Just as I haven’t taken pictures since the end of my tour, I have slowed down in writing as well. Today, a hot Friday in Katherine, I definitely have the time to recap the last few days.
On Tuesday in Darwin, I awoke to a pleasant surprise. I guess there must still be come sort of valid backpacker’s ethical code, which made my thief in the night return my wallet, because after breakfast, a guy from the bar handed it to me, saying it was dropped off. No cash and many useless bank cards, of course, but at least I have my wallet back.
Because I had no read idea of when exactly we were going to leave for Katherine and the guys I asked could only answer me with “This afternoon, or tomorrow morning”, I got my stuff done in the morning, sending off a box of jackets and other cold weather clothes, some brochures, flyers and other scrapbook items as well as my shot glass collection till now (7 in only 5 weeks!) and using the free internet in the library. The rest of the afternoon was once again more or less spent at the hostel by the pool. I did join the guys for a five minute drive to the Op Shop, a second hand clothing store run by a church where one can get really cheap (and mostly pretty ugly) clothes, to look for long sleeved shirts and the yellow/orange jacket or shirt(bright colors used in construction and labor work) we need to be able to work on the farm. This was the first time I was confronted with our vehicle for the trip – a bright yellow, 28 year old camper van, decked out with a sink and lots of cupboards and 2 mattresses, a gas cooker outside, curtains on the windows, some lights and and fans. Of course, everything was kind of falling apart and looked like they had definitely seen better days… But hey, for 100$, what did I expect?
After another few meal at the Vic, I walked around town in the evening, down the very happening Mitchell Street, filled with bars and backpackers, ate frozen yoghurt from Cole’s and then headed back to the Vic for a few drinks with the Swedish guy, the Israeli guy and a Canadian girl I had spent some time with in their room the evening before. It was ladies’ night again and I found myself with a pink tag around my wrist for an hour of free champagne. Before that though, there was a raffle for a 50$ bar tab, a marshmallow eating contest (where you stick more and more marshmallows I your mouth and have to repeat sentences) and a game which I joined before knowing what had to be done. The two guys we were with could win the privilege of being a girl (hence, free champagne) for the night, so I thought I’d do them the favor. Two teams of two guys and two girls each got a giant hose made of stretchy fabric and in pairs, had to crawl in and change clothes. Lucky for our team, us girls both had dresses on and the guys shorts and t-shirt. Next thing I know, I’m on my knees, crawling out of a tunnel wearing quite comfortable clothes and the Israeli guy is walking around in my dress for an hour. Turned out to be fun night of champagne, dancing and the guys complaining about how people were staring at their cleavage.
The next morning, around 11 or so, we piled in to the van – 2 of us in the back on the mattresses – and headed to pick up once more who was staying at a not-so-legal campground. And just our luck, there was a swarm of police cars there, because they had just raided an empty military building that was being squatted in right next to where the few camper vans were parked. So instead of finally commencing our journey, we had to hand in our passports and wait till the immigration officer present had checked out our visas. After that little delay, we hit the road and drove the 300km down to Katherine, stopping every 100km to check the oil (old van and all). We even stopped in Adelaide River, where I had stopped with the tour coming up and visited the pub with the water buffalo from Crocodile Dundee again. The stops did kind of slow us down, but I didn’t mind, because I was curled up on a mattress in the back and slept most of the way, waking up only to stare out the window at the familiar repetitive landscape of the bush. Only this time, the earth and termite mounds became redder and the trees a bit scarcer. It was hot back there and if I had been more aware and awake, I probably would have been uncomfortable, but just bearing with the constant drip of sweat down my temples, my back and chest made it less stressful.
We got to Katherine in the early evening and went straight to Manbulloo Homestead Caravan Park, about 10mins away from the city. Other camper vans, permanent caravans and cottages stood on the grounds, which are walking distance from the Katherine River. Three of us bunked in wit five Asians, also in our team of pickers, and the other two stayed in tents/the van (which by now had been christened “The Yellow Bastard”). The bed is comfortable, there are fans and air-conditioning,a little outdoor kitchen and two fridges and the bathrooms are just a short walk away. Actually more luxurious than I had imagined. It does come at a price of 160$ a week, which is outrageously high, but I tell myself, once we start work and spend 10-11h a day out on the fields, it will definitely feel worth it to come home to relax in a real bed and not have to deal with mosquitoes and heat during the night as well.
Thursday morning we were brought to the Manbulloo Mango farm, just five minutes away from our caravan park. Now here begin the downsides to this job. I found it through the French guys, who had found it through a guy named Matt – a contractor. Meaning, in the end, we are employed by him, not the farm itself. Meaning that we will probably see some of our wages flow into his pocket, instead of ours. Not only that, but we are asked to pay 10$ a day for a bus transport to and from the farm, because “they don’t let private vehicles on the farm”. However, after asking the boss at the farm, we found out that we are most certainly allowed to come by Yellow Bastard… But as we still haven’t met our contractor yet and still have no real details about the job, the payment and all that, I guess I can’t really complain yet…And to be honest, I am turning into quite the optimist. While one guy in our group wouldn’t sop about how bad this whole situation is (and I mean straight forward complaining about anything and everything not optimal at the moment), I have decided to keep and uphold the following frame of mind for as long as possible: at last I have a job lined up for the season through which I can earn back the money spent in the last 6 weeks and save up more for the rest of my travels – no matter how many little things could be better, it could always be worse. I could find myself with insufficient funds for any sort of enjoyable travelling or even end up having to go home earlier than I want to. So, always seeing the upside in things, it shouldn’t be too hard to bear with the little shortcomings.
The farm is one of the largest in Australia with over 42.000 trees, has two more mango production areas in Queensland with another 55.000 trees and exports to many countries in Asia. They grow two different kinds of mango – the R2E2 (hihi, Star Wars mango) and the Kensington Pride. Along with a large group of people who are going to work in the packing shed (lucky them!), we were shown presentations about the farm, mango picking and quality control and went through some paper work. I find the fact that it is a big farm quite reassuring, because it is more probable that the money will arrive on time. I’ve heard too many stories about backpackers working for a lower wage than promised and then waiting weeks and weeks for their payment. Of course, this again depends on our mysterious contractor, which we will hopefully meet on Saturday. Mango picking is said to be one of the tougher seasonal agricultural jobs, because harvest is usually done in quite harsh conditions – heat, insects and unpredictable and usually long hours. Plus, the fruit itself is quite delicate, so extra care must be taken in handling them. When picked, the sap that comes out of the stem for the first 30seconds can be quite corrosive and therefore special techniques must be used so the skin of the fruit and your own skin won’t get burned. Some people also have an allergic reaction to the sap and breakout in pretty bad rashes (for which I already bought the right cream in Darwin). I do hope that what is said about people having had more contact with mango not being as prone to this reaction as those who haven’t is true, because then I might actually be on the safer side, having devoured a fair amount of the fruit in the Philippines. But we will see…
By noon, we were brought back to the caravan park, were told to be there at 9am for training the next morning and had the afternoon off. We spent it in the town of Katherine – a small and bit dodgy town, where one is approached by drunken Aboriginals asking for a cigarette once an hour and can hear them yelling while driving through the streets. It’s not very welcoming and known for bad blood between Aborigines and white Australians. After free Wifi in McDonalds, we drove down to the Katherine Hot Springs (which were not very hot) and relaxed in the comfortably flowing water in the artificial swimming holes connected by the river. It is well made, cemented only on one side, leaving the opposite bank sandy and its flora untouched. There are signs warning about the dangerous saltwater crocs making their way into the river sometimes and about not disturbing the fresh water crocs as they may become aggressive. But with all the backpackers, tourists and local children swimming, wading and jumping into the water, I doubt that any crocs were lurking in the clear waters. Back at home, we cooked up what we had bought for dinner at Woolworths (lamb and potatoes) and that concluded our first full day in Katherine.
