Category: Diary

Today we finally got to grips with Uluru. We had been steadily getting closer over the last few days. Now we were totally up close and personal. The road from the Ayres Rock Resort to Uluru is a half hour drive. Along the way are some splendid views but you are not allowed to stop. I think every viewpoint for the great monolith is carefully planned. There are places to watch the sunrise, the sunset, to see the fields of lights and the drones and all the rest of it. Each of them carefully arranged to give a clear view of Uluru in the background. So possibly there is no stopping on the approach roads to avoid congestion or maybe it is to ensure that vehicles do not spoil the view from the official outlooks. If every picture you have seen of Uluru looks as if it was taken from the same place, they probably were.

The first and most obvious observation from getting close to Uluru is of it being a properly big old rock. There is not crack or a fault, a seam or an intrusion or anything to divide the great mass of solid sandstone. From a distance it looks homogenous and smooth. Closer up, a chiaroscuro pattern emerges. After a few thousands of years, the rock develops a dark patina. It blackens under the effects of a sun. But the surface is flaky. Water gets in under the porous surface and causes small slabs of rock to ablate revealing fresh, bright, unscorched rock. The process creates a pockmarked tessellation of light and dark patches that covers much of the surface of the rock. There are a few cracks but they are small. In places the wind and rain have conspired to carve small depressions and holes. During the wet season enormous amounts of water flow off the top of Uluru. This has created many shallow valleys and pools.

We were shown to a couple of these pools. They are of deep cultural significance and there are signs prohibiting photography. We also got shown some rock art and a place where youngsters were taught bushcraft. In the far north-west of Uluru is the place where, back in the day, you could climb to the top of the rock. Only about 30% of the rock protrudes above the ground. Even so, it rises to 348 m. The route is quite steep, some sections up to forty-five degrees. There were chains that you could hang on to. Even so, the route could be quite dangerous. At least 37 people have died on the climb. Some from falling, others from heart attack or the effects of heat and dehydration. Today all climbing is banned. This is on the request of the local Anangu people, the traditional owners of the land. The very last day of climbing was the 26^th October 1991 when hundreds of people flocked to the rock before the cut-off time of 4pm. On the following day, the local hotel closed because they realised, correctly, that if the rock could not be climbed then many potential visitors, particularly from East Asia, would no longer be interested in visiting.   

After that, we were essentially left to our own devices. A group of about a dozen of us decided that we should try and walk all the way around the rock. This was fun and gave us a sense of completion. It is not a particularly long walk. Just over 10 km and we had done a chunk of it already. The sky was clear and blue. The sun was warm but not especially hot. Almost perfect conditions for an afternoon stroll. Quite a few other people were walking around the rock. There was not a lot more to see. Possibly the highlight was a boulder that looked like a labrador’s head when seen from a certain angle.

Back to the hotel for a quick shower and then the evening’s entertainment was another outside meal. This time we got to sit at proper tables. The food was served buffet style and was not too exciting unless you are a fan of kangaroo and crocodile meat. There was however a guy playing a digeridoo when we arrived. This was fascinating and sounded terrific. The didgeridoo is an ancient wind instrument developed by the Aboriginal peoples a thousand or more years ago. Traditional instruments are crafted from eucalyptus trees naturally hollowed out by termites and are often decorated with intricate, hand-painted Aboriginal art. The sound is created by buzzing the lips, similar to playing a tuba or trombone. The instrument acts as both a bass and a time-keeping rhythm. Circular breathing allows players to sustain this sound indefinitely. This is an almost impossible sounding technique where you inhale through your nose while simultaneously expelling air stored in your cheeks, creating an unbroken drone. Later, we were given a quick guide to the stars by an expert using a laser pointer that reminded me of a light sabre.

We are in the Uluru-Kata Tjuta National Park. Uluru is the monolith formerly known as Ayers Rock. Kata Tjuta is the other immense rock formation in the area. Both formations were created at about the same time, 600 m years ago and in a similar way. Uluru and Kata Tjuta are made of sediment originating in the Mount Currie Conglomerate and both have a chemical composition similar to granite. Uluru is composed of fine grade sediment that formed a single monolith while Kata Tjuta is built of mixed size deposits. After the sediments were laid down, they were compressed and uplifted while the surrounding land was eroded away. Kata Tjuta, also known as The Olgas, is comprised of several domes up to nearly 500 m height. Higher than Uluru. From a distance they look similar.

