The flight from Adelaide to Alice effectively demonstrated how barren the Red Center is. Looking out my window, salt flats and flat red earth seemingly stretched on forever in every direction. After a monotonous 20 minutes, I stopped looking awhile to read my book, “The Good Soldiers” which if you haven’t read, is a must. This account of the 2-16 Ranger division in Iraq during The Surge is the most powerful nonfiction book I have ever read. Soon enough the flight attendant announced that we were making our gradual decent into the Alice Springs area, so I resumed my peering out of the window. What I saw was to say the least unexpected. As we descended toward our final destination, green and yellow grasslands stretched as far as the eye could see. Red Center my ass! Turns out, about 6 weeks before, the area surrounding Alice experienced significantly higher than usual rainfall, so much so that apparently in the now-dry river we crossed from the airport to town, 3 people drowned in a raging torrent. It wouldn’t be the last time this place reminded me of Arizona.
Once on the ground, we caught a cab to Britz rental car where after the ever present nickel and diming, we picked up our Toyota Landcruiser 4WD and made our way into town to stock up for the week. Lindsay sat at a coffee shop working while I went to the Wooly’s for supplies. Once that was done we just needed a quick stop at a bottle shop before continuing on our way. Alas, they all appeared to be closed and we realized it was Sunday. Lindsay stopped in a flower shop to ask if there were any that were open and the owner rudely replied, “nope, its Sunday….I'm sure you can wait until tomorrow.” Well, no we couldn’t, so we asked the people at the information center and found a drive through bottle shop, got a case of XXXX and a couple bottles of vino and off we went.
Whereas 99% of travelers heading south from Alice take the Stuart Highway on their way to Ayres Rock (Uluru), we had different plans. We got to the outskirts of town and turned onto the old Ghan Highway, a dirt track leading toward some out of the way Aboriginal communities. One hundred kilometers of corrugated red dirt road later and we arrived at Oak Valley campground. When we got there the tiny campground was deserted. Off in the distance we could see a couple of houses and a truck, but our contact Craig was no where to be seen. The way we ended up at Oak Valley was on the recommendation of our friends Chris and Sara. Some time ago they had taken an organized tour and spent a night at Oak Valley, where they met a dude named Craig. They had such a good time hanging out with him that four months after their initial visit, they returned to the campground for a few days on their own. Before they returned stateside, we asked they what their favorite experience was in all of their Australian travels and they both, without hesitation, said their time with Craig was it.
Still alone, we set up the tent, got settled, and before long we could see a truck moving toward us. Just before it arrived at our campsite, Oak Valley’s two official ambassadors Superman (the Chihuahua) and Tuffy (the Pit mix) came running up looking for some belly rubbing. Craig got out of the truck and introduced himself as he pulled up some wood and got a fire started. For the next three hours, we just sat around the fire drinking XXXXs and talking about everything from Australian history, to Aboriginal land rights, to our friends Chris and Sara.
Here is Oak Valley/Craig's situation. He is a member of the Arrernte group of Aboriginals (one of several hundred distinct Aboriginal groups) that have lived in this area for tens of thousands of years (most experts date the first arrival of man to the Australian Continent at 50-60K years). Sometime in the early 20th century, European ranchers moved in and took the land from Craig’s family. Also around this time Craig’s Great Grandma, had a light skinned child, courtesy of one of the aforementioned ranchers. It wasn’t until 1967 that his people were counted in the official Australian census and got the right to vote. Thirteen years later, with the help of some pro bono attorneys, his family began a 7-year battle to regain a portion of their traditional lands, a fight that they ultimately won. Since that time they have supported themselves with olive farming, ranching, and tourism.
It was getting late and as the fire was dying the night’s chill moved in. Craig explained he had some work to do in the morning and suggested we go for a drive and explore his land. We thanked him and started getting ready for bed. I was already in the tent when something resembling my wife +30 lbs arrived. To combat the cold, my wife had (I am totally serious) put on EVERY piece of clothing we brought with us. Nine layers in total. I can tell you that it is tough to even thing about a little campfire romance while sleeping next to the Michelin Man.
