Day 25 – Ubirr

Ubirr

Kakadu is equally as famous for being the place where humanity originally entered Australia some 70000 years ago, as it is for the 2000 year old wetlands that now cover most of the low lying area. I had booked myself on a tour this day to Ubirr, a rocky outcrop in the flood plain where the aborigines had lived and painted on the rocks for some 50000 years. I had an early start as I had to meet the tour back up the road in Jabiru. The old man who had asked to sleep in my room the night before was still sat outside my room when I got up at 6am, still surrounded by beer cans.

The tour bus looked looked like it was built to handle anything. Our guide briefly went through how the radio and satellite phones work in case there is an emergency and he is incapacitated (I think he was only half-kidding, Australia is a dangerous place). We first went for a quick trip to look at the uranium mine from its perimeter. The guide explained the mine pre-dated the area being a national park. The land is owned by the local aboriginal people, who were not happy about the mine though have welcomed the income they receive from leasing the land to the mine company. It is open cast, and the hole in the ground is over 200m deep, sufficient that we could not see the bottom. The agreement with the landowners is that the hole will be filled in and area restored after the mining is complete, as much to appease the gods as for aesthetic reasons, and indeed the mine itself had already moved a couple of times in in history, and you would not have noticed from looking at its previous sites.

The mine uses a fair amount of water in its industrial processes, which is cleaned in a sequence of three holding ponds before being returned to the environment. The last of these ponds looks like a natural lake, and the landowners have requested that this is the one thing from the mine they want left when it finally shuts down. It is teaming with wildlife, including crocodiles. Mostly these are freshwater crocodiles, largely harmless to humans because they are too small (i.e. only up to 2m), but if a saltwater crocodile moves it, it is trapped and killed (the body then given to the aboriginal land owners) for health and safety reasons. This final holding pond has Styrofoam buoys dotted around it that the crocs like to bite. Monitoring the bitemarks reveals what type and what age the crocodiles currently living in the pond are.

We then stopped in one of the park’s two visitors centres for a coffee and to pick up supplies for lunch. I had initially thought the bus would take us all the way to Ubirr, as it looked like it could cope with flooding, but we were told the bus would only take us part way where we would be met by a boat to take us to the other side. A press cutting in the visitors centre showed why. Only a month before some German tourists had rented a 4×4 and tried driving along the road to Ubirr. They clearly hadn’t noticed the water depth signs, as only a few metres into the floodwater it was up to the roof. The photo showed them sitting on the roof awaiting rescue. And remember, these waters are full of saltwater crocodiles. The press cutting was too faded to photograph, but I did take one detailing the state of the roads in the park.

When we got to the boat, our guide told us to keep at least three metres from the water’s edge (how far a croc will strike) and to board the boat one at time. The boat was piloted by two aboriginal guides, who explained to in great detail how traditionally the local people survived in the park. Amongst the hundred and one uses for water lilies, their 3m stems make a tasty addition to salad (flavour like cucumber, texture like celery). After mentioning that they would make a small canoe out of the bark of a gum tree, I asked how they would cope with the crocodiles, which would easily overturn such a canoe, and are known to attack the larger aluminum fishing boats. The two guides said that while one person was paddling the canoe, the other would be keeping watch with a spear.

At the other end of the flooded road another bus was waiting for us. Presumably it just gets left there at the start of the wet season, topped up by the occasional can of diesel. The area immediately around Ubirr is fenced off, and there is a logbook at the gated entrance on the road. Our guide stopped to fill it in, only to discover that ants had turned the metal box that housed the log into a nest. And then off to the rock art.

I had mixed feelings about the rock art. I appreciated both its various styles, culturally why the aborigines made the paintings, and the sites where it was done. I think my complaint was that it is marketed as 50000 year old paintings, whereas most of them clearly are not. Our guide was even making the point that the age of the paintings is not valued by the aborigines, who own them, and would happily overpaint an existing painting (not sure if they do that anymore, as Ubirr is a world heritage site and any damage a criminal offence in Australia). Still the paintings were interesting, as was the 360 degree view from the top of the rocky outcrop that forms Ubirr. Although there was much greenery to be seen below us off to the horizon, from just having come through it we knew it was all flooded, an impressive sight.