Day by day we are inching closer to Uluru. The tour company is teasing us. Today we walked up Walpa Gorge, a deep ravine between two of the peaks of Kata Tjuta. As usual, it was a bright sunny morning. We began by visiting a viewpoint where I spotted some Crested Pigeons. There were also some interesting flowers. One of these, a red one, had its flowers at the bottom of the plant. The reason given to me was that the leaves could shelter the flowers from the sun.

Central Australia has been extraordinarily wet this year. One station owner told us that it was a once in ten years event or rarer. The result of this is that, rather unusually, the desert is green and blooming. It barely looks like a desert, at least, not the sort I have seen before. We are out walking in the cool morning looking out on a predominantly green landscape dotted with many types of flowers. This, we are assured, is very unusual.

Getting closer to the raw rock of Kata Tjuṯa, its composite nature becomes much more apparent. Rocks of many assorted sizes have been packed together to form an aggregate. This is not desperately stable and it is easy to spot boulders that have simply fallen out of the cliffs. Uluru, by comparison, is made of a finer and more consistent deposit that has formed a more stable type of rock.

The walk up into Walpa Gorge was interesting. We could not get all the way to the cleft at the top. This was a small disappointment because I had hoped to see out the other side. Nonetheless, it felt like we had penetrated deep into the rock structure. We could get up close and personal with the strange sedimentary deposits.

In the evening we were treated to another of Bruce Monro’s creations. This is the artist who built a large installation out of empty wine bottles. This time it was fields of light. Fields and fields filled with small lights on sticks. Like illuminated tulips. Acres of them. It was quite a remarkable achievement. The evening began at a viewing platform with drinks and snacks. We had yet another view of Uluru as the sun sank down behind us. This time however, I felt the natural world had the last word. There was the most fantastic sunset with an amazing layer of clouds brilliantly lit in red and gold. After that, we did go and wander around the light fields. I amused myself by trying to take photographs without a tripod. The light fields were pleasant but, on balance, the sunset was spectacular.

Getting up at 8 am felt like a luxurious lie-in after the day before. We had an unhurried breakfast before we were taken out to the Karrke Aboriginal Cultural Experience and Tours. This is an Indigenous owned and operated enterprise. Karrke is the Aranda name for the western Bowerbird.

We were introduced to siblings Peter and Natasha who showed us around various displays of bush tucker and bush medicines. I am not entirely sure of this, but I think the old lifestyle would centre around stopping at a place with water and killing some animals. This was the main stay of their nutrition. In between, the group would be moving and often not have the time or the opportunity for hunting. This is where bush tucker would come in. Roots, berries, fruits and other things collected on the go. A supplement to keep everyone going but not the whole diet.

We were shown a wide variety of fruits and berries which could be dried and carried easily. We were also shown how to get the Witchetty grubs out of roots. Natasha assured us that these tasted really nice, a little like fried egg. Diane was not so sure and none of our group was prepared to brave up and try one. A lot was explained to us about the fruits and berries. I was confident that if I photographed them, it would be possible to use Google later to find out the names and specific details. This works quite well for birds. For berries it is hopeless. I guess all dried berries look similar and the only thing I could be sure of from the Google search was that it was usually wrong. So, I present to you, a great pile of unnamed bush tucker.

We were also shown some different types of ochre. A natural clay earth pigment that is rich in iron oxide. The predominant colour in the rock and sand around here is red. Iron oxide in everything. The ochre came in a few different colours each of which could be ground down and used for decoration. Anything from body painting to dyeing cloth.

Finally came medicinal plants. There are not so many of these and mostly they are used by burning them. Pete demonstrated how to stand in front of the smoke. This did not seem so difficult so I had a go myself. The plant being burnt was supposed to relax and invigorate. Not sure if it helped or not but I did smell smoky for a while afterwards.

We had a bit of driving to get on with after this. A couple of hours brought us the Kings Creek Station. In Australia, the term ‘station’ is used to describe a farm or ranch. Kings Creek used to be a cattle station but these days it is more about tourism. You can camp there or rent a luxury tent. There are buggy rides, helicopter rides and horse rides. There is also a service station, restaurant and souvenir shop. We had a cup of tea looked at some souvenirs.

