In the Red Centre

We drove from Coober Pedy to the highway turn-off point for Uluru – a place called Erldunda, about 400 km up the Stuart Highway. We were astounded to find grass on our campsites instead of the dirt and gravel of the past week – there is obviously a lot of artesian water around there for them to nurture patches of grass for tourists to park upon. We also found a profusion of flies (the sticky, persistent kind), to the extent that in order that there not be a death in the family while we set up the campsite, we resorted to wearing fly-nets to keep the annoying little pests at bay. It worked – no death occurred while erecting the campsite.

Flynets - the salvation of the Red Centre

                                         A Parrot Tree - honest, they grow on trees out here!!

 

The scenery just became more and more pleasant as we headed west towards Uluru. The desert oak trees seem to spring out of the red soil, interspersed with Spinifex grass; it just looked friendlier country from what we had been driving through before. The resort at Yulara where we camped for four nights was also a pleasant surprise. They have really got it together. The resort caters for all types, tastes and pockets, and when you consider just how harsh the environment really is out here, making any operation run so smoothly must take some mighty good organisation. There are buses and tours, bars and bistros, hotels rooms and campgrounds, well-stocked supermarket, good water, power - and it’s all done right!

                                          Desert Oaks with Kata Tjuta in the background

                                    A boot tree - lot of bored people on the Returd Highway

Mostly we got about independently and walked through Kata Tjuta (The Olgas in old money terms) but we paid for a tour that took us to Uluru for the sunrise, on to the Cultural Centre for breakfast, a talk and demonstration by an Anunga indigenous person, followed by a walk at the base of the rock where she told us (through an interpreter, for it seems she couldn’t speak English) tales of long ago and pointed out smaller rocks that had significance to her people, handing down oral history in the traditional way. She demonstrated how the Anunga people made Kiti which is an early form of Super-Glue made from some component of the Acacia bush that you separate out by beating the heck out of it with a big stick and then fuse the remains in the fire. The women in the tour group then practiced walking around with a lump of wood balanced on their heads and the guys got to throw a few spears, with and without the woomera, which increases the mechanical advantage of throwing, but does nothing for accuracy at all. Out against the Rock she told us a story. It must be a compact language because she said maybe three or four syllables, at which point the interpreter sprouted out paragraphs of legend. This was an ancient story about a Blue-tongued Lizard Man called Woody Woodpecker (or something like that) who had a run-in with a Bell Bird Man called Woody Harrelson (I could be slightly wrong on the pronunciation of that one also). Anyway they had a stoush over food and Woody Woodpecker fell out of a cave way up on the Rock with some uneaten emu legs and died. There was a moral there somewhere but I might have missed that also. That’s oral history for you.

                                                        Uluru by the morning light

                                                 Fractured ribs??? Not even a flesh wound!!

Next stop after Yalara was Kings Canyon – another 300 km along the track. We walked the walk around the rim and we found it probably the most interesting and varied of the walks so far (Kata Tjuta and Uluru). I must say a word about the heroic effort of Margaret who walked the 6 km over quite rocky conditions while nursing two fractured ribs that she sustained several months ago. It just displays the pluck inherent in Queensland women – they’re a tough lot in the Sunshine State. Judging by the number plates of campers I just wonder if there is anybody left in Queensland at the moment. They all seem to be on the road. Perhaps Campbell Newman’s policies are causing an exodus from the promised land. Still, I think there are more French and Germans out here than Australians at the moment. They hire these self-contained Britz motor-homes and roar around, taking in the sights and enjoying the 30C heat compared with the current temperatures in Europe.

                                              A snippet of Kings Canyon - a good walk

Right, it’s off to Alice!