The travelling show now consists of Bennie (her real name is Bennah) and Dr. Wattles (not Waddles, he is quick to point out) and yours truly. Bennie and I were headed to Alice Springs in the camper van and saw a lone hitchhiker, dressed in a long Jesus-style robe walking along Stuart Highway. She shamed me into going back to pick him up.

Dr. Wattles travels light. He’s carries a small purse/pack and one of those comma-shaped, leather water pouches. He’s on his way to Uluru (Ayer’s Rock). We were both (Bennie and I) shocked that he’d try to walk the several hundred kilometers to Uluru with no provisions. But the Doc said he ‘knew’ he would meet someone on the way. I guess the someone is us.

From Wiki

Dr. Wattles used to be a pediatrician. Then, he either got God or got something even further ‘out there’. He’s as new age as they come — a quartz crystal on a horse hair necklace and the robe (with walking stick). Naturally, Bennie and the Doc hit it off right away, and most of the drive was full of very strange philosophy talk.

We dropped Bennie off in Alice Springs (where she paid for a fill-up, true to her word) and I was left taking a huge side trip to Uluru with the Doc. He’s on a quest to visit all the really powerful ’spiritually charged’ sites in the world. He wants to do it before 2012, which is a date of great significance to him. So far, the Doc has been to Stone Henge and the pyramids in Egypt (and other places I’ve never heard of). He’s originally from Baltimore, so we were able to chat a bit about what’s happening in the States. He’s quite upset about the war in Iraq and Afghanistan and distrusts American politicians. This isn’t an unusual thing for Americans.

I told him about my journey so far and he thinks that I too, am on a spiritual walk of my own. And here I thought I was just taking advantage of an income that doesn’t depend on being in any particular location. He’s convinced me to spend the night at Uluru to see the rock in the morning. I don’t know yet if he intends to go with me back to Sydney. I did make it clear that I’d like some gas money if he does.

****************** next day ***************

Dr. W got up during the night sometime and wandered away to ‘commune with the rock’. This morning, he still wasn’t back and I asked a guide about him – no help. I waited in the camper van for a couple of hours and, as I was ready to leave, I saw him coming across the hard pan.

Apparently, he’d spent half the night up on the rock in a cleft to avoid the wind (it gets really windy and cold up on Uluru). He was up to watch the sunrise from his perch and was just making his way back. His little jaunt was completely out of bounds here, they restrict who can go where and don’t allow climbing unless it’s approved (there’s a chain and a trail of sorts to go up). I don’t know why he wasn’t arrested or at least ticketed. But he’s back and willing to pay for fuel, so we are off to Sydney again.

The expression ‘Dreamtime’ in Australian Aboriginal mythology is commonly used to refer to the ‘time before time’, or ‘the time of the creation of all things’ in which ancestral Totemic Spirit Beings formed The Creation. Altjeringa is the aboriginal word for “The Dreaming”

My wife and I had the opportunity to Drive from Melbourne to Darwin, Australia. A journey from the bottom of the continent with unpredictable “Hey it’s a beautiful sunny day” just wait an hour and a cold snap will arrive followed by rain and wait for it, hail…… to tropical sweat dripping, it’s so hot and humid all the time that the locals have an expression for when you actually do go insane, “Gone Troppo” and the occasional Cyclone knocking at your front door.

Follow this link for a map of Australia. http://www.whereis.com/?id=252B33822652EB.

So I don’t bore you with our personal details, here are some photos of our journey with a brief explanation.

Uluru at midday with hundreds of annoying flies to contend with. A meditation guru would find great difficulty battling the flies at this time of year, December and extreme heat conditions. 41 degrees celcius in the shade.

We went again for sunset, no…. there was still a welcoming party of flies waiting to greet us. Spectacular colour changes involving a combination of clouds and the horizon. As my wife likes to describe it, truly breath taking.