In 1872, the explorer Ernest Giles was pushing east from Alice Springs trying to get to Uluru and Kata Tjuta. He could see both these prominent, rounded features but was ultimately thwarted by Lake Amadeus. At 180 km long, this is the largest salt lake in Northern Territory. The predominantly dry conditions mean that the lake is usually dried out and presents a salty crust. Under this is soft mud and Giles discovered that the lakebed could not support the weight of his horses. We stopped by the roadside for a view over the lake which, although interesting, was not especially photogenic.

Over the last few days, we had been sidling up closer and closer to Uluru, the very large, very famous monolith that used to be called Ayres Rock. Late afternoon we arrived at the Sails in the Desert Hotel, part of the Ayers Rock Resort. We were getting closer than ever to Uluru. It was solidly visible a relatively short distance away.

In the evening we went to sit on the viewing platform of an open-air theatre atop a sand dune. Uluru formed the backdrop. In this lovely setting, just after sunset, we watched a presentation of a traditional Aboriginal story told using drones. 1024 drones with lights on and some big speakers hidden behind bushes. It was fun. We were asked not to take photographs. I sympathised and supported this. I think otherwise we would have watched the presentation through a small sea of smartphones. The story made no sense to me at all but I still enjoyed the show and found myself wondering about how to program and coordinate a drone display. We were given an excellent picnic hamper. It was a bit heavy on the falafel and salad but still went down well with the plentiful drinks.

It was well before 5 am, it was dark and I was barely awake. Diane had already declared that she was having none of it so I tried not to wake her. I tip-toed out of the room as best I could in walking boots. It was a few hundred metres to the restaurant. The air was cool and crisp. The sun and moon were notable for their complete absence. Stars were twinkling and I was going for breakfast. What sort of nonsense is this.

We were up early to do the Kings Canyon rim walk. I have always enjoyed the freedom of the hills. I was quite looking forward to it. Here we were, deep in the outback, far from civilisation, in a vast open country, about to hike a trail that takes in some spectacular views around Kings Canyon. I was rather surprised by how many rules there were. Only do the walk clockwise. You must start before 9 am. Stay on the stairs and boardwalks. Do not swim in the waterhole. Do not fall off the cliffs. Honestly, there were signs stating that falling off the cliffs can hurt.

Breakfast and short drive later we were in the car park. So were quite a lot of other people. It might be the middle of nowhere, but there are only a few places to go. Still no sign of the sun. We followed the crowds and arrived at the bottom of a staircase. It was rough and made of rocks but easy walking. 100 m pull onto the ridge. Our guide, Andy, set off at quite a pace. I didn’t. Seriously, I know better. Early morning is heart attack time. Early morning with strenuous exercise; doubly so. Every winter, about 100 people in the US die while shovelling snow. This used to be a mystery but now we understand the dangers of early morning strenuous exercise. I pottered up without trying too hard. Alpine pace. We eventually all assembled at the top just as the sun finally put in an appearance. It was spectacular. Bright sunshine on the ridges and outcrops around us.

The next hour was pretty steady. An easy undulating path clearly marked with blue arrows. The sun warmed us although not too much. The views made it all completely worthwhile. The crowds had dissipated. Not so much dispersed in the open wilderness as spread out along the single allowed trail. We arrived at the head of the canyon. This is where stops being a magnificent, steeply walled valley and turns into a crack. Still quite an impressive gap which we descended into using some wooden stairs. We crossed over the river via a wooden bridge. This was fun but I could not help but think a narrow suspension bridge would have worked better. One of those that swings a lot and has a couple of sketchy wooden planks in the middle.

At this point, we could have ascended to the far side of the canyon. Instead, we followed a narrow walkway signposted to the Garden of Eden. A rocky path and a couple more wooden stairs. The Garden is a lovely pool tucked deep inside the cleft at the top of the canyon. The trapped water here can last a long time after the rains have stopped making it another sacred pool. There were birds and a mass of vegetation. The pool was like a mirror to the sky. Fantastic reflections if a little confusing because of their clarity.

We pressed on and climbed the ladders up to the far side. This gave us some terrific views across the canyon. Very strange looking rock. It is a sandstone. The sediment from an ancient lake or sea. But it is soft. Quite easy to break in your hands. It forms layered pillow-like structures where it is weathered by the rain and wind. One place on the canyon wall it is steep, almost vertical and quite smooth. Polished flat and then peppered with small indents.