Thanks to the layers, we had a very nice rest and awoke with the light from the sunrise filling our tent. We got up, had a bite to eat in the car (it has a heater) and before long we left the campsite and ventured into the outback. After passing through a couple of gates, we followed a dirt track into the bush. The recent rains had brought the grass, and the grass had brought about a billion huge jumping grasshoppers that flew all around the car as we drove. Soon the road ended in a red rock canyon and we got out to take a walk in the morning sun. It was a very beautiful place, with the cobalt blue sky above the orange rock outcroppings. Later we drove back toward the campsite and took a detour up a creek bed to a special place that Craig had told us about.
Thanks to the layers, we had a very nice rest and awoke with the light from the sunrise filling our tent. We got up, had a bite to eat in the car (it has a heater) and before long we left the campsite and ventured into the outback. After passing through a couple of gates, we followed a dirt track into the bush. The recent rains had brought the grass, and the grass had brought about a billion huge jumping grasshoppers that flew all around the car as we drove. Soon the road ended in a red rock canyon and we got out to take a walk in the morning sun. It was a very beautiful place, with the cobalt blue sky above the orange rock outcroppings. Later we drove back toward the campsite and took a detour up a creek bed to a special place that Craig had told us about.
Apparently about 80 million-300 million years ago, most of Australia was covered by a vast, shallow inland sea. This sea was filled with all sorts of relatively early life such as mollusks and shellfish. These critters ended up dying, floating to the bottom of the ocean and getting covered with layer upon layer of silt. This silt in turn was compressed over time into sandstone, and millions of years later this sandstone became exposed to the outside world. So as we stood there in the middle of the Australian continent, over 1,500 kilometers from the sea, we were surrounded by the fossilized remains of literally millions of prehistoric ocean dwelling animals. Every rock for as far as the eye could see contained the telltale spirals and ridges of these creatures. For those of you that don’t know, Lindsay has a real fascination with some of the ologies: biology, geology, paleontology, and archeology. While I was impressed, she channeled her inner Mary Leakey and spent the next hour squatting in the midday sun, digging, exploring, and collecting these fossils. Like a kid in a candy shop.
Once I was able to drag her away from the fossil hill, we returned to camp for lunch and a little nap. Pretty soon Craig showed up and asked if we wanted to go for a ride for "bush tucker." So we hopped in his truck and off we went. He had brought along his gun in case we found a roo for dinner. We drove down the road for about 300 meters and then he took an abrupt turn off the road and into the bush. For the next four hours we just drove. We were looking for bush bananas, roos, wild honey plants, and whatever else we might find, all the while talking about Aboriginal history, culture, and modern issues. It was GREAT. We spotted a few roos…but out of range.
We had been driving for about two hours when the flub flub flub of a flat tire brought us to a halt. We got out, changed it and continued on our way. About one hour after that, the hisssssssssssssss of a second flat caught our attention and we changed that one too. So there we were, 10 kilometers from the campsite, driving in the bush (no roads), with no more spares. Before heading for home, we wandered around a little valley and snacked on wild figs.
The sun was beginning to dip down toward the hills, and the sky was starting to turn the golden yellow of an outback sunset by the time we safely returned to camp. Craig grabbed some wood to start the wood burning hot showers, while Lindsay and I started our own campfire. After a nice hot shower, we all sat around the campfire, talking about everything from Aboriginal constellations, the Mad Max movies, and his pet kangaroo, Kanga ("little sister" in his native tongue). Just before bed, we found out that Craig also dabbles in traditional Aboriginal painting, so we finally found the perfect opportunity to use the wedding gift from Lindsay's grandmother and had a painting commissioned. Afterword Lindsay's layers went back on, and we went to bed. This time however, Lindsay and I were not alone in the tent. Yes, it’s true. I am using this blog to tell the world that on that night out in the middle of the Outback, my wife slept with another man….and not just any man….Superman, the Chihuahua. That little runt followed us into the tent and refused to leave. Before long, his feigned shivering melted my wife’s heart and she let him inside her sleeping bag, where he stayed until morning. Turns out that Chihuahuas do snore.