This morning we were woken up by our bus driver/guy working with Matt, only to be told that work was cancelled for a day or two because the fruit wasn’t ripe enough yet. Great. So our day has been slow… Eating, sleeping and watching How I Met Your Mother is about all I was up to this morning, making use of the free time, as I believe the next weeks will probably be 7day working weeks. In the late afternoon we drove to the Low Level Reserve, a spot by the Katherine river where you can swim in the rushing water by trees full of flying foxes (large bats) and watch hawks circle the skies above you. The water was warm and the flying foxes loud… After yet another trip to Woolworth, one of the guys cooked authentic Italian Carbonara, which was truly delicious. Too bad our mood go dampened by the news that work will probably only start on Monday. Ugh. A whole weekend in Katherine, spending money on accommodation and food and just itching to get picking. But as I said, I am smiling over my gritted teeth and hoping that we will make the best of these next days.
Already as I walked down the street, laden with my bags and bags of stuff and more stuff, I could hear The Cavenagh, the hostel I had booked three nights in. And immediately I could tell that Darwin was definitely going to be a different scene than Melbourne – the restaurant/bar that was part of the hostel was quite large and modern and had an even larger nice terrace outside in front of the reception, it played loud music and seemed to be quite popular, because not a table was free. The pool is surrounded by sun chairs and a few bar tables and was, at past 6pm filled with happy travelers floating on noodles and throwing a ball around. Even just the fact that everyone was in shorts, slippers, bikinis, tank tops, wore a smile on their faces and usually had a healthy (or not-so-healthy-anymore) tan, was a complete 180 from the raincoats and layers of clothing in Melbourne and the hoodies and dirty jeans in the Outback. After checking in and finding my room, all the way in some corner of the building, I went exploring and found the desperately needed laundry area, the quite empty kitchen (for a hostel of that size) and the computers, all the while being a bit overwhelmed by the sounds, the feel of being in slippers and the many people all around me. Suddenly, although Darwin is really not very big (around 124800 people, the largest city in the Northern Territory, making up over 1/3 of its population), it felt as though civilization had just slapped me in my face and was laughing at my confused expression… I was truly a bit taken aback by all the commotion, the lights and music.
Just from the looks and sounds of it, another great difference to the south was the lack or reduction of fellow Germans. Darwin is definitely Irish territory. And definitely a bit more of a man’s world, which makes sense, since the easiest jobs to find here are in construction and specialized handy man stuff. For girls, all that is left are hospitality jobs in housekeeping, kitchen, restaurant and bars. Unless of course, and this is my plan, you find a job in the outskirts (meaning over an hour or so away) of town on a farm of some sort… But more about the job search later.
I am staying in an 8-bed dorm with Irish, English, Canadian and somewhere else. The room smelled like the cheap brand of cheesy poofs mixed with a hint of chlorine and wet towel. And the air-conditioning was broken… I spent the evening organizing my stuff, repacking my very messy bag and piling the laundry up to the ceiling, writing a to-do list for the next day and sitting out on the tiny balcony staring out at the large amounts of concrete I hadn’t really seen in a while. I’m going to be honest, I really didn’t feel like going downstairs and being with people; I was tired and wired at the same time, knowing that from now on, I’m on my own again and the whens, wheres and hows of my trip are all up to me.
It was the worst night I’ve had in a long time. I wasn’t used to this kind of heat and humidity and 6 other people in the same small room breathing the same air. Someone closed the door and the balcony at some point and I woke up drenched and thinking I was going to have to go sleep in the shower. In addition, one guy had the worst coughing fits all night and another got in at some early hour and started asking me where I was from, before lying down next to his bed and falling asleep. Only, when I got up at 6am, rinsed off all the sweat and wanted to go downstairs to skype, I realized that the guy had fallen asleep on my stuff and was lying on my slippers. So I spent the morning barefoot.
My first day in Darwin started quite early and that was probably a good thing, because every minute more than sun had to rise higher, the hotter and more humid it became. From layering, sweaters, hoodies and shoes to shorts, a tank top and slippers (at 6:30am!) is quite the jump and it did make me a bit gaga walking the streets starting around 9am… I applied for the first job in a Billabong store that had an ad up in their window for 2 weeks work at a warehouse sale starting a week from now. Good feeling to know I have started the whole “working” part of my “working holiday”. Next, I found the post office from which I will be sending home a whole bunch of warm stuff and the first set of shot glasses (collecting one from each city or attraction I visit) next week. I found free internet in the state library and walked down two of the three main streets in town. I went shopping at Woolworths and bought my first box of washing powder and immediately washed a motherload of dirty clothes, encrusted with red earth, smelling like campfire, stuffy bus and worn-one-too-many-times (oh how I miss camping!). A very positive aspect to the hostel was the fact that I could turn on the washing machine, hang by the pool, cool off, transfer the clothes into the dryer and jump back in the pool. Definitely a relaxing way to spend the afternoon, though I was quite shocked to see how early it was, considering how I felt. I guess when you’ve spent two weeks on the road with an itinerary of things to do and see along the way, time just flies, whereas when you are left to create your own fun for the first time again, it’s hard to get creative again… My creativity was just enough for reading by the pool. And that all afternoon. Without sun-block. Good job. As much as I love being sun-kissed (and even a little burnt at times), doing that on the first day really wasn’t so smart.
But my pinkish glow, the fact that I hadn’t slept much and had been up quite early didn’t stop me from grabbing the French girl from my Up Track tour and going out for dinner. I have these coupons for a free meal when you buy a drink at The Vic, one of the few “in” places in town, and so we had a beer and a meal for 6$ and the fact that it was so cheap made the blandness more tasty… Sitting outside on the terrace in the warm night, we started talking to the people around us and I met an Italian who is thinking of driving to Broome in three weeks time and is looking for people to join him. Although Cairns was supposed to be my next stop, I have heard so much about the Westcoast and am actually quite interested in seeing it. And I always told myself, go with the flow and take opportunities that present themselves. Plus, it would mean camping and bonfires and cooking on a gas stove and showering in roadhouses or rivers and being out there again. And the Italian guy seems to know what he is doing, has been travelling for very long already and is quite organized. He even wants to do a little test outing with the people that decide to share his car to see if the chemistry is right. He seems quite relaxed as well, saying that if a place is nice he has no problem with staying there for a while, maybe even working a bit – making the journey the destination. … I will try my damndest to earn some money in the next weeks and then decide if a little excursion to the northwest coast is something I want to do… On another note, if I took all the opportunities presented, I’d have gone camping for a night with a whole bunch of Irish guys this morning (probably not a very good idea) or had let myself be kidnapped by an Irish and French guy and would be on the road towards Perth right now. The latter we met after dinner and actually had a pretty fun night out with. It was the French girl’s birthday at midnight and we had gotten these tags for free champagne at 10:30, served to us by topless men (of which one looked like Eric in True Blood and the other like a good looking Dennis Rodman (if that is even possible)), followed by a male stripper – it was ladies night at the Vic. And even though I felt like I could have gone straight to bed after dinner, we ended up partying till I-don’t-know-what-time. The Vic is now responsible for one of the most memorable shots I have ever taken and the most I have laughed afterwards – instead of salt prepping the taste buds for the shot of tequila, the bartender had accidentally given us coarse white pepper. Yum.
This morning I took everything a bit slower, but still ended up walking about town while others in my room were still fast asleep. From 10:30am till around 1:30pm, I walked up and down the main streets of Darwin, into the malls, the hotels, the hostels and the cafes asking if there was any work available. And only two took my CV. I also found out that “work for accommodation” is actually illegal in the Territory. I had heard about there being a few less jobs and everyone leaving for Broome and Cairns because of it, but I didn’t think it would be like that. Yesterday, I had already applied online to a job picking cucumbers on a farm and a job as housekeeping/gardening person on some remote island resort 45mins flight from Darwin. I think next I will call the harvest hotlines and see where the mango picking begins and if they know about any farms that need hands. At the beginning of my trip I told myself it would be impossible to get the three months manual labor work for a second visa in the time that I’m here, but lately I’ve been thinking to just give it a shot. You never know. And if I do find a good job and I do earn enough money and I do have the chance to get those three months, I just might decide to stick around… But before this knocks people off their seats – I haven’t even found my first job yet!
