This was not the best walk of our lives!

When I get out of here and back to civilisation i.e. anywhere I can get internet access, I must Google the symptoms of heat exhaustion. If they include sweating, dizziness, nausea, vomiting, exhaustion, headache, lack of concentration, confusion and giving up the will to live, I think I can safely say that Sandra and I between us are suffering badly from heat exhaustion. And yet it all started out so well …...

Leaving the Longreach Waterhole we drove north up the Stuart Highway passing the Daly Waters Pub, stopping briefly at Mataranka Hot Springs and finally setting up camp at Edith Falls which we had previously visited four years earlier. The campsite is all lush grass and shady trees as there is no shortage of water with the Edith River close by and with the Falls just a couple of minutes walk from our tent. The Falls and the waterhole are quite spectacular and we had no sooner pitched camp than we had our cozzies on and were in the water – cool and refreshing. Sandra was able reassure a young German girl that there was no chance of being eaten by a crocodile – without adding that was because they only came out to eat at night. They were only freshwater crocs anyway!

The beautiful lower pool at Edith Falls where we swam

The following day we decided to re-visit Sweetwater Pool – a short stroll through the bush of about 5k. Although relatively short there was a fair climb to cope with and much of the track was very rocky and it somehow seemed a lot further than it did four years ago – anno domini creeping up on us I fear! The pools were beautiful and very inviting after the long walk so we spent the next few hours swimming and generally lounging around although it wasn't easy to find a soft rock upon which to lounge. We put off our return journey until the worst of the mid-day heat was past – or so we thought. When we had set out in the morning the mercury was already over 30C and when we started on our return journey at 3pm it was probably about 35C or 36C – not overly hot but not the best for a walk over rough ground. Despite losing the trail on a couple of occasions after almost two hours we arrived at a junction in the track – and this is where we made our big mistake.

Cooling off in Sweetwater Pool before starting the walk back to camp

I have an aversion to re-tracing my steps and, wherever possible, like to return by a different route. Knowing this Sandra suggested we take a different track back by turning left rather than right at the junction. She had noticed an “easy” loop walk which would take us back to camp – so off we went. After a short distance we started to descend – and my alarm bells started ringing with “What goes down, probably goes up again”. “Rubbish” said Sandra “We will get down to the bottom and it will be a short, flat walk back to the tent.”

Already very tired, when we eventually got to the bottom of the climb we received a real shock to the system when we discovered there was no easy way out, it was either back up the way we had just climbed down – which in retrospect would probably have been the better option – or to press on. We had now reached the Upper Pool which was apparently very beautiful but at this stage we couldn't give a stuff as we had now seen what we had to climb.

The Upper Pool - apparently very beautiful

Due to various medical problems I have difficulty walking over rough, stony ground and also going up steep hills. What we now faced was very rocky and steep enough to make mountain goats and rock wallabies think twice (OK maybe a slight exaggeration) Sandra has always been a better walker than me and I am forever having to get her to slow down but on the climb she was not in fine fettle at all and was insisting that she had to sit and rest every few minutes. My problem was if I sat and rested my legs would seize up and I'd never get started again. She said I should just go on and she would catch up but I was reluctant as her concentration was starting to go and I didn't want her slipping over the edge.


Starting to get hot and bothered

By this time I was already carrying all the bags plus the umbrella we used as a sunshade. Considering briefly (in fact very briefly and quickly discarding) the piggy back option, there was only one thing for it, she had to be kept moving so I was forced to use the umbrella as a sort of cattle prod. It was one of those situations in life where you had to be cruel to be kind! Reaching the top, but unfortunately not the end, we staggered on. I had saved some of our precious water and tried to get her to drink some but by this time she had started vomiting and was unable to keep anything down. This was not one of the best walks we had ever been on.

Unable to walk and spewing - but still with a sense of humour

Eventually, after almost three hours in the burning sun, the track started to go down and we got back to the lower pool and the welcome sight of our tent. Strangely enough, about an hour earlier, I had been fantasising about what I would do to a cold beer when we got back but found I couldn't face one. Bed early that night with no dinner but lots of (non alcoholic) liquid.

An exhausted "selfie" - and I think the beard should go

No room at The Devil's Marbles, Aliens - then a watery Paradise

After making our fortune in the Zircon Fields just off the Plenty Highway we re-traced our route back on to the Stuart Highway to continue our way north to Darwin. Our plan was to head to the Devil's Marbles and stay the night in the small campground there, just as we had done four years previously.