Only about a third of our group had come on the rim walk. The rest, including Diane, had a more relaxed morning and a gentle walk along the bottom of the canyon. They greeted us with cheers when we arrived back at the car park just before midday. King’s Canyon Rim Walk – 6 km, 4 hours, grade 4.

Diane and I grabbed a bit of falafel and salad for lunch. Then came one of Diane’s favourite things to do – a helicopter flight.  The small heliport was conveniently close to the hotel. Four people at a time. Heaviest got to sit in the front next to the pilot. That was nice, I like sitting in the front.

It was a bit of a quickie. A fifteen-minute flight up and around the canyon. We could both see where we had walked in the morning. We could also clearly see the rock formations around the canyon. They looked even stranger from the air. Some sections looked a little like a riverbed albeit on a gigantic scale. The lowlands regularly flood during the rainy season in places this was quite clear. Patches looked just like a dried-up lake. Possibly that is exactly what they were. Fifteen minutes is not very long. Far too soon we were back on the ground. It was, however, an excellent flight.

The program stated, “As afternoon turns to evening, we’ll enjoy sunset drinks and canapes at Light-Towers, an immersive sound and light installation by the acclaimed artist Bruce Munro”. This started off well. Sunset, drinks, canapes. All very enjoyable. Then we ambled along a walkway to see the light installation. It was a series of towers. Each one made of empty wine bottles containing a small light. In the centre of the tower, ethereal music was quietly emanating from a small speaker. Sadly, my missing artistic gene asserted itself again and I was left with a profound sense of “why?”. I imagined the artist had woken up one morning after a particularly good session with friends, seen a great pile of empty wine bottles and thought “what can I do with these?”.

Bags packed and we were ready to leave Alice Springs. Today we are going to head out into the real outback of the West MacDonnell Ranges and Kings Canyon Resort. Many miles to be covered today. Some of them on unpaved corrugated tracks.

First stop was Ellery Creek. A pleasant, short walk to another watering spot in a gap. The morning was cool and fresh. The creek was green and dappled with sunlight. Again, we were told tales of wallabies but saw none. There was, however, tea and cake.

Next stop was Ormiston Gorge. Here Diane and I went our separate ways. Not because we had fallen out but because there was a choice. I took the high road up many steps to a lookout. Diane went for the low road and a gentle stroll down to the river. It was nice to stretch my legs a little and the views were well worthwhile. I even got to spot Diane down in the bottom of the gorge. At the lookout was one of my favourite signs so far. It stated that you should not throw rocks at the people in the bottom of the gorge. No doubt this reminder has saved many lives.

Diane and I were back together again. We had lunch. Salad and falafel in the Ormiston Gorge car park. Then we got settled into the truck for some serious driving. Several hours of it. The road sections were a bit tedious although I enjoyed watching the scenery roll past. The corrugations reminded me of trips in Africa and elsewhere. Uncomfortable and noisy. Everyone was happy when we arrived at our hotel in the Kings Canyon Resort. In this case, resort meant a campsite, some motel style rooms, a filling station and a combined bar and restaurant. Beyond that – nothing. Scrub bushes, sand, distant hills.

Time for an early night. In the morning, I was going to have to get up spectacularly early to walk the rim of the Kings Canyon.

Breakfast in the Alice Springs Hotel was excellent. A good variety of food, proper cappuccino coffee and omelette with chillies. We all assembled at the truck turned into a coach and set off to explore the local area. First stop, only just up the road, was the memorial for Reverend John Flynn at the base of Mount Gillen. His claim to fame is being the founder of the Royal Flying Doctor Service. I guess that is a pretty good one. The 8-ton boulder was requested by his wife. A suitable rock could not be found locally in 1953 so one was fetched from the Devils Marbles (Karlu Karlu) area. Unfortunately, nobody asked permission from the traditional owners of the site, the Warumungu and Kaytetye people. They got upset because these boulders have extraordinary powers and their damage, or removal, can have life threatening consequences. At the same time the people local to Alice Springs, the Arrernte, were concerned about someone else’s sacred boulder on their land. There was much discussion, debate, concern, arguments and even an incident when the stone got painted. In 1998 things were finally sorted out. The original stone when back to where it came from, a suitable replacement was found with permission from the Arrernte. Everyone was happy now they had their rocks back in the right place.

