Friday 3 April 2009

Uluru, etc.

Day 1

I was picked up for the Uluṟu tour bright and early and we were on the road after formalities soon after. We were a mixed bunch of one Brit (me), an Irishman, a Chinese couple, six Germans and three Austrians – so German was the majority language, though English the lingua franca. Our guide, Chris, turned out to be a Kiwi from the Hawke's Bay on his first trip as a guide (he'd obviously been on the tour himself a few times while training). He did a good job too, telling us about the landscape and the plants and so on as we drove away from Alice. We stopped at a camel farm first; I don't think any of our group did one of the short $5 rides but we stretched our legs and looked at camels, an emu and a couple of kangaroos in an enclosure for a bit. Central Australia is full of feral camels, over 500,000 of them at least and all descended from the camels brought out by the early European settlers and explorers. We spotted a few on the tour, by the side of the road and once a couple crossed in front of us.

Shortly after the camel farm we turned off the main highway on to the Ernest Giles road, 100km of unsealed bumpiness. We passed lots of “rivers” - being dry riverbeds – and collected firewood for the night's campfire. Chris showed us how to look for witchety grubs under acacia bushes. A small snake appeared and slithered away (I didn't see it) and he had better luck with the second bush, finding a hollow root where a grub had been though there was no grub. Apparently they're easier to find after rain.

Lunch was had at King's Creek Station. Like many of the cattle stations in central Australia, it doubles as a campsite, shop and petrol station – they've all been supplementing their income from tourism for about 60 years. It was in the 1960s that some farmers alerted a bloke called Jack Cotterill to the existence of King's Canyon, or Watarrka as the Aborigines call it, and tourists started heading out there. The canyon was our afternoon's walk, about 5.5km round the rim. It's red rock, in various weird shapes but predominantly looking like beehives (the old-fashioned sort, or resembling the NZ parliament building). We were there late enough that the light on the rock was really beautiful, particularly at the end of the walk when the sun was setting.

That meant it was dark by the time we got back to King's Creek. The campsite was a couple of kilometres down the road, and we discovered on arrival that one of the connectors providing power to the shelter had fallen off. Chris set about trying to fix it while the rest of us unloaded food from the back of the van.

Chris had been fiddling with the wires for about five minutes, trampling the sand by the truck while a couple of people provided torchlight and the rest of us looked on. I didn't see it happen, but suddenly Chris was calling for water and pouring it on his leg – a small snake had appeared from nowhere and had bitten him just above his sock. He wasn't sure if he'd been properly bitten or not and was initially going to carry on with getting the camp ready while he waited to find out if his leg was getting sore. (Cue “what!” from yours truly, who had visions of him collapsing in front of our eyes.) Luckily he saw sense and decided to get us all back to the station. He got his leg bandaged – by a medical student, though he didn't realise it at the time – and enlisted the Irishman's help to drive the van back. En route he spotted a quad bike from the station and called the guy over; he radioed ahead so when we arrived some of the station hands were out with their torches and help. They'd called the local nurse, who was based some 40km away, and they held Chris's hand and looked after him until she arrived.

Once she'd got there a couple of the station hands and three of us went back to get the food we'd unloaded, scanning the sand intently with very large torches for snakes. Because we didn't have the camp set up, and we hadn't eaten, the station put us up in little canvas cabins and let us use a kitchen and barbeque. We ate burgers and sausages at 10pm before collapsing into bed, exhausted after a slightly more dramatic day than planned.

Day 2

By the time we got up for breakfast at 6.30am a rescue team had arrived – Brad and Tony, who had driven overnight from Alice and had got to the station at 2.30am. But they were both up before us. Brad was there to mend the broken power and drive a ute back to Alice, while Tony was our replacement guide. We'd swapped new boy Chris for an old timer; Tony being your typical Aussie bush bloke with a long long beard. He was less talkative on the loudspeaker in the bus, but knew his stuff on our walks and was also very good at avoiding crowds. All about timing, he said.

We drove from King's Creek to Yulara, or Ayers Rock Resort, arriving by lunchtime. Yulara – it means “howling” in the local language – was purpose-built in the 1980s to control tourists, replacing a different settlement on the other side of Uluṟu. That place is now an Aboriginal community and is closed off, you need a permit to visit. Yulara has several hotels, a campsite, and, though we didn't see it, a shopping centre. In the middle of the desert. The organised tours have a separate campsite and our particular spot was away from the crowds, thank heavens. It's just starting to get busy right now, so it wasn't too bad generally but the campsite was full.

After lunch we headed to the Uluṟu cultural centre, which explains the significance of the site to the Anaṉgu people as well as the various “stories” associated with the rock. There are two major ones – one about a big battle between two snakes, and one about an interrupted ceremony. The centre also explained the history of the national park, which these days is run as a jointly managed effort between the Anaṉgu and the Australian government. They have rangers of both Aboriginal and Australian origin, and try to strike a balance between tourism and preserving the lifestyle and traditions of the local people. It seems they're doing a reasonable job and the centre was interesting.

