Australia 15: Pinnacles & New Norcia

At home we have a book about Australia that shows ‘the pinnacles’ on the cover: Australia, Beyond The Dreamtime (https://www.globetrottingbooklovers.com/books)A nice change from always seeing Uluru on anything Australian and these pinnacles are every bit as unique. I often wonder what it would be like to be the first to come across a place like this. Normal scrubby desert and then, bang - bright yellow sand with thousands of stone pillars. 

We drove to Nambung National Park to see the Pinnacles. Scientists are not sure if they are stone (shell and sand) structures around which the soil has eroded. Or if they are fossilized wood. I would have thought it’d be easy to determine that, but apparently not. But, whatever it is, it looks cool to be surrounded by these pillars. We walked almost 4 KM among them, in the heat.

In 1846 a Spanish monk made his way to the new world after having been given the task by the pope of establishing a monastery in Western Australia and converting Aborigines to Christianity.
Dom Salvado had a somewhat unique view for his time. He did not try to convert and preach very hard but worked with the native population to win their trust. He appreciated the wisdom of the native population and made friends with them. Salvado eventually founded a small town in the Australian bush. New Norcia is a Benedictine monastic town. Separated from the Catholic church, these monks live in the town permanently and actively work to earn their own living. They grow and press olives, have a beautiful bakery and make a renowned wine and beer. It’s like a small Spanish town in the Australian bush country, with old mission buildings and palm trees.

We took a tour of  the churches and several other buildings now used by educational institutions for retreats, etc. You can even spend the night in the monastery. If we weren’t running out of time, we would have stayed and experienced that. A night’s stay includes a small room, and three meals a day with the monks, time for meditation and prayer and just quiet time to relax and reflect. Salvado made several trips back to Europe to raise funds for the small village. By 1900 on his 8th trip he passed away in Rome and was eventually buried in New Norcia.

We had the opportunity to stay with new Australian friends nearby. It was lovely to meet Aussies. They always seem so laid back and cheerful. They have a very admirable tight-knit community and take pride in building their own facilities like tennis courts, playing fields, a recreation hall and library.

We stopped at Yanchep National Park and, finally, saw koalas! They are so cute, clinging to the tree in their sleepy positions. They look as if they will crash to the ground at any moment.. They’d move to a more comfortable fork in a tree, once in a while.

Australia 14: Monkey Mia

Driving south along Australia’s northern west coast, we continue another 100 KM to the tiny village of Denham. A motel, a marina, a supermarket, a gas station and then a lovely caravan park. The showers here are salt water... so how do you rinse off after an ocean swim? We felt lucky to get a spot overlooking the ocean from a bluff. But we soon discovered WHY they still had an ocean front site available! The wind howls through here at 50 knots an hour... Can’t step outside without being blown out of your pants. I don’t need a hair dryer - just step outside and it’s blown dry in a minute. We are blown away (literally) by the strong storm winds along the west coast. At first we thought it was just a windy day. And a stormy night. But it got worse and people said “Oh, the whole west coast is like this.” We can’t sit outside. Our chairs are blown away all the time. It’s tough to hike in this wind and the flies seem to have developed special techniques because they are NOT blown away by it.

The first recorded arrival of white men on Australian soil, was right here. A Dutch man. A Dutch trading ship, under the command of Captain Dirk Hartog arrived here on October 25, 1616 - more than 150 years before Captain Cook. Hartog left a pewter plate, nailed to a post. The original plate is now back in the Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam, but there’s a replica of it here. Seems like every town here has a memorial, some statute or memento about a historic Dutch ship that hit the coast and perished here, three or four hundred years ago. There’s a whole slew: the Batavia, the Zuytdorp, and more. One plague said, and I quote “It is not clear why the ship perished. Perhaps the captain miscalculate the turn toward Batavia in the Indies.” And I am thinking ‘No way! Those Dutch sailors were the best in the world at that time. They made it all the way around the world. It was the darn storms off this coast that blew them onto the rocks!”