Behold, the climb of climbs. At the half way mark of the steep slope is where you will find some railings to hold onto. It’s quite daunting to observe in the flesh, it’s almost a 90 degree pitch. Climbing however is not encouraged by the local Aboriginals. It is a sacred site afterall and more than 30 people have died during this arduous climb as a result of heat exhaustion, even falling to their deaths.

But if your still keen on the climb then make sure you slip on a shirt, slop on some sunscreen and slap on a hat for starters. Strong shoes, carry and drink lots of water. Get there early in the morning being the cooler part of the day. Strong winds all year round and rising temperatures closer to 11:00 a.m in the summer are the factors to to be aware of and they will close the climb for the day.

The walks are a great alternative to the climb and offer spectacular views and photo opportunities. Safety should be your priority. Look for the shade, stay on the path and don’t cross over the fenced areas to pick up any rocks to take as a memento..it’s not the Berlin Wall, remember it is a sacred site. We did the Mala walk. It’s about over an hour walk return which was long enough for us in 41 degree celcius heat in the shade.

The walk on from the Mala car park takes you to the watering hole. I recommend the guided tour for a in-depth orientation of Uluru and it’s sacred sites. Guided tours are free.

I couldn’t stop myself visualizing free falling nearly 400m. Scary to say the least.

We are already married, but I had so many ideas on how to propose and this was just one of them. I was born in the Northern Territory and have always regarded Uluru as the heart of Australia and it was only appropriate to give my heart away at Uluru.

]]> http://davidjw.wordpress.com/2009/12/17/sydney-1-0/ Wed, 16 Dec 2009 22:33:54 +0000 Fellow http://davidjw.wordpress.com/2009/12/17/sydney-1-0/ http://beeryeti.wordpress.com/2009/12/15/australia-faces-werewolf-pandemic/ Tue, 15 Dec 2009 17:03:54 +0000 beeryeti http://beeryeti.wordpress.com/2009/12/15/australia-faces-werewolf-pandemic/

Artist’s rendering of the Australian National Werewolf Defense Fort at Ayers Rock

Mad Max may exert an undo influence over our general perception of Australia, but recent scientific findings have confirmed that something about that place just isn’t right.

An adjunct, auxiliary, hourly-wage, part-time Beer Yeti apprentice just passed along a report that has most of our staff reevaluating Sydney as the right location for The Beer Yeti’s 2027 Staff Retreat.

A study published in the Australia Medical Journal announced that some people tend to exhibit “werewolf” like behaviors during the full moon.

According to the study, 91 patients in Calvary Mater Newcastle Hospital’s emergency room displayed “violent and acute behavioral disturbance.”  This included biting, scratching and spitting at staff members. Nearly 23% of these incidents occurred during the full moon.

One staff member reported that 66% of these subjects were under the influence of drugs and alcohol. The following is taken from her statement-

“It has been reported that the practice of rubbing magic ointment on the skin or inhaling vapor from a magic potion by an alleged werewolf induces metamorphosis.  Not surprisingly, the main ingredients of these ointments and potions were belladonna and nightshade, both of which can produce delirium, hallucinations and delusion of bodily metamorphosis.”

We want to get this right. It took advanced medical education, peer-reviewed medical journals, and large amounts of government funding to determine that some toxicology patients display violent behaviors during the full moon?

We asked our own Native American traditional healer for a statement on the situation, and she said, “Violent drug addicts attack hospital staff in the toxicology department, and they are trying to blame this on lunar cycles? This is completely coincidental, and a waste of the medical community’s time to speculate about.”

So exactly as we guessed right off, Australia is under sever threat of a werewolf pandemic.

All that training and money, and the Australian medical field is still struggling to understand what any cryptozoologist – or even alchemist – could have pointed out.

You know who displays “werewolf-like” behaviors during the full moon. Werewolves do.

If this hospital alone dealt with 91 cases of werewolves, we can only imagine that the worst is yet to come. It is time to declare national emergency, and deal with the werewolf onslaught before things get totally out of control.

In times like this, we generally have two “go to” strategies.