13.09.2010
After my spirits having fallen just a bit after a quite unsuccessful job hunt and no replies to any of the email applications I had sent in, I was quite happy when the Irish guy from the night before invited to dinner by the water. A (very) short drive from my hostel, the Darwin boat clubs are a great spot for a drink and a bite to eat with a perfect view of the sun setting into the water, silhouettes of sailboats dark against the reflection of the sun on the water. Though not necessarily catering to the budget of a backpacker, the fresh seafood and enormous fries (excuse me, make that chips) in the fisherman’s basket was quite delicious. The place was pretty full due to the fact that it was Saturday evening and there was a wedding reception going on… From there, we headed into a park nearby, where a tent with a sound system and turntables was set up next to a small lake and colorful lights lit up the surrounding trees and pulsated to the beat. People danced and relaxed to electronic music. Quite the spot for an outdoor rave. Of course, this ended at 10pm. I think most places with outdoor areas, even the bar of our hostel and our pool, close up at 10pm to reduce the noise around town. A good concept, especially in the hostel, because otherwise I could imagine the area being quite loud… I paid for three more nights when I got to the hostel and went to bed, being one of the first in my room.
I guess I must still have “jet-lag” from my outback tour, because I once again woke up at 6am. I had slept like a stone, the air-conditioner working again and the people in my room being quite considerate drunks who don’t make too much noise when they fall into the wrong beds. Even though I just wanted to turn around and sleep just a bit more and make it feel like a real Sunday, a voice in the back of my head asked if I had taken my pill the night before and I felt around my bed for my handbag. Then I felt around my black-hole-like handbag… and ended up tearing it apart looking for my wallet, which was no longer there. The only thing worse than waking up because of a my-wallet-is-gone adrenaline shock on a Sunday morning is having to get up and make a million phone calls to block bank cards. Ugh. This is definitely a backpacker’s experience I was hoping not to make on this journey… It was quite funny though, I guess backpackers’ wallets to tend to disappear once in a while but for different reasons, because the first thing the receptionist asked me when I asked if anyone had dropped off a wallet was:”Did you go out drinking last night?”…Aside from realizing that I’m an idiot for not storing at least one of my many credit cards in a different place or putting some Aussie dollars away for emergencies, I was more sad about all the other things that are now gone – photos, calling cards, spare earrings (including my favorites from my best friend in Berlin) and piercing, a semi-precious stone and little golden koala pin from Coober Pedy, a shell from the beaches of Sangat Island, a lucky coin from Berlin, my collection of “Little known” facts about Australia on the covers of Tally Ho rolling papers, my bright pink tag from ladies night at the Vic, funky bottle caps and last, but definitely worst – my silver anklet I got for my birthday… So where does that leave me now? With a bit of emergency cash that I can’t covert because it is Sunday, some food (which will last me a while) and a day which I will spend by the pool doing and thinking of nothing.
13.09.2010
…and that’s exactly what I did. After making all the necessary calls and cancelling all my cards, I sat out by the pool till it got too hot. I then spent a few hours lazing on my bed with “How I Met Your Mother” and the air-conditioning, only to return to the pool afterwards and spending my afternoon getting sunburned. Felt kind of good - not being able to spend money and therefore saving the money I probably would have spent on little things.
In German, there is this saying “Glück im Unglück” (basically stating that you can be lucky whilst or because of unlucky things happening to you) and in a way, you could say that his happened to me. While sitting outside the kitchen waiting for my mom to call, I started talking to this Swedish guy I had had a short conversation with on the first evening. I mentioned the whole wallet ordeal and the fact that I couldn’t find a job. This then got me involved in a conversation with some French guys sitting around at the table as well, who then spontaneously invited me to come mango picking with them in Katherine this week. And I spontaneously said yes… So either today or tomorrow, I’ll be driving 300km back into the direction where I just came from with 4 French guys, in a 28year old van they had bought for 100$, probably sitting in the back because it only has two seat and then will be camping in a homestead caravan camp for I-have-no-idea-how-long and will be earning I-don’t-know-how-much for picking and possibly packing mangoes. Sound like a plan? I’m actually quite looking forward to it. And should it turn out to be unbearable, I can always hop back on a bus up to Darwin or try and hitch a ride to the next farm with other workers.
I’ve been up and running around all morning, getting money, reloading my phone (because the calls to my banks in Germany devoured the whole 10$ I had recharged with the day before), buying snacks and supplies, a sleeping bag, a hat, strong insect repellant and rash cream (because I hear that mango sap gives you a mean burn sometimes), a rain poncho and *drrrrumroll please* - a new wallet. Still to come, a thin cotton long sleeved shirt and a box to send home my winter(ish) clothes in…
Whatever happens, I do believe I will come back to Darwin, since there’s nowhere else to go from Katherine but North or South and, as much fun as I had there, going back to Alice Springs is not necessarily on my agenda. And I don’t think I’ve had my fill of the city yet. I want to walk by the water, find a favorite cafe on Mitchell Street, see a free movie by the Waterfront, check out the museums, have dinner at the Mindil Beach market...I haven’t taken a single picture and haven’t culturally explored the city yet. I definitely want to see Litchfield and Kakadu National Park and I believe that I could actually enjoy it here for a while (if I find a job while being here, otherwise boredom would probably take over quite fast).
Day 1: 07.09.2010 “Playing with the Devil’s Marbles”
No, I didn’t end up staying awake till five, thought it did get pretty close. After a quick breakfast of Tums, Paracetamol and Toast and throwing my stuff into my bags lying around my bed (I wasn’t quite thinking straight yet), I sat outside the hostel, only to wait for over half an hour for it to come pick us up. And by us I mean a lot of other people. We ended up being 26 people on the tour and 2 guides, riding in a big fancy bus that fits 33 and is all high tech and stuff. Maybe it was because I was tired, maybe it was because I had had so much fun roughing it a bit in the previous week, mostly I think it was because I was already missing my fellow Groovy Grapers and the relaxed atmosphere in that bus, but I was not very excited about getting on that full bus. And when I did and the guide put on his little headset microphone and the first sentences alone gave him away as someone who loves to hear himself talk, I wished I could have hopped right off that bus and gone back to sleep. Australian Adventure Tours turned out to be more Tour and less Adventure and in that moment, I just didn’t feel like feeling like a retiree.
Of course, it wasn’t as bad as I might be describing it. Just very different from what I had been doing and enjoying so much. Instead of a small group of backpackers, we had a large group of students and people on holiday. Instead of a tour guide who’s more like a more knowledgeable fellow road-tripper, we had two very structured and organized men in uniform. Instead of a cozy little bus, we had a tour shuttle. Instead of heaps of delicious food, we had quite rationed boring stuff. Instead of everyone works as a team, we had groups on kitchen duty and were instructed in which color sponge to use for dishes and which for sponges and which color tea towels to use for dishes and which for hands (at least he admitted about being anal when it comes to hygiene). Instead of swags under the stars by the campfire, we had permanent tents with beds in them. Instead of drinks and good conversation by the fire, we went to bed… Of course we still drive through the same nothingness, still look at the same sights and learn the same (maybe even more) about them and the land, but it really makes such a difference when you don’t feel like you’re around people who can offer or want the same thing you do out of the experiences. Oh, and instead of being allowed to sleep for a bit, we had to come up front and introduce ourselves (including favorite food, movie and porn star name (pet’s name + first street you lived in). Ouch.