Today we drove the short 25 KM to Monkey Mia. I had talked to many people who had visited this resort where wild dolphins come to interact with people. Everyone said that it used to be really fun, but that now it is very touristy and regulated. But still. When wild dolphins come to the shore, I wanted to experience that. I did not have high expectations. I also suspected it to be commercialized.
BUT it was fun! It’s done in a lovely manner. You do have to pay $8.50  a person entrance fee, but that is often the case at wildlife or nature reserves. The rangers gave a informative talk and the bottlenose dolphins arrived around 8 AM. No one makes them show up, they truly do live free in the ocean. Of course they have been conditioned, they know that there is a treat waiting by the shore. But I do believe the regulations are in the dolphins best interest. If they did not strictly enforce rules, people would feed them bread, or worse. They would touch them and affect them with sunscreen or bacteria.
Now, we all had a long, good look at the six wild dolphins that came to shore. They almost beached themselves and showed off. One mother brought a small calf. It was lovely. A few people were allowed to feed a fish to them and then it was over. The dolphins come back as they please but are only fed in the morning, and only up to five females, bringing males and other friends along.

As we continue south to Geraldton we drive passed Pink Lake. The water is pink because of a microbe releasing beta carotine in the water.

The aptly named Pink Lake

Geraldton is really the first city since leaving Darwin, several thousand kilometers ago. It’s very nicely laid out, with large boulevards and a great waterfront. We’ve noticed in a lot of towns here that the waterfront is preserved as park, often with playgrounds and public beaches. It’s so much nicer than walking along hotels and private properties and not being able to get to the shore. The library has good, free!, internet access so we got caught up on emails and work.

Geraldton

Australia 13: Coral Bay and Stromatolites

We are headed south along Australia’s northern west coast. This is perhaps one of the most picturesque beaches of white sand, with aqua water and perfect swimming and snorkelling anywhere in the world.
But the campgrounds aren’t as great. We found a spot in the “beach front” rows of the campground closest to the beach. It really was just a walk past other campers and across the road. But it felt like we were camping in a parking lot, with cars coming and going, a petrol station right next to us. Busy, busy. $48 per night just to camp here. So we’re not staying as long as we would have liked to.

 But the snorkelling is out of this world. Right off the beach you immediately float over amazing corral in all shapes and sizes, with multi-colored fish darting everywhere.. Large rainbow colored fishes, trailed by little blue, yellow, black & white fishes. Even the occasional turtle. Fabulous.

This morning we walked along the beach to an area of the reef where reef sharks have their nursery. The shallow waters were teaming with reef sharks in all sizes as well as a small ray.

Then we tore ourselves away from the tranquil coast and drove 430 KM down the same, boring desert road. It’s called the North West Coastal Highway. It’s not truly boring - there’s something imposing in its emptiness - but there really is nothing to see. Kees loves driving the long distances and I’m getting the tedious sleeves knit on the sweater I’m making.
The same red earth (Uluru’s color really is not that special when you consider that the whole continent is red soil. It’s just that Uluru is so hard, a monolith that has not eroded).
The same dusty green shrubs.
The same dead animals along the road. Not so many wallabees as there were along the Barkly Highway, but kangaroos, birds, cattle, even sheep. The cows are huge Brahmin cows and, apparently, get hit by road trains regularly. They lie on the side of the road with their stiff legs in the air, bloated and dried like gigantic leather purses.

Coral used to be used as building material here…

We even see the same people. Similar to the Camino de Santiago, a long distance hiking trail in Spain where you often run into the same hikers each day, here you also meet fellow travellers going in the same direction. We recognize people we saw two, three even five days back in another town. Obviously making the same stops along the same route.

We pass one town of a decent size and do our groceries for the next few days. Fill up with diesel whenever we find a larger town with lower prices. Then we find the turn-off to Denham, Shark Bay and - my long awaited stop - Monkey Mia.

I just finished reading Bill Bryson’s In A Sunburned Country, in which he elaborates about Hamelin Pool and stromatolites. From his book, I knew about these rocks containing the earth’ first microbes. If they had not existed, billions of years ago, and decided to release oxygen into the atmosphere, we might have never ‘happened’. So I was curious to see to what I owe this life on earth. Turns out stromatolites do not look exciting. The closest I can think of is lava. Black, greyish rocks sitting knee deep in saline water. No mysterious glow. No fluorescent frills. Not even gory green algae. Just rocks in clear water. But still. Cool to know that this is one of only two places on earth where stromatolites still ‘live’. 

Stromatolites, the origin of life on earth.

Australia 12: Can You Say This Fast?!