The first is always “What would Buffy Summers do?” and the second is “If Buffy did bite the dust by going with the first plan, how would Bruce Willis save our bacon?”

These protocols generally do not mesh well with fire drills.

The one clear solution is for Australia to fall back on the Swiss strategy of the “National Redoubt“, or in layman’s terms, “a big fort.” If anyone had to pick the perfect place to fend off a werewolf assault, it is unthinkable that they would choose any place but Uluru (Ayers Rock).

This massive rock formation in the middle of nowhere is just begging for a little tunneling and fortification.

The Aboriginal peoples might have some qualms about using the sacred rock as a werewolf fort, but that is only because they have never seen a werewolf pandemic. Government negotiators will have to hammer out the details, but eventually the question will have to be answered, “What sounds worse, breaking Dreamtime taboos, or getting eaten by a werewolf from Perth?”

Our very concise opinion would be that the Australian government begin immediate fortification of, and withdrawal to, Uluru in order to survive the coming werewolf war. Most likely the entire economy needs to be focused exclusively on preparation for this necessity. Our suggestion would be to put Steven Seagal and Dolph Lundgren in joint control of a more immediate “Werewolf Suppression Task Force.”

Of course the Australian government can also choose to mock us, and ignore our recommendations.

It’s no skin off The Beer Yeti’s back. We already have a werewolf fort.

We must be more than half way around the world by now on the public domain photos from the CIA World Factbook tour; at least we can check off another continent tonight, as we stop by Australia and New Zealand.

Uluru (Ayers Rock), Australia

Opera House, Circular Quay, and Central Business District in Sydney, Australia

Australia’s capital city of Canberra on Lake Burley Griffin

William Creek, somewhere in the Outback, Australia

Milford Sound, Fiordland National Park, South Island, New Zealand

Mount Cook (Aoraki), Mount Cook National Park, South Island, New Zealand

Hall Arm of Doubtful Sound, Fiordland National Park, New Zealand

Auckland, New Zealand

]]> http://sahardelijani.wordpress.com/2009/12/07/the-red-earth/ Mon, 07 Dec 2009 07:47:27 +0000 sahardelijani http://sahardelijani.wordpress.com/2009/12/07/the-red-earth/

Two months have passed. Summer is gradually arriving, its warm smell emphasizing the surreal appearance of Christmas displays in shopping malls and street decorations. Hanging snow flakes and Christmas trees coated in artificial snow are supposed to remind one of winter and it is really confounding when you’re on your way to the beach wearing sandals and with a towel in your bag. Then you see Santa Claus waving and playing “Jingle Bells” with his little flute and you think to yourself that his rosy cheeks could only be a consequence of  his long beard and wooly outfit; poor Santa is simply suffering from the heat.

This is Melbourne. A city on the coast, with its green lavish trees, domineering winds, and possums everywhere at night.

And yet, being in Melbourne, it is easy to forget that just beyond the borders of the city, a few-hour-plane-ride away, there lies a red, dangerous desert, as big as the entire Europe, whose every breath, dry and austere, makes one feels one step closer to death. The red desert is said to be one of oldest part of the Earth, one of the first lands to emerge from the water billions of years ago. But being there is like being at the edge of the world, where everything begins and ends, where not human but nature has the upper hand, has always had the upper hand.

For more than six hours on the bus from the town of Alice Springs to the heart of the desert where the Uluru Rock, mighty and sacred, heaps into view like a giant red cocoon, there is nothing other than red sand, few dusty gray bushes, and corpses of animals that have died of scourging heat and incurable hunger. For hours, nothing in the landscapes changes.  Red earth expands as far as the eyes can see. When it does change slightly, it is only upon the appearance of riverbeds, dry as a bone, winding their way from one side of the road to the other like enormous dead snakes.