After a packed lunch, we started our return journey. We had seen quite a bit of wildlife during our trip, but the hope is always to come across a crocodiles (at a healthy distance). During the dry season it is a lot easier, as the flooding disappears, and the crocs and other wildlife have to share the ponds that are left (known to all Australians as billabongs). But in the wet season they have the full 20000 square kilometres to move around in. Still, the wet season is also breeding season for the saltwater crocs, so the guided tours like ours usually rely on a female croc guarding a nest. I think our guide was a slightly embaressed when the nest we went to see didn’t have a female on top of it. He did say that the female would be nearby, and know that we were there. As they frequently took groups to look at he nest, the croc was not too concerned, as if she had been, she would have had no difficulty jumping into our boat to defend the nest. A sobering thought. We also unexpectedly came across a large 4.5m croc, but it swam away before we could get a good look.

After the tour, I stayed in Jabiru for supper, as it was much cheaper than my isolated resort. On the way home came across a lone dingo wandering around, looking a little starved. It was oh-so-tempting to feed it, but I was reminded of the signs back in King’s Canyon and left the dingo to its fate.

The aboriginal family were still at the resort when I returned, though the old man had apparently gone home. I was talking to them about the tour and crocodiles, and remembering that our guide had said during the day that crocs regularly walk 2km overland at night, commented on the fact that the floodwater in our resort ended only a few hundred metres from our tin hut. Oh yes, they replied, there had been a 4m crocodile just over there last week. And then they started telling me about the tree snakes. And there had been me happily wandering around the ground in the middle of the night to find the toilet.

Day 24 – Kakadu

Picked up the hire car after a bit of hassle. The office was too far to walk from the hostel, especially given the heat (30C) and humidity (100%), so the bus seemed an obvious option. The hostel staff told me the bus to take, I got to the bus stop, and that bus only runs once an hour (Darwin is a small place, population only about 80,000, and that is spread out). So I waited an age until the bus came, confirmed with the bus driver that the bus went where I wanted, and he said no. What?! He said to take another bus, which showed up ten minutes later. That driver said the bus didn’t go where I needed either, and suggested a third bus. Looking at the schedule, the third bus wasn’t due for yet another fifteen minutes, but fortunately it seemed to be running late because one showed up immediately. The car hire company didn’t seem bothered I was more than an hour late.

The next concern was the state of the main road into Kakadu, which after all is 20000 square kilometres of wetlands. Would the roads be flooded, given that that had been an issue even in the desert the previous week? This was still the rainy season after all, though the park website said the roads were clear. And driving along the Arhem Highway this turned out to be true, though the water was lapping at the road in a number of places, particularly where the road was basically a causeway. Almost as worrying though were the constant warning signs about crocodiles. What if your car broke down, or worse, say after a burst tyre, went off the road and into the water?

Stopped for lunch at a roadside cafe, which like the ones on the road to Uluru had originally been settlements or trading posts and all seem to have the word “station” appended to their name. Just as I was getting into my car to leave, spotted a couple of small kangaroos munching grass at the roadside. This really made me smile, as I had not seen a wild kangaroo since returning from Newcastle two weeks previous, and that was only a small group at a distance. These were right in front of me, and looked like a mother and child (well, joey).

There are only two paved roads in the whole park, the Arhem and Kakadu Highways, each about 200 km long, which form a triangle (the third side being the Stuart Highway, yes the same one that runs all the way up from Adelaide on the south coast). All other roads, barring a couple of small extensions to the uranium mine (in the national park, yes), and the rock art at Ubirr, are dirt tracks requiring four wheel drive, and most of those leading off the paved roads had signs saying they were closed due to seasonal flooding.

I was booked into a resort about 25 miles south of the Arhem/Kakadu Highways junction. There aren’t really many places to stay in the park, the very small town of Jabiru back at the junction of the two highway being the main population centre and having a couple of smart hotels, as much for the mine-related business as tourists. My accommodation was a small room in a long shed made of tin, I presume because of the termites that were everywhere. Tin might not be the best material in the tropics, but it did have aircon. It also had damp, which may just be because it was wet season and everything is damp. I just left all my stuff in the car, as the boot was a lot drier. There as also an aboriginal family staying in the room next to me, a mother, her daughters and granddaughter. It appeared they were waiting to go to Darwin for some celebration.