My favourite photo of Australia: land, water, sky.

Australia has the best place names ever.
I always liked the Alaskan town called Tok. But Australia has one better: Bukbukluk!
Did you know that the town in Alaska called Chicken, was originally called Ptargiman. But no one knew how to spell it so they changed it to Chicken.
Australia has the following gems:
How would you like to live in Humpty Doo?
You heard of Kakado but how about Jimbalakudunj?
Then there is Tom Price,
Monkey Mia and
Wurrumenbumanja.
There’s a town called Wishbone and a place called Useless Loop.
Wouldn’t you love to see a place called The Bungle Bungles? It’s a area of unusual rock formations.
If you had enough pieces, and if you were allowed geographical names in Scrabble, wouldn’t you love to spell Koombooloomba?
Goondiwindi and Toowoomba are not far from each other.
The longest place name is a hill in the south called Mamungkukumpurangkuntjunya! Say that one fast.
Many names here are, of course, British. There is Wales, Victoria, and so on.
But there’s also a bit of Dutch history, especially on the west coast where Dutch sailors either came ashore on purpose or by accident. We are near a town called Zuytdorp. There’s also Dirck Hertog’s Island. and Arnhemland. Today we visited Vlamingh Lighthouse. And of course Tasmania was named for the Dutch explorer Abel Tasman.
We saw a great t-shirt. It had a sign post pointing to: DIDYABRINGYURGROGALONG. Have to say it out loud to get it...
For now, we are on our way to the Ningaloo Reef. I can’t wait to see it, no matter how it is spelled.

Exmouth, Western Australia is a pretty isolated town. I felt that we had left the Outback, being on the coast, but people here still calls this the Outback. Exmouth feels like a small, laid-back beach town which might become really popular in a few years. It has a small centre with dive shops, a bakery, a grocery store. I have been to towns that boasted being famous for their wine, their cheese, having a giant lobster, or something like that. Exmouth holds the record for strongest mainland wind gust, measuring 267 kph! While we are here, it’s been trying to break that record. Very windy but that’s actually nice when it’s so hot.
But Exmouth is also very different from what we expected. I imagined the west coast to have green hills, perhaps because I’m a North American west coaster. Here the west coast, at least so far, is simply desert. Red rocks, shrub, even termite mounds right up to the ocean. There literally is only a row of sand dunes in between desert and reef.

Camping in Ningaloo Reef National Park

Oh, that reef. I’ll let you in on a secret...
We’ve all heard of the Great Barrier Reef. The west coast, has a similar reef. A bit smaller but still some 300 KM long... and this one is RIGHT off the main land. You don’t need to take an expensive cruise to reach it. You don’t need to go way out at 50 knots an hour... You simply put on your mask and snorkel, wade out into the turquoise water and voila.... coral bommies all around: red fish, blue fish, yellow fish too. It’s awesome.
We camped in town first where a huge emu visited us. Then we found THE best spot in the entire Nigaloo Reef National Park - right off the beach with a view of the water and sand. The draw back is that national park campgrounds have no facilities. So we went unplugged and love it.

We enjoyed a glass of wine with fellow campers, listened to stories of kite surfing and sailing on the blue corral lagoon. Kangaroos lazed around us in the shade. Then we made dinner and watched the sun set.

Now, we’ve been telling you all about how wonderful our Australian travels are: warm temperatures, swimming, tropical beaches... So we figure it’s time to tell you about the other side of traveling. How it’s not at all what it’s cracked up to be. If you have to stay home, this may make you feel better:

:-( The distances we have to drive here to get anywhere are terrible... One day we did 930 KM.

:-(The temperatures can be murder. It’s been an average of 33 degree, sometimes up to 41 degrees C.

:-( The flies are awful... they insist on settling permanently up your nose.

:-( You always have to walk to a shower building, dragging all of your clothes, towel, toiletries, the key... Then you have to balance on one foot in a wet showerstall, trying to get dressed.

:-( The flies are terrible.

:-( There’s no Heineken to be found in the Outback! Talk about hardship…

:-( It’s hard to find good coffee here, especially in the supermarket. Almost only instant.

: -( You should see the flies here.