Iconic windmill on the road out from the gem fields

On that trip we had become increasingly aware that we were not alone – we were part of an enormous seasonal convoy of mainly caravans and campervans streaming northwards to the warmer climes of the Northern Territory and the north of Western Australia to escape the winter weather of Victoria. This migratory exodus obviously continues and when we arrived at the Devil's Marbles late in the afternoon we were horrified – we couldn't even get into the campsite. The caravans were there en masse. Lined up side by side with just a few feet between each they were jammed in so tightly there was just no room for our little tent, nor for all the late arriving caravans who also found no room at the inn. Rather than go on we back-tracked about 20k to stay the night at Wycliffe Well also known as the “UFO Centre of Australia”.

The Devil's Marbles - before we discovered there was no room in the inn

The Wycliffe Well Tourist Park had obviously seen better days and was looking a bit tired and threadbare. This impression was probably not helped by all the buildings having been painted with pictures of alien beings, spacecraft, stars, planets and other extra-terrestrial scenes. We were greeted by a statue of green aliens standing by their spaceship and other space/alien paraphernalia was strewn throughout the site including, oddly enough, a full-size Elvis Presley giving it big licks on his guitar. Weird or what?



Welcoming Aliens at Wycliffe Well

It really was this crass

Apparently there have been more UFO sightings and alien abductions in Wycliffe Well than anywhere else in Australia. The walls of the restaurant-cum-greasy-spoon-cafe where we had dinner were festooned with newspaper clippings of stories about local alien activity – and we could also have bought T-shirts, polo shirts, hats and stubby coolers with pictures of little green aliens – we didn't.

However the camping area was very pleasant with well-watered green lawns and plenty of shade. Sandra even found two donkeys who were very appreciative of a couple of spare carrots.

Sandra feeding a carrot to her friend

The road north from Wycliffe Well was long and boring despite a 20k detour to visit “Churchill's Head” which turned out to be a very vaguely head shaped rock with a stick stuck in a crack to look like a cigar – absolutely nothing like Churchill or any other human being. We were underwhelmed.

And then we discovered paradise! Looking for somewhere to camp for the night we arrived at the small, unprepossessing town of Elliott and, at the northern edge of town, came across a small dirt road signposted to Longreach Waterhole – and three days later we are still here.

Longreach Waterhole

“Waterhole” hardly does it justice – it is a small lake probably about 2k long and half a k across with gently sloping grassy banks and surrounded by plenty of shady trees. The 12k rough and sandy road serves to keep out all but the hardiest of caravanners and we have a gorgeous spot with no sight or sound of any other human being – perfect. Sandra, who is quite keen on bird-life, is in raptures as the place is teeming with avian life, particularly of the watery variety. Literally hundreds of pelicans keep us amused with what I assume are their fishing techniques. Paddling round in comically stately flotillas of up to 100 birds they, all on cue, plunge their long beaks under the water then, in a second movement, throw their rear ends and feet up in the air – looking like a team of synchronised swimmers, which I suppose is exactly what they are. Then it's back to stately paddling for a minute or two whilst the lucky ones throw their bills up in the air and swallow their catch.

Pelicans .......

....... Pelicans .....

....Hundreds of Pelicans

Birds of prey abound. Osprey-type birds (sorry I'm no ornithologist) swoop down on the water and catch fish with their talons. Those that are not so hot on fishing themselves wait for one of the variety of wading birds to catch something then swoop down to mug it of its dinner – all very watchable stuff. There is a nest behind us on which a eagle (allegedly) is either sitting on eggs or has a brood of chicks on the go – isn't nature wonderful!?

Don't know when I'll be able to drag Sandra away.

No luck in the goldmine but striking it rich in the gem fields

Alice Springs was awash with aged motor cyclists. It was the AGM of the Australian Ulysses Club – a club for bikers over the age of 40 and there was somewhere in the region 4000 of them camped in or around Alice Springs. Contrary to accepted stereotype the bikers, or at least the ones we met, were perfect gentlemen although with a penchant for black leathers, denim, bandanas, tattoos and excessive hair – apart from the bald ones, although they made up for their loss with moustaches, hairy chests and arms. They were in town for up to a week before going back to their day jobs as accountants, bankers and social workers.