We had been driving for about two hours when the flub flub flub of a flat tire brought us to a halt. We got out, changed it and continued on our way. About one hour after that, the hisssssssssssssss of a second flat caught our attention and we changed that one too. So there we were, 10 kilometers from the campsite, driving in the bush (no roads), with no more spares. Before heading for home, we wandered around a little valley and snacked on wild figs.
We got up before sunrise, said goodbye to Craig and the dog,s and left Oak Valley heading west to the highway before turning south toward Uluru. The drive was flat and straight and for the first time 130km/hr (its max 100 or 110 everywhere else but in the NT). After 5 hours of driving we checked into the Uluru Resort's campground where Lindsay worked while I took a drive to check out the lay of the land. I returned to camp, collected my wife and we drove to the sunset viewing parking area for Uluru. We were early so Lindsay worked in the front seat while I played around with my camera. Soon enough the sun edged its way toward the horizon and the rock began its colorful transformation. I will be the first to admit that maybe Uluru is a bit hyped, but I must say the way light plays off the face at sunset is stunning. Lindsay made me smile when she said that I may not have given her a diamond, but this was the best rock any girl could ask for. Once the sun was down we returned to camp. It was another cold evening and as we shivered over our bowls of piping hot canned ravioli before getting into the tent, I could see that Lindsay was sorely missing the camper van life we experienced on the Great Ocean Road.
The next morning we got up before sunrise and drove to the other side of the rock to watch sunrise. It was OK, but not quite as impressive as billed. We then took a nice 10 kilometer walk around the base of the rock while fending off the hoards of flies. From there we drove 50 kilometers to the Olgas, another set of rock formations in the park. On our way there, we stumbled upon a herd of wild camels. We took a very nice hike through the Valley of the Winds before watching the sunset and returning to camp.
Most people who visit Uluru and the Olgas also visit Kings Canyon. The problem is that it is 3 hours away in the other direction from Alice. After much deliberation, weighing the pros and cons, Lindsay and I decided (can you decipher the code?) to return to Alice earlier than originally planned and get a hotel where Lindsay could have some dedicated work time. At this point in the trip, she was doing her best to keep up, but still falling behind.
The next morning we were up early again and on the road back to Alice by 7:30. Five hours later we rolled into town. We checked into the Airport hotel, and Lindsay got set up to work. I kissed her, told her l loved her, and took off in the Land Cruiser. I was heading into the East MacDonnell range of mountains (East Macs) to explore the canyons and gorges. The stops along they way were nice, complete with some examples of Aboriginal art, but not extraordinary. I felt the same way the following day when I ventured the other direction into the West Macs for a bit of hiking. Don’t get me wrong, it was all very beautiful, but I guess after living in Arizona for so long and being lucky enough to have experienced places such as Bryce, Zion, Paria, Buckskin, and The Grand Canyon, I guess I am a bit of a canyon snob. Don’t scorn me for this, we all have our snobberies (Grinders, Dad?). The highlight of my West Mac day was trying to save a beautiful python that was stupidly hanging out in the middle of the road.
Back from my trip I picked up Lindsay, we dropped the car off and caught a taxi into town. From there we went to every art gallery in town looking for a piece to buy. At a place called Boomerang Art we ended up chatting with the owner and an hour later bought a small painting. Later we dined at an Alice institution called Bojangles, which is like a TGIFridays but locally owned, Outback-themed, and actually very cool. On one plate we sampled emu, roo, camel, buffalo, crocodile, and koala (okay, just kidding about the koala).
The next morning we caught a ride to the airport, I got yelled at by a security lady for no reason, and got on a plane to the only state we hadn’t visited: Western Australia.
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