Like the resort in King’s Canyon, the communal kitchen presumed you would bring your own kitchen stuff, only providing a cooker and a fridge. So I ate in the very overpriced restaurant. Returning to my room, the aboriginal family had been joined by another older man, and both he and the grandmother seemed to have drunk plenty of beer. I made small talk, then went for a shower. Coming back, the grandmother and her family had retired for the night, leaving the older man on his own sitting at a table outside our rooms. He peered into mine as I opened the door, asked if I was with friends. No, I replied. And then he asked if he could sleep in the spare bunkbed. This felt really awkward, as there was a bunkbed in my room not being used. I somewhat guiltily said no, and also said no to the followup request to sleep on the floor. I ended up having to shut the door in his face.

Day 22/23 – Ghan Again

Thankfully these are extinct

A very long train

I was to leave Alice via The Ghan again that afternoon. With a little time to kill, went to a museum and art gallery. The museum had an interesting display about the geology and fossil history of the area, as well as discussing the various large meteor craters scattered across the desert. Alas, most require 4 wheel drive off road to get to. The art gallery featured aboriginal art, traditional and contemporary. A video also detailed how one man started the aboriginal art movement in Alice Springs by encouraging the indigenous people to apply their body painting style and sand paintings to canvas and paper, kickstarting a whole industry.

Then it was on to The Ghan again. Same setup as before. Fewer people this time though, so I was able to get a whole twin seat to try and sleep on. My torso just fitted it, with my legs crunched up, feet supported by my daypack that was sitting on the floor. The journey to Darwin was 24 hours, and again the train stopped in the middle of nowhere in the middle of night for several hours. Then the train stopped in Katherine, a small town several hundred kilometres south of Darwin, so that interested people could go on a tour of the gorge there. I was not interested, so milled about the town for three hours, as there was absolutely nothing to see or do. In hindsight, I would have just driven from Alice to Darwin, knowing how easy the driving is, but I had already booked the train ticket. I also expected the scenery to change dramatically when we entered the Tropics, but it didn’t, not noticeably anyway. I guess the vegetation was a little denser, and a little more lying water and pools.

Got to Darwin from the The Ghan terminal via a shuttlebus, as the train used the same tracks as the freight trains, and there was no economic reason to extend the freight trains into the city centre, or so the shuttlebus driver told us.

Got to the hostel, having prebooked a couple of nights before heading out to Kakadu. But they had no record of me. I hadn’t printed it out, having done the booking since arriving in Oz. A bit of digging, and it seems I had said in the booking I would arrive the previous day. They just moved my booking forward a day, and said they would sort it out in the morning. Once in my room I looked at my schedule and what I had booked online. Sure enough, for some reason I had thought I was arriving the previous day, so instead of having the next day to look round Darwin, I instead had to pick up the hire car and head straight out to Kakadu. At least it was my mistake, and not some fundamental problem with the YHA computer.

Day 21 – Chores

Open Air Cinema at Alice Springs YHA

Alice was hot and sunny, as per usual, so did two loads of washing and hung them out to dry. Then had to face cleaning the hire car. Most car washes in Oz seem separate from petrol stations, but had managed to spot one the other day. Car spic and span, that only left the sunscreen handprints. Bought some fabric cleaner, which seemed to do the trick.

By the time I had done all that, returned the car, and had lunch, it was already well into the afternoon, the rest of which I gave myself off from being a traveller.

The YHA hostel in Cairns used to be an open air cinema (i.e. the seats were outside, though it was not a drive in cinema, one of which I did see in another place I now can’t remember). The building itself was scheduled for demolition, but a campaign started to save it for historical reasons, and then the YHA bought it. It still has seating and projection facilities for an open air cinema, and that night we watched The Fifth Element.

Day 20 – Inback

The journey back to Alice was uneventful, with a stop at Erldunda again for a rest, coffee, and diesel. I did notice that the car was going to need a serious clean before I gave it back, with 1600km worth of insects on the front, and sunscreen handprints all over the interior.

