Camping in the Outback

From the sky, the land around Alice Springs is red. A bit rusty of a color. It melts into a purple for a few inches, and then turns into a hazy blue— the clouds. It looks beautiful from the sky.

As we approach the ground, you can start seeing the green. There seems to be more green than I'd been expecting from the air.

We land in Alice Springs and Dad heads off to rent the jeep that will serve as our transportation vehicle for the next six days. There's a tent in a duffel bag in the back that will serve as bedroom.

When they were young, Mom and Dad spent two weeks camping in a tent at the seaside. Since then, we as a family have tried to camp, but either one of us gets ill, or it rains so badly we can't spend the night. I still remember going to bed in the purple tent and waking up in a white bedroom in a hotel… without my stuffed animals.

Mom explained that it had been raining last night, so badly that we had to leave the tents.

"And you didn't take my cats!" I exclaimed, very disappointed in her.

"No."

We found the two stuffed cats in about an inch of rain, the inflatable mattresses floating… I still couldn't understand how she could have left my cats behind. Now it serves as a reminder of why we don't go camping.

But there were no such terrible occurences on our first night of camping in Australia. We put up the tent— much simpler than the movies make it out to be, pegged in the pegs, put on the fly sheet, and stood looking, amazed, at a tent the size of a camper van's living area. All five of us plus bags can fit— conceivably it's a six-person tent. 

Oh, all of that putting up and pegging down was done by the light of headlight and headlights— ours and the jeep's.

The outdoor kitchen is rustic— the tables and benches are made of hewn tree trunks, about four inches tall by nine inches wide by seven feet long. They're stacked in every conceivable shape to make the benches and table.

Mice and what we think are kangaroo rats scurry around everywhere. They give you a shock the first time, but after that they're really quite interesting. Of course, if one gets too close to me, I'm going to squeal.

The bathroom facilities are a few yards away in a separate building (the kitchen, really, is just a pavillion). Between them is a lawn where wild rabbits are grazing. 

There's a sign inside the bathrooms that advertises breakfast— $31 per person for unlimited breakfast buffet, $24 per person for the continental. Of course, the muffins and croissants advertised must cost quite a bit. I don't think anyone's paying for it.

We eat quickly— noodle soup while standing on the backs of the benches with our feet on the seats. The mice are everyhere and we're not taking any chances. Afterward we wash up and head to the bathroom, one by one, then into bed.

We layer our sleeping bags with the sleeping bags that come with the jeep— Ileana uses only one, however, and Mom has three sleeping bags on her by the time morning comes.

At breakfast, which we eat in series at the picnic bench outside, Mom, Dad, and Ioan find the caterpillars. You know The Jungle Book, by Disney, where the elephants are all marching nose to tail? That's how eighty one caterpillars (Dad counted them) are crossing the road. When I come back from the caterpillars, the cornflake box, which I left on the table, has overturned on its head. About half of the cornflakes have spilt out. Luckily, we salvage enough to have a good breakfast.

After charging a few of our electronics, we head out to the Uluru Culture Center. It serves as an educational tool. I think the main point of it is to teach people enough about Aboriginal culture so that they're not so disappointed when they find out they're technically not supposed to climb Ayer's Rock.

My favorite part of the culture center was the 'Sorry Book.' It's a collection of letters or emails from people who took rocks or climbed Uluru and now feel sorry about it.

They range from a note as short as: "GREETINGS: THIS ROCK HAS EXPRESSED A DESIRE TO BE RETURNED TO ULURU. BLESSINGS, [John Smith]" to a two page letter written by someone who's undoubtedly a college professor of some sort: "Due to physical incapacitations, my partner was not able to undertake the climb," to a letter from a student in Japan that begins with "Dear Stuff."

—

We take off to Kata Tjuta the very next day, with two sandwiches each in various backpacks, with all five (six! We bring 7-Up) water bottles somewhere in our possession.

The climb begins as a rough path. I never understood the reasoning behind making a path, or a road, and then sticking stones in it so that the road is bumpy. Tiled roads, yes, okay, it makes sense. But round river stones sticking up? Big boulders dropped in every so often? It makes it look interesting… but do any of the inventors of these roads/pathes walk? Or drive?

