Lord Of The Flies
Flies everywhere. These are the flies peculiar to the outback of Australia and they are bloody persistent. They buzz around your head and try to drink from your eyeballs and shelter in your ears. No amount of swatting, gnashing, cursing, or running will deter them. They're relentless. After a short while they just settle down and sit on your back. They do this and then don't move until you return to your vehicle. If you were to swat at them they'd calmly take off and land again. Infuriating, but you do get used to it.
I have been traveling through the outback, albeit on the main highways, for the past fortnight or so. Such a big place. The road stretches in front of you like a ribbon through the desert with nothing man made visible anywhere else. Every 300km you'll find a petrol station which acts as an oasis to all travelers. These are staffed by country types who act either friendly or indifferent depending on if they like you. Rest stops that are normally nothing more than a blue signpost and a covered table appear out of nowhere along the route. Here you can stop for a wee, shout at the flies, and swap drivers. Sometimes you will see a roadkill ahead of you. This is normally the remains of a kangaroo who lost the bet. Pecking at them are normally the crows, big ones, accompanied by a magnificent eagle with a wingspan like an Airbus. You must slow down as whilst the crows take off at speed the eagles make stately progress into the air. A truly impressive site. As you drive along you share the road with only other motorists like the campers in their 4x4s towing caravans the size of my Bethnal Green flat, happy-campers in their knackered camper vans, tourists in rented vans, and the road trains.
Road trains are amazing to see. They are just lorries (or trucks of you're not English) that tow three full-size trailers across the desert from city to city. The cabs are gianormous and can sustain the driver and a passenger as comfortably as a caravan. They could start in Darwin in the early morning and then drive through the night to the other side of the continent with as few stops as possible. The drivers (allegedly) take amphetamines to keep themselves from passing out and they normally stop for nobody. Passing these coming the other way is hair-raising and overtaking them is impossible. At night they are lit all over like Blackpool tower and hurtle through the desert. In the dead of night one night after we stopped a road train came past. It was so still I could hear it for minutes before I saw its lights. It came through at speed as loud as a dozen tanks and looking as though nothing would ever stop it. Then in a few fleeting seconds it had passed and was receding into one point of light in the distance. They wear massive steel bars all over the front to deflect any wildlife that are unfortunate enough to get in its way. A kangaroo hitting a car doing 100kmh would be enough to write the car off. The road train driver would probably not even hear anything. In fact looking at them as they grind along on their unalterable path you cannot see into the cabin. It's high up and the glass is tinted. It's as if they have no driver and are driving by themselves like some juggernaut on its way to battle. Pretty dehumanising, but magnificent nonetheless.
After being on the road and sampling things like feral food in what appeared to be the last pub before the end of the universe and seeing some moon-like scenery through the windows of the camper we arrived at Cooper Pedy. This is an opal mining town in the middle of the desert in South Australia which has all the feel of one of those gold-rush town that sprung up in California in the 19th century. It was dusty and ramshackle. Opal stores are everywhere and the streets are filled with the depressing remnants of people who came here to get rich and are just sitting in a big hole in the ground. Their big opal is just a few more feet away and then they can leave. Those who decide to stay live in the type of houses that look as temporary as their optimism. Some people have struck opals and made a fortune. Most however do not.
In this area and a few miles away I believe they filmed Mad Max III (the one with Tina Turner in it). They probably did this to save money on creating and dressing sets and with all the broken and old fashioned mining machinery, including old Austin buses with fronts removed to make way for shovels, it has all the look of the end of civilisation.
The one thing that I did like about this place was a church that had been carved into the side of a mountain. It was as big as any small church in Europe but was literally carved into a mountain side with all the icons and statues in it carved into the walls. I visited a couple and they were wonderfully cool and quiet. Once the mining packs-up here these churches will probably be the only remnants left behind and they should, in theory, last forever alone in the desert.
As we journeyed North the earth surrounding us got redder and redder. We crossed the SA-NT border rather unceremoniously marked by a big brown sign and carried on. There are fewer undulations here and the red earth and dust really colours everything from the trees to the utes we passed. In a few of the campsites we have stayed in here the smell of the gum trees is really strong and the sunsets and night skies are magnificent.