:-( We keep hearing about killer jellyfish, crocs, spiders, snakes.. That sort of stuff starts to take a toll on the mind. And don’t ever forget to lift up a toilet seat before sitting on it. You do have to check for tiny but deadly spiders…

:-( We have a sunburn. And sand in unmentionable places.

:-( There’s just two of us. If you want a new conversation it gets limited sometimes.

:-( When we run out of a book to read, all we can do is hope to find a book exchange in the next campground. New paperbacks are $20.- here.

:-( Our stove has 3 burners but you can only fit two small pans on it at once.

:-( Did I mention the flies?

:-( Our fridge is about a quarter of a normal one. And it’s full of beer. “Baby beer,” Kees says, referring to the alcohol content of 2.5%.

:-( Almost no internet, and if we can get it it’s expensive.

:-( You should see the flies. They like beer.

:-( Our bathroom is about half the size of a small broom closet. Try pulling up your pants in that.

:-( We see more roadkill than houses.

There. I hope this makes you feel better.
Now I have to run. To the gorgeous white sand beach with the blue water and palm trees. Sorry.

Australia 11: Heading West & Meeting The Cucumber Police.

Baobab in the Outback

We are heading west across the continent of Australia. Australia is paranoid about anyone bringing in invasive species: animals, flowers, trees... anything non-native (except people). And understandably so. In the past anything that was brought in, flourished and took off with a vengeance. Cats. Rabbits. Blackberries. They’re all out to conquer a world of native plants and animals. I was utterly amazed when, upon landing at Sydney Airport, we were told to remain seated with our seat belts securely fastened. Then the flight attendants opened all overhead compartments and proceeded to spray the entire inside of the plane with pesticide. My mouth had dropped open in disbelief but I quickly closed it and actually huddled under my scarf and tried not to breathe. The smell reminded me of the long banned Flit sprays my parents used in mosquito season. I come from Salt Spring Island where, if you so much as whisper the words “Round Up” people gasp and stare at you. I wanted to ask what I was being sprayed with but did not get a chance.
Having now been in Australia for a while, I am slightly more sympathetic. Think of it the other way. What if we, inadvertently, brought back Australian flies? Heaven help us. The buggers could easily come aboard airplanes inside our nostrils or riding inside our ears. Whereas Canadian flies are polite, almost apologetic if they land on your arm, Australians flies insist on a close personal relationship. They like your mouth. The closer the better. Your eyeballs are fine too. So if there is a chance of importing Australian flies to other parts of the world, perhaps we should spray all airplanes...

Kookaburra

Last night we crossed the border between Northern Territories and Western Australia. And there we met the Cucumber Police! They have a real border station and uniformed guards who are out to get your veggies. I’m not sure what exactly they are looking for, but they seem to live in fear of your potatoes. I surrendered two wrinkled oranges and some limp lettuce. But that wasn’t enough. The guard boarded our camper and proceeded to go through all cupboards. Two blushing tomatoes were caught in the act and arrested. An innocent zucchini was hauled off as a common criminal. A cold, baked potato was handcuffed and contained. Even the banana peels from the garbage got a life sentence.
Those guards do a good job protecting their state, I’m sure. But I’d hate to spend my life confiscating carrots.
Come to think of it, perhaps they should train all those rabbits that were introduced to the continent. I’m sure they’d sniff out every last carrot from every passing camper van.

We finally crossed the entire continent and arrived in Broome, WA. I had read about a touristy, crowded town but on Saturday afternoon most things were closed and the streets were half empty. Strolled through a tiny Chinatown at 37º. Finally found something I wasn’t able to buy anywhere in the Outback: knitting needles. I had made due with a pair of chopsticks but now I can make more proper sleeves for the sweater I’m knitting. Campground is very close to the white sands of Cable Beach, supposedly one of the top 5 best beaches in the world.
“Can I swim here?” I ask in the campground office. “Sure,” says the lady at the counter. “Is it safe?” I want to make sure because I’m starting to learn that these Aussies are sometimes just too laid back.
“Sure,” she repeats.. Then adds, “Just the odd hammerhead shark and a croc last week.”
I decide not to swim.