Once we finish that path, we head toward the face of the rock that the path steps on to. It's here that all the signs are, and we take the steps (the only way, really), down along the face of the rock to get to a path that takes us to more steps and then a climb actually on one of the rocks, and then we're flat for a little while until we walk through "The Valley of the Winds," and then more steps, etc.

And they're not really even steps sometimes, just boulders arranged in a nice sort of step ladder. These are my favorite kind of walking roads. You need to think about them. It's not just that they're there, all you have to do is put one foot in front of the other (Uluru, some streets). No! All of your body has to be actively engaged in this activity!

And the view is stunning. Everything is green— the wettest wet season in 30 years has just hit, so all the verdant beauty we're seeing now is pretty unusual. The rocks are red, the sky is blue, with barely a cloud in the sky. It feels a bit like a green Tibet. The rocks are red here, while the ones in Tibet were a brownish beigeish red, and the sky is slightly less deep, but it's the same feel. At the same time, it feels a bit like the Galápagos to me. The road, the birds, the plants… 

Places may be completely removed from other places, but every once in a while something reminds you of something else, and it's comforting. It feels a bit less scary, or a bit less imposing, than it otherwise would. It gives you a feeling of, "Oh! I've done this before." And it makes you remember. We experience so much that I've completely forgotten about some things. Others pop up again in more detail or less… it's fascinating sometimes. 

The next day we go to Uluru. First thing is the Mala Walk, which we take with a lovely tour guide named Martha. Here we meet a young lady from Madagascar and strike up a conversation. Increasingly we find that you don't exchange names until you're ready to exchange websites as well… sometimes not even then. 

And then we start the 10.6km Base Walk that will take us everywhere. Uluru used to be used for important ceremonies, but now they do their ceremonies a few kilometers away. In Kata Tjuta, on the other hand, where you can't climb around everywhere, they still have ceremonies. The difference is palpable only when you reach a sign that asks you to take no pictures past a certain point.

There are women's and men's sites, and viewing a men's site is dangerous for women and uninitiated men, just as viewing a women's site is dangerous for men— your maleness will all seep away. And it works with pictures too, so that if you, a woman, take a picture of a women's site, and show it to say, your grandfather, your grandfather's maleness will all disappear, and then where will he be? 

Of course, if you're a woman, feel free to look at and revel in the womanness of the site. If you're a man, look the other way. Same thing with the men's sites.

It's fantastic. You feel a bit stronger as you look at the sites… but at the same time… how can a rock give you power? Why can't I take pictures? Isn't it a free country? Who really cares? It's a rock! It's not man-made, it's not… anything!

This is the European outlook (and even if you're American or Canadian or whatever, your ancestors most likely came from Europe, so I'll use European for simplicity). A place can't really be sacred if it's not a building with icons or statues or altars or temples or anything. It's what has led Europeans to believe that Aboriginals are heathens with no religion or beliefs. And while I know it's wrong, I can't help thinking… "But it's a rock. A big, huge rock. How can it mean anything?" And at the same time, I can believe that something painted with oils on a canvas of cloth has the power to secrete myrrh and mess up cameras. Both of which, of course, are true— the rock does mean something, and the painting can mess up cameras.

It's hard at times to accept the beliefs of another country. As travellers, we've learned not to give certain hand signals in India if possible. We've worn long skirts in countries where most women wear long skirts. After a while in India we stopped looking men in the eye— it's a clear sexual invitation. But it's hard to understand that Uluru is sacred. Even if I'd never climb it— there are some things not done, and the Anangu clearly ask everywhere that you choose not to climb— I can't understand how a rock can be sacred.

Still, we followed the 'rules,' saw Uluru and Kata Tjuta, took pictures where we could, and walked. A lot. 

It's amazing how many steps you can take in one day with the sun beating on your head and flies trying to get into your mouth (moisture? Kamikaze stink bombs? Who knows their reasoning?). You have aching ankles at the end, and you never want to move from bed again… but you get up anyway the next day to do what basically amounts to the same thing, without having a passion for walking in the sun (in fact, you'd be much happier sitting in the sun), and still semi-enjoy yourself!