And yet, there is in this monotony, in the blank stare with which the desert returns one’s gaze, something majestic at work. It mesmerizes the traveler; she cannot take her gaze off of the sore, sun burnt skin of the earth. It is alluring in all its cruelty, irresistible in the way it reminds the traveler of her insignificance compared to the greatness of the desert, and confirms it with every hot nauseating breath it blows upon her face. “Just one day here without your little air-conditioned bus, your little pool-included resort, and your little heavily-stocked supermarket and you’ll be dead,” it whispers into her ear with an aged rusty voice,  its throat clogged with sand. It is hot, but hearing the menace in this voice makes the traveler shiver. For she knows it is true. She knows she has no chance before this violent nature, in this land where the few rain drops that fall once in a while, evaporate before reaching the earth. She can see the , sand pulsating with the rhythm of death.

Frightened, she embraces herself and tries not to think of the murderous nature around her. She runs to the safety of her hotel room, takes a long shower, turns on the television, pours herself a glass of chilling white wine. She does everything necessary to push the desert to the edges, forget about its existence. But she knows it is out there, breathing slowly, taking its time, creeping into her bed at night; civilization has never seemed so fleeting.

Which brings us to the Aborigines and their sad eyes, who, before the arrival of the Europeans, lived on this red land for more than 30,000 years. Now, with bare feet, disheveled hair, their ‘modern’ clothes as if forced upon them, the Aborigines of Alice Springs roam about the town like ghosts who have lost their way to paradise. Never have I seen such profound gloom, such unnerving dismay that borders on resignation in the faces of a people. It is as if centuries of injustice, humiliation, prejudice, and exploit has left of them nothing but restless shadows that seem to be on the verge of disappearance. One almost feels them fading right before her eyes, becoming hazier and hazier, like a lost memory, until they vanish from sight.

They sit around in groups on the little bit of grass and a little bit of shadow they can find, looking at the sand that remains of once a Todd river. Their skin is worn. One gets the feeling that they look much older than they really are. They rarely exchange a glance with the travelers, but talk to each other in low voices. They remain where they are until dusk falls. Then a few of them get up and start walking. They cross the riverbed, carrying bags of groceries bought from the near by supermarket, walking home. Hardly any of them live in the town. On the way to the Uluru Rock, we see dilapidated shacks from afar, isolated from the city. That is their homes.

There is a section of Australia where Aborigines can continue their ways of life without being disturbed and without our rhythms and ‘civilization’ being imposed upon them. But the Aborigines who live in Alice Spring have lost their way. They live in a limbo between old traditions bonded tightly to the Earth and the ways of the “white man’s world”: their supermarkets, their alcohol, their cars. When the town of Alice Springs was built because of a telegraph station, the Aborigines living there were dramatically cut off from their traditions and ways of life. Thus a culture, where knowledge of nomadic life and survival in the domineering desert is passed on from one generation to the next through oral means, and where nothing is written in order to solidify its preservation, begins to disappear as the descendents are not taught the old ways. And as they do not know the old ways, they cannot return to that nature which was once their home.

But it does not mean either that they have coped with the ‘white man’s world’ which has been erected around them like an inescapable nightmare. Their life has been turned into a perennial purgatory, where the past roars, decrying injustice, the present is a black hole of despair sucking them in, and future just seems to be more of the same. Their devastated history has left upon their souls a scar as deep as time itself. A scar that is reminiscent of a wound that was never cared for, but was left to dry under the heat, until it turned into an immortal scar, showing a raw opening right in the middle of the heart. They constantly give one the feeling that when they walk they do not know where they’re going, when they sit they do not know why they’re sitting, and when they sleep they wish they would never wake up again. They look as if they were the embodiment of a historical depression.