Anyways, I was not in the best of moods and couldn’t even really sleep because we were being told stories through the quite powerful microphone. Most of them were about the discovery and exploration of Central Australia and the many trips they had to do to finally cross from the southern to the northern tip. The Scottsman Stuart, after whom the over 3000km highway up from Port Augusta to Darwin is named, took three attempts and almost died finding his way through the desert. The stories are, of course, much longer and much more detailed, but to be honest, although, to my great surprise, I had no hangover whatsoever, I wasn’t in the mood to take detailed notes… Our first stop was one of three old telegraph stations still standing today – Barrows Creek Telegraph Station. It was a house with a fence around it and smaller, empty houses behind it… We also stopped at a campsite/gas station/pub which is known to be the “Alien capital of Australia”, an area where lots of sightings have occurred and believers flock to, to hopefully catch a glimpse of some lights flickering over the bush.
After lunch we visited the Devil’s Marbles, granite rock formations that look like boulders were placed and balanced on top of each other. In truth, they formed 1.7 billion years ago through a bubble of magma that rose to the surface. The further away from the core it got, the more it solidified to granite. The sandstone above it started eroding and exposing the granite. The relief of pressure caused the granite to crack and air and water then eroded the granite boulders and formed it into the round shapes they have today. The surface texture, looking like rusty skin (similar to that or Uluru) is caused by the reaction of minerals and water in the stone… These boulders ranging from melon size to many metres in diameter are actually called Kalu Kalu, the name “Devil’s Marbles” was given to the area by drovers, who used to move their cattle and stock through there. They’d stop there for the night and wake up to their cattle bleeding from their mouths and dying. When this started happening a lot, they called it Devil Devil Country. Actually, they later found out that phenomena was due to a certain type of plant growing there that had blade like grass and cut up the insides of those who ingested it… We spent around 20minutes here, walking around the formations and taking pictures. I would have loved to climb around a bit, but 1.it was not on the itinerary and 2.like Uluru, this is sacred land.
The next stop was in Tenant Creek, a town started by the gold rush in the 1930s. Beginning as a tent town around the telegraph station, it moved around 6km away from it after a truck delivering alcohol broke down and instead of pushing it into town, the town moved and established itself around that site. Here we rested for another 20minutes at the Ane Mary Damm/Lake. Sticking my feet into the cold water did feel quite nice after being cramped up in that bus all day.
Banka Banka, which in the Aboriginal language describes that feeling you get when your hair stands up on the back of your neck (no explanation given), was our campsite for the night. It paled in comparison to the bush or Kings Creek – permanent tents with two beds and real mattresses and the road running by right behind us. The only consolation I had were the stars, which still shone brightly as soon as darkness fell.
Day 2: 08.09.2010 “Pubs on the way to Katherine”
I had been warned about the preference of starting the day quite early on this tour group, but I was still quite shocked when our guide said:”Be up around 6 and on the bus by 7:30” and the people who had done the Uluru tour with the company all sighed in relief and started talking about being able to “sleep-in”. Wow. But that’s how the morning went and we were rolling off the campgrounds shortly before 7:30am… We passed through Newcastle Waters, a ghost town today, which used to be a resting and meeting place for drovers leading their stock and cattle across the land on the stock routes (roads used for transport through the desert). We visited a deserted and dilapidated pub (pub, btw. Is not only bar and beer but also motel like). It was hot and dry and not even 10am.
Along the roads we drove more and more termite pillars popped up in between the trees, which also grew in height and width the further north we went. Although we didn’t see any dingoes, our guide tell us a bit about the fauna of the region. The dog fence, which we had crossed a few days earlier is actually the longest man made barrier built. This over 5300km long fence was made to protect the sheep grazing country in South Australia and New South Wales. The dingo is the only natural predator of the kangaroo, of which we began seeing more and more of on and next to the road (fresh, flat and dried up roadkill, that is).Kangaroos are opportunist breeders, meaning if there is good food and good water they make a good amount of babies. They can have up to three babies at the same time – a joey, which already hops along its mother and only occasionally suckles on her tit, a hairless pinky in the pouch stuck to a tit and an embryo which isn’t developing and only starts to do so when an environmental trigger tells it to. After 30 days, the mother gives birth and it crawls up on its own, hooking itself to a tit, which then engorges and locks him into place. Also interesting and a bit bizarre – the mother can produce different kinds of milk, catering to the needs of her children in different stages of development. After 4-5 months, it sticks his head out of the pouch every once in a while and by 11 months, it can hop out and in at his leisure. So in summary – kangaroos breed a lot and quickly. Statistics from 1996 state that there were 10million Eastern Gray, 9million Reds and 6million Western Gray Kangaroos around. And those are only three out of over 50species.So it is not surprising that most states actually have a quota on how many kangaroos should be killed per year.
Driving into Daly waters, a 23 person community built around a famous historic pub, the grass was suddenly not so green and every time we got out of the bus, it got hotter. Like many other towns in the area, Daly Waters can get cut off during the wet season. It is furthermore famous for being the “first international airport” in Australia, having built a runway in the 1930s for the last refueling of the planes before travelling up to Asia. And before being asphalted, the runway was actually pave with crushed and watered termite mounds, which created a very hard surface on which the planes could land on (unless it rained to hard)… The pub itself was established in 1893, the building we ate next to having been build in 1930. While one group cooked up burgers, we had time to explore this twisted and trippy place. It is filled with meaningful stuff left behind by people who passed through. There are license plates and bumpers, a gazebo full of slippers nailed to the posts and ceiling, shirts and flags, panties, bras and boxers, badges and trophies, IDs and drivers licenses, pictures and boarding passes and caps. More exotic things included the saw-like nose of those fish with a saw-like nose, a pill pack with 1 pill left, and the goggles of a swimmer of the Olympic team of Pakistan. There was quite a lot of money on one wall and I spotted some Philippine pesos between the dollars, euro, ringgit, pounds, dirham etc as well!
After the best tasting cup of frozen yoghurt (probably because the heat made it taste like heaven) we heard the story about the first McDonalds in the Northern Territory having been here – for one day, because back in 1991, a child with leukemia requested the Make a Wish foundation to make her a Big Mac… and drove on to the next Pub along the road. Larrmich was home to a little free zoo with lots of birds, crocodiles and some wallabies (which you could pet) and baby emus that ran around like chickens with their heads cut off.,. Aside from these pubs, the road didn’t have much to offer aside from watching the trees get larger and the signs requesting that you “Please Arrive Alive” and “Rest, Revive and Survive”.
We took a break at the Mataranka Thermal Springs which you got to by walking on a path through palm trees, and although I didn’t expect the pool to be cemented, it was a nice dip. We did wander over to the river and swam there as well, knowing that there were some crocs in there made it all the more exciting.
It started getting dark by the time we stopped in the town of Katherine to go to an ATM and visit Woolworths. Our camp was just 20minutes away, wallabies jumping out onto the road in front of cour bus (and making it across just in time) - more permanent tents and cars driving by behind us.
Day 3: 09.09.2010 “Katherine Gorge and Edith Falls”
Nitmiluk National Park is, like Uluru, Aboriginal land leased back to the government. It is under joint management and the stores and cafes are run by the Aboriginal people. It covers 300.000hectars of land, including the beautiful river Katherine and the majestic gorges along her banks. While the others went canoeing or on a cruise (both at extra cost), I decided to make use of my neglected legs and take a hike. The walk was made out to be 2h (but I made it in 1 ½) and not difficult at all. A nice early morning stroll through nature waking up, accompanied by butterflies (hi Pops!) and dragonflies, watched by no one but spiders and I believe the hissing in one bush must have been a spider, nothing crossing my path but lizards and nothing breaking the silence but the echo of the red winged parrots, gold crested cockatoos and possibly the sounds of flying foxes (kind of like a mixture between a bark and a miau). The air was still fresh enough, though it did get hotter by the minute on top of the gorge, where I got a beautiful look onto the river, the green forest on one bank turning into the rocky ridge of the gorge. Because I was done faster than expected, I had time to jump into the river, cool off and bake in the sun for a while before we had to head back to the bus and drive on to Edith falls, our lunch and last dip spot - A small waterfall and a large dipping pool. The cold water was so refreshing and the about 200m swin across to the falls felt good. The water was clear enough to see some fish in the sunlight, but thankfully not clear enough to count the crocs we swam over. But since they are just freshwater crocodiles and generally don’t eat meat (only fish), we had nothing (or less) to worry about (and in the end it was quite thrilling to have swum with the crocs).