The West MacDonnell mountain range stretches East-West for about 650 km with Alice Springs roughly in the centre. They are not especially high, 1,500 m, but they dominate the landscape and create a variety of interesting features. We began at Simpsons Gap. Black-footed rock wallaby purportedly live here – but we did not see any signs. A short stroll. Some steep rocks and the remains of a river. In the wet season there are rivers all over the place. Most of these stop completely in the dry season. No crocs here. We are too far inland. Many snakes, spiders and other Australian beasts that can kill you but we could at least relax about being crocwise.

Next up was Standley Chasm. Like the previous gap, this is also a place sacred to the Western Arrernte Aboriginal people. It is also a place where water can be found in the dry season. Out here, in the desert, water is massively important. To the nomadic Aboriginals, any sort of settlement, even tents, close to a water source was a threat. This principle was behind many of the early conflicts with European settlers. It took us an hour to walk up to the chasm and back. We were well ready for our lunch, falafel and salad, by the time we got back to the coach.

In the afternoon came the Alice Springs Desert Park. Another of these places that is a combination of a sanctuary, a zoo and a park. The site is orientated around local desert life with a strong focus on birds. We set off following a trail that led us past various enclosures. The first bird area had some cheeky Zebra Finches, a sulking Ringneck and a Triller.

It was hot and sunny. To avoid the worst of the heat we tended to scuttle between the enclosures and the shade of the viewing areas. In the next one we found more finches enjoying a bath. There were also some budgerigars. Long the favourite of Grandmothers around England, these bright birds fly around in the wild outback. These particular budgies were in a cage, albeit a little larger than the one found in the average Rotherham terraced house.

Next enclosure had a perentie monitor lizard in a small, separate section. We also found an oak-titmouse, a red-capped robin and some black-faced woodswallow. At last, we had reached the reptile house. We basked in the coolness as our eyes got used to the dim light. Then I spotted a thorny devil. Incredibly strange looking creatures. Makes me think of Doctor Who monsters from many decades ago. They are, however, very real, very fearsome and fortunately small enough to fit in the palm of your hand.

I spotted a gidgee skink hiding inside a hollow log. In the next tank was a lovely looking rainbow skink. Tiny but very pretty. Then we were back in the great outdoors again. We had to watch the time because there was going to be a bird show and we were assured we would not be allowed in if we were late. One more bird enclosure. This one had a magnificent red-tailed black cockatoo and some tiny bright blue birds. Took me ages to get a photograph of the splendid fairywren. I later found out that the brilliant colours were because it was in its breeding plumage.

The enclosure was quite large. I found several other birds and spent some more time photographing the cockatoos. I also spotted a delicate little brown bird with just a hint of blue on its tail. This turned out to also be a splendid fairywren that was either a female or a male in its non-breeding plumage.

We made it to the bird show on time. It was similar to the one we had seen in the Territory Park, Darwin but still fun to watch. One of the participants was a tiny willie wagtail. Very cheeky and completely unafraid of the larger birds and raptors. An owl was very impressive. It took food from the presenter’s hand and swooped low over the heads of the audience making everyone duck. A black-breasted buzzard turned up and proceeded to demonstrate how to use a stone to crack an emu egg. I was ready for it this time and manage to get a sequence of photographs showing the destruction of the egg.

In the evening we went to a barbeque. I usually try and avoid these disturbingly gruesome and smelly meat festivals however, this time, it was not an option. In the event, I quite enjoyed it. The evening began in an old quarry that has been repurposed. The sunset was terrific and with the encroaching shadow and rising moon, came a pleasant coolness. Our host, the owner of the quarry, regaled us with local stories while simultaneously making bread. This was interesting if nothing else. Turned out that he was quite the raconteur and, we discovered later, a skilled bread maker. As he talked, he mixed flour, water, brandy-soaked raisins, salt and other ingredients. The dough was then kneaded with one hand while he gesticulated with the other.

The main course food was centred around enormous steaks. I know, this is normal for a barbeque. Fortunately, there was also a big pile of baked potatoes that were hot and properly crisped up. Spuds, with some salad and falafel made for quite a reasonable meal. It was served far away from the cooking meat, so thankfully we did not have to tolerate the smell of burning flesh. Also, there was plenty of wine. After dinner came some music, singing and audience participation. Finally, the bread was served. It had been baked in a Dutch oven on an open fire. Now it was served up with a dollop of cream. Delicious.