An Aboriginal guide takes us through the desert, teachings us their ways of life and survival, from making spears for hunting, to making fire, carrying food, making tools, etc. The simplicity is both overwhelming and disconcerting. Sitting there in our impenetrable boots, sunglasses and hats, waving the persistent flies away with an impatient hand, we watch as they rub one piece of wood to another to create fire. It takes a long time to kindle the first flames, so they suffice to showing us a lot of smoke. But then in order to demonstrate how to make tools, they need the fire. The entire tour is merely an hour; there is not enough time to spend rubbing two pieces of wood together. The guide’s assistant, a young half-Aborigine man, takes out a lighter from his pocket, smiling ironically. He presses on it once and the dry sticks are immediately burning with a shy fire. A man remarks good-humordly, “You’re cheating!” The young Aborigine puts the lighter back into his pocket, never stops smiling, and says with a wink, “It’s a miracle.”

We return to the town after learning how to throw spears, but I doubt we have turned into effective kangaroo hunters. And yet, the tour has made the desert look slightly less threatening. If the Aborigines were able to survive here for more than 30,000 years, then there is hope to befriend this nature, no matter how austere. I think to myself.

It is a quiet Saturday morning in Alice Springs. Most tourists are still sleeping. But the Aborigines are awake, sprawled on the same spots on the grass, enjoying the early morning freshness. A few elderly women have half-emptied bottles of wine in their hands. A few children run around, chasing each other, laughing loudly. The children do not have the same sad look in their eyes, but laugh merrily kicking a small plastic ball around.

And then there are colors. Colors everywhere. Colors in dashes, dots, curves, lines, sprinkles. Colors like I have never seen before. The Aborigines women and men sitting on the grass, have paintings for sale. They have them unfolded in front of their feet. Some of them paint just as we pass. We stop and watch as the woman, with a bowed neck, stooped over the canvas open on the ground, patiently lays the brush on the canvas and pulls it across a sea of dots and shapes.

We stop next to another woman, who has merely two paintings in front of her. She is much older than the others. She unfolds the paintings for us and we gasp in awe at the sunlight that she has between her hands. We kneel on the ground, overcome by the life sprouting in full spate out of the paintings. The woman lowers her eyes. She merely meets our gaze. Her face is lackluster, haggard, surrounded by loose gray hair. The contrast with the paintings that she has painted and brought here to sale is as sharp as a blade. Then at last, she turns her wizened face and says with a barely audible voice, pointing at the feast of color she is holding out to us, “They’re stories. Our stories.”

© Pi3rr3 Huang 2009, All rights reserved.

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]]> http://davidjw.wordpress.com/2009/12/03/schule-fast-vorbei/ Thu, 03 Dec 2009 11:09:23 +0000 Fellow http://davidjw.wordpress.com/2009/12/03/schule-fast-vorbei/ http://robotrippin.wordpress.com/2009/12/02/move-e/ Wed, 02 Dec 2009 09:34:58 +0000 Tripbot http://robotrippin.wordpress.com/2009/12/02/move-e/

out on the balcony… sitting again.. another leaf on fire… inhale… close eyes… keep them closed… see orange… red… blood… something… i want to change my view… “show me the light”… body turns to sun…lightens up… light is boring… let’s make a movie… silhouttes appear… some kind of mountain… or mountains… one looks like… uluru… i’m in aussie now… i’m an aborigin… uluru becoems a bed… i see a figure… silhoutte of me maybe… lying down… watch as i fall onto the bed… slow… is there someone else… a woman maybe… the other mountain becomes… with giant tits… mmh… and a whip… this is fun… the rest of the movie i don’t need to see… i know how it goes… fastforward… cigarette over… take box back into room… hide under pillow… pillow of wisdom… where philosophers think great thoughts… matchbox… where… still on balcony… go back… got it… this feels so weird… to walk… why am i walking… levitation… must.. levitate… body fails… stupid humans… evolve… evolve… evolve… now…

more coke… one more golden leaf… and more music… no words… just… music.

Last year in Europe, they had the Eurail which is honestly a pleasure to get around in. But Australia, one of my favorite places – the car is the best way. Not just for the scenic beauty but in all the years I lived there, nobody ever spoke about taking the train. Not even those who came from Murvillamba, a little rural town.

