the highly trustworthy testimony of your host - Occasionally Bob - who never lies and hardly ever exaggerates… except sometimes… “We had left Kings Canyon that morning knowing that the days drive through the desert would be a particularly boring one. The roads here are just straight lines. They make the old Roman roads of Europe feel like a helter-skelter. These roads are just
Sydney Opera House
It is actually a very interesting place to visit and the colour changes are quite startling. Well worth that extra 6,000km round trip. mile after mile after mile of straight lines and the same empty scenery. And sure enough, despite my best efforts to lift the mood with a chorus of “Twelve-thousand Green Bottles” and a moment or two of “I Spy”, the road took its toll on our spirits.
We knew it was going to be dull when, having already driven for 100km without seeing another living soul, we came across a sign that read - “Next stop Stuart Roadhouse: 400km.” Never was there such a depressing road sign. As we drove past it we could almost hear the collective “thunnk” of the sinking hearts of everyone that had passed it before us.
It was about an hour after seeing that sign that we saw the tin cows.
Vik was relaying to me the story of a man who had had colonic irrigation and discovered marbles he’d swallowed as a child when, in an ironic twist of citrus flavoured fate, I lost concentration and swallowed my lemony boiled sweet only three sucks in. It was quite apparent that due to the position of the lodging and our lack of expertise or equipment, a colonic irrigation treatment would have, at
this stage, been both of little benefit and highly impractical; however, with a lump of sugar and citrus flavouring lodged somewhere in my throat, tears blurred my vision and I thought what I saw at first to be a trick of the desert.
But as we drew closer, through the shimmering heat and the mist of lemony tears, the objects that stood, menacing, beneath a road sign began to take shape.
The road sign was a simple one. A diamond shaped yellow warning with the silhouette of a cow at is centre. And there beneath it, their eyes trained on our car stood two small tin cows.
Made from oil barrels, car parts and paint cans, their hand drawn faces made them appear to be smiling. The word “cute” would not have been an inappropriate description, but there was something quite sinister about them. I couldn’t put my finger on what it was but as we drove past, it seemed to me that no matter what angle we were at they seemed to be staring directly at us.
But that wasn’t what troubled me most.
What played on my mind was how they came to
Look out for the... ,Kings Canyon
...CCCCLLLLIIIIIFFFFFFFF!!!.....
Truly splendiforous place that is easily on a par with Uluru and Kata Tjuta.
be there. What rationally minded person makes tin cattle and then drives hundreds of kilometres to put them underneath a road sign? Clearly, the creator of these “things” was unstable - an unhinged mind no doubt; but perhaps something more sinister was at hand…
It was a quarter of an hour later when the signs began.
The tin cattle were still weighing on my mind. I switched on the radio and tried tuning it. Nothing but static. No signal on the mobile either. We were truly alone. As the static from the radio scratched and whirred, I lifted my head in time to see the first warning sign. And oh, how it chilled my heart!
Bent and twisted, it’s old scratched white face should have read, in bold black letters: “WARNING - CATTLE CROSSING”.
But the word “CROSSING” had been painted over in red by someone of a nervous disposition or a bad case of Parkinson’s. It now read:
“WARNING - CATTLE JUMPING”.
Jumping Cattle! This is serious! Has it been reported? Who should I report it too?
These were among my first thoughts, however, once we had passed the sign and I’d had time to
calm my nerves and check the skies for bounding cattle, I began once more to consider the desperate or lunatic mind that would stop hundreds of miles from anywhere to graffiti a sign. And who carries buckets of red paint with them in a desert anyway?
By the time we reached the second sign, another quarter of an hour down the road, I had come to the realisation that whoever wrote those words had meant it as a serious warning. Clearly the area directly around the highway, and therefore the vehicles that travelled this route were in danger from some kind of jumping cows. Whether genetically modified or perhaps enhanced with some sort of spring device on each foot I could not fathom, but it was clear that some devious foul play was afoot.
The second sign was more sinister than the last. The same shaking hand was evident in the writing and again, the writer had used red paint. But this time his message was one that would make the bravest of souls feel a chill run through them. The old, scratched white-faced sign that should have read: “WARNING - CATTLE CROSSING”, had been doctored and where
Swallow a Marble?, The Devils Marbles
These are the devils marbles, fresh from their million year colonic. it had once read “CROSSING”, the author had scrawled, “KEEPING IT REAL”.