I mean, it was memorable, but more because of the crazy topics we discussed while walking (um… I think the extent of that was "DADDY! LOOK AT THE ANTS! Take this picture! Take that picture!"), and the activities we did while walking.

For example, at Uluru:

We closed our eyes, stuck our hands out in front of us, and found out how far we could walk with our eyes closed before we semi-panicked and opened our eyes.

Ileana won every single time, despite going off the road more than once— she'd just turn around again after bumping into a bush, and keep going until we told her she was twice as far as either of us.

Sometimes I wonder where she gets these skill sets.

The Red Center

In Melbourne Airport, we are waiting to embark on our flight to Alice Springs. Christina Perri is also in Australia and performs live on the morning show the first song ever to be dedicated to an anatomopathologist "Jar of Hearts". We love the song - it's a good start on a Monday morning. We are excited, despite the early hour, we will soon be in the wild Australian outback.

A few hours later, as the plane starts descending into Alice we are passing through multiple layers of clouds. The land is green, some tracks are red, but there are plenty of puddles of water. Why is it all so green, what is it with all this vegetation? We were supposed to arrive in the desert! We will learn later that they have a wet year like this every 30 years. It is not unusual not to have rain for 3-5 years. Also the temperatures, up to 44 in the summer have dropped to 20-25 during the day and 6-9 degrees at night.

Alice Springs, in the middle of the Australian outback is a legendary place. There were a few hundred people living here at the beginning of the last century, now there are 27000. Like Lonely Planet says, most people came for a weekend or a quick trip and found themselves still living here ten years later, unable to quite explain what happened. It is the only major city in the middle of Australia, 1500 km North from Adelaide and 1500 km South from Darwin. It has some little historical importance and as much as the locals would disagree, there is nothing to see here. It is a nice, modern, quiet town in the middle of nowhere. But it is the gateway to the Red Center, the middle of the vast, remote and arid outback that makes most of the Australian continent. Besides Uluru, a major touristic destination, there are several other attractions in this area, and we came here to explore them all. I had our usual guidebooks and a guide written by Birgit Bradke from her website http://www.TheOutbackGuide.com I followed some of her suggestions for our schedule and it served us well. We rented a four wheel drive car fitted with fridge, portable stove and a tent. And off we went.

This place is really far from... everything

It took several hours to get on the road. I left Ileana and the children in the airport and took the shuttle to the town. It stopped everywhere, it took 45 minutes for them to reach the Britz rental place. I had to watch a short movie explaining how the car operates and then I went shopping, loading the car with provisions for the week. With all the gear for camping, the fridge and our luggage, there was hardly any room in the car to get the children in. But somehow we squeezed them in and took on south toward Uluru.

Still smiling... 

(until the door closes)

Rest area by the highway

Two hundred kilometers on the Stuart Highway then turning right 240 km on the Lasseter highway. Impossible to get lost, as they are the only modern roads in an area the size of Europe. We arrived late in the evening, the last couple of hours driven in the dark. It was dangerous in the end because the kangaroos and wallabies get active at dusk. For a split second, I saw a kangaroo waltzing in front of the car, and unfortunately, that was the only sighting we would have. As I understand it, wallabies are similar but failed the test for kangaroo (foot size over 9), we saw more of those later.

There is a touristic village on the outskirts of Uluru, called Yulara. It has an airport, hotels, shopping center and cheaper accommodations including the a camping site. With a budget room going for $400 and luxury tents for $2700 (!), this is not an affordable place to be. We stayed for three nights, the closest alternative was 80 km away. This is not wild country, it is big time, big money tourism, you cannot camp out in the desert. Maria wrote about it.

Ioan discovers an incredibly long line of caterpillars crossing the road

All the qualities of a leader! Leading 84 caterpillars is no small feat.