After checking back into the hostel, decided I would make the most of still having a car by visiting the Alice Springs Telegraph Station Museum, the reason the town is there at all. The museum is in the outskirts of the town. Unfortunately I couldn’t find my camera when I got there, and really didn’t want to go back for it.

Anyway, turn back to the 1860s, and Australia is still cut off from the world in terms of communications, relying on ship borne letters that took weeks. The telegraph had made it as far as the colonies in what is now Indonesia, so the powers that be wanted that connected the north shore of Australia, which would then plus into the internal telegraph system that already existed in the south of the country. As part of this work, a series of telegraph stations needed to be set up stretching from Adelaide to Darwin, where the undersea cable from Indonesia came on shore.

The town itself didn’t exist until the 20th century, when the government gave out housing plots because of a minor gold rush. The telegraph office was moved down into the burgeoning town, which next played a major part role during WWII as it was the northern terminus of the railway, and of course Darwin to the north in Australia was directly bombed by the Japanese.

A few Aborigines had accepted jobs related to the telegraph station, but the labour shortage because of men serving in WWII meant a big increase in the need for Aboriginal workers within the town. Prior to this, the Aboriginal people in the area had continued to live an traditional life, and did not have daily contact with Europeans.

The old buildings that had been used as the original telegraph station were converted into dormitories for the workers. However, as more and more Aborigines and their families moved from the bush into this “settlement” with its facilities being improved, it became more squalid. A consequence of this was that new settlements were build in the outskirts of Alice Springs, and the Aboriginal workers moved to them. This and the welfare system that was introduced in the 1960s/70s created the social problems that exist today in the Aboriginal community of Alice Springs. Alcohol and pornography may be banned in the housing settlements, and what their welfare payments can be spent on limited, but they are still free to come into town and indulge with obvious effects when you walk around the town.

The telegraph buildings were put to yet another use after this. Mixed race children were “rescued” by the authorities from their Aboriginal mothers to be raised in a childrens’ home “the European way”. The individual stories of some of those children, now grown, who suffered this system were included in the museum. That home was closed down in the 1970s, and the building put into a trust for the museum in the 1980s.

Day 19 – King’s Canyon

King's Canyon

Despite on the map not looking that far away, at 250km it felt like a long drive. Still, like the initial drive out from Alice, the scenery was interesting. Unfortunately the only places to stop for coffee were about 100km out of Yulara, and 30km before the King’s Canyon resort, with nothing in between. I made do with a picnic site.

Booked in to my accommodation, I was bemused at all the signs about feeding dingos and other wildlife. It was approaching 3pm by the time I actually got to the car park for the canyon itself to start the rim walk. It was hard to understand to whom the numerous warnings about the “danger” were targetted at? Have that many tourists suffered ill fates? OK, heat is a serious issue, but it can get just as hot in other places in the world. And the height gain? About 70m, hardly Everest.

Still, it was a good walk. Almost missed the “Garden of Eden”, an oasis hidden in a small gorge and sheltered from the sun. A quick dip is encouraged. A tour group had just left the pool, and there was no one else about, so I just stripped off and went in. The water was cool but refreshing, and I lounged around for fifteen minutes or so. Not having brought towel or swimsuit, I had to find a spot in sunshine to dry off, almost twice stepping on a poor lizard trying to warm itself.

Although a YHA hostel, the communal kitchen had no dishes, pans, cutlery nor utensils. You had instead to hire a camping set. I couldn’t be bothered as I was leaving the next morning, so treated myself to an expensive buffet meal in the resort’s “posh” restaurant, after watching the sun set over the hills of course. And sure enough, walking up to the restaurant, a dingo came out of trees next to the path, crossed over, and back into the trees, giving me a quick glance on the way. I wasn’t sure what to do, as I wanted to photograph it/run away/watch with fascination, all at the same time. The dingo made the decision for me, as he didn’t hang around. I mentioned this to the waitress at the restaurant, and she said a dingo had followed her on her very first day at work for the breakfast shift, which was before dawn! That would have freaked me.