Only 3 more hours till Darwin from there… I can’t wait.
I went to bed quite early last night, after doing laundry in a bit of a daze and having to hang up half of the clothes on my hostel bed because half an hour of drying just didn’t do the job. And although the wine did finally register in my head whilst falling asleep, it was a restful night that ended way before my alarm at 5:30am. Luckily though, because it did end up taking a while longer than I had planned to pack all the hung up clothes in the dark with my flashlight in my mouth. In the end, the pick-up ended up being 20mins late due to graffiti on the bus which our guide Jason had to remove beforehand. Our group of 14 consists of the German couple, Andre and Julia, and French couple, Alex and Marge, with whom I had come up the Great Ocean Road with, a Chinese couple, a Korean girl, an American girl, an Australian Lady and a elderly Kiwi couple.
Our trip started with news about a dirt road in the desert being closed off because of frequent rains and the possibility of not being able to pass it tomorrow. We should know by breakfast if this is going to be the case. If so, Jason said there are lots of fun alternatives in the Flinder’s Ranges. Most of the morning was spent driving through lots of little (and by little I mean tiny) towns usually called Port something. These towns used to be much bigger, as they were the ports used to ship produce from the Ranges brought in by the Ghan Railway, mostly grain but sheep as well, all over the world… As we drove on, the landscape started changing, from farmland to a bit more barren. On one stretch, we had the beautiful turquoise coastline to the right and green rolling hills to the left. At some point we headed inland and into the Flinders Ranges. Here, the bright green grassy hills were dotted with darker green bushes and trees, as well as gray green saltbush. The hills grew into small mountains, still covered in green, with glimpses of rocky patches in between. Basically, we drove through nothing but green, crossing nothing but railroad tracks.
We stopped for lunch in Quorn, the last “big” town before Alice Springs, and took a short walk along the tracks of the Old Ghan Railway, which was built in the 1880s, connecting southern and northern Australia. It was built after the innovation that changed the face of Australia – the telegraph line. Before it was set up in the 1860s, it took up to 3 months for a message to reach the King/Queen in England. The towns that are found in the middle of nowhere along this line actually started out as telegraph stations and then grew from then on.
It is quite amazing to drive through such wide open and uninhabited spaces. My theory is, when you grow up and live surrounded by city, lights and life, constantly having “something” demanding your attention and keeping you entertained, emerging yourself into the “nothing” of such a landscape turns into so much more – “Nothing is definitely quite something”. I’m pretty sure some of you know exactly what I mean ;)
We got the chance to stretch our legs at the Youramballa Caves, an Aboriginal site up in the Ranges. Now, according to Jason, it depends on which book you read when it comes to the number of year Aboriginals have lived in Australia. They range from anywhere between 10.000-80.000 years. So when visiting sites where Aboriginal paintings can be found on the walls of the caves, I keep any of these large numbers in mind. In general, there is little information about exactly where and how they lived and what site meant what to their culture, because they keep it for themselves. The term Dreamtime, so I found out today, is actually not preferred by the Aboriginals, because it connotes that their stories are something untrue or unrealistic. To them, they are the truth about creation and they are very strict about how this information is passed on. They have different stages of learning and knowing – the white man always being on the lowest. The stories are not written down, only passed down orally once the person has reached the stage needed to have to learn it.
Aside from the three caves with paintings in them, we saw a few kangaroos hopping about the trees and learned a bit about one tree and its importance in particular. The White Cypress Pine that grows up in the Ranges is immune to termites and of great historical significance. When the telegraph line was being built, they had problems with termites up in the northern part and Aboriginals suggested to use the White Cypress Pine. The only problem was that it had to be brought up north from the Ranges and they did not really have the means to yet at the time. So they imported camels and camel riders from Afghanistan, which then became the main means of transport through the desert. Up to 100 camels, each carrying up to 600kg of goods (all except pork and alcohol) would march through the desert in a caravan. The railway, first called the Great Northern Railway that was then built and stole the camel riders’ jobs was then named in their honor. Today, mosques and date plantations remind of the camel era, as well as the camels which they set free back then and have grown into the largest wild camel population in the world today. They have actually turned into a bit of a pest, because they don’t have any natural predators, their population grows and when the dry season robs them of their waterholes, they overrun Aboriginal communities looking for water.
Our destination for the day was Angorichina in the Parachilna Gorge. Driving on a dirt road, nestled tightly between green rocky hills and eucalyptus trees, was like a journey through mother earth’s cleavage. To both sides, jagged rock was dotted with patches of little white flowers, softening the atmosphere. Angorichina is a small tourist village with dorm cottages and camp sites, as you can probably imagine, out in the middle of nowhere. When we arrived, the sun was about to set and the evening sun made the hills in the distance look velvety soft… After a good dinner – I must say, kangaroo meat is really starting to grow on me (a lot!) – we made a bonfire outside under the incredibly starry night sky - shooting stars and the milky way, not a sound to be heard and the faint smell of bonfire left in my clothes. Good night.
Day 2: 01.09.2010 “Blinmann’s Pools Walk and Plan A, B, C”
Maybe I should have stayed up longer by the campfire, maybe I should have had a few more sips of that Groovy rape port, but once I was nestled into the surprisingly warm and comfy sleeping bag I couldn’t fall asleep. Maybe it was the eerie silence that befell the place once the generator was turned off, maybe it was not used to sleeping so constricted, but I woke up every few hours all throughout the night. At some point at around 4:30am, the culprit for my 3rd waking was my bladder and I ihad to get out of bed, put on clothes, walk down the hall, out the hut and to the bathrooms that were located in a hut outside. Forgetting that there was no electricity at night, I didn’t bring my torch. Outside, I was baffled by how bright it was. The half moon shone and illuminated the cabin, the coal still softly glowing in the fire pit and the sleeping gorge like a far away halogen light. Shadows crept up the dirt path, as I crept to the bathroom.
Waking up and then finally getting up at 6:30, half an hour before my alarm turned out to be a blessing, otherwise I wouldn’t have caught the last colors of the sunrise over the hills and I might have had to stand in line for the showers. This way, I caught a glimpse of serene beauty waking up and was the first one squeaky clean. I also had breakfast on the benches outside and got to enjoy the silence broken only by birds’ song, before the generator rumbled to life.
On the agenda for the day was a walk through the Parachilna Gorge, not on the usual tour itinerary, but as we would find out soon enough, flexibility is definitely required out here. The Bilnmann’s Pools Walk takes you over hills, along and in a riverbed and along jagged stone walls. Again, green contrasts with the reddish sandy color of the rock, the gray of the dry riverbed and the intense blue of the sky. Because of the unusual amount of rain that the area has been having, wildflowers are in full bloom all along the path and pools which are usually dry around this time are filled and glow reddish because of some algae. We had two and a half hours to walk as far as we wanted and back. We made it till a spot in the gorge by a few larger pools, in the middle of nowhere (you might find me using that expression a bit more frequently in the next paragraphs). Back at Angorichina, we saw a huge hawktail eagle soaring over the Ranges – a majestic creature being chased by two little birds. Hardly beating his wings, he glided back and forth and further away, till his little attackers got what they wanted.