Aussies are such wonderful, lacksadaisy characters! Most men in the Outback are rugged cowboys. Stopping at a roadhouse, hundreds of miles from anywhere, you see families buying an ice cream, roadtrain drivers going for a meal and everyone else just getting petrol. One guy get out of his car. Must have been 65, 70 years old. Standard bush clothing: rugged hiking boots with wool socks. Sleeveless vest showing heavy biceps. Suntanned face in the shade of a leather cowboy hat (called a bush hat). This one had a long thin, white ponytail and instead of the standard dusty shorts he was wearing a long purple sari wrapped around his waist.

On our second day in Broome we got up at 5 AM for a long, 8 KM, walk on the beach before it got too hot.
Spent the rest of the day doing laundry and cleaning the camper. Beat lots of red dust from the pillows and even mopped the floor.
But soon it’s time to continue our drive south. Kind of a bummer - no sooner have you made it to the gorgeous beaches of the coast or you need to go back into the desert. More than 500 KM from Broome to the next town. Same long straight roads through shrub and red earth. Even knowing that the coast is about 15 KM on your right, doesn’t help much if you can’t see it. The distances here are amazing. It kind of reminds me of Nunavut, Canada’s Arctic region. If those remote, isolated villages had roads connecting them, it would be similar to here. Hundreds of kms to the next town. And it’s easy to miss the one roadhouse in between where you can get gas. Often it literally is one building. But some places on the map turn out to be one shed with the name spray painted on it. Have even seen several places that show on the map and are one big truck tire on the side of the road with the name spray painted on it. Perhaps there’s a cattle station somewhere off in the bush. But you can’t see it from the road.

We follow the bright red track into the bush. It leads to brilliant blue sky and a pure white beach: Eighty Mile Beach. They sure could use more surveyors in Australia. Not once have the distances on the maps and on the signs and on our odometer been the same.

Eighty Mile Beach. Life doesn’t get much better than this. White sand and an amazing array of shells. Turquoise waters. Little white waves to play in. Not really swim because of sharks, but still nice. We took a long walk, searched for and found gorgeous sea shells. Watched the sun set with a glass of wine in the sand.

West coast sunset

Australia 10: Kakadu

Kakadu National Park is one of Australia’s best known parks. But it’s another several hundred kilometers, hot, muggy.. what to do? Is Kakado worth the extra miles?
After having seen it, we both agree: yes. If you have come from so far, you might as well go the extra miles and see it. We were disappointed with the landscape. It’s just more of the same desert: shrub, flat and long distances. There are more palm trees in the mix and it’s a bit greener, but also hotter and more humid. Wouldn’t want to be here much later in the year.
Much of what is described in the tourist books and brochures is only accessible if you have a 4WD or some rough car that allows you to go down bumpy dirt roads. Rental campers are not allowed on dirt roads. However, there are a few short, paved side roads that allow you a glimpse into Kakadu. Two excellent visitor centres explain both the aboriginal way of life, local legends and ceremonies as well as the natural history of the park.
We stopped at a few view points but the highlight was two extensive sites of aboriginal art. As far back as 20,000 years (!) people have come to these very spots. They roamed and hunted on the plains and in the estuaries of the rivers leading to the Timor Sea (Van Diemen Gulf).

In Kakadu they had rock shelters, allowing them to spend the rainy season here. And what do you do on a blustery, rainy evening when it’s dark early and you have nothing else to do? You tell stories with your children and extended family around. And while some recalled events, and others explained legends, and the talk drifted to the hunt and the food they enjoyed - some of the gathered clan illustrated these stories.

Cave art

They did so with stones and the ground colors that were in abundant supply. They painted them on walls and ceilings... Little did they know that, thousands of years later, we would file by and take photos of their art. Thanks to aboriginal interpretations, we are able to follow their stories - such as the Rainbow Serpent tale about women coming of age; the yam-man who killed people and lessons about greed and honesty. Pretty cool stuff.
I was grateful that you are allowed to take photos. At Uluru everything is sacred and photography is not allowed. But when you’ve come from the other side of the world, it is nice to be able to take photos.
So if you ever have the opportunity to visit this unique National Park and wonder if you should Kakadu or Kakadon’t - I would suggest you just DO it

Wild and rugged Arnhemland.