Uluru/Ayers Rock is the former "Ayers Rock/Uluru", previously known as "the Ayers Rock". This is not a joke, it reflects the changing of the Australia over the last few years. The land has been given back to the "rightful owner" and leased back to the government to use it as a national park. Similarly, 40 kilometers away, the former Olgas are now officially named Kata Tjuta/Olgas, but on the ground the signage only has the aboriginal name. We had two full days, read Ileana Ruxandra's description HERE, my take on Uluru HERE, Maria's HERE AND HERE, Ioan's HERE. You must watch Ileana's movie HERE, it is fantastic. (I'll update the links as they become available)

There is a true story to be properly understood

Really early in the morning

The sun hides for a moment so we can get a picture

The incredible Valley of the Winds

There is always a way to ruin good pictures...

Sunset at Kata Tjuta

Ready for sunset at Uluru

After three nights in Yulara we went to Watarrka National Park, 300 kilometers away, mostly known for its Kings Canyon. There is a short easy ground walk in the canyon, but we chose the more demanding four hour walk on the ridge of the canyon. Initially I heard a lot of complaints about the steep climb. I was myself a little disappointed, I knew about it, I wanted here and there it was a nice view of a rock wall and a lot of walking ahead of us, just to see that view from different angles? I was wrong. Behind the ridge, there was a whole world to be discovered. We learned the difference between the 400 million year rocks and the 440 million year rocks. We learned about the animals, the birds and the plants that make their life here. We visited the Garden of Eden. Ileana did minor surgery on a bird. We had a great time.

Why do we have to climb all the time?

There is a rich ecosystem in the canyon

The clear difference between the 400 and 440 million year rocks

He can be dangerous

Saying goodbye to her patient

Garden of Eden

This is where we came from

Last moments in the Kings Canyon

At night, in the campsite, we had to watch for dingos.

Another reason why we came here, in the outback, was to look at the sky at night. That is one of the sights pictures cannot capture, despite some attempts on our part. No clouds, no pollution, no humidity, no  artificial lights, create a unique combination to look at the most star filled sky anybody can imagine. All I can say is that I looked through the binoculars at the white clouds of stars and I could see the white haze break into individual countless stars and more whitish celestial dust. Amazing.

I chose the tent and the four wheel drive (4WD) because from the Kings Canyon there are two options to return to Alice Springs. One over the bitumen road, 474 km, would just track back everything we did so far. The other, over an unsealed road accessible only to 4 WD, is much shorter (357 km) and would also allow us to visit the West MacDonnells mountain range. It was a great idea, it payed off. The children did a little bit of driving, but I did most of the next 100 km. It was my first time as well, it looked a little more like what I expected in the desert, but still, there was a lot of vegetation everywhere. Occasionally there was another car, but mostly us, alone, kings and queens of the Outback... The most interesting part was running into a family of wild camels, for a moment we had their three youngsters separated from the adults on the other side of the road. It just happened, and it gave us more time to watch, until they ran over the road to their parents.

Mereenie Loop road

Ending the Mereenie Loop Road we entered the West MacDonnells National Park. Back to civilization, great sealed road, a car every ten minutes, just tourists. Left and right, short detours to several attractions. We went to Tnorala (Gosse Bluff), another sacred Aboriginal site, but in the same time a huge meteorite crater. When we got there, we learned that it was more complicated than that. A comet hit the Earth 4.5 million years ago. The impact, just gas, turned the Earth upside down. It made sense when I read it, I don't know how to explain it now.

Tnorala - you can clearly see where the comet hit the earth...

Later we stopped at the Redbank Gorge, we walked to a first pool, maybe we should have gotten in the water, we just didn't. It was time to call it a day, Ileana Ruxandra suggested camping in the wild. Maybe we should have done it, again, we just didn't.

First pool in Redbank Gorge

Do we really have to take the clothes off?