Upon getting back, we heard that the roads to Williams Creek, our initial plan, are still closed. So instead, we drove back south for two and a half hours to the town of Port Augusta, also called “the crossroads of Australia” because it is where the five major highways of the country meet. We had lunch in a park and stocked up on fuel for the bus and the travelers (alcohol gets much more expensive once heading further north). From there, we drove to Pimba (which ironically means pine tree, of which there are none in the area). The drive was long and the scenery changed from luscious greens to darker and grayer greens, from hills to flat, the trees shrank into tiny little bushy bushes and the sandy earth went deeper red. The sky became cloudy and mystical. The thin layers of gray showed patches of swirled sunlight, making it look like marble, like something from Greek mythology, expecting Zeus’ hand to reach down from one of the openings in the sky. All around, little sunbeams broke through and you could follow them down to where they kissed the red earth… But as beautiful as it sounds and truly was, the clouds meant no good. In the parking lot at Pimba, which was supposed to be our last chance to use a real bathroom, we discussed the indecisive weather. Jason declared it looking “not super awesome” but asked if we were adventurous and wanted to camp anyways. Yes! However, when he returned from the shop, he passed on the message from the local folks, who said we’d be crazy to camp because it was going to pour down for sure. So our plan B was to drive to a sheltered campsite behind some pub in the middle of nowhere, but that fell flat when Jason called and found out that there were 42 school children camping there at the moment and they were full up. So here we are, executing plan C – driving all the way to Coober Pedy, another 300km up north, and sleeping underground (which we were supposed to be doing tomorrow). Jason loaded up on Red Bull and we pulled out laptops, pillows or new cameras (the French guy is clearly having a good time playing with his new toy). Oasis is keeping me company and rocking up the repetitive scenery outside my window.
Day 3: 02.09.2010 “Coober Pedy and Bush-Camping”
Arrived in Coober Pedy in the dark and devoured the pizzas we had ordered in advanced. The accommodation was a hostel in a dugout, burrowed deep into the rock. One long hallway of little cubby holes with 2 bunk-beds each, separated by a stone wall and a curtain out to the corridor. A strange sight and feeling walking to the hole all the way at the end, but exciting nonetheless. After a beer at the underground bar in the hotel next door, we went to go sleep in our rocky shelter. It was one of the best night’s sleep I’ve had in a long time – pitch black and quiet, warm enough but not stuffy. And because we had the next morning off, there was no rush getting up. Of course, sleeping in is just not part of my daily routine after all this touring, so I was up by 7:30, which I didn’t know till I turned my phone on, since it was still completely dark in the room. Breakfast was out in front, sitting on little stool, drinking coffee and eating cereal in the already quite warm morning sunlight.
Coober Pedy is derived from the Aboriginal language and means “White man’s burrows/White man in a hole”. It is home to the world’s largest Opal mining fields, which were discovered in the beginning of the 1900s. From the lookout on top of the Opal mine next to our accommodation, you see nothing but little mounds – like giant moles inhabited the desert - and a few streets lined with stores. Everything is sandy and barren, a great contrast to the green of the Flinder’s Ranges. The stores are mainly Opal stores, in which rows and rows of beautiful opal jewelry is displayed, ranging from 25$ to a couple of thousand dollars. A solid stone, meaning picked out of the mine, cut, shaped, polished and set into jewelry is the most expensive variety. A doublet is a thin piece of opal glued to a piece of black plastic and a triplet is a sliver, sometimes as thin as paper, covered by clear quartz to protect it. Other than the mines and the stores, the desert town offers the experience of visiting a small underground church, an underground bookstore and an underground art gallery of Aboriginal paintings. But just walking through the dusty streets is an experience on its own. Not only a positive one though – more than around the cities and larger towns, Aborigines walk the streets; sit, yell and lie on them as well, drunk or high, dirty and usually exiled from their reservation.
The morning in Coober Pedy bore many firsts – first desert feeling, first tingling of my skin, registering that I’ve crossed over into sunnier territories, first day spent in t-shirt and flip flops… In the afternoon, we took a tour through an Opal mine and learned about the basics of mining, the history of Opals and living in dug outs 6-8m underground, as around 80% of the population out there does. On the way out of town, we drove passed the Coober Pedy sign, a mining truck hoisted up on stilts and the Coober Pedy golf course – a hilarious sight, since there is not even a hint of grass on it (you have to carry around a piece of carpet to tee off of); making its affiliation with the prestigious St. Andrews golf club in Scotland even more hilarious. We also heard some funny stories about the people of the town, who go by their own guidelines, the law not really having much say in the area. Because of the mining industry, explosives used to be bought in the supermarket (whilst you do need permits nowadays). And combining the “own rules” with the latter: One guy, after his name was printed up wrongly twice in the local newspaper, just went ahead and blew it up… I need not say, we left the strange little town with slight sunburns and grins on our faces.
The rest of the day was spent driving up the Stuart Highway. Immersing myself long enough in the monotonous landscape along the road, I started desert dreaming, a combination of daydreaming while staring into nothingness and noticing little details that pop up along the way – shards of glass that sparkle all along the road, the sun moving from front to back and front again, blinding me and making me pull the curtains from side to side (although we seem to just be going straight), the windshield getting more and more spotted with splattered bugs, the car carcasses left by the side of the road, flipped, smashed and wrecked, as reminders for drivers to take breaks and rest – because accidents do happen (quite a lot along this highway, according to Jason, our guide)… But the most prominent thing has to be the sky above the desert. I’ve never seen skies like this, probably because I’ve never been somewhere where the sky is so very visible and stands out against the landscape down here on earth. This day, it was an infinite blue, so deep and wide that I noticed this tiny little cloud, like the sun had just exhaled a puff of smoke, slowly deteriorating in the beating heat. I now know what Jason meant when he said that the desert is freedom.
I didn’t sleep very deeply, but it didn’t matter. Waking up and the first thing you see is the stars just can’t annoy you the way waking up in the middle of the night in a bed can. All throughout the night my swag-neighbor tossed and turned and once, I saw a flashlight bean shining on a quite large insect which he had just plucked from his sleeping bag… I awoke at around 6am, lifted my head and saw the horizon behind me lies bright red, the gnarled trees dark silhouettes against those colors chasing away the dark. But I just couldn’t get myself to move and take a picture, instead I slept for another 20minutes. The sight I woke up to then was motivation enough to jump out of my sleeping bag, yawn stretch and take a couple of dozen pictures. Breakfast in front of the still glimmering coals, reignited to fight the morning chill. While packing up, someone found a hand-long centipede in her sleeping bag, one that apparently has a pretty painful bite…
We hit the road and spent the day driving up towards Uluru through endless cattle stations. We were greeted by a large hawktail eagle sitting on a tree right by the highway and signs bearing the catchy phrase “Drowsy drivers die”. One of the cattle stations, Ana Creek, had 6.5 million acres, just as an example of how massive the properties out here get. We crossed the border into Northern Territory, where “the rules end”. The youngest state in Australia has a population of about 300.000 people and was previously governed by Sydney and then South Australia. We continued on through the cattle stations (quite seldom actually seeing cattle), which were the greenest they have been since 2000 and, in comparison, more rain has fallen this year than back then. So the desert feeling of Coober Pedy disappeared with the landscape and the rain. We passed Mt.Connor, also called “Foolaru”, because people on the way to Ularu usually think that they’ve arrived when this massive plateau pops up on the horizon. The only places we stopped and took breaks at were roadhouses. At one, we had lunch, visited by a curious emu that chased anyone with food in their hands. As we left, the sky was starting to clear up and, just as I had bravely predicted, it stopped raining when we got to Uluru. Half an hour before that, we stopped at the side of the road to gather firewood. We got to rip up dead trees to get ice and fat branches. It was rough fun, I got scratched up and had an encounter with a big fat spider.
We visited the Cultural Centre at Uluru, where more info on some dreamtime stories, the land, the people, the flora and fauna was presented in a quite nice way. A voice told stories in an Aboriginal language, the outside was made of red clay and the inside painted in Aboriginal designs. I especially liked the Sorry Book, filled with letters from people giving back rocks and dirt taken from this sacred ground. Some have added stories of misfortunes that befell them after taking their souvenirs, others just realized their wrong doing. Climbing the Rock has also been known to bring bad luck, as it is frowned upon by the Aboriginal people. From there, we went to a lookout point to watch the sunset – along with tons of other tour-busses loaded with shutter happy, champage/goon/beer drinking tourists from all over the world (especially Germany, of course). Even though the sun was covered up by clouds as it sank on the opposite side of the Rock, the sky turned orange and pink and Uluru lit up bright deep red. Quite a sight…
After a huge stir-fry dinner, we lit up our fire in the drum and sat around it with the remaining two bottles of Groovy Grape portwine and a bag of marshmallows and enjoyed the campife-feeling, one by one creeping off into our swags.