The convoy ready to leave Alice Springs

Bikes were the centrepiece of the event and there was an amazing array, particularly of Harley-Davidsons and Honda Goldwings plus an incredible assortment of three-wheelers – some with two wheels at the back and others with two wheels at the front. The trikes seemed to be looked down upon by other bikers who referred to them as only being suitable for geriatrics. Many were towing camper trailers bringing home comforts such as beds and cooking facilities.

Our couple of days in Alice were spent resupplying. Stretch had a puncture fixed and the Landcruiser serviced and I tried to get a warranty refund on my two month old shock absorber which snapped in half – a work in progress which may have to wait until we are back in Sydney. Sandra's re-supplying involved a trip round material and craft shops and buying knitting needles and of course a case of wine – Johann bought two cases!

Then it was off to the East Macdonnell Ranges rather than the more visited West Ranges where Sandra and I had spent a week or so four years ago. We are camped at Trephina Gorge in a very acceptable campsite although the long drop toilet was perhaps not the sweetest smelling we have ever experienced! It was here that we met a lone biker called Dick who had travelled out from Alice Springs for the ride on his big white Yamaha. By an amazing coincidence he turned out to know friends of Johann and Stretch from Sydney – Troy and Lesley who, in an even bigger coincidence, are due to move into our house in Eskbank next week – it's a small world!

The following day was goldmining day. We piled into the Landcruiser and headed for Arltunga which at one point was one of the remotest mining areas in Australia. To get there was a long train journey to the then railhead at Oodnadatta then a 600k camel or horse ride if you could afford it – if not you pushed all your goods and chattels on a wooden wheel barrow the whole 600k – it was a hard life.

The welcome sight of the Arltunga Pub

Mind you, it wasn't easy for us either. Arriving at the pub in Arltunga – it's the only building in the area – we were met with an unwelcome sign “No Beer”. As I said, it's a hard life.

The not so welcome sight! 

We drove into the mining area and visited two of the mine sites. The first was a bit underwhelming with only a single, partially restored building and a mine shaft covered over with a metal grill. The only interesting part of the trip was Sandra's compulsion for fossicking took her to the top of slag heap to look for gold – from which she promptly fell off! Johann and I were entertained by the sight of Sandra tumbling down the rock strewn slope whilst trying valiantly to keep the good i.e. expensive, camera above her head – a feat in which she fortunately succeeded. Her own bodily battering, bruising and torn clothing were of course secondary.

Sandra at end of her fall down a slag heap - but camera intact!

"Don't, whatever you do, pull that out"

Disappearing down a side tunnel

The second set of mines were much more interesting and it was possible to descend metal ladders and crawl through underground workings still held up with pit props. One mine was entered by a sloping tunnel rather than a vertical shaft and Sandra was a trifle disconcerted to fall over the remains of a previous visitor – a kangaroo that had obviously become trapped. However, all four of us managed to emerge more-or-less intact.

Down the mine - still with her sunnies on

Troglodyte emerging

Rich beyond dreams - maybe!!

The next day we split up again. Johann and Stretch planned to stay on at Trephina for another night before heqading for the West Macdonnells. As Sandra and I had spent over a week in that area four years previously we decided to give it a miss and start the 1500k trip north to Darwin to see Sandra's younger sister Gill – a trip that is only two days old but already shaping up well incident-wise.

Stopping in a dark, ground floor supermarket car park in Alice Springs to stock up on essentials, I discovered the fridge in the car wasn't working. With the socket covered by luggage and out of sight, in the gloom of the carpark I fiddled blindly with the plug and suddenly the was plenty of light – the bloody thing blew up with blue flash. Not much point in fresh food now so we started on a round of visits to Alice Spring garages and auto-electricians. At our third port of call we hit lucky, although it didn't seem like it at the time. Scorpion Auto-Electrics is a very small, one man outfit in a back street in A.S. and I'm afraid that the small geriatric in dirty dungarees, a dirtier T-shirt and what I suppose had once been a baseball hat did not fill me with confidence. However these were extremely misplaced doubts and, correctly diagnosing a blown fuse somewhere in the vicinity of the secondary battery, he soon had everything ticking over nicely. Surprised that I didn't have a spare fuse he gave me one – then said there would be no charge.

Sandra, quite rightly, insisted that I gave him something so I tracked him down to his workshop and tried to pay him. He came towards me with a smile and said “There's only one thing I'll take from you mate” - as he held out his hand to shake mine. A true Australian gentleman.