We took the big side-trip Westwards to visit Uluru (formerly Ayers Rock), The Olgas (Uluru's poorer sisters but actually more beautiful I thought - check out the photo on my web site), and Kings Canyon which was very lush, deep, and stirring. I shan't crap on about any of these things save to say that each was interesting and beautiful in its own way. I must admit that Uluru did not have any immediate spiritual effect on me, nothing does really, but just to be beside something that massive, knowing that it is all just one huge rock did have a calming effect. During the day the rock really changes colour. It starts the day brown, gets more orange as the sun rises, stays bright orange during the day, then as the sun descends it gets redder and redder until just after sunset where it goes a purply colour. As the sun moves the texture of the rock seems to change. From a distance it looks smooth but up close you see how many caves, cracks, and gouges there are all over it. A very interesting formation. The Olgas and the Canyon were similar to each other as they were both formations made from many parts and they were able to hold moisture in their deeper parts (like my sleeping bag; I think it needs airing). Because of this there are plenty of plants and animals living in them and walking around and through both of them was more fulfilling as we were treated to bird songs and more exciting terrain. One jip is the park entrance fee at a rather heavyweight $25 per person. This is the highest in Australia and one Aussie I met ranted for a moment that it's "Just one big clip-joint". I don't know what a clip-joint is but it sounded poor value for money. I did think it was rather high but the Uluru visitors' centre is very well done and the park is getting kept well. I'd like to think that the native inhabitants get their share of the entry fees but I'm not sure. All together though well worth the trip.
We're in Alice Springs now. The locals like to call it "The Alice". Like Roy "Chubby" Brown said, "Alice? Who the fsck is Alice?". The Aussies love to shorten words and cut syllables off the ends. For example, Tasmania becomes Tassie; Thomas becomes Tommo; and Paul is, er, lengthened to Pauly. Eventually they'll devolve every place name to its initial letter, "traveling from A to D using the SH. Stopping for a P by the R, etc."
The Alice seems nice. It's a small town even by English standards but it really the main crossroads in Australia. Look at the map and it's right in the centre of the continent. As a result it's well appointed and there's a surprising amount of vegetation here. It's been raining all this weekend with more storms on the way. This is apparently the first real rain they've had in 9 months. It must have followed me here from Perth.
From here I go back to the desert and head North. The Northern Territory stretches out before me like a big rectangular thing (no inspiration there, sorry) and I'm looking forward to what it brings.
I have been traveling through the outback, albeit on the main highways, for the past fortnight or so. Such a big place. The road stretches in front of you like a ribbon through the desert with nothing man made visible anywhere else. Every 300km you'll find a petrol station which acts as an oasis to all travelers. These are staffed by country types who act either friendly or indifferent depending on if they like you. Rest stops that are normally nothing more than a blue signpost and a covered table appear out of nowhere along the route. Here you can stop for a wee, shout at the flies, and swap drivers. Sometimes you will see a roadkill ahead of you. This is normally the remains of a kangaroo who lost the bet. Pecking at them are normally the crows, big ones, accompanied by a magnificent eagle with a wingspan like an Airbus. You must slow down as whilst the crows take off at speed the eagles make stately progress into the air. A truly impressive site. As you drive along you share the road with only other motorists like the campers in their 4x4s towing caravans the size of my Bethnal Green flat, happy-campers in their knackered camper vans, tourists in rented vans, and the road trains.
Road trains are amazing to see. They are just lorries (or trucks of you're not English) that tow three full-size trailers across the desert from city to city. The cabs are gianormous and can sustain the driver and a passenger as comfortably as a caravan. They could start in Darwin in the early morning and then drive through the night to the other side of the continent with as few stops as possible. The drivers (allegedly) take amphetamines to keep themselves from passing out and they normally stop for nobody. Passing these coming the other way is hair-raising and overtaking them is impossible. At night they are lit all over like Blackpool tower and hurtle through the desert. In the dead of night one night after we stopped a road train came past. It was so still I could hear it for minutes before I saw its lights. It came through at speed as loud as a dozen tanks and looking as though nothing would ever stop it. Then in a few fleeting seconds it had passed and was receding into one point of light in the distance. They wear massive steel bars all over the front to deflect any wildlife that are unfortunate enough to get in its way. A kangaroo hitting a car doing 100kmh would be enough to write the car off. The road train driver would probably not even hear anything. In fact looking at them as they grind along on their unalterable path you cannot see into the cabin. It's high up and the glass is tinted. It's as if they have no driver and are driving by themselves like some juggernaut on its way to battle. Pretty dehumanising, but magnificent nonetheless.