Got back to find a chap sharing my room, and Aussie of Chinese descent whose family harks from Vietnam. This being a Friday in the real world, he had flown down from Darwin with friends for the weekend. A Sydney native, he had accepted a two year posting to Darwin out of curiosity, despite its lack of “proper” beaches. He told me Adelaide was a popular place to live because the property was cheap by Aussie standards, though Darwin was expensive for reasons he could not fathom.

The history of the resort is interesting, as before it tourists would have to camp miles from the nearest settlement. The chap who founded it first set up a single cabin in the 1960s, before there was even a road, which he had to carve out of the bush himself. Obviously a paved road followed, and the current resort was built in 1992.

Day 18 – Uluru

Uluru

An early start for sunrise at Uluru, as the sunrise viewing area is about 30km away from the resort, round the other side of the rock. I had plenty of company though. After the obligatory photos, headed to the visitor centre for a coffee to wake me up, and get any useful info. Turns out there is a free guided tour of the first part of the base walk at 8am, but I was too late for this, having spent an hour looking round the visitor centre. Parked at the place where those who want to climb the rock can, and started the 6 mile walk round the base. The climb was actually closed due to high winds.

Not long after I came across the 8am guided tour group (including the couple from the flooded West MacDonnell’s road again), and tagged along for the remaining 15 minutes, which even for that short time was informative. The abundance of flies is due more to the feral camels than anything else, both their droppings (for which Australia lacks a dedicated dung bettle) and their carcasses. Apparently the flies were much worse two weeks before, which was hard to believe. I had purchased some fly spray, but it only seemed to deter the flies for five minutes, and even then I wasn’t sure if that was only because there was a good breeze to confuse them.

The guide said that the Aborigines have not banned climbing the rock only because it is what everyone thinks they should do, and they are understandably fed up being told what to do. So instead for the time being they merely ask people not to climb, for their own safety. The guide also warned that the water on the top, as well as what cascades down in waterfalls after rain, and what is around the base, is all contaminated so not to drink it. This is somewhat ironic given that Uluru was about the most reliable place in the whole area to find water, even in the worst of droughts, hence contributing to its sacred status. The guide said a whole party of school kids climbed the rock last year, drank water on top, and spent a couple of days in hospital as a result.

Guided tour over, I embarked on the next five miles myself. About the next third of the perimeter of the rock is deemed particularly sacred, and it is a criminal offence with fines up to AUS$5000 to take photos. These areas are used in Aboriginal ceremonies, and the uninitiated are not supposed to know what they look like, hence the photo ban. Not that they were checking cameras, but I respected the ban anyway, even though it was sometimes confusing where the ban applied and where it didn’t.

Walk over, I headed back to the resort for a shower, rest, and respite from the flies. Then headed back to Uluru for sunset, even better attended than sunrise. Then back to the resort for more cheesy rock music. I had an early night, having had an early start, and needing another early start to get to King’s Canyon and do the rim walk around it the following day.

Day 17 – Outback

Uluru Highways

Olgas

The previous day was a taster, but today the adventure really began. The drive to Uluru, 450km of Outback (well, OK, it was on a paved road, not a dirt track, but still). The driving turned out to be surprisingly easy. There really was no traffic, only perhaps a half dozen cars and a road train or two passed me in the first hour. The first half of the drive was down the Stuart Highway, the road that stretches the height of the continent from Adelaide to Darwin. I had been worried that it would be one long flat road stretching into the horizon, but it gently undulated, had curves, and there were rocky outcrops, the (very) occasional building, and other features to help alleviate the tedium. Actually, there was no tedium, the time passed quite quickly, and I was enjoying it. Like driving into the Yorkshire Dales on a Sunday morning, only a lot hotter and drier.

I stopped at Erldunda for a rest, coffee, and diesel. It is at the junction of the Stuart and Lasseter Highways, the latter of which heads west towards Uluru and the other sites in the area. A tourist sign indicated that Erldunda is pretty much the geographic centre of Australia. Rested, I set off west. The road was much the same, though the land around it a little more arid, with what looked like the occasional small sand dune, though much of the terrain was hidden below the abundance of green vegetation, thanks to all the wet weather. All of a sudden a large formation was visible on the horizon. Uluru? No, Mount Conner, but it catches out all tourists, and even having read about it in Lonely Planet, I still stopped to take a photo. Also passed a bloke walking along the road, with a heavy pack and much too much clothing for the environment, and a cape or something draped over his pack. Alas, I was going in the opposite direction to him, so could not offer a lift.