Eventually managing to tear ourselves away from Alice Springs we drove north on the Stuart Highway. After about 70k my navigator threw in a surprise right turn onto the Plenty Highway and, after a further 70k we took another right onto a dirt road where, after 9k, I found myself in yet another fossicking area. This time it was for semi-precious stones, particularly zircon – and this time surprise, surprise we have hit it rich and Sanrda is now the proud possessor of a handful of uncut zircon – small, unprepossessing stones which, when held up to the sun, glow expensively.

Our real reason for being here was a free bush campsite which, if truth be told, was not all that attractive and we only planned to stay for one night. No sooner was our tent up than we had a visitor. This was Brian, an 80 year old Englishman but long term Australian resident who, along with his partner Robyn, had been on site for several weeks and asked us over to their camp for a blether. We naturally assumed this meant a drink so went appropriately laden but had to drink it all ourselves as they didn't drink and stuck to tea and blether. Through Brian we met Les, a gem cutter, who explained that in the fossicking area anyone was free to dig for semi-precious stones – and keep any they found. Sandra of course was off like a shot to make her fortune.

We found the fossicking fields quite easily and started prowling round looking for glinty things shining in the sun. After ten minutes I was fed up and retired to the car leaving Sandra, who is made of much sterner stuff than I, “speckling” (a technical term) until she had filled a bag full of precious stones.

Enter Les' wife Pat and her sidekick Vern, experts both, who declared Sandra's hoard to be worthless and then showed us how it should be done. For a start, most of the zircon stones are likely to be about the size of a pea – not the walnut and bigger sized rocks Sandra had been collecting. Working as a team, Pat wielded a pickaxe to loosen the red soil, then Vern shovelled it through the first of three sieves and washed the resulting bucket of stones. These were then expertly (in Pat's case) and not so expertly (in Sandra's) scrutinised for the tell-tale translucent glow. Eventually Sandra, who picks up this sort of thing quickly, was finding her own zircon.

Speckling with absolutely no success

Pat showing how it should be done - with a pickaxe. Not bad for
a great-grandmother

Sorting the, mainly dross, from the zircons

And this is what is was all about - our stash

We are now fossicked out and will head off tomorrow to find a jeweller to by our hoard and plan what we are going to do with the money

Sunset over the gem fields

One of our gem field neighbours - a dingo

Uluru and The Olgas and on to Alice Springs

Well they do say third time lucky, and so it proved for Sandra and I on our trip to Ayers Rock or Uluru. The first time we had visited the rain was sheeting down and the rock was a grey lump with water cascading down its sides. We were advised by everyone that this was a rare experience and we should have considered ourselves lucky to have seen the Rock in these conditions – we didn't! Several months later we re-visited and, although the conditions were not quite so bad, it wasn't the experience we had hoped for. However, eventually on our third trip the weather was much kinder and we saw the Rock looking more like it does in the tourist brochures.

Mount Connor - the "false" Ayers Rock

 

Leaving Coober Pedy after getting a new shock absorber fitted we drove north for a day and pitched our tent at the Kulgera Roadhouse for a one nighter then on to Uluru a further 300k or so up the road. First time visitors are often confused (at least we were) when, about 100k short of where you think the Rock is, appears a great, red monolith. This is Mount Connor which is in private hands and not generally open to the public. We set up camp at the very flash and up-market i.e. expensive, Ayers Rock Resort, had a poke around the resort, then drove out to the Rock paying our $25 entry fee on the way. We parked in the Sunset Viewing area, got out chairs, books and a few beers and waited for the sun to set and took a few photographs - several hundred more like!

The "real" Ayers Rock

Me, a beer, a sunset and Ayers Rock - and the beard's coming on well!

Plans for the next day were to circumnavigate the Rock on foot – about 10.5k - then drive 50k to the Olgas to see the sun setting on them – the whole tourist shebang. That night, as if to remind us the rain gods had not let us totally escape, we were woken by lightening and a tremendous roll of thunder followed, inevitably, by rain. However by morning everything had dried up and it was a beautiful day.

An Ayres Rock waterhole

Sandra during our circumnavigation

Our circumnavigation took almost 4 hours and we saw the Rock from almost every conceivable angle with Sandra, our tour photographer, overdosing with the camera. Back to base, a quick shower and change of clothes, then off to the Olgas. These are a very impressive range of rounded hills appearing as if from nowhere out of a stark desert landscape. Once probably much like Uluru but considerably larger, they have been eroded from a single mountain to over 30 individual rounded summits of differing heights and shapes. Settling down as before with books and beers to await the sunset we were not disappointed – it was a gorgeous evening and made up for our last foray into The Olgas which necessitated Gortex, boots and brollies.