We were going on a train journey of 3,000 km from Darwin to Adelaide in South Australia. The Ghan is one of the world’s great passenger trains. Started in 1929 as a narrow gauge from Adelaide to Alice Springs it was finally extended, as a standard gauge track, to Darwin in 2004. For some odd reason, the track does not quite reach Darwin but stops about 10 km short. To join the train, we had to get up exceedingly early in the morning and assemble in a hotel lobby to board a coach.

The coach delivered us to the station where we checked in and were then served breakfast on the platform. Around 9am the train arrived. 28 cars pulled by two dark red locomotives. My first impression was that it could do with a bit of a wash. The cars were built in the 70s. They are glorious, if slightly dated, stainless steel carriages.  The two engines at the front were thunderously loud and caked in diesel soot. We took a small step back in time and were shown to our cabin.

The room was small but adequate. A bench seat turned into two bunks at night. There was a small toilet and shower. The type where you could, if you wanted, sit on the toilet while you were having a shower. The cabin was comfortable enough considering that we did not have to spend very much time in there. We sat there for an hour as the train set off and the countryside began to roll past us. A possibly familiar looking waterfall in Litchfield Park flashed past us and then we off into the unknown.

Lunch was served in the dining car. We had to wait ten minutes before we could be seated. It was cosy. I ended trying to eat with my elbows pinned to my chest. Small trees and endless grassland rolled past. I struggled to eat soup with motionless arms, using just wrist action and a spoon. We chatted with the other couple at the table. “Where are you from?”. “Where are you going?”. The usual stuff. I kept hoping to see a kangaroo. The main course was washed down with a glass of white wine. Even a bird would have been nice but all I spotted was a short, barbed wire fence.

Not long after lunch we arrived at the town of Katherine. Population 10,000. 300 km south of Darwin. Farming country. Many cattle and many mango trees. Mining used to be important but less so now. Tourism is significant. We were loaded onto a coach along with some thirty other people and taken to a cave.

Diane and I like caves. We have visited many. We chose a cave trip because it seemed fun and it would be cool. In the event, it was fun but far from cool. First, we were given a little history of the cave in a small visitor centre. Then we were warned of the bats, snakes and spiders that inhabit the cave. Then we were warned of narrow parts and questioned about claustrophobia. Finally, we got to walk the kilometre or so to the cave entrance.

The cave was quite easy. It was fitted with walkways, handrails and electric lighting. Inside was quite pretty with stalactites, stalagmites and various calcite flowstones. It was mucky. The cave floods during the wet season leaving mud on all the walls and discolouring all the formations.

A few minutes in, I spotted my first deadly spider. Turned out to be a cave cricket. Totally innocuous. Not sure if I was disappointed or relieved. However, there was something strange. The further we got into the cave, the hotter it was becoming. Usually, even in the tropics, caves are cooler inside. The explanation was a hot spring. There was volcanically heated water under the cave. It raised the temperature of the terminal sump to 38 °C or so. As we moved forward the air became warmer and more humid. By the time we finally turned around it was quite unpleasantly warm. On the way out we spotted the discarded skin of a snake. The carnivorous ghost bats and brown tree snakes remained hidden. Or possibly absent. Just before we finally left the visitor centre, I discovered another deadly Australian spider in the toilets. Later research revealed that the Golden Silk Orb-Weaver Spider is generally regarded as harmless to humans.

Back at the train, we settled in for the evening. Dinner was a pleasant affair. The table was no bigger but the food was good and the wine plentiful. While we were eating, someone converted our cabin from a bench seat to two bunks. It had been an early start and a long day so we turned in shortly after dinner. I took the top bunk. Rocked by the motion of the train and soothed by the clicking of wheels on tracks, I quickly fell asleep. Diane unfortunately was jolted by the irregular lurching of the carriage and disturbed by the clanking, rattling and thumping sounds of steel wheels on steel tracks.