Cattle keeping it real? Keeping what real?! Are we to believe that the cattle here are both “jumping” and “keeping it real”? I felt sick to my stomach. In my mind “Keeping it real” could mean one of two things.
First was the possibility that these cattle had been experimenting with witchcraft and had somehow conjured up some sort of bouncing or levitating evil bovine deity that flickered between the world of the damned and the “real” world.
The second possibility was perhaps, even more blood curdling than the first.
Was it possible that these cattle had somehow managed to get radio reception out here and had been introduced to “yoof” culture by BBC Radio One’s Dance Anthems? Were bovine ears being manipulated by Dave Pearce on a Friday Night? Were some bangin’ tunes finding their way to a desert full of jumping cows jus’ keeping it real and ‘avin it large?
Impossible, I thought. They would need a highly powered radio antennae or satellite tracking dish just to get local Australian radio networks, nevermind the BBC. Besides, as far as I could
see there were no metal or aerial type structures in the area other than… the tin cows… no; it couldn’t be!?
As my mind raced with images of a dance floor desert packed with trippin’ cattle dressed like Ali G, showing off their “bling” and getting down to some happenin’ tunes, we reached the crest of a slight hill in the road to be greeted by, well to put it frankly, the most confusing and revolting sight of our trip so far.
There, in the right hand lane stood a white cow, its teeth bared, its lips curled, tearing chunks of flesh and skin from the carcass of a kangaroo like you or I might dig into a meaty kebab after a good night out.
The beast lifted its head as we approached, watching us with those large, dark, disinterested eyes. It’s bony frame seemed to carry too much skin, folds of which dangled from its neck while it’s tail flicked laboriously at desert flies. A chunk of bloody kangaroo hide dangled from it’s chin.
Morbid curiosity had us slow the vehicle to turn our heads and watch.
“You’re supposed to be a vegetarian!”, I
What did one rock say to the other rock?, Devils Marbles
Tall Rock: I'm gonna fall - I'm gonna fall - I'm gonna fall...
Small Rock: Wait for a tourist!
Tall Rock: Can't wait. Gonna fall...
Small Rock: Get a grip of yourself man! How old are you?
Tall Rock: 4 million years or something.
Small Rock: Well you can bloody well hang on a few minutes for a tourist... look here comes a tall gangly one with a camera...
called to it. It didn’t respond.
It was when it broke its glare and turned it’s attention back to the poor creature before it that I noticed how fresh its meal looked. There was something about the way the cow stood over it’s meal that looked almost… as though it was protecting it... the way a hunter might prize his kill. Had this kangaroo been hunted down in cold blood by this cow? Is that why the cows are jumping - to catch kangaroo?
So many unanswered questions dogged us as we drove from the hideous scene. Even a restart of the Green Bottle song at nine thousand four hundred and seventy five, couldn’t erase the horror of it all from our minds. A boiled sweet or two helped, but no matter what flavour I had, I was still burping lemon.
A few hours later we arrived at the roadhouse. Back to reality and the normal world we thought as we parked the car. But, as we stepped out into the dry air, the first thing we overheard from the car next to us was one of the occupants saying to his two fellow travellers (in a
Respect for Others Beliefs, Uluru
In 1985 the government handed Uluru back to the Aboriginals with a number of conditions. One was that people be allowed to climb it. So they can't stop you climbing it, but they can ask you nicely to respect their heritage by not climbing it. Apparently the government are now realising that the climb isn't what most people come for and plans are in place to actually - finally - close the climb to all. truly Austrian Arnold Schwarzenegger style):
“Come, let us drink milk in the shadows”.
Dear Diary…
Day 32 - Mount Isa - Three Way 4692km Our longest day of driving yet. We were going to stop at Berkly Homestead but were keen to get back to civilisation as soon as we could so we carried on to Three Way - cunningly named after the fact that it is at a junction and offers you three different directions in which to travel. The most excitement we had was watching the fuel gauge going down to Empty a lot earlier than we had anticipated and only just making it to the campsite/petrol station in time.