A few Olgas at sunset

The rest of the Olgas

Sandra snapping the Olgas

And a final Olga shot

 

The only other notable event before leaving Ayers Rock Resort was the sound of a crash followed by a roaring noise. A neighbouring camper had managed to knock over a gas cylinder with the valve fully open and the gas had somehow ignited. It was now performing like a flame thrower with several feet of flame torching his tent. Despite Sandra's warning shouts the obviously not too bright camper tried to put the flames out by pouring water over the gas cylinder. Unfortunately we didn't get to a camera in time.

Leaving Ayers Rock we drove to Alice Springs via the Henbury Meteorite site, an old favourite of ours, where in splendid isolation we camped under the stars by a campfire in almost total silence – wonderful. In Alice we re-established contact with Johann and Stretch – the latter still trying to get his tax affairs sorted out via the internet and trying to get yet another puncture repaired.

Breakfast at the meteorite site

Johann of to do her laundry using her ASV (Aboriginal Support Vehicle)

 

And tomorrow? …......Who knows!

Coober Pedy - Beyond Thunderdome

The most attractive feature about Coober Pedy is its total lack of attractiveness – it is probably the most unattractive town I have ever seen and could be described, both literally and metaphorically, as the “pits”. One word really sums up the place - “Opals”. CP is a mining town but, unlike most of the other mining towns we have visited, there no big, commercial mining companies but numerous small working partnerships of maybe 3 or 4 private individuals all hoping to strike it rich. They dig a fairly shallow shaft of up to 30 metres then side shafts looking for the elusive opal. If they don't find any, they start a new shaft a few metres away leaving behind the open shaft of the previous mine and a heap of spoil.

The town centre from The Big Winch view point

Old mining equipment and cars lying around in the town centre

Standing on the small hill in the centre of town – known as The Big Winch – and the view is hardly breathtaking. For as far as the eye can see is the result of small-scale mining on a vast scale with slag heaps or “mullock” disappearing from all around you into the distance. Although mining is no longer permitted inside the town boundaries the results of decades of mining within what is now the town is everywhere to be seen - piles of slag and an enormous number of old cars and mining machinery just lying about everywhere. Almost every house will have its collection of mechanical junk lying around in what in other towns and circumstances would be called gardens.

Opal mining equipment

Slag heaps as far as the eye can see

About half of the population live under ground in cave-like dwellings called “dug outs”. This has several advantages – in a place where the summer temperatures regularly hit 40C plus it is a cool and unchanging 24C throughout the year; they are easy to build as the rock is relatively soft and responds well to a jack-hammer and tunnelling machine; finally there is the possibility of striking an opal seam whilst excavating ones abode. However, please dispel any images of pleasant looking Hobbit-like dwellings – they are, from the outside at least, singularly unattractive particularly with each having its piles of rusty machinery outside.

Inside one of the four underground churches

CP is a very dry place. With no natural water, supplies have to be piped in and treated making it very expensive. Local residents have their water strictly metered whilst for transients like us there are public stand pipes where you can fill up after inserting the correct amount of money. Ironically, on our second night here the heavens opened up and the place turned into a red, soggy quagmire – we call this “the Douglas Effect!”

Down a mine - some opal

Sandra coming up from the mine

With time on our hands we spent a day doing the touristy things including a guided tour of the town led by Rudi a 79 year old ex-pat Austrian who started opal mining in 1961. His was just one of many nationalities within the town with a large number coming from southern European countries. We visited an underground house, a mine, the golf course, the opal fields and generally saw the sites.

Cheap golf - didn't have time for a round

The Fairways

The tees

The "greens"

The clubhouse

It is now the morning of Saturday 10^th May, the car has a new shock absorber and we are planning to be on our way shortly, next planned destination is Ayres Rock or Uluru. We have been there twice before but this time hope to see it without rain cascading down the sides – and Sandra wants to circumnavigate it on foot – about 10k. It will probably take us a couple of days to get there after which we hope to meet up again with Johann and Stretch.

 

Finally, with a few hours to spare we went "noodling" in the mullock i.e. fossicking for bits of opal which had been missed. Sandra claims to have had a number of near misses - I got bored very quickly and remain poor,

Noodling - unsuccessfully!

PS I may have sounded a wee bit uncomplimentary about Coober Pedy - but, in some sort of perverse way, I like it. And it's where they filmed parts of Mad Max - Beyond Thunderdome.