Australia 9: Dreamtime in Katherine

Manuel plays the didgeridoo

Baby wallabee

Manuel almost died five years ago.
He is an aboriginal man, 50 years of age, who, like many indigenous people, drank too much. He basically drank himself to death. After 17 days in coma, he actually survived. But the doctor told him “One more beer and you’ll die.” Manuel managed to not touch a drop of alcohol since then, and to turn his life around. He now offers a unique, cultural experience which we, as visitors to his country, thoroughly enjoyed. Often it is difficult to interact with locals, and taking photos is not appropriate. So when we read the advertisement for Top Didj Cultural Experience, we decided to give it a try. “It might be tacky, it might be touristy,” we thought. But it turned out to be fun, interesting and worth the money.
When we showed up at the art gallery, at 9 AM, we found a gallery and a store full of local art and giftware to browse. But we also found two tiny baby wallabees which we could pet and cuddle.
Then the ten or twelve people in our group, walked to a large outdoor shelter, sat in a circle and met Manuel. He told us about his life. How he was born in the bush, welcomed into the world by the women of his clan with smoke and rituals. He talked about hunting barefooted, living in small shelters and being eight years old when he saw his first whitefellow. (Caucasians are whitefellows, aboriginals are blackfellows.)
He explained family life, how clans can not marry within too close a circle of relations. How families go to other regions to meet families with suitable girls, which are promised to a certain boy at age 4. Once they reach 13 or so, the couple start living together. They don’t have a marriage ceremony. But, he said, much of their traditional way of life, music, dance, painting and even language will no longer exist in a few more years. “Nowadays,” he said, “young people come home, sit in front of the TV with a Cola and that’s it.” We saw the exact same thing in Nunavut with Inuit people and their culture. But there they seem to have more support to hold on to language and culture. Here there is, apparently, none.
I love their term ‘dream time’. It refers to life before and after your current life. The ancestors live in dream time.

Manuel showed us how to paint a traditional turtle and kangaroo, using a certain number of lines and colors, dictated by his clan. If you know about aboriginal art you can tell in which clan, family and in which region a certain painting was made.
He showed us how to make fire in the bush and how to spear a kangaroo. He actually still goes into the bush these days to find his own supper. “I have learned,” he said, “that you always have to work for your food. Either by hunting it or by working to earn money before you can buy it.”
The haunting sounds of the didgeridoo lingered as we left the dusty town of Katherine behind us on our way to Western Australia and, hopefully, cooler temperatures than the 40+ degrees here.

Australia 8: Alien Invaders en route to Uluru

 I wonder if someone should tell Australians that their country has been invaded. I don’t think city people will sleep if they knew the extent to which the entire country has been taken over by aliens!
Cities, networks of roads, amazing dwellings have sprouted up all over the Outback and beyond. Millions, no billions of the invaders have taken over the country. Termites that is.
All over Australia we have seen termite mounds, thousands along the roads, into the bush. In the harshest areas where humans couldn’t hope to live, these creatures thrive.
At first we wondered what the red stone peaks were. Ant hills? But they were too point, too stony. Later we learned that these termite mounds only occur in Australia. I guess when the Dutch and Spanish explorers first spotted the continent, and turned up their noses at it, the termites grinned and said “We’ll take it!” Now they own the lot of it.
From small red mounds along the curb, to yellow towers of over 2 meters tall - termite mounds are everywhere. I even saw postcards of termite mounts. Really.

They are impressive. Like ants and bees, termites have a queen, nymphs, workers, soldiers and alates (swarmers). Each has its own job to do. The termite is only slightly larger than an ant, sometimes called ‘white ant’ because their skin is so thin it is nearly transparent. Such a vulnerable insect couldn’t live in this climate if it wasn’t for their amazing architectural skills. The mounts protect the queen, who lives near the bottom surrounded by soldiers. Near the top is the food storage. The mounts are completely water proof (important in monsoon season), fire resistant, and insulated. They have aligned their homes north-south so that it receives the least amount of heat and one side is always in the shade. Scientists have figured out that these ‘magnetic’ termites sense north-south. They are blind so they can’t see where the sun is. The mounds are ventilated to prevent fungi and bacteria from spoiling their food. The colors of the mounds change, of course, as the soil changes. They range from gray to yellow to fiery red.
Even the style of architecture seems to change per region. I wonder if what the termites teach each other, changes subtly until a whole new style is achieved. In some areas the mounds are skinny and pointy, while lately we have seen much rounder, wider mounds that almost resemble upside-down strawberry pots.  
We can probably learn much from these amazing insects. For now, it’s the most abundant species we have seen. Australians have a wicked sense of humor. They have taken to dressing up the mounds. There’s no other form of entertainment when driving roads that are thousands of kilometers long with not much else in sight but termite mounds. So we see termite mounds along the road wearing t-shirts, aprons, hardhats, sunglasses, even frilly underwear. I don’t know how the termites feel about this, but it sure gives us something to look forward to as we continue to drive towards Uluru, the red heart of the continent.

