Sunday 30
Brrp brrp brrp! The alarm went off at 04:00. It gave us an hour to get up, pack up, have breakfast and drive to a hotel in Yulara. We were booked in to be picked up by a coach that would take us to the Field of Light. Cath had pre made breakfast the night before for a quick departure. It was pitch black as we fumbled around in the dark. We had opted to not use any lights packing up as they attracted un-invited bugs. Somehow we successfully got to the hotel on time after driving through the dunes finding our way out and onto the main road. The coach came and it was a short trip around to the Field where we followed the guide up to the top of a sand dune where we overlooked the display. 55,000 lights were scattered across the bush with Uluru in the distance. The Field glowed from the dim lights. Clusters of lights glowed, changing colours every so often. We walked amongst the tracks that had been created in the Field, getting wondrously lost in the dark with only the dim glow guiding us as we went. The lights were powered by solar panels that charged batteries during the day and were linked to a timer to control when the lights turned off and on. It apparently took six weeks for a team to install all the lights and run all the fibre optic cords. It was stunning to see. The odd person every now and then forgetting to turn their flash off on their cameras would ruin our night vision. One woman even had a torch to guide her around, shining it in people’s faces as she walked past, highly inconsiderate, as the display lights were all you needed to see.
As the sun slowly creeped up, the field changed. The bush that had been hidden behind the display was slowly coming into view. We made our way back up the sand dune to overlook the field and watch the sun change the colour of Uluru. Disappointingly, there were too many clouds and the sun only came into view between the gaps. I must add, I was freezing! Not being used to the cold, it was a shock to my system.
We had a cup of tea to warm our souls but nothing helped stop me from shivering.
It was a surreal experience watching Uluru in the distance. How the hell were we here already? Was I going to wake from a dream? I had to pinch myself to make sure I was still awake.
We had come all this way and we were eager to get a closer look at Uluru. The park entry fee was $25 per person. The day before we had come in at the back of the park where there was no ranger station so had no fee to pay. Only wanting to see Uluru for the morning, it was a steep price to pay - but we had come all this way and we weren’t missing out on the opportunity. We made our way around to the main car park at the foot of the rock. Tired from getting up early we simply sat in the warm ute taking in the view. “Its huge. Its so much bigger than what i had expected. That famous photo of prince Charles and Di was just there”, I pointed out. “That photo did not do the rock any justice, It looked on the picture that it was just a short walk up. Looking at that, its huge!” I continued. We eventually got out and went to the base of the rock where there is a clear visible path up onto the top of it. A handrail had been constructed up the face for people to use as an aid. There was a large sign informing people in all different languages not to climb the rock out of respect to the traditional land owners, as to them, it was a sacred place. Right at the end of it, there was a small section stating that if you were to climb it, you will be doing it at your own risk. It stated that 36 people had died in the past climbing the rock and it was not for the faint hearted. Along side the sign was a closed gate with another sign saying the rock is closed off due to the high winds. Cath and I wondered how anyone had the audacity to climb Uluru after all the information that had told people not to. There was a clear mark on the rock where people had been climbing it for years, it was obvious to see that people do still. However we felt strongly against it out of respect to the Aboriginal land owners.
We walked around the base of the rock. Not the whole way, as it is 9.4 km long walk around its base. We weren’t game enough to take on such a challenge in our zombie state. We did however get up close and personal with the rock and found caves bearing Aboriginal art on its walls and ceilings. I am so amazed with Aboriginal rock art – it blows me away to think how long they have been there and how old this civilisation is. Truly these people do not get enough credit for being able to survive in such a dry harsh climate. There was so much history here and we simply had no clue that it was here. We sat at caves admiring the art. Tourists un-aware of the rock art would walk up, take a quick look and continue. I honestly saw no one as fascinated as I was and wondered if they had even noticed the rock art. One spot we sat for about 20 minutes admiring the artwork on the wall. The more we sat and scanned the more art we would find. Some very faint for obvious reasons. The dreamtime stories that went with the place were fascinating. I wont spoil it for you – you will just have to go and check it out one day for yourselves.
Uluru gave us more than we had ever expected! As I have said so many times before, you will have to add this to your list of places to visit, its incredible.
We fuelled up back in town. $2.20 a litre for diesel. Well, what do you expect? Its in the middle of the country. Re-fuelled, we spent the late morning driving to Kings Canyon, Watarrka NP at the western end of the George Gill Range. Along the way we saw in the distance a couple of other rock formations, similar in resemblance to Ayers Rock, towering rock formations standing proud up and out of the ground dotted across the landscape. One particular one, Mt Conner stood up like a perfect table-top jump on a motocross track. It was ridiculous how big this rock was from a distance. Apparently there are around 200 rock formations that stick up from the earth’s surface dotted around the landscape that we had no idea about.
It made us wonder why Uluru was so famous?
After a long drive we finally made it. Kings Canyon was a small place that offered different types of accommodation from camping to lodges. The only convenience it had was a fuel station, again bearing high prices. We made our way in and found a spot for the afternoon. The wind was still whipping across the land and we were worried we would once again have another un-pleasant night sleep. Showered and organised for the next morning we were in bed early, ready for another early morning start. Our plan was to beat sunrise again and get into Kings Canyon itself to watch the sun come up over the red earth.