Day 5: 04.09.2010 “Kata TJutu and Uluru”
My alarm rang at an ungodly hour – the night was still black, the moon still a silver sliver in the sky and I felt like I might still be in need of some sleep. But by 6am we had to be up and ready and on the road to head out to a viewing point and watch the sun rise next to Uluru on one and the colors emerge on Kata Tjuta (more red rock formations) on the other side. And it was definitely worth it. Sunrises are always a special atmosphere, but seeing the blood red sphere rise next to a sacred rock, laden with history, culture and nature’s beauty is a sight that sends your mind flying to new heights.
Kata Tjutu, formerly called the Olgas, till the land was given back to the Aboriginals, who gave it back their original name meaning “many heads”, are just opposite of the rocker formerly known as Ayer’s. They are a more bumpy landscape, compared to the one towering trapeze. It is believed that is was a sacred sight meant only for men. In general, Aboriginal tribes only consist of around 20-25 people, of which about half were men and the other women. Without there being a gender hierarchy, the roles of men and women were and are to this day very distinct and so were some of their sacred places. We hiked around the Kata Tjuta, through the valleys along the base, since this too shouldn’t be climbed. SO early in the morning, it was cold and the wind-chill was constantly present, in this area also called “The Valley of the Winds”. By the end of the 7km walk, the sun was out and the jackets came off.
Lunch and chill time back at camp got us rested and ready for the base hike around Uluru. At almost 3pm, not a cloud in the sky, we were standing at the base of Uluru. The Climb, as the steep hike us the rock along a chain is called, was open (which is quite rare). Before staring our walk, we read the sign set up by the Aboriginal people, requesting that you don’t climb their sacred rock and warning “Don’t risk your life”. There have been 38 official deaths at Uluru due to falling off, heart attack and heat stroke. Also, the tourists cause pollution which effects the land surrounding the site. Basically, they forget to go to the bathroom (or drink too much) and end up doing their business on top of the rock. When the rain falls and all is washed down into the desert, it harms the plant and therefore the animal life. A certain species of shrimp, which dries up and comes back to life with water has almost become extinct because of this. Although I am not a superstitious person, I do have respect for the spiritual beliefs of other cultures and found myself very torn between this, disrespecting the wishes of the oldest culture of the world and the pull towards adventure. I have come all this way and am standing at the base with the opportunity to stand on top of one of the world’s most famous sites and at the same time don’t want to be disrespectful. Before the final decision was made, Jason took us on the Marla walk and told us a bit about the land and its history. In 1967 the Aboriginal people got their rights in the Northern Territory, having been classified under Flora and Fauna beforehand. They fought to win back their land, which was then returned to them in 1985. However, because the Climb had become such a successful tourist attraction and meant big business for the Australian government, they only gave it back under the condition that the Aboriginals lease it to them for 99 years. So today the government still has full control of this land although there are plans for it to be returned by 2020.
The Aboriginal people are said to have been around Uluru for over 30.000 years. Their strict means of passing on information was necessary for their survival. For example their 5 step method of hunting kangaroos; if two 14 year old boys were given this information and one succeeded using the 5 steps, he’s be given a pat on the back. If the other had succeeded, but had skipped a step or two, he would have been beaten over the head with a club… It is a culture which is hard to understand and which causes many problems for them and the Australian people due to culture clash and social issues. Only two generations ago, there were still nomadic tribes, which had a completely different lifestyle and way of thinking. They were rounded up and stuck into communities. They don’t accept the white culture that they have been slapped in the face with , so it is important to “keep an open mind” and know that it is “not as bad as it looks”, according to Jason.
The Marla walk is named after a small Wallaby, a dreamtime animal, which is extinct and no longer found in the area because of the introduction of non native species. It began with 10 rabbits being brought in by a homesick Englishman, who found the Aussie animals to boring to hunt. He released these rabbits, which then rapidly multiplied and started eating all the vegetation. They then brought in foxes to take care of this problem. They however couldn’t be bothered with the rabbits and started killing all the other mammals. Within 35years, over 30 species of native mammals became extinct.
There is no definite answer, no truth to how Uluru came to exist, only theories. One of which is that 900million years ago there was a huge mountain range on which no plant or animal life existed, causing it to be washed away faster. Two lakes formed and the sediment and rocks were washed into them. Possibly, the length of the two rivers flowing into the lakes, of which one would become Kata Tjuta and one Uluru, caused one to fill with pebbles and rocks and the other with fine sediment; this being the reason why the two formations are made of different looking rock. As the sea level rose above these beds of mud and froze during the ice age, the weight of the ice compressed them for millions of years into the sandstone they are today. About 240million year ago,the McDonalds Ranges were pushed out of the ground and the movement of the tectonic plates pushed the two sandstones out of the ground. Uluru, being made of the fine sediment was more solid, making it look so even. Kata Tjutu cracked and crumbled, which is why it is domed and has valleys. It is also speculated that only a small percentage of the actual formation is above ground and Uluru might actually have its base 6-7km, Kata Tjutu up to 30km underground.
The Aboriginal story, the children’s version, is easier to follow and I’m quite happy to just believe that one. One day, a mother told her two sons to leave her in peace for a while and go find something to do. So they went to a riverbed, got thirsty and started digging for water. They threw the rocks and pebbles over their shoulder, which became Kata Tjutu and left the pile of dirt by the side, which then became Uluru. They slid down the pile of dirt, which then became the lines and ridges down Uluru. And because children’s tales are all about learning something out of it, the moral of the story is: do as you are told. Of course, this is the most simplified version of the story. They grow as the level of knowledge grows. But because white people can’t reach a higher level. The dreamtime creation tales of Uluru will stay veiled in mystery.
We got to the end of the Marla walk and the crossroads to the base walk, a 10km walk all around Uluru, and the climb. I think I must have stood there the longest. The English/Irish couple went straight for the climb, most went straight for the walk. The male part of the German-French-Connection (the two couples I left Melbourne with) went for the climb after short contemplation. In the end, I decided to do the walk, knowing I’d probably partially regret it in the end. But I figured, you probably see more of the rock walking around it than on top of it anyways (or so I told myself to feel better about my choice). It turned out to be a good choice, because the two and a half hour walk was accompanied by good conversation and ever changing scenery. One would think that a walk around a large red rock could be monotonous, but Uluru is quite multifaceted. The terrain around it changes from dirt road, to paved road to pebbles which had turned into a little river we had to step around and through. The vegetation changes from drier bush on the sunny side and greener grasses, trees and flowers on the shady side. And of course, there is the rock itself. From afar the surface looks smooth and velvety, while up close it looks like a thick layer of rust has been eating away at it. There are holes that look like a termite layer cut in half, a jagged gaping shark’s mouth or smooth sand-blown caves and tunnels – depending on which side you are walking along. The color also changes from even red to striped with white or black, caused by the water running down in little waterfalls when it rains. Along the path, we encountered gigantic ants, all kinds of birds as well as a little thorny devil (though the first time I asked I understood “funny” and the second time “horny”) – a reptile that looks like a miniature dinosaur and moves like a robot toy. Too bad I only found out back at the bus that they are harmless and can be picked up, I didn’t dare go very close to this little animal covered in spikes and hissing at me… Back at the entrance to the climb, I couldn’t resist walking just a few meters up and seeing what it felt like to be standing on Uluru. It was steep and I could imagine the climb to the top being quite tough, but in the end I was glad I didn’t go up, because just standing on it already felt strange – I guess I can’t just turn off the feeling of treading on sacred ground… We stayed for sunset and watched as the red became even redder. Not as red as it can get, according to Jason and postcards, but red enough to marvel.