But I don’t want to fly everywhere there. Australia is the last place I want to be trapped in a plane when there is that ocean and the wilderness. The more I think about this trip, it seems like I’ve too little time. It wasn’t like this when I went to Italy. It seemed enough. But i want to explore the entire continent here… from the Uluru rock in Alice Springs to Tasmanian forests to the rural countryside in Queensland that I fell in love with. The little horse farms, the huge ranches, the boredom people talk about in Perth… the vibrancy of Melbourne and the gold mines in Victoria. The Blue Mountains and Wollemi that accepted me so well and the little roads hidden in the Bush, with their convenience stores which have the best loaded burgers ever in the world.

I have the same desire to explore India but I’ve grown tired of the crowds and the looks. Perhaps reality will be different in Australia but I still want to walk the bush, drive the great ocean road and more. I had forgotten how much I had fallen in love with the country till I drew up pictures of random houses in Australia, the brownish grasses and towns that seem so small and familiar.

But there is one small hitch in all this – finding a companion to drive. It needs to be someone i’m comfortable with, someone who can drive a little, laugh a little and rough it out. I do not want to hire the biggest and the most expensive car and crash in hotels. It will camping, backpacker motels and a sturdy car. But as I grow older, lesser people want to risk that. We want the convenience of room service and AC. What is the joy in driving down the Great Ocean Road with your windows you and the car roof on?

This trip was to visit friends. But I knew there would be days of freedom when they would be slogging away in an office so I wondered what else could I do

Om half 5 worden we al gewekt door Jake, onze gids. Het is nog donker. De vorige avond hebben we duidelijke instructie gekregen:

• alleen maar naar het toilet
• de swags oprollen
• inpakken en wegwezen.

Het werkt. Om 5 uur zitten we met zijn allen in de bus en rijden we naar Kata Tjuta (ook bekend als de Olgas) waar we de zonsopgang gaan bewonderen.

In de outback is het nog een beetje fris zo vroeg in de ochtend. Bij het uitzichtpunt zien we de Olgas op een wat grotere afstand. Jake gaat aan de slag om een ontbijt voor ons te maken.

Onze groep is er als eerste maar langzamerhand duiken ook andere groepjes met toeristen op.  De zon komt langzaam op en de omgeving kleurt langzaam op. Het wordt gelukkig niet zo’n drukte als gisteren bij de sunset bij Uluru.

Na het ontbijt stappen we weer op de bus. We rijden nu naar Kata Tjuta National Park, hier om een 7km wandeling te maken door de Olgas.  Het is nog maar 7 uur in de ochtend dus we hebben nog niet zoveel last van de hitte. Volgens Jake zou het vandaag minder warm worden dan gisteren. Yes!

De wandeling is super mooi, met veel op- en neerwaarts lopen. Onderweg verteld Jake hoe de Olga’s en de andere rotsen (Uluru en Fooluru) zijn ontstaan. Kort samengevat: oorspronkelijk was het een bergketen maar de lichtere of zachtere delen zijn weggespoeld/uitgesleten door de regenval. Tijdens een enorme eruptie is alles 90 graden gedraaid en datgene wat je ziet van de Uluru is slechts een topje. De rest steekt diep in de grond. Zo is de ene kant van de Uluru 50 miljoen jaar ouder dan de andere kant.

Onderweg laat Jake zien hoe de aboriginals kleuren maken, overal liggen gekleurde oker-stenen die fijngemalen en aangemaakt met water een soort van verf vormt. Wit is de belangrijkste kleur bij de aboriginals, simpelweg omdat de witte oker-stenen het minst voorkomen en dus meer status hebben.

Na de wandeling maken we nog een toiletstop maar de toiletten zijn overspoeld. Shit can happen. We zetten de trip verder naar Uluru en stoppen maar weer bij het culureel centrum voor een nieuwe toiletstop. Bij Uluru gaan we verder waar we gisteren gestopt zijn. Er rest nog 1 km te lopen en deze keer gaat Jake met ons mee om ons uitleg te geven over de tekeningen. Ook laat ie ons grotten in de Uluru zien waar men vroeger woonde en krijgen we meer verhalen over gebruiken te horen.