Monday 1
As I peeled my one eye open that was not laying on the pillow to see a deep dark orange sun piercing from the horizon, I knew we had slept in. I must have turned the alarm off on my phone without even realising when it had gone off. There was no way we were getting up. Shattered from yesterday’s big event still, we needed that lay in. Eventually we rose at a healthy time, just not at the time planned.
We made our way down to the bottom of Kings Canyon Gorge and before we knew it we were scaling up the stairs that took us right to the top. Deep breathing from both of us, it had been a while since our last proper walk. Sweat was running from my temple as we made it to the summit. We weren’t the only ones, there were many family’s and other couples resting – catching their breath back sitting on rocks. No one wanted to stop on the stairs, the constant flow of people behind us was apparent. Not wanting to be stuck behind a slow moving part we continued on, trying to get some oxygen into our legs again – still taking in big breaths.
We scaled around the top edge of the gorge. The other side of the gorge opened up in front of us. A vertical drop 100 meters down on both sides. Signs plastered along the edge warning people of unstable rocks and to not get too close. There was swarms of people with cameras all trying to get a selfie or two without anyone photo bombing their snap. We waited patiently for our turn. Cath offered to take a photo for a father and his three boys. Excited at Cath’s offer he jumped up holding out his phone “That would be great please”, he said. He coordinated his children into there spots and even told Cath where to stand for best lighting. Cath took a few shots and got chatting to him. He explained that they had come to Uluru to climb the rock before it was closed to public access. Unsure if he said Uluru or not Cath went on to say “yes we were there yesterday and it was closed”. After taking a few selfies with the gorge in the background for ourselves, Cath turned to me and said “did he actually say he came here to climb Uluru? Or did he say somewhere else?” I wasn’t sure what he said as I was not really listening and was admiring the view. “Dunno babe. I didn’t hear him. Even if he did say he was, imagine climbing up it even after reading all the signs! Wouldn’t you feel guilty? I’d feel so disrespectful” I said.
We made our way along like ants, following the trail that the masses had taken in front of us. People were dotted around everywhere. There would have had to of been 400 people on this walk. Everywhere we looked we could see others. Even taking a photo of the opposite side of the gorge there were people across the top. “I feel like such a tourist” I explained.
“Darling that is because you are a tourist”, Cath replied.
“I know I know, but it spoils it don’t you think? The landscape is stained by humans. We’ve been spoilt so far, I guess we were lucky we did the Gibb River Road outside of school holidays, imagine that as busy as this!” I mentioned.
“Yup, were right in the middle of the holiday now, that’s why there’s this large amount of people”.
There was a short walk that made its way down to what was called the Garden of Eden – a small waterhole that was sacred to the native people of the land. It was a small oasis in the belly of the gorge. Cath feeling the heat getting to her was not keen for the 20 minute return walk. I thought to myself that I had come too far to miss out on it, so decided to leave my backpack with Cath and run down to it. With only our phone in hand to take a few snaps and the old trusty thongs, I jogged on leaving the wife resting in the shade. I started the run puffing, it had been a while that I had an elevated heart rate. Thoughts ran through my head as they always do when beginning a workout that I could not do it – that I should rest and walk instead. I pushed them aside and settled into a steady pace. Overtaking people as I went, getting weird looks from people probably wondering why I had no water and why I was wearing thongs. Eventually I made it down. There were about 50 people resting on the rocks that sloped down and around a green coloured pool sitting undisturbed at the bottom. Tall rock walls formed up on each side and a few palms and tall gums had nestled their roots deep into the rock soaking up the nutrients carried to them from the water. There was no river feeding this billabong, it had not rained in a while and the water looked stagnant. There were signs up informing people not to swim, however I don’t think anyone was game enough to get in even if there was no signs. It was far from inviting, even in the heat. I took a few shots and ran back up the stairs and past all the people I had overtaken – even stranger looks came from their faces. I had nestled into a nice pace and was feeling great, endorphins running through my veins. I got back to Cath who was sitting in the shade. “Wow that was quick” she said with a surprised look on her face. “Yeh I ran there and back, I needed to test myself. I feel great though considering its been so long since I last did a proper bit of exercise”. I replied. We continued on talking about sport and those athletes that inspire us. Mainly it was me blabbering on about Cameron Hanes and saying that hopefully I set a good example for our own kids one day. Yeh waffle right!
But with all those endorphins running through me I didn’t stop waffling until we got back to the ute.
We had made it to the other side of the gorge. Exposed to the sun and the heat on top of the rock wall we peered down over the edge into the gorge below us. It was a long drop down. The wind had picked up which brought a warm hairdryer gust of wind over us. I stepped back from the edge not wanting to get pushed the wrong way. The other side of the gorge was a vertical drop. You could see where a crack had formed in the earth and sheered off the rock that was sitting at the bottom. It was beautiful in colour, dark and light oranges mixed into one with red streaks through it. “Amazing. We haven’t seen rock like that before. It is so beautiful” I said. You could clearly see how this place brought the crowds in.