Uluru, or Ayres Rock as it was formerly known, is a huge stone formation in the very centre of Australia, a sacred site for aboriginal people and the iconic image of the continent. We stayed in the National Park’s campground. The campground is part of a village of hotels, store, restaurants and visitors centre that, more or less, blends into the surroundings. At sunset we drove 25 KM into the park to a viewing spot where we parked, along with many others and had a perfect, unobstructed view of the big rock as it changed colors in the setting sun.
Was it worth driving thousands of miles for?
It certainly stirred my heart, both as the icon it is and for its stark, natural beauty.

One morning we got up early to beat the daytime’s heat and walked the circumference. The shadows and lights played on the rock that changed from brown to fiery red. The visitor’s centre gave a good impression of the importance of the rock as well as the geology of the area.

One day, at 6 AM, we drove to Uluru only to discover that we didn’t have enough gas in our tank to drive all the way to the sun rise viewpoint. So we didn’t join those crowds but got an early start on our hike around the base. A 10 KM loop skirts the big orange mountain. It was still nice and cool but we did have to cover our heads with fly nets. Kees looked like a walking raisin bread with all the flies who hitched a ride on his head and shoulders. They didn’t seem to like me as much.
Our hike was great and interesting. In my head I could hear the didgeridoos of native people.... I think we did hear dingos singing in the distance.
A visit to the aboriginal culture center taught us more about a very recent way of life. People not much older than us, who remember seeing the first white person. So much has changed in their life time. And not all for the better. Imagine living a peaceful life, living off the land, learning from your elders. And then having that entire rug pulled out from underneath you. Much like Canada’s First Nations people they could not practise their way of living, eating, dancing, celebrating, even speaking. It’s hard to understand that fair skinned children were taken from their families to  be raised by white families. Not ‘just’ put in boarding schools but stolen from their families. People our age remember their mothers hiding them when government officials came to their village. What possessed white people to act that way? Slavery, prohibiting other cultures from speaking their own language, taking everything.... The mind boggles at how some people acted. Hopefully in the past tense. There’s a movement on now called “Bring Them Home” trying to locate those ‘children’ to put them back in touch with their families.
Australia’s aboriginal people have beautiful faces, as if carved from mahogany. Broad noses, very curly hair. Women were painting their famous dot stories outside the visitors centre. Inside was information on how the National Park is jointly run by locals and white people. If an elder has passed away, their photo is covered up and their name cannot be mentioned anymore. We were struck by how many similarities there are to Canada’s Inuit people: the sounds of drumming and chanting, the way the words look.

One morning, at 5:45 AM, we drove to the Kata Tjuta range to see the sun rise. These mountains are 50 KM from Uluru, of the same stone but more broken into individual shapes. But I was disappointed by how many people are here. Whole bus loads show up and crowd onto the viewing platforms. We couldn’t even get close enough to see Uluru in the distance.  The other disappointment is that you are not allowed to take photos anywhere: around the mountains, in and near the visitor centre, etc. etc.
We started on the hike around Kata Tjuta but it was a clamber over boulders, and too many people. So, after a final farewell to the big rock, we headed back to Alice Springs. The park gave us a fond farewell by having a herd of feral camels roam in plain view!
37ø C in Alice Springs.

Australia 7: Mango Ice cream and the Devil’s Marbles

The devil’s marbles… He lost ‘em, we found ‘em!

Lonely.
Alone.
Isolated.
Desolate.
You know you are way out there when your GPS says “turn left in 539 KM.” You know it is a lonely road when you look forward to the next traffic sign so you have something to read.  We saw nothing but brush, some dry trees, red earth, a few emus- all day.  We are now camped in Tennant Creek, a small oasis town with trees and even a pool at the campground.  One day north of Alice Springs. Still no internet.
Today we left Queensland and entered the Northern Territories. The outside temperature hoovered between 37 and 38.5. What a great thing airco in the cab is! The price of gasoline has gone up steadily as we drive into the Outback.. I wonder if it is going to cost us our first born by the time we get to Uluru.