De groep wordt verdeeld in 2 rijen, dames links en mannen rechts. Met de klok mee lopen we verder en lopen we langs ‘the chappel’, een grot waar de aboriginal vrouwen in baarden. Deze plek is heilig en het verbied dat mannen er mogen komen of hun blik erop werpen. De mannen krijgen dus de opdracht om de andere kant op te kijken als we langs de chappel lopen en de vrouwen de opdracht om degene die zich niet aan het gebod houdt met water tot orde te roepen.

Rare jongens, die aboriginals.

We keren weer terug naat de campground en eten een lunch. Hierbij moet gezegd worden dat de Australiers geneigd zijn om alles tussen hun brood te steken, noodles tot en met friet.

Om half 2 gaan we weer op pad, deze keer richting Kings Canyon. Iedereen zakt in de bus in slaap maar na een stop voor benenstrekken en wat koffie worden we weer wat wakker. Onderweg stoppen we een keer om brandhout te verzamelen voor het kampvuur van vanavond. Ondanks de droogte en warmte groeien er veel struiken en bomen in de outback.

Onderweg beginnen de canyons zich te laten zien aan onze rechterkant. We zien ineens een groep wilde paarden. We rijden een stukje terug om ze wat beter te zien. De paarden steken iets voor ons de weg over en we zien dat er ook nog een jonkie bij loopt. Verder spotten we nog 3 grote kangeroos onderweg.

Omstreeks half 6 arriveren we in Kings Creek, een camping waar we een stuk grond aangewezen krijgen. Het hout gaat op zijn plaas (een rond gat in de grond) en de swags er rondom heen. Sommigen lopen al met plannen om later ergens anders te gaan slapen, dit vanwege enkele ’snurkers’ in de groep. Jake verteld dat dit prima is maar dat er s’avonds wel es een dingo komt kijken.

Er is nog voldoende tijd voordat we gaan eten dus sommigen nemen een duik in het zwembad (koud) of anderen nemen eindelijk een douche of kopen een ijsje als verfrissing. Het bier gaat ook open!

We helpen Jake een beetje met het eten klaarmaken, dat gedeeltelijk om een campingpitje wordt klaargemaakt of in het kampvuur (vers brood). Op het menu staat chili con carne en na wat proeven begint Patrick met de peperpot te schudden.

Gezamenlijk eten we rond het kampvuur en wordt er nog wat gekletst over de dag. Voor sommigen is het de einde van de dag en ze rollen hun swags uit en kruipen erin. Er wijn weer ontzettend veel sterren te bekijken en vanuit je warme swag is het best wel leuk om dit te aanschouwen. ’s Nachts steekt er een wind op dus je moet wat dieper in je swag kruipen…

Aan de rechterzijde: Uluru sunrise.

En aan de linkerzijde: Kata Tjuta wake-up call.

Heeft iemand Jake gezien?

“Wild horses couldn’t drag me away “.

Om 5 uur deze ochtend gaat de wekker. We checken uit, parkeren onze baggage en wachten tot de tourbus ons komt ophalen. Tegelijkertijd staat er nog een ander Hollands stel te wachten op een andere tour operator en we doden de tijd wat met tips van onderweg. Er stoppen 3 verschillende touroperators, de laatste is de onze: ‘The Rock Tour’. Onze enthousiaste guide is Jake, zowel chauffeur als kok. In de bus zitten al 3 mensen en we halen er nog een paar meer onderweg op. In totaal zullen we met 12 personen zijn.

We zullen de tour achterstevoren doen, dat wil zeggen, de laatste ‘attractie’ bezoeken we als eerste enzovoort. Dit omdat we nog 4 andere mensen op het vliegveld in Uluru moeten oppikken.