Back at the car, the aircon was back on full blast. We were ready to have a shower again so we sneaked back into the campground. Mind you it was only 09:45 still so technically we were still booked into the campground. The information for the walk had told us it was a 4 hour walk. Somehow we had completed it in an hour fourty-five. We flew through it. Amazed and shocked at the time we quickly ran into the shower block to freshen up, I even managed to have a shave and Cath prepared lunch. Score and score on our half!
We wanted to take a back track called the Mereenie Loop. It takes you up to the far western end of the West MacDonnell NP without having to drive the bitumen and going all the way back around to Alice Springs. However you need a permit to do the route as its Aboriginal land. Easy to get, we acquired from the fuel station in Kings Canyon resort. It set us back a whopping $5.50 and even came with a small handbook filled with information on where to go and what to see. With our permit on display on the dashboard, we aired down and got onto the gravel road. Only 2 minutes up the road we bumped into our first dingo casually running up the road towards us. As always we stop to take a look and we even had enough time to get a shot of it.
On corrugated gravel road we generally sit at a comfortable speed between 90-100 kph. Any faster and you find that when turning you loose traction, skimming across the top. Sometimes skidding across the road due to the tyres having limited amount of time in contact with the road. Any slower and we find that you feel every single corrugation. The slower you go the more rattling goes on inside the car. It’s a fine line between too fast and too slow, you have to find that equilibrium. However this road was brutal. It had been torn up like no other gravel road I had seen before. It was hard to find a speed to sit on where it was comfortable, not only for us but for the ute as well. The corrugations were so steep and deep. Pockets of road where we went from one side to the other using the whole width to choose the better line – it had not been graded in a rather long time. We passed many hire cars going in the opposite direction, we were pretty sure they would have been shaken and stirred in their cars, especially when not dropping their tyre pressures. One dip came up that I slowed down for, roughly one hundred meters from the dip there was what I can only describe a trench was dug out in the road. Before we hit it, I braced myself expecting a load bang. Somehow the suspension soaked it up and we didn’t make a sound. “Holy crap, did you see that! What the hell” I shouted. “Where did that come from?” Cath asked. I had no idea, being so close to a dip it was not from water erosion. I honestly believe it was from people belting their brakes on at the last minute when they saw how deep the dip was.
Over time and lack of road maintenance must have created this brutal deep corrugation.
As always we caught up with more people on the road literally wrecking their cars from their slow speeds over the small trenches that were formed in the road. Calling out to them on the two-way – with no reply we would pass them confused to see a two way aerial on their bull-bars. It makes no sense to me why people have two ways on dirt roads and do not even use them.
Relief came at the sight of bitumen bringing respite to our body’s and the trusty Steed. Its great taking short cuts and using un-sealed roads but they can come at a price. As always I aired up scanning the underside around each wheel looking for missing or looses bolts. This time I found a electrical connection on the rear cabling for my lights was completely smashed to pieces. The bare cables hanging out. Great. I had to figure out what cable went where. After some time fiddling about I worked it out and had the lights working again, what a relief. I decided to try and move the cables and electrical joins up and out of sight. 20 cable ties later I had resolved the issue, yet I knew I had a lot of work to do once I got home.
We pulled into the West MacDonnell Range and made our way to Glen Helen. Not the famous Glen Helen Motocross track, instead this Glen Helen was a small gorge. We were told that the water here was exceptionally cold. Cath always keen to take a dip – despite the warnings, she sat on a rocky ledge and took the plunge. “Ohh ohh ohh” she cried. The water was knocked from her lungs. She frantically swam to a shallow beach where she waded straight out. “Ohh my god that is so cold! Colder than Emma Gorge” she shrieked. After standing in it for a while longer at waist height she inched back in. She is honestly crazy at times. I hate the cold. Reading the warning signs, I had made up my mind before we had even walked down to the gorge. I was not getting in! NO thank you.
Back at Glen Helen campground we sat out in the beer garden taking full advantage of the free wifi. We checked our itinerary and made plans for the next few days ahead.
As always that allusive wheel bearing noise had returned from the rear left side that had only just been replaced. With this on my mind it had a way of tainting my decision making when coming to organising our schedule. It is hard to plan anything with the worry of a mechanical issue hovering around in my conscience. The beer helped distract me from the worry and we came up with a plan for the next day. We were going to walk Orminston Gorge and then make our way along to Standley Chasm.
Opposite Glen Helen campground is the Finke River that feeds the gorge. All along the river are places that you are able to camp for free. We’re not sure many are aware of this, as Glen Helen looked pretty full. The roadside camping is not sign posted and marked on the map or road – however if you follow a dirt track off from the main road you come to a small sign explaining that you can camp and what to do and not to do whilst spending the night. Perfect!
We found a spot and set out to make dinner before the sun went down. We sat under our awning enjoying our dinner listening to the sound of another bloody drone flying from high above us. I’m all for drones, but there is a time and a place for them. Sometimes they can feel a little invasive; here this evening they brought that feeling. Its like a mosquito bite. If only they asked before they bite, they would become more understandable.
The Cooks.
TotallyCookd. 