Day 33 - Three Way - Alice Springs 5236km We drove through Tennant Creek stopping only when summoned to by the police for my (Vikki) second breathalyser test of the trip. Happily I past with flying colours again and was able to answer ‘no’ when asked if I had had anything alcoholic to drink in the past few hours - it was only 10am and I have not yet resorted to dowsing my cornflakes with lager. The only other notable thing in Tennant
Uluru is Muuulti-textured, Uluru
Diggin' those lines, big red dude! Creek was the way in which large ramshackle groups of ‘indigenous people’ patrol the streets - it seemed depressing rather than intimidating - they look bored and a bit lost more than anything.
Day 34 - Alice Spings You’re twice as likely to get beaten up in Alice as you are in Darwin despite Alice having a population 50,000 less. In spite of this ‘official’ statistic, arriving in Alice Springs was a bit like finding an oasis in the desert and I guess that is literally what it is. Suddenly there was radio reception, speed limits and junctions to contend with. After indepth research at every holiday park in the city, we pitched our tent in the BIG4 campsite. We were only slightly influenced in our choice by the fact it had a giant jumping pillow… honest.
Day 35 - Alice Springs - Uluru 5735km Back to long straight roads and impeded by slightly more sensible speed limits, we arrived at Uluru in time to see the spectacular sunset. Uluru was basically our main sightseeing ambition for Oz and we were worried that we were going to be disappointed but I am delighted to say
Night Camp, Uluru
It got pretty chilly at night, but not so cold that I didn't stop wearing my ridiculous shorts. Note the Virgin Mary in the background. it kind of took our breath away.
Day 36 & 37 - Uluru & Kata Tjuta The 9km walk around the base of Uluru allows you to appreciate it from every angle. It is amazing how a giant piece of rock can be so captivating. It is beautiful from every angle and has some surprising nooks and crannies which are very serene. It would seem that not many people do the whole walk - we were alone for the majority of it and it was fantastic. Except for the flies which were determined to hitch a ride on our faces.
We were perplexed by the amount of people who insisted on climbing Uluru despite the very polite request from the original landowners asking that you don’t. They aren’t allowed to stop tourists from scaling the heights due to a clause in the government deal which gave them back the land rights however we spoke to a ranger and they are hopeful that they will be able to prevent people from climbing in the next 5 years or so. It did leave us feeling a bit sad that it was necessary to impose a complete ban to make
people stop though.
Kata Tjuta was equally impressive but happily they are allowed to impose a climbing ban there. The Valley of the Winds walk was spectacular and once again we had the place almost to ourselves which was amazing.
In spite of meeting a lot of what might be politely described as ‘worrying’ characters in Australian Caravan Parks, we have also met some lovely folks and Random Acts of Kindness have been relatively frequent. Special award for this blog goes to the Canadian family we met in the Uluru National Park campground - we had been almost travelling in convoy with them since Georgetown (there aren’t many cars about so you start to recognise folk!) and finally got to chat to them on arrival here. Words can’t describe the happiness at being brought pancakes with peanut butter and peaches (sounds bizarre but tastes amazing) for breakfast : )
Day 38 - Uluru - Kings Canyon 6306km Drove, drove and drove some more. Waved to Canadian family as they drove past in the opposite direction. Some days not much of note happens.
Day 39 - Kings Canyon Kings Canyon was another spectacular walk
with amazing scenery. If there is one thing that stands out about Australia it’s the weird Geological formations - if only our Geography teacher Mad Alfie had told us about stuff like this I’m sure the class would have paid more attention…
Day 40 - Kings Canyon - Coober Pedy km Coober Pedy is one of the weirdest places in the world. It makes Mongolia look like a civilised hive of activity. Much can be taken from the fact it was the location for the post apocalyptic Mad Max scenes. Many of the residents live underground due to the hostile weather - apparently it gets up to 50C in the summer. The reason it is even populated is due to the large Opal content of the surrounding land. People basically spend their lives here digging holes in the hope of finding ‘the big one’. When unsuccessful, it seems they just turn the holes they’ve dug into living quarters by sticking a chimney into the pile of earth they’ve excavated. One night here was more than enough.
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