The eucalyptus cuts off its own branches during drought so the main ones stay strong

Comfortable seat

Minutes later, stopping at a scenic site we had an amazing encounter. Picture if you please, that for many hours you drive on an empty road, the cars you pass are just the same, four wheel drives and campervans, even a regular city car is so unusual that you take a second look at it. I can only imagine what the Incas must have felt when they encountered the first space ships. There it was, on the top of the mountain, the most amazing truck I have ever seen. It looked like an amphibious vehicle, it was an all terrain one to be sure, but on the top of the mountain I wouldn't have been surprised if it grew wings and it took off. With nobody around, I disregarded the gorgeous scenery, heading straight to the vehicle. It was human made and it looked awesome! On the side, it had the words we had come to spot anywhere and everywhere in the last few years: "Around The World". And 01.01.1997. And a timeline of countless countries written on the sides. A couple of minutes later we saw that there was somebody inside the truck and we had a few minutes conversation with them. We couldn't stop talking about them and it was good that we met again the next day on the track to the Ormiston Gorge. We had a lot of questions and we learned a bit about Gunila and William, who sold everything 15 years ago, designed and built their own truck and traveled the world ever since. They drove about 500,000 km, crossing Sahara twice, going all over Africa, the Americas, the Middle East, even Pakistan or Iran. Having German passports, they never had a problem. They were now closing in on their year of Australia. The truck has quite a few pictures on their website at http://gunwiltruck.com, but I would like to learn so much more. I was impressed to learn that they carry 700 liters of water and 700 of Diesel, they could live inside it for five weeks without needing anything from outside, they never connected to power in 4 years in the Americas because they have solar panels. I would have loved to learn much more about their travels. Anyhow it gave us a discussion subject for the following days, during countless hours of driving. Could we ever think of doing anything like that? The children were concerned that we could. Wouldn't we miss our grandchildren??? OK, we'll talk about this later.

Gunwiltruck from Europe

We spent the night in a primitive campground and returned to Alice Springs in the early afternoon on Saturday. It was our anniversary. A big section of the drive was on a winding road, in between two ranges of mountains. It was beautiful. Ileana Ruxandra asked the children why do they think that they built the winding road like that? The most serious answer came from Ileana: "maybe they didn't know where they wanted to go?"

Middle of Australia, on the left

There is life after Uluru. It is called King’s Canyon, in Watarrka National Park and we walked around it. 

You walk on some ground and think: this is a beach, this is a hill, this is a mountain, taking your cues from around: sea and sand, grassy or wooded area gently curving upward, or rocks. Do you slow down enough to think what was before? In the King’s Canyon you can see that it use to be a sea, then a sandy dessert, then mountains that eroded slowly to the hills of today. Do you think I’m making it up? I have proof, it is written in stone! 


These are the dunes

and these are the ripples of an ancient river

and these are the remains of the mountains.

If you lose the markings, you're gone!

They are red because of iron oxide, but if you break them apart, they are white and crumbly. When it rains, water seeps through them, filtering the impurities, picking up the iron oxide, and as it evaporates, colors them back in red.

Nature got a hold on this place, through its hundreds of years cycades (a thorny bush) and eucalypts, but is a tough life, baked by the sun and the reflected heat from the rocks. 

As we weave our way between rocks and bushes, we are happy with the constant change and the dimensions of the place.

 

We get to cross a bridge above the waterhole and follow the cliff toward the bottom of it.  We found the Garden of Eden! 

That little shadow above the & is Mihai.

It is cooler here and the vegetation is completely changed from string grass and spiky bushes to large leafed trees and shrubs. It is an ecosystem in itself, all depending on the water accumulated here in the Wet, the rainy season. Though water is very cold all year round it used to be swimmable (not recommended now because of feces pollution).

Can you see these domes? Scientists say that they are cracks formed in a parallel way (like these things happen!) from north to south and east to west, that eroded in time. They should listen to the Luritja people, who can tell you that they are the Kuningka men. They came here in the Dreamtime, performed a ceremony with the local man and his family, and then continued their way to the North. Their offsprings are luritja, a marsupial, the so-called native cat.

We follow their example and drive on the Mereenie road toward West MacDonell Mountains. We are passed by two cars and meet two more. The rest of the time we are alone on it for the whole 4 hours. This is our chance! We change drivers. The first one to try her skills on driving on the left side of the road is Maria. She even shifts the stick without stopping the engine. She is happy, this is one of her wishes! Next, Ileana, all excited to hold the stirring wheel, while moving. And Ioan, almost standing, guided the car gently, while his father pressed the pedals. 