On to the Yulara Resort, the only place to stay in the area near Uluru (and recently having been bought by the Aboriginal people who own Uluru and the land around it). Weirdly, I got flagged at a police check at the entrance to the resort and breathalised, the first time every in my life. While trying to figure out where in the resort I was supposed to be, bumped into the couple from the flooded West MacDonnell’s road. They told me the bloke walking on the highway was from Ethiopia (the “cape” was the Ethiopian flag), and was walking the world, having started in 1988. And he declines lifts if offered.

Checked in, I debated whether to go and see something with what was left of the day, or to leave it all until the next day. Looking at my schedule, I had planned the day after next to do the rim walk around King’s Canyon, and then return that afternoon to Alice. But having just done the drive, I realised that I would likely feel tired after the rim walk, so working backwards in my schedule meant I had to go and see something right now. I settled on The Olgas, or Kata Tjuta to use its Aboriginal name, a rocky outcrop about 50km from Uluru, but also a sacred site to the Aborigines, and part of the national park

The Valley of the Winds walk through the Olgas was recommended in Lonely Planet, but it said to allow 2 to 4 hours. It was already 4pm by this point, and I didn’t have a proper map, but decided to give it a go anyway. Turns out that Lonely Planet had done their usual overestimate, as it only took me 90 minutes, including stopping to take photos, and wait for several large tour groups to scramble over various places on the circuit.

What no one had warned me about was the flies. Neverending, they buzzed round and settled on any exposed flesh, and any clothing that had sweat. They were not biting insects, but the endless bombardment was wearying. I made a mental note to buy some insect repellent before heading out to Uluru in the morning.

I stayed at the Olgas to watch the sunset on the rocks, which features a “glow” similar to Uluru. About a hundred other people were also there, including a tour group of Americans having champagne, though I am sure the area is supposed to be dry (I kept seeing signs along the road saying you had entered a prohibited site for alcohol and pornography, the bane of Aboriginal life it seems).

Fortunately my rental agreement allowed me to drive in the dark within the Uluru National Park, just as well as sunrise and sunset are major tourist draws. Managed not to hit any animals. Indeed, apart from a few kangaroo rats and a couple of small lizards, the lack of visible wildlife had been a little disappointing, given all the road signs warning of them.

The Yulara Resort was awful. The YHA was incorporated into its lodge, which featured a cheesy band playing rock standards, a big open air BBQ of every imaginable animal, and plenty of drinking . And this is supposed to be one of the most sacred sites in all of Australia? I hope the Aborigines transform the place now that they own it.

Day 16 – A Town Called Alice

Alice Springs

I had noticed that no one seemed to actually call “Alice Springs” by its full name, simply using “Alice” instead, and that included the conductors on the train, the staff in the hostel, the staff at the car hire, and any other locals I spoke with.

Today was the start of my proper adventure. Collecting a hire care and driving myself into the Outback. The car was an automatic, which I had not driven in over twenty years. Embarrassingly, when I started the engine, the gearbox would not let me change it from Park into Drive. And there was no manual with the car. The woman from the office had just come out to see what the problem was when I tweeked that you needed to have the brake pedal depressed, a safety feature I guess. It was weird not having to otherwise change gears, and only a few minutes later someone pulled out infront of me unexpectedly, and I stamped on the non-existent clutch as well as the brake, and managed to stall the car (which then took me another minutes to figure out how to get it into a mode where it will let you start it again, thankfully Alice is not that busy a town).

After a few circuits of the town centre, I headed off for my first target, the Tropic of Capricorn, which lies only about twenty miles north of Alice on the Stuart Highway. At least the Aussies drive on the left. Photo taken, I headed back toward Alice, then turned off for the West MacDonnell Range, the western half of a long ridge that Alice bisects in a sizeable gap. The other gaps in the ridge are much smaller, eroded by streams, and are sacred sites to the Aborigines not least because they tended to be reliable sources of water. The first of these is Simpsons Gap, a popular picnic spot for families from Alice, and is where I had my own lunch, while looking in vain for the rock wallabies that supposedly live around the Gap.