Then we went out into the heat to see the rock itself. It's really an extraordinary thing, this huge lump of sandstone sticking out of the desert. The actual rock is really grey but it's covered in layers of red dust. It's not regular in any sense, with lots of bits sticking out and caves and so on. There's rock art, a major waterhole, and various places you can't take photos of because they are sacred to the Anaṉgu. The base walk is 9.4km but it was way too hot to do it all, so we did bits of it and drove around most of the rest. The climb was closed due to the heat – they shut it if the temperature is forecast above 36ºC. I wouldn't have climbed anyway; partly because they ask you not to, and partly because frankly it looks terrifying and horrible.

We were done with our walking by about 5.30pm. Tony took us to the sunset viewing point and showed us a good spot, again away from the hordes of coach passengers who settle down at tables with linen next to the coach park. We opened our fizzy wine, made Buck's Fizz and watched the rock change colour until the sun went down. It was rather lovely.

Getting back into the bus Tony said to me, “watch where you're sitting, there's a kangaroo tail in there”. Lo and behold there was indeed, a frozen tail in a plastic bag which he'd bought to cook. Not the nicest thing to see.

Back at the campsite Tony got the fire going and as a group we prepared a massive feast to cook on it – we had all the food we didn't eat the previous night as well! There was a big pot of vegetables, cooked slowly with spices; some pasta with spinach and feta; chicken; and kangaroo mince. And some garlic bread which I cooked in some embers. It was all fantastic, even the kangaroo which tasted somewhat like venison. Felt a bit stuffed afterwards and was happy to fall into my swag for the night. A swag is a sort of leather sleeping bag affair. There's a mattress and pillow inside, and you add your sleeping bag and zip yourself up so only your face is exposed to the night air. It's remarkably comfy and despite the snake incident of the previous night I wasn't at all worried. I think I'd been reassured by Tony's insistence that Chris's bite was absolutely extraordinary (and by now we knew he was safe and had come to no harm) as well as the fact it's a well-used campsite and they wouldn't let you do it if it wasn't safe. Some of the others felt a bit nervous though I think. It was nice lying there looking at the stars, with the fire gently burning behind me, and I slept pretty well through the night.

Day 3

Up even earlier on this day in order to have breakfast and pack up before sunrise. We went to a viewing point near Kata Tjuta, otherwise known as the Olgas, where you can see both Uluṟu and Kata Tjuta. Uluṟu gets the sun behind it, so is silhouetted against the sky, while Kata Tjuta gets the morning sun on red rocks. It was fairly busy but not uncomfortably so.

As soon as the sun was up Tony got us into the bus again so we could get the walk around Kata Tjuta done before it got too hot. Again they close it at 11am if it's forecast to be warm. We were on the track before 8am. The path's called the Valley of the Winds walk and near the beginning it was extraordinarily windy, but later on it was much more sheltered. Kata Tjuta is a collection of large dome-shaped rocks, essentially; but that doesn't quite do it justice.

Tony showed us how the various rocks in the area were formed, using pebbles to illustrate. Basically there was a big flood once upon a time which washed debris into a pile, creating the composite stone of Kata Tjuta. The sandstone of Uluṟu was left on its own, as was the nearby mesa of Mount Conner (which we'd seen on the road the previous day).

On the walk we saw a couple of dingoes up ahead, and a short while after two kangaroos in the bush. I was delighted when one of them bounced away, though my pictures are dreadful. I really wanted to see a wild kangaroo bouncing.

The walk takes you up to a sort of saddle, a divider between two gorges in the formations. Here all Tony's careful crowd-avoidance went to pot because we got up there at the same time as a horde of American teenagers arrived from the opposite direction. There seemed to be hundreds of them. Not fun. We left before they did, because they were coming back the same way they'd come and we wanted to get ahead.

We had lunch at the campsite again and then hit the long road back to Alice, stopping a few times on the way for drinks, stretching, and kangaroo tail for those that wanted it. I really didn't, it looked disgusting as it's all fat and sinew. No proper meat on it.

The last stop was at “Jim's Place”. Jim Cotterill is the son of Jack (see day 1) and he runs a roadhouse about 90km from Alice Springs. He's a down-to-earth Aussie in his 60s and he owns a singing dingo. Dinky the dingo and Jim do a little show for those who are interested. Basically Dinky was a victim of dingo poisoning – all his family was killed but Dinky was rescued, about eight years ago. He grew up in Jim's household as a dog, basically, and got used to the Cotterill daughters playing the piano. Soon they discovered Dinky would “sing” along to the music and learnt to hit the keys with his paws. Of course word spread and now Dinky's a worldwide celebrity with a question in the Aussie version of Trivial Pursuit. We had a performance – a bloke from another tour group played the piano. Dinky began to whine and then got up on to the keyboard and began to howl. It was totally out of tune and time with the music and we all found it completely hilarious. Jim said dingoes are very communicative, and basically Dinky is using music as a way of communicating with the family. There's a few videos on YouTube.

We got back to Alice about 6.30, time to shower and do laundry before a last meal as a group. Everyone was very nice and despite the various language barriers we got on well – I found myself helping the Chinese couple with rental car booking queries at the airport the next day because they were on the same flight as me. But I was exhausted after all the early starts, and was happy to collapse into bed!

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