Onderweg vertelt Jake wat meer over de tocht, dat de bus ‘betsy’ heet en dat ze soms onderweg wat hulp nodig heeft bij het omhoog rijden en het helpt als we met zijn allen “c’mon Betsy!” roepen. Jake houdt van luide muziek, dit om hem wakker te houden achter het stuur in de warmte. Als iemand er problemen mee heeft… dan is dat pech hebben.

We stoppen gemiddeld iedere 2 uur. De eerste is langs een lange rechte weg die door het dorre rode landschap loopt. De volgende stop is bij een ‘roadhouse’ om wat te tanken en te drinken. Enkele reizigers kopen vliegennetjes naar aanleiding van angstaanjagende verhalen over de vele vliegen. Bij navraag of dit een Australische sharia-wet is vindt Jake het allemaal maar onzin. En je ziet er stom uit op foto’s en bier drinken wordt er mee bemoeilijkt.

Wanneer we weer op weg zijn doen we introductie-ronde. We worden een voor een naar voren geroepen om op de frontseat onszelf voor te stellen onder het rijden. Het ijs wordt op deze manier snel gebroken.  Een samenvatting van onze mede-reizigers: Jake, de gids, chauffeur en kok. Darren uit de UK. Corina & Rolf uit Zwiterserland. Paolo uit Italie. En stel uit Ierland. Lizzy uit Frankrijk. Anna uit Polen en Markus uit Duitsland. Sommigen hebben al een hele rondreis door Australie erop zitten, anderen zijn er pas.

De volgende stop is bij een alcoholwinkel in the middle of nowhere. Vooraf is er een bestellijst rondgegaan. We zetten de weg door het rode landschap voort. Een stop houden we bij ‘Fooluru’. De eerste rockformatie die een beetje lijkt op Uluru en waar de toeristen vaak hun eerste fotorolletje op leeg schieten. Tot op heden was de weg erg vlak met hier en daar zoutmeren maar nu wordt het landschap geleidelijk heuvelachtig. Op een gegeven moment komt dan de megarots Uluru (Ayers rock) op.

Iets voor het middaguur arriveren we bij de campground van Ayers Rock Resorts. De accomodaties zijn hier van 6 sterren niveau, tot hotels en appartmenten en… de camping waar wij zullen verblijven. We zullen hier vannacht gaan slapen onder de heldere sterrenhemel in slaapzakken op een stuk grond met een vuurplek. Een snelle scan levert wat wegspringende kakkerlakken op. Patrick houdt wijselijk zijn mond…

We houden een korte toiletstop en vertrekken weer om de laatste 4 mede-reizigers op te halen: Ricardo & Laura uit Spanje. Zij zijn op huwelijksreis. Agnes en een vriendin, komend uit Oostenrijk. We rijden door naar Uluru National park. We krijgen een parkpas voor de komende dagen en stoppen bij het cultureel centrum. De lunch wordt uitgesteld na een rondloop door dit centrum omdat eea nog bevroren/nat is. In het centrum staan verhalen en verklaringen over de aboriginals. Hun manier van leven en eten. Natuurlijk is ook hier een aboriginal art-center.

Eenmaal terug bij de bus lunchen we, verzorgd Patrick de eerste afwas zodat hij een excuus heeft voor de avondafwas en even later zitten we weer in de bus om een klein stukje verder te rijden naar het beginpunt van de basewalk, een wandeling rond de Uluru. Het is nu half 3 en 37 graden. De walk is in de volle zon en bedraagt zo’n 8.4 kilometer. We beginnen de 1e helft van de wandeling met de hele groep. Bij de wandeling moeten we de 3 liters meenemen en je drinkt ook aan een stuk door.

na de 1e helft van de walk stat de bus te wachten en ongeveer de helft van de groep springt in de bus en de andere helft gaat liever verder met de rest van de tocht. De flessen raken aardig leeg en de mogelijkheid bestaat om de flessen aan te vullen met nieuw vers, lekker warm water. De tocht zelf is egr mooi en je