The numerous gaps and other sites are spread along 50 miles of the Range. As I didn’t have time to see them all, and there was a clause in my hire agreement not to drive after sunset because of the very real danger of colliding with animals (most of whom move when the sun is not out), I decided to head for a couple near the end as they were deemed the best, and one of which featured a large swimming hole.

Now it should be pointed out that it is not just Queensland that has had a lot of rain. The Outback has had relatively enormous amounts over the last twelve months, so the so called “Red Centre” is actually very green, and there are plenty of rivers that do normally flow at this time of year. I had already come across a couple of streams leaking over the road. But then I came across a proper river at least two foot deep. I stopped, as did a couple behind me. We watched several 4x4s with high clearance go through, but I only had a car, and they didn’t think the clearance on their own truck was high enough. So after chatting a bit, we both turned back. I went to see one of the gaps I had otherwise being going to give a miss, the path into which had been somewhat damaged by flooding, not that that deterred a bunch of nuns in flip flops.

Day 14/15 – Afghanistan

The Ghan

The train to Alice Springs was actually leaving at noon according to my booking. Still I needed to check in my luggage and relax, so was walking past the station car park when I saw the train, The Ghan, pulling away. I was stunned. Had they changed the times but not contacted me saying so? I went into the station, where there was a queue of people. It appeared the train had just been moved before it was time for us to board.

The train is named after the Afghani camel drivers who lead camel trains across the Australian desert following much the same route (and continued providing services away from the train line until off road vehicles became common). The extension of rail services to Alice Springs opened in 1926, but the section between Alice Springs and Darwin was only completed in 1984! And the actual route taken to Alice Springs was changed in 1980 as it was too prone to flooding. I was doing the complete trip in two stages, stopping off in Alice Springs for a week, as there is much to see in the area, and the train only runs once a week.

I hadn’t been sure what to expect on the train, only having been on long distance trains in China where I would usually get a hard sleeper ticket as they are cheap. The equivalent for The Ghan was about £300 for each night, so I settled for a reclining seat instead. Their website did not offer photos, but I had hoped the reclining seats would be something like business class on an airplane. Alas, they turned out be like economy seats in an airplane instead. No chance of me getting any sleep during the 26 hour journey then, as most seats were full limiting opportunities for stretching out.

As the train departed, the conductor made the usual announcements concerning stops, safety, the buffet car, etc. Then he mentioned discounted upgrades to hard sleeper, and use of the lounge car reserved for the passengers in hard sleeper. I almost gave in and bought the upgrade to hard sleeper, but felt that since I had been haemorrhaging money since arriving in Oz that I would stick with my original booking. The use of the lounge car was another matter though. For $15, you get unlimited tea and coffee, lots of power points for charging electronic gadgets, and a seat in the lounge is always guaranteed because the quantity equates exactly to the number of people given access to it. And there I stayed for the next 26 hours. Until sunset just enjoyed the scenery, and the unlimited tea. After sunset, but I did a bit of offline blogging (no internet access as only towns have mobile signals in the Outback), and got through the first ten episodes of Mad Men (I am now hooked).

I did try going back to my seat to attempt sleep about 1AM, but someone was already sprawled across it, and the rest of the car was full, so I couldn’t be bothered to make a disturbance given I doubted I would actually be able to sleep. Tried nodding off in the lounge car, but was told this wasn’t allowed by a conductor. So gave up and watching more videos until dawn.

The scenery between Adelaide and Alice Springs had been the point of taking the train, as there would have been much less to see if taking a much more convenient flight.

The train trundled into Alice Springs about 2PM. After 26 hours of aircon, the heat was oppressive, even if the actual air temperature was only about 28°C, but that desert sun is a killer. The first thing you notice walking into the town centre are the hundreds of Aborigines just sitting on the ground, or generally milling about. It was very strange. And if one passed you, they just blanked you (although I have since learned this may partially be cultural, something about not making eye contact with Elders, though I somehow doubt they consider me an Elder).

I found the hostel, bought some food (yes, Alice Springs has two shopping centres and all four supermarket chains), and chilled before having an early night having pulled an allnighter on the train.