After being on the road and sampling things like feral food in what appeared to be the last pub before the end of the universe and seeing some moon-like scenery through the windows of the camper we arrived at Cooper Pedy. This is an opal mining town in the middle of the desert in South Australia which has all the feel of one of those gold-rush town that sprung up in California in the 19th century. It was dusty and ramshackle. Opal stores are everywhere and the streets are filled with the depressing remnants of people who came here to get rich and are just sitting in a big hole in the ground. Their big opal is just a few more feet away and then they can leave. Those who decide to stay live in the type of houses that look as temporary as their optimism. Some people have struck opals and made a fortune. Most however do not.
In this area and a few miles away I believe they filmed Mad Max III (the one with Tina Turner in it). They probably did this to save money on creating and dressing sets and with all the broken and old fashioned mining machinery, including old Austin buses with fronts removed to make way for shovels, it has all the look of the end of civilisation.
The one thing that I did like about this place was a church that had been carved into the side of a mountain. It was as big as any small church in Europe but was literally carved into a mountain side with all the icons and statues in it carved into the walls. I visited a couple and they were wonderfully cool and quiet. Once the mining packs-up here these churches will probably be the only remnants left behind and they should, in theory, last forever alone in the desert.
As we journeyed North the earth surrounding us got redder and redder. We crossed the SA-NT border rather unceremoniously marked by a big brown sign and carried on. There are fewer undulations here and the red earth and dust really colours everything from the trees to the utes we passed. In a few of the campsites we have stayed in here the smell of the gum trees is really strong and the sunsets and night skies are magnificent.
We took the big side-trip Westwards to visit Uluru (formerly Ayers Rock), The Olgas (Uluru's poorer sisters but actually more beautiful I thought - check out the photo on my web site), and Kings Canyon which was very lush, deep, and stirring. I shan't crap on about any of these things save to say that each was interesting and beautiful in its own way. I must admit that Uluru did not have any immediate spiritual effect on me, nothing does really, but just to be beside something that massive, knowing that it is all just one huge rock did have a calming effect. During the day the rock really changes colour. It starts the day brown, gets more orange as the sun rises, stays bright orange during the day, then as the sun descends it gets redder and redder until just after sunset where it goes a purply colour. As the sun moves the texture of the rock seems to change. From a distance it looks smooth but up close you see how many caves, cracks, and gouges there are all over it. A very interesting formation. The Olgas and the Canyon were similar to each other as they were both formations made from many parts and they were able to hold moisture in their deeper parts (like my sleeping bag; I think it needs airing). Because of this there are plenty of plants and animals living in them and walking around and through both of them was more fulfilling as we were treated to bird songs and more exciting terrain. One jip is the park entrance fee at a rather heavyweight $25 per person. This is the highest in Australia and one Aussie I met ranted for a moment that it's "Just one big clip-joint". I don't know what a clip-joint is but it sounded poor value for money. I did think it was rather high but the Uluru visitors' centre is very well done and the park is getting kept well. I'd like to think that the native inhabitants get their share of the entry fees but I'm not sure. All together though well worth the trip.
We're in Alice Springs now. The locals like to call it "The Alice". Like Roy "Chubby" Brown said, "Alice? Who the fsck is Alice?". The Aussies love to shorten words and cut syllables off the ends. For example, Tasmania becomes Tassie; Thomas becomes Tommo; and Paul is, er, lengthened to Pauly. Eventually they'll devolve every place name to its initial letter, "traveling from A to D using the SH. Stopping for a P by the R, etc."
The Alice seems nice. It's a small town even by English standards but it really the main crossroads in Australia. Look at the map and it's right in the centre of the continent. As a result it's well appointed and there's a surprising amount of vegetation here. It's been raining all this weekend with more storms on the way. This is apparently the first real rain they've had in 9 months. It must have followed me here from Perth.
From here I go back to the desert and head North. The Northern Territory stretches out before me like a big rectangular thing (no inspiration there, sorry) and I'm looking forward to what it brings.