Left the dusty little town at 8 AM after filling up with diesel. We had over 600 KM to drive today. But our first stop was shortly after town to see Karlu Karlu, or ‘the devil’s marbles’. The aboriginal people say that these huge round boulders, precariously balanced, are the eggs of the Rainbow Serpent. Geologists say they are hard layers of granite that have been eroded and left behind when softer layers washed away. Whatever they are, they are beautiful and impressive. But the heat and the flies are increasing so we continue on our way south along the lonely Stuart Highway. We stopped at a rare mango orchard where we had delicious mango ice cream and splurged on a bottle of mango wine.  One minute I was savouring the ice cream, the next moment the car started shaking and swirling. Kees managed to pull over to discover a blown tire! The smoking shreds still clung to the rim and we wobbled to safer, flat ground away from the road. This meant into the red dust. Hordes of flies had lain in wait for us and descended in jubilant droves. We had planned on buying fly nets to wear over our heads in Alice Springs...
Breathing flies, I tried to recite the manual while Kees fiddled with the spare wheel, removed it from under the van (by lying down in the bright red sand of course), manoevered the hydraulic pump in place and expertly changed the wheel. I tried to swat flies away from his head with the manual and encouraged him best as I could. Meanwhile, at least six cars, including a police car, zoomed by us without bothering to ask if we needed help. This was hundreds of kilometers away from anywhere. I was surprised that no one stopped to help. Kees in the ditch, and me waving a book.We must, somehow, have looked confident enough not to offer help. The termite hills looked on as we wobbled away on the spare wheel.
We did make it into Alice Springs where the very first building happened to be the Britz dealer. Not only did they change the wheel and install a new spare, they put on new tires in the rear, made us coffee, and offered all sorts of help. We are much impressed with the company.
After showers at the campground, we went for a nice Aussie roast beef dinner with all the fixings, complete with a country singer and a reptile show.

Australia 6: Birds, Bush Poets and The School of the Air:

The number and variety of birds in Australia is mind blowing. Living in the country, we are quite used to having lots of birds around. But multiply and amplify that many times to get what we hear here. None are the same as the European or North American birds. We are not particularly birdwatchers, but we see white parakeets with yellow combs, lots of black and white “magpies” types, some black “crow” like birds. Vultures. A cross of dove and pigeon.
Their songs, at the break of dawn around 5 AM, are hilarious. One is exactly like a whistling man who forget the tune, hesitates and tries again.

Another bird sounds exactly like he’s snoring: a loud rattle followed by a whistle.
There are flocks of very excited birds. At the first ray of light they all chant “HERE-we-go! HERE-we-go!”
There are alarm-clock-birds, a Volkswagen-bird (sounds like he can’t get started), a telephone-bird, and of course the kookaburra who laughs at them all.

One night, in a campground, we attend a bush poet evening. I love it. Two women perform a cross between stand-up comedy and poetry. Bush cowboys are well known for their long entertaining ballads, which relate all aspects of life, funny incidents and everything else.

We stayed 2 nights in Mt Isa at a quiet caravan park with a nice pool. Slept in, had tea in bed, did all our laundry, even mopped the floor of our camper. We visited a small aboriginal center where we chatted with a lovely lady. She told us that aboriginal people have only been recognized in Australia’s Constitution as of THIS MONTH. Unbelievable.

One of the most enjoyable visits was to the School of the Air. In several cities, this special school for Outback children has learning centers where you can get a tour. Many of the students live eight hours of more from the nearest town. Teachers talk with them each day, at a set time, over the phone. The ranches are often so remote that they don’t even have internet access.  The kids don’t see their teacher, just talk with them via the radio waves about their lessons. They even learn music, like playing the violin, via the telephone! The ‘school’ was full of art on the walls and large projects that students had mailed in. Children are schooled during elementary and middle school and sometimes also into high school but many high school students go to boarding schools in Queensland. Some boys return to work on the (company or family) ranges. When I asked about further education, I was given an example of a girl from a family of 7 children, who is now doing her PhD in math at Cambridge.