It’s eerie to meet with camels in Australia. They were brought for transport, and now they are running wild.

And we drive some more through the flat country and arrive at some hills in the middle of nowhere. 

This is the place where the baby star fell. You see, in the Dreamtime the women danced across the sky as the Milky Way. One mother put her child to rest in the turna (toor-na), a wooden baby carrier. But the turna toppled over and the baby star fell on earth, and he was covered by the turna. The mother, as the Evening Star, and the father, as the Morning Star, are still looking for their baby. 

This is the aboriginal story. 

There is another one, from 1960, when the science people concurred that this is an impact crater formed 144 million years ago (mind you!) by a comet or a low density asteroid. It was traveling at a speed of several kilometers a second and the impact created an outer ring of 25 km diameter, that eroded in time, and an inner one, of 5 km, made from upturned rock, hidden 3 km (2 miles) under in the rest of the valley. According to the scientist people, Homo Sapiens Sapiens (meaning modern humans) came into the picture around 1 million years ago. Question: how do the aboriginals have this story? I don’t know the answer, but if you are interested, I am sure you can find an acceptable one.

We are in the middle of the crater, on a rocky hill.

The road winds left and right though there is no evident obstacle. I ask the children what  do they think the reason is. Maria considers is a holy place, possibly related to the Dreaming, Ioan doesn’t know, and Ileana thinks they didn’t know which way they wanted to go.

We arrive at the Redbank gorge and we follow the dried water way. You see, when it rains there is plenty of water, this one is a raging river, if only for a few days. But now everything is calm, we walk on sand toward the few waterholes and watch the fish.

 If we would have been prepared with swimsuits and had more time and energy, we could have swam between rocks, climb on the other side, and explore the gorge. We are not, so we take their word that there is more beauty to this place than the simple layering of red rocks over white ones.

It is late and we need to push to Ormiston Gorge where there is a campground. After raising the tent, cooking and eating, we still have some time to unwind. 

Geology lesson: the top part of the cliff was folded over the bottom one, you can see a little ridge where they met.

It is our anniversary. We don’t feel the 22 years, we see just one road of mostly happy moments and a few of hard ones that molded and brought us here. The two of us are one, the children are part of us and individual beings. As we talk about memories, we witness our first together shooting star, coming into being, burning yellow-orange with a trail of sparks, fading from the center and disappearing in the navy-blue sky. The most beautiful gift...

The Southern Cross looks like a diamond with a small star inside of it.

We move on towards Alice Springs, between two parallel ridges. I’ve never met this kind of mountains, running along and never meeting. We pass the ochre pits and press on towards Stanley’s chasm, a space of 9 meters between cliffs of 80, but once in the parking lot we realize we don’t have the time to walk toward it and return in a timely fashion. We have to give back the jeep at 3 o’clock.

Alice Springs looks like a sprawled frontier town. There are some tall modern buildings in the center, but the rest is made from flat one-story houses. 

At the apartment we literally wash everything, including the footwear that has an offensive smell. We hole up for two days, watching TV, eating and surfing the internet. It is high time to put the expenses in and keep those numbers accurate.

We move again, in another RV, more modern this time and better looking, but with almost no storage space and with cockroaches (as we will discover later). We pass the Tropic of Capricorn. Though for the children has no significance, this imaginary line has an equal importance for us as the Equator or the Arctic Circle; it is a landmark. 

The weather should be different, also the vegetation, but we are still close to the Red Center. The last hold is represented by Karlu Karlu or Devils Marbles, stacked rounded boulders in the middle of nowhere.

There is the evidence and the scientific explanation of how they were formed through cracks, wind erosion and condensation peeling in a round manner, but I like better the native one, about the people from the Dreamtime, that still live there in the caves that are under, people who are kind and secret, but they can make you mad and change you into one of them. It happened with one child, and the old people made a big ceremony, singing the ground and the rocks to let the child return, but now that song is lost, they’ve got no song to bring children back!

Moon over crusty marbles.

I would have like to wander more around those marbles, to read more stories, but the road calls us. 

We leave behind, on our left, the middle of Australia...

and a dingo!