Day 6: 05.09.2010 “Kings Canyon”
We packed up camp leisurely, because we were still ahead of schedule, having done the base walk in the afternoon (instead of this morning), and drove off around 9am. By now, rolling up sleeping bags and swags, packing and cleaning the kitchen and loading it all into the trailer had become routine and happened quite quickly, everyone lending a hand where they can…The morning was spent driving, because there was still a bit of ground to cover towards our final destination. Again, it was mainly cattle stations we drove through, but as we were heading into the Gilles Ranges, the landscape began changing – less flat, more green, higher trees, Eagles circled above us quite often and lizards lay next to the road (Blue Tongues and Thorny Devils, flat and non-flat)… We stopped for firewood again and I added some new scratches to my collection, dragging the biggest trunks I could find and ripping out dead dried bushes. This time, we wanted only the big stuff, to make an epic last fire at the campsite. On the last stretch of road, a few wild horses, Brumbies, were grazing only a few meters from the street. I don’t think I’ve ever seen wild horses before and I felt the little horse-crazy girl inside me grinning widely.
Kings Creek campsite was quite nice. We had a little fire pit with enough space to place our swags around it, a grassy patch just next to it, a little hut where we set up our kitchen and clean facilities. After unloading, we headed to Kings Canyon, a spot not as well known as Uluru and Kata Tjuta, but, as it turned out, a true highlight of the whole trip. The hike begins with the hardest part, a steep hill with rocky steps that lead you up to the top of the range. From there, you walk along the canyons and through the domes on top. It’s not a hard walk, but takes about 3h, which is perfect – long and scenic, without exhausting you. Every once in a while you walk to the edge of the canyon and have to inhale sharply because of the magnificent view. I climbed up random rock formations every once in a while, just to get a better look and feel the adrenaline in my veins, feeling as though as I was standing on top of the world. However, the ultimate experience that got my heart pumping was the swim in the waterhole of the Garden of Eden. Who knew I’d ever be allowed to enter Paradise? A green valley with water flowing through it and palm trees growing by the side of the holes filled with black water (it was shady by the time we got there). I was the first with my feet in the icy cold water and later the first one to jump in. I don’t think I’ve ever swam in water that cold before. It almost felt like a burning sensation on my skin. Only 4 people actually went in and we were all girls. The boys had two excuses: not wanting to disturb the ducks and their ducklings and “I have a penis”. One of the younger German girls and I actually swan across and warmed up on the only rocks still being hit by some sunlight, only having to jump back in to swim back to the group. It was so cold, I felt numb while drying off, hardly feeling the towel on my skin. But I just couldn’t pass up the opportunity to be able to say I’ve swan in a waterhole in Kings Canyon, in the middle of Australia and froze my a** off… The rest of the hike back to the bus was accompanied by another one of those beautifully patterned skies and because everyone was walking at their own pace, the group had dispersed a bit, which gave a bit of room to think and breathe and listen to the serenity up there. Jason then gunned it back to camp just in time for sunset.
I wanted to spent my last night of the trip, my last night in a swag a bit further away from the fire, to be able to see the stars even better. So after the last of our wood was gone and most people had gone to bed, I dragged my swag over to the grassy patch and watched the shooting stars till my eyelids were too heavy, wishing that the trip would never end.
Day 7: 06.09.2010 ”14h in Alice Springs”
One last time, we packed up camp after breakfast. It felt final and I have to admit, I was actually quite sad – time had flown by and I wish there had been more of it. I’m going to miss campfires and their smell lingering in my clothes, going to sleep under the stars, zipping up my swag, the cool night air on my face, the silence in the dead of night, waking up to the sun rising, waking up with a hot shower I have to take a little walk to, the morning cups of tea and coffee by a reignited fire, the good and plentiful food, driving through nothingness listening to good music…and the people I have met, shared experiences with and grown to appreciate quite a bit.
We had 480km to Alice, with not much to see or do in between. Our lunch break was outside a roadhouse, where we were ordered to “eat everything” and despite doing our best and trying so hard to finish off the wraps, sandwiches, salads, cold cuts, sauces etc, we hardly succeeded… Further down the road, an emu with his six babies crossed the road right in front of us and struggled to get through the fence on the other side. And yes, I did say HIS, because in emu families, the mother lays the eggs and disappears, leaving the father to hatch and raise the chicks (which stand about as tall as my hip).
After a few hours of driving with especially good music, we arrived in Alice Springs in the afternoon and dropped people off one by one at their hostels. Since we had made plans for dinner, it wasn’t goodbye quite yet. Jason and the German-French-Connection were staying at the Haven as well, which made our stop the last. The hostel was friendly and clean and I was starting to regret having booked the continuing tour for the next day already (also because the French were doing it as well, but 3 days later). But being me, it didn’t cross my mind to call and ask for a re-booking till after they had already closed. Oh well… I left immediately after checking in and walked to town to get some souvenirs which I hadn’t bought on the trip. I figured that they’d have Uluru postcards and shot glasses and stuff in Alice, and I was right. The town is flat and much greener and larger than Coober Pedy. There are more grassy patches along the streets and it seems quite clean. I walked to Todd’s Mall, a pedestrian shopping district in the middle of town, and passed the first Kmart and KFC in over 10 days. After finding what I was looking for, I tried to find my way back and eventually did so, but not after getting a bit lost and zigzagging through the town for a while. I think I was heading in the right direction, thought I wasn’t and turned, then headed in the wrong direction for a while before realizing that I was actually on the right way – and all that with a basic map in my pocket. But as I’ve said, I love getting lost in a new town. It’s the best way of seeing it for the first (and in this case my only) time.
Back at the hostel, I looked if I could find Jason or any of the others for that pre-dinner beer we had talked about and went to the bottle shop for, but I didn’t see anyone. So I got ready fot this evenin and sat down outside with my Aussie Radler (which wasn’t really Radler (Beer+Sprite), only flavored beer) and my laptop and tried catching up on my writing. This didn’t last very long though, because I was joined by Alex and Andre and some random Aussie dirt biker with a broken ankle. And when Alex and Andre left to get their ladies, this guy actually used the line “Your parents must be terrorists (Why?) Because you’re the bomb.“ on me. At least he wasn’t hurt when I started laughing and asked if that ever works…
Subchapter “One Night in Alice”
We met our whole group in town at the Rock Bar and had dinner and some drinks there. We got great group discounts on our meals and later on on shots as well… Quite a few were set on getting drunk that night and I was the only lucky person who had a 5:40am pick up at the hostel the next morning. This fact became a running joke throughout the evening. One I didn’t find very amusing till after my third glass of wine. I mean, I had the choice between saying goodbye and going to bed early to be awake on hours and hours of riding a bus the next day or celebrating the end of fabulous Groovy Grapes trip with newfound friends and just sleeping for a while the next day and possibly bearing with a bit of a headache. The decision wasn’t very hard. And the first tequila shot and a deal cut to just keep me awake till 5am, made it even easier.
A one man band, later joined by an Aboriginal guitar player, played music that reminded me a bit of modern Irish folk and made great background music. After the first shot, which everyone joined in on, including our Kiwi couple (Don had just turned 71), I went outside for a cigarette and when I got back in, everyone was jumping and dancing – I guess tequila works faster than I thought. I did realize that myself after Alex bought and made me take two on the spot… A few of us spent most of the night outside in the terrace area behind the bar. 1.Because it was the smoking area 2.Because it was a beautiful night out 3.Because the fresh air makes my face burn less… And slowly by slowly everyone left, coming around to give hugs and say goodbye. The final 8, the English/Irish couple, the German-French-Connection, Jason and I was then further diminished to us staying at the Haven – who then stopped by the 24h store before strolling and swaying back into the hostel - we had had a wonderful, loud, laughing, talking-to-random-strangers, picture-taking, smoking-too-much, drunken night: the perfect ending to a perfect tour (with a perfect tour guide?;)...