In the morning, just after breakfast, we arrived at Alice Springs. I was relaxed and well rested. Diane less so. In fact she was tired, grumpy and had a headache. Here we left the train. Alice Springs was the end of phase one of the trip. From here we would travel, by truck, into the outback. A week later we would be back to rejoin the train. In the meantime, we were destined for the harsh bushland of central Australia. First, however, we had lunch in the community arts centre. Lettuce leaves and falafel. We were starting to look forward to it now. During lunch we were introduced to our tour guide, Andy, and to each other. 26 tourists sharing a truck with a coach conversion, for a week.

After lunch, everyone had and hour or so to wander the art gallery. I tried. I really did. But at my core I think I am lacking the genes needed to understand and appreciate art. I wandered around getting increasingly bored and eventually ended up photographing birds in the car park. Art gallery done, we had a short drive around to take in the Alice Springs area. This suited me much better and I got to take some more photographs. That was it for the day. We were taken to our hotel for the next two nights. Diane was greatly appreciative of the quiet, stationary bed.

In Darwin, we had a few days of sitting around getting all our stuff sorted. Then we went to see a crocodile farm. Then we were looking for something else to do so we signed up for a trip to Litchfield Park. This is a large national park to the south of Darwin. Along with a few other tourists, we were going to drive there in a minibus, visit a few locations and come back.

Our day began early. 6 am is possibly the coolest part of the day. Even so, shorts and a shirt are adequate clothing. Up here in the tropics the four seasons are simplified to just two; wet and dry. The dry season has just started so everyone thinks it is cool and pleasant. Except for me. I think it is still hot and sweaty. Possibly the wet season would kill me dead in just a few hours. This said, at 6 am, in my shorts, it was not too bad. The minibus was gloriously air conditioned. I dozed peacefully until, an hour later, we arrived at the termite mounds.

Magnetic termite mounds are so-called because they are long, thin and aligned to the cardinal points. This shape and orientation keeps the worst of the sun off them. The tiny termites stay cool and happy inside. They look a little strange, however. Like large flakes of rock stuck into the ground. Elsewhere, tucked into the trees, a different type of termite had been building the more familiar “cathedral” mound. Some of these were quite large. 3 m or more.

Next stop was an outlook where we could gaze across the park wilderness. In the wet season, much of this gets flooded and crocodiles roam through the stumpy trees. Now the rivers were receding taking the reptiles with them. Dry bits were quite safe, we were told, but some of the pools might be a bit “croccy”. A short stroll took us to a lovely pool with a thundering waterfall. Strictly no swimming here however on account of possibly crocs.

Next up was a swampy area. We were allowed to carefully wander around here while lunch was set up. I found a few birds and a monitor lizard. Lunch was nice. Falafel and salad. Later we discovered that this is the standard lunch for vegetarians. Fortunately, we both like falafel.

Another, even larger series of waterfalls kept us busy in the afternoon. A network of wooden staircases took us between several plunge pools. This area was much more jungle like and densely packed with trees. Still no swimming. Sometimes you can swim here but not until at least four weeks after the last croc is spotted or caught. For now, it was too early in the season.

Last stop of the day was a small series of pools where swimming was allowed. These were positioned above a significant waterfall. This topology meant that crocs could not get to the pools at any time of the year. Crocodiles can jump, we had seen them, but they cannot climb. Many people were here enjoying the cool water and relaxing without the worry of losing a limb. We dangled our feet in the cool stream for a while.

Back in Darwin, we rounded off the day with a visit to Mindle Beach. An evening market is here on Thursdays and Sundays. The stalls are mostly food. Everything from momos and smoothies to kangaroo steaks and local gin. As the sun began to set, we wandered out of the market and onto the beach. There were many people. A thousand or more. All sitting around with some food or a drink watching the sun set. Our local star did its thing admirably. Brilliant red and yellow skies to silhouette some passing boats and even a camel train. There was a collective hush as the last limb of the sun vanished and then applause. Sun worship is alive and well.

Next day we had to repack our bags ready for the long train ride.

We are in Darwin for a few days. We have hired an apartment where we can slow down for a while and get our lives organised. Here we can cook for ourselves and plan our own days. Darwin is in the north of Australia and close to the equator. It is always hot here. The dry season has just started. For the last six months it has been rainy and humid with many thunderstorms. Now it feels cooler and the skies are clear. That is what they tell me. I would agree that the skies are clear but it still feels thoroughly hot to me.

First off we went out to explore Darwin a little and discovered a trove of street art.

Darwin is crocodile central. During the wet season, the crocs can travel along the swollen rivers and across the flooded plains. They get everywhere. Once the dry season arrives, the tourist spots that are “croccy” need to be made safe. This mostly involves trapping. Sadly, most trapped animals end up in the handbag factory. One guide explained to us that a captured crocodile was once tagged so that it could be tracked. It was taken a long way away and released into the ocean. After a while of swimming around it appeared to get its bearings and then headed straight back to the tourist location where it had originally been caught.

A thousand or so people are killed by crocodiles each year around the world. The vast majority of these fatalities occur in rural and impoverished regions of Africa and Asia where people and crocs live in close proximity. Nile crocodiles account for the most injuries. These crocodiles are considered the most prolific predators of humans among wild animals. Saltwater crocodiles are responsible for dozens of fatal attacks every year, particularly in regions like Papua New Guinea and Indonesia. Australia is infamous for its massive apex predators however, fatal crocodile attacks are relatively rare. Records show an average of 1 to 2 fatalities a year nationally, with most incidents occurring not far from Darwin.

There are two principal types of crocodile; saltwater and freshwater. Salties and Freshies according to the local vernacular. Salties have a gland in their mouths which allows them to expel salt. They can live in salt or fresh water. The males are the biggest problem. They can grow to over 5 m long and be quite aggressive. Freshies and female salties rarely exceed 3 m. It may be that the males can grow even bigger. Some fifty years ago, the crocodiles had been hunted almost to the point of extinction. This is a common story. It surprises me how often I write how this or that species was almost wiped out. Anyhow, the government stepped in, made the crocs a protected species and now they are doing quite well. Like most endangered species, the trick is to leave them alone. This does mean however, that there are no really old crocodiles. Male salties continue to grow throughout their life. These days the most mature crocs are sixty years old and 5 m long. They can almost certainly live longer in which case they may well get to be bigger.

Protected or not, there is a big market for crocodile skins and meat. This has led to the establishment of crocodile farms. Initially this was to satisfy the demand for skins but, more recently, crocodile meat has become known as a fashionable and healthier (for the human, not the croc) alternative to pork. As with most animals, the Chinese will use it in their traditional medicine although they are not great eaters of croc meat.

Turns out that farming crocs is not completely straightforward so the business is often combined with tourism. An argument can be made that farming reduces the risk from poaching. It can also be combined with a program to support the wild population. Similarly, a better understanding of crocodiles through their captive handling may also benefit the wild population.

We went to visit a crocodile farm called Crocodylus Park. It does not advertise itself as a farm. Rather it is “Darwin’s premier wildlife park”. There are a lot of crocodiles along with dedicated breeding pens and other facilities. There is also a small shop which sells souvenirs and handbags.

When we first arrived, we were asked if we wanted to see the jumping crocs. This sounded too good to miss. We crossed the attendant’s palm with silver and proceeded to a small, flat-bottomed boat along with a few parents and many small children. Now, consider that this is a farm, so they must feed the crocs. Each mature snapper gets about a kilo of raw chicken each day. If you dangle that chicken on the end of a pole, the croc will learn to jump out of the water for it. People will pay to see this. Now, you are making money out of your crocs in two ways. Happy days. The reality was not so exciting as I had hoped. The boat had a metal cage around it. This kind of makes sense but when combined with all the small children it made taking worthwhile photographs almost impossible.

The rest of the park was quite interesting. There were many distinct types of crocodile in many different stages of development. Diane got to hold a small, rather disaffected youth of a croc with a taped-up mouth. Even the little ones are good for solid nip and this one looked up for some insults as well. We saw some injured crocs as well. One female was missing part of her lower jaw.

Mostly the park is crocodiles but there were a few other animals. Some were Australian and others simply there for novelty value. On the Aussy side there were some wallabies and dingoes. Representing the rest of the world we spotted a handful of African meercats. Extremely cute but also a bit lonely. A South American capybara, looking long way from its home. An ostrich. Remarkably large when you get eye to eye with one. A very strange looking monkey that I chose to call Colin. Colin the Cotton-Top Tamarin from Columbia.

We managed to wander around for three hours but then the heat was starting to get to us. There was a small crocodile museum that we enjoyed visiting because of the air conditioning. Then we were done and headed back to our small apartment and more air conditioning.