Sarah & Laura Outback Adventures

We are about to embark on our travels around Australia. The plan is to head across to Adelaide from Scone, then up through the Flinders Ranges, Lake Eyre, the Red Centre, up the Tanami to the Kimberley region, over to Broome, then down the west coast where our sojourn will come to a close in Perth. If you are interested, please feel free to check this blog as we continue our travels in the newly (and rather aptly named) ‘Priscilla the Prado – Queen of the Desert’.

With much deliberation, a few tears and a couple of arguments, the car was packed and ready to go.

I bid adieu to my patient and generous parents who made this trip possible by providing a car for the cause. The weather was also feeling charitable and donated a clear, sunny, beautiful day to the ‘Laura and Sarah Foundation’.

After worrying about being late for the eternally ‘on time’ Miss Laura Paige Hegarty, you can imagine my elation in learning that I was the first to arrive in our designated meeting place – the Belvedere mailbox. So I quickly turned the car off, got out, and nonchalantly lent up against the driver’s door – appearing to have been there for at least half an hour. After I actually was there for half an hour, not only was the joke on me, but I was also starting to question if the end of Racecourse Road really was our rendezvous point. Thankfully Miss Hegarty finally decided to grace me with her presence…and the two of us were off on our outback adventures, through and around Australia.

With a driver change at Wellington and an obligatory toilet stop for myself, we pushed on to Parkes. Driving into the township, I noticed all the new developments on the outskirts and remarked, “Geeze…there’s a fair few new houses around here”, to which Laura kindly offered the plausible (but more than likely not probable) explanation that “they must all be here for the Elvis Festival!”…haha… (Thankyou Laura for your thoughtful insights into the pull factors of human geography ☺)

The next pit stop was Forbes for a bite to eat and to grab some of the forgotten essentials – batteries and ockie straps. With those ticked off the list…we could then head for our final destination for the day, where we could literally and figuratively ‘hit the Hay’.

Our first night proved to be very comfortable, with us both sleeping like babies and waking at a leisurely 8:30.

When we had arrived at around 7:30 the night before, the caravan park was full of cars but there was not a sole in sight. What we opened the foggy car door to in the morning was a whole other world – a hustling, bustling caravan park with gray nomads in slippers, flannelette pyjamas and quilted dressing gowns everywhere!!!...What a glorious sight and a grand welcome to life on the road.

All the oldies were lovely and wished us a good morning and said we had “picked a great spot to camp!!” It was only after the third or forth comment to that effect that we picked up on their sarcasm and noticed the ‘caravan toilet drop’ right next to the car..! What can we say, rookie error…

The next joke on the newbies was when we were boiling some water for our morning cup of tea. After at least half an hour on the burner, we were all packed up ready to go and were growing increasingly frustrated at the luke warm water sitting in the pot refusing to boil. Put it this way, we might add to the old adage… “a watched kettle never boils, and an empty gas cylinder certainly doesn’t help either!”.

Mildura was our next stop for lunch, and we had our sandwiches down by the river and ventured into town afterwards for a coffee.

The afternoon was fairly uneventful but a pleasant drive into Adelaide through Renmark and Berri. We arrived at the Robinsons (Laura’s aunt, uncle and cousins) at about 6:30, and settled in for the evening.

The first item on the ‘To-Do’ list whilst in Adelaide was a trip to the nearby German town of Hahndorf. It was a quaint, gorgeous little town with beautiful old buildings and every variety of shop that you would expect from a little tourist town. From cellar door sales, to art galleries, to cheese and chocolate shops, to countless cafes and bakeries – Hahndorf was definitely worthy of our precious Sunday morning.

After we had finished eating and drinking our way through Hahndorf, we thought we’d better head back to Adelaide for some lunch. We met up with Simon and Leigh who were two boys I had met on my travels in Central America and had spent Australia Day with on the Nicaraguan Island of Omnitepe. It just so happened that they were good mates and studying Medicine with a girl called Eliza Hannam who Laura is family friends with and also went to school with us! A small world indeed!!! We had a boozy Sunday lunch with them at ‘The Colonial’ and then decided to finish the day off with a stroll along the Adelaide beach of Glenelg.

The next day was spent in the Barossa Valley wine tasting, as Laura and I felt it was our duty to support the local economy and taste the region’s produce. Groovy Grape Tours picked us up at 8 and we joined Sarah our tour guide and our fellow wine tasters.

We were lucky enough to score tourists from the three countries on Earth where the people are known for their good humour, talkative nature and enthusiasm – Korea, Switzerland and Germany. Haha…nah, in all seriousness, we did have a great time and enjoyed visiting Jacobs Creek, Keis family winery, Richmond Grove and Seppeltsfield. We also saw the 'worlds largest rocking horse' which was definitely a must (cough cough)...and spoke to each other along the 'whispering wall', which was actually really cool.

After a lovely couple of days in Adelaide, it was time to say goodbye to civilisation and hit the road. We headed north and winded through the beautiful Clare Valley, where we stopped for a coffee and then continued onto Hawker for lunch. Hawker itself didn’t have much to offer, with the town attractions being a helpful lady at the tourist information centre and a sunny seat for lunch. We got the heads up for the best route through the ranges and then hit the road for an afternoon of exploring.

The Flinders Ranges were b-e-a-utiful. They were a colourful assortment of red rocky terrain, sandy creek beds, gum-lined gorges, ancient rock formations and dramatic ridges in every colour of autumn. Within 10 minutes of leaving the National Park we were back on the road and in contrast were surrounded by a harsh, dry landscape, with nothing more prominent than an ant hill. Just before sunset we arrived at the Prairie Hotel in Parachilna, had a beer and set up camp for the night.

Thankfully we missed peak hour traffic by the time we had cooked our eggs for breaky and decided to depart the thriving metropolis of Parachilna. We were on the road again and were going to make it as far as William Creek for a possible afternoon flight over Lake Eyre.

On the way, we stopped at Marree with thoughts of a coffee, however after entering the roadhouse, we decided it might be safer to go a sealed ice-cream (even if it was mangled out of shape from being defrosted and refrozen at least 7 times in its very long lifetime). While we were deliberating over which frozen confectionary bore the least impressions of human hands – we were lucky enough to overhear a conversation between the roadhouse workers that was way too loud to be for their benefit only. After each loud, irksome comment that this one middle aged man made, he shot us a toothless grin that said “aren’t you impressed by the eloquence and articulation of my previous comment that was both funny and interesting at the same time?!”. With Laura and I both two ‘soon to be’ teachers, we couldn’t help but feel sorry for the poor sole who taught him many moons ago when he was a young lad – as they had certainly confused the commonly used conjunctions (and, but, although, because) with the ever-so expressive ‘fuckin’. I swear to god…’every second word’ would be an understatement. After getting the overwhelming feeling that he hadn’t seen females under the age of 60 in about as many years – we decided to depart the charming and delightful Marree roadhouse and hit the road.

We arrived at William Creek mid-afternoon after a long, flat and uneventful stretch from Marree. After consulting a pilot and some photos, as well as learning of the knowledge of the birds’ migration, we decided not to part with our $250 to take a flight over the largest lake in Australia, Lake Eyre.

With that said, done and decided we felt we could justify a further 120km rough and rugged roundtrip out to the Lake Eyre National Park where we could supposedly see the lake and the birds from the shore at the lookout point of ABC Bay. To say it wasn’t worthwhile is an understatement. Not only were we racing the sun to get out there on time, but when we did, we couldn’t even see water from the lookout point – just black, soft, silty soil that we definitely would have got bogged in had we stopped. We also did not witness one bird that the pilot assured us were abundant around the bay. So, a little disheartened, we left shortly after to make the trip back to the ‘Smallest town in Australia’, situated on the ‘Largest cattle station in the world’, William Creek.

The night that followed certainly made up for everything that ABC Bay lacked. The William Creek Pub has a fabulous, warm and friendly atmosphere not dissimilar to that of the famous Daly Waters Pub. With an interior decorated in old drivers licenses, photos, messages, business cards and enough foreign money to sustain us for the rest of the trip, we had found our possie for the night – at the bar, not too far away from our number one barman, Phil.

Australia’s smallest town is certainly a large drawing card – as the humble pub, located halfway along the Oodnadatta Track, filled with about 40 or 50 patrons throughout the night – at least 5 times the town’s population.

As soon as we walked in, we were made well aware of how the night was going to end – hazy and with a headache. Within 5 minutes of walking into the pub we were bought a Jager shot and introduced to the vivacious crowd of William Creek. The group consisted of Gian, the crazy cat local and stripper of the night; Phil, the English barman; Jack, Laura’s English admirer; Reece, a young ringer from William Creek Station; Johno, Reece’s seedy old friend; Mary, an arts student from Melbourne working at the pub; and last but not least, our most devoted drinking buddies, Kelly, Colin (who his friends called colonoscopy – perhaps referring to his slightly anal nature), Russell and ‘the man with glasses who let everyone draw on his face’. The night ended as predicted – at about 2 o’clock in the morning, with a drunken promise for the men to take us up in their plane the following day, and an email address for Laura if she ever decides to head back to New Zealand.

Feeling a little worse for wear, we woke around 10:30 (quite an achievement by camping standards!), had a shazzle-dazzle and hit the road for Coober Pedy. We must have looked like a real travelling Chinese laundry, as for most of the trip we had Laura’s shower cap and washing pegged to the roof of Pricilla which we had forgotten about.

We arrived at Coober Pedy early afternoon, and as we were in a generous mood had decided to describe the place as ‘interesting’ and ‘unique’…’aesthetically pleasing’…probably not…

We spent the morning exploring Coober Pedy’s finest attractions, the underground Catholic Church, the underground bookshop and the underground museum. They were… well… pretty much like any other small church, bookshop or museum… except… underground. We also thought about spending the rest of the day ‘noodling’ for opals, but since that thought was about as strong as our love for the precious gem, we decided to push on instead and make it to the ‘painted desert’ for sunset. We arrived just in time for a walk up along the ridge and then finished the day watching the sun paint the rock formations red, orange, pink and every colour in-between.

With an early start and breakfast watching sunrise at the ‘painted desert’, we were on the road in record time and ready for the long journey ahead of us. We shot up the Stuart Highway through Marla and into Kulgera after crossing the boarder into the NT and welcoming the new 130 km/hr speed limit. By afternoon, we had travelled up the Stuart and along the Lasseter Highway and had fallen for a trick that I’m sure is usually reserved for overseas tourists – mistaking Mt Conner for Uluru. And yes, in answer to the question that I’m sure is lingering in your mind, we do call ourselves Australian.

We arrived in Yulara at about 4:00 and spent the afternoon booking into the campsite and making up for lost showers. In the evening we took our ‘drinking license’ (fair dinkum – you actually need one) that we had acquired upon entry to the park, and made use of it down at the local bar.

Over the next couple of days we explored Kata Tjuta National Park, and Priscilla was a key player in gaining us free entry. We had already received quite a few comments to the effect of, “Hey, your those girls who have that Priscilla Queen of the Desert car!!!”...and… “Hey, how did you enjoy Coober Pedy? We were parked across from you at the caravan park and recognised the pink flag at the back.” We also had the more humorous, “Oh my gosh, thank god you are two girls, when we overtook you at the boarder we were worried there was going to be two limp wristed guys in the front singing along to ABBA!!”. Throughout all this however, Priscilla proved herself the most useful when two gentlemen came up to us at the Ayers Rock Resort and said, “Have you been to the rock yet? We followed Priscilla in and we’re done with our $50 National Park pass now, so you’re more than welcome to it if you like.”… The short answer of course, ”Yes, Please”!

On the ‘must-do’ list before we left, and despite our nerves, was an appointment to climb all 348 metres of the red and rugged monolith. After scoping it out the previous day, we were slightly worried about the steep climb that had apparently claimed 35 lives to date and seemed to require an ‘all-fours’ technique to conquer. With the only aid being a chain that started way to late (and finished much to early), we started to climb Uluru and work off the many Tim Tams that had found their way into our hands and mouths throughout the road trip so far. Within the first 5 minutes we became acutely aware of our legs, knees, breathing and the need to bop anyone over the age of 50 that felt the need to say “Come on, you girls should be running up this!!”.

The climb was quite hard, and would be even more difficult if heights aren’t your strong suit. The first part was the most strenuous, with any slip having the potential to have a human domino effect down the rock face. Once you have literally pulled yourself up that part, and then managed the not-so-gentle undulations along the top, you are standing at the very peak – a position higher than that of the Eiffel tower.

The interesting thing about Uluru is that it is not as smooth as it appears in photographs. The solid rock formation is actually composed of heaps of different layers that can be likened to the pages that make up a book. A massive upheaval millions of years ago then shifted this “book” up on to its spine – and the undulating terrain (or ridges) at the top of Uluru is actually different layers of rock that has weathered at varying rates.

The view from the top also gave an unparalleled view of ‘The Olga’s’, a series of 36 domes named after Queen Olga of Wurttemberg, and aptly named Kata-Tjuta by the Aborigines, meaning many heads.

The following day, nursing our leg muscles from the climb up the rock, and our arm muscles from the abseil down, we set off on our second trek, ‘The Valley Of The Winds’ walk, in and throughout ‘The Olga’s’. The scenery was beautiful as we meandered through the comparatively lush valleys that separated one dome from the next.

That evening we said a reluctant goodbye to Uluru and Kata-Tjuta and made our way east along the Lasseter Highway to Erldunda where we had planned to meet Claire (a friend from uni), Roo (her boyfriend) and Terrence (an Aboriginal guy who was contracting with them). Once we had met up, we decided to head to ‘Erldunda Tavern’ where Claire’s boss had boasted of, quote, “delicious cuisine”.

We didn’t realise it at the time, but the fact that we missed out on dinner at the Tavern was a blessing in disguise. The Tavern was busy… crowded actually – the only problem was that Laura and I were only two of the three humans in the joint! To say that Erldunda had a mouse plague of seismic proportions would still be an understatement when trying to describe the carpet that was moving beneath us.

It was ab-sol-utely dis-gusting…! The little buggers would have been all through the kitchen and the leftover seafood pasta that had been offered to us, and at once, graciously declined. No word of a lie, you actually had to sit with your feet on the chair to stop the repulsive rodents crawling over your feet, and quite possibly, up your leg.

Once Claire, Roo and Terrence had finished their showers, we headed back to our campsite, just off the road, where we heated up some tinned soup, and tinned spaghetti and meatballs for dinner…mmm…. mmm…

The next morning we woke to grey skies – so we said our goodbyes and made our way towards Kings Canyon with hopes of better weather. In spite of our wishes, the misty rain always seemed to be one step ahead – so we postponed the 4 hour rim walk until the following morning. We spent the afternoon under a verandah with the resident mice who seemed to be very much at home in the air conditioning unit we had parked ourselves next to. The evening was spent watching the state of origin with Brooke and Eloise – two other young girls travelling together who we had met at Yulara.

Whether is was luck or the planets aligning – we woke early the next morning to a beautiful blue skied, sunny day. We were out at the canyon early and absolutely loved the rim walk which took us right around the top and also through the ‘Garden of Eden’. We finished the designated 4-hour walk in about half that time and then hit the road, heading east towards Hermannsburg.

We arrived at the birthplace of Albert Namatjira just in time for lunch – and we went into the General Store to get some supplies. It was a great little shop and had everything you need, including kangaroo tails in the meat section and helpful little signs that read ‘eat fruit and vegetables as it will help keep your family healthy!!’.

I got talking to the store manager who was a nice middle aged man dressed straight out of the 80’s. He told us about Palm Valley and also took me into meet the ‘Hermannsburg Potters’ who sell beautiful little works worth thousands of dollars a piece and are displayed in galleries all around the world. We then went and had our lunch at the old Lutheran Mission and after that hit the road off to explore the West MacDonnell Ranges.

The afternoon was spent in Roma Gorge which was preceded by a rugged trip in along a rocky and sandy creek bed. The drive was worth it though, as we were rewarded with a beautiful little waterhole and some ancient Aboriginal rock engravings that we had all to ourselves.

We spent the night at Glen Helen, which was basically a nice warm little pub with a great atmosphere, live music (even if it was Slim Dusty covers) and hot showers. It was also very picturesque, set at the bottom of a cliff and surrounded by the stunning West McDonnell ranges.

The next day we started off with a stroll into Ormiston Gorge and made the short walk to the lookout. The gorge was lovely and we were thankful that there was only a few dead fish, which we had been warned about and are apparently a natural phenomenon where mass die-offs occur because of a lack of oxygen in the water throughout the colder months.

Albert Namatjira Drive then took us along to the Ochre Pits which are actually much more interesting and beautiful than they sound. The pits are basically a cliff face of layered ochre that is soft to touch, vivid and composed of rich earthy colours that range from gold to crimson. The Aboriginals have used this ochre for body and rock painting for thousands of years and it is considered some of the best in the world.

Serpentine Gorge was our next stop where we had lunch and then continued on to Alice Springs!!!

We checked into ‘The Diplomat’ - a fairly nice hotel located in the centre of town where we could enjoy all the relative luxuries that four walls bring. Bojangles, a touristy saloon-style bar, was just around the corner and was the place for dinner where we smashed a steak sanga half our body weight and also managed to squeeze in a few beers afterwards.

Since it was a Friday night, we kicked on next door to ‘The Rock’ which is where we were assured was the place to be. Unremarkable is probably the word I’d use to describe such a place – it didn’t have much character, and the crowd (or lack there of), was about as interesting as the décor.

Saturday, the day of the much anticipated Camel Cup, had finally arrived – along with most of Alice to watch the annual event. With a few beers in mind, we caught a taxi to the track and enjoyed the camel races and other festivities that kept the crowd entertained throughout the day.

As we were walking around the track, we happened to stumble upon the prize list for the ‘Fashions of the Field’. Considering the fact that we were only two of a handful of girls in dresses, we contemplated entering, as we felt the odds were in our favour, and fancied the thought of two nights in a luxury resort if we happened to get lucky and win. As it turned out we were pretty thankful that we didn’t bother wasting our time, as the lady who won was wearing Wranglers pulled up to her nipples and a hat big enough to shade all the other contestants. We clearly must have been considered totally UN-fashionable…how disillusioned we were!!!

It was also interesting to see that the races attracted tv coverage, as we noticed Abbotsleigh Old Girl and Channel 7 anchor Edwina Bartholemew in the midst of it, reporting the days events from on top of a camel – and even participating in some of the races herself!

That night we hit the town and confirmed our earlier suspicions, that yes, Alice Springs is a totally rubbish place to go out in. We met some locals and had a pretty good night, but it wasn’t the vivacious scene that we had expected from the Central Australian backpacker hub.

We departed Alice early and set sails for the Tanami. Much to Laura’s dismay, we had learnt that Rabbit Flat was now closed to the public – and with that in mind, we hoped to make it as far as the Aboriginal community of Balgo, just over the boarder into WA.

The first 30km’s of the track is sealed and gives you a massive false sense of security. The rest of the way is pretty much a well formed but corrugated earth road with surprise potholes and washouts just big enough to burst your tyre and just irregular enough to take you by surprise.

Road trains were half of the handful of vehicles we passed on the track, and in most parts you literally have to stop and pull over into the bush to get out of the way (unfortunately quite a few cattle along the track had found out the hard way).

The lack of signs and landmarks along the Tanami was astounding and meant that if you did a few doughnuts and lost your bearings – you’d be back in Alice before you realised you had gone the wrong way. There was no clue as to how far the next community was – and as far as safety and speed limits, the NT and WA governments had obviously decided that the scores of overturned and burnt out vehicles along the way was as good a sign as any to take it easy.

Whilst I would by no means call the Tanami unremarkable, it was however fairly featureless for most parts – with some areas so arid and covered in termite mounds that you felt like you were driving across the surface of a massive chocolate chip cookie.

The wildlife that we came across along the way however, managed to provide a little bit of light relief from the otherwise same-same terrain. Wild horses, camels and dingoes were dotted conveniently along the way to give us a viable reason to slow down and get our cameras out.

With a bag of ice on our ‘To-Do’ list, we stopped at the most disgusting place I have ever been to in my life, the Aboriginal Community of Yuendumu. To say that there was a lot of rubbish on the ground would be assuming that there actually WAS a ground. We thought that Hermannsburg was an eye-opener, but compared to Yuendumu, it was the Sydney suburb of Vaucluse. Not surprisingly, the servo didn’t even sell ice – so we high-tailed it out of there, leaving behind Australia’s largest rubbish dump, its residents and a handful of mangy half dead dogs with skin hanging off them in various parts.

With only two roadhouses on the track, we had decided to stop at the second one as well – Rabbit Flat (for a late lunch and a photo – despite the fact that we knew it was closed). With our tummies rumbling (and Laura as excited the Yuendumu locals on payday), we counted down the hundreds of kilometres in anticipation of the most riveting stop of the trip.

So sure that it would be impossible to miss, we defied all odds and did just that. The next most frustrating thing was trying to convince Laura that ‘No, we couldn’t go back for it…”

Making fairly good progress (and still trying to escape the pictures in our head of Yuendumu) we decided that we might give the community of Balgo a miss - and as Laura wasn’t too keen on staying at Wolfe Creek – continue on, and make it all the way to Halls Creek.

On the last stretch we came across a car full of Aboriginals that had clearly broken down and were signaling us to stop. Not wanting to pull up right next to them (and not sure that we wanted to stop at all!!), we pulled up about 50m past them and signaled for one of the young girls to come to us (of which she did so at such an alarmingly slow speed that for a second I thought she had died along the way). Skipping the small talk and pleasantries, the young lass informed us that they had run out of fuel and wanted to know if we had any spare (not seeming worried that any diesel we may have had, possibly wouldn’t have got them very far in their Ford Falcon).

With a short and simple ‘no’ to that request, she continued with the audacity that I expected and asked if we could tow them over 300km in the opposite direction to which we were going, back to the Balgo community.

Not having much luck with us, and with the prospect of probably having to walk home, she shot me a disheartened look and gave it one last go and said, “oh, oh well… do you have a smoke then?”

Driving away, we had visions of doing the Tanami again, and next time seeing a blue Ford Falcon as an addition to all the other tyre-less vehicle skeletons that decorated the side of the road.

After a hectic day of driving, we rolled into Halls Creek after 13 hours on the road, and crashed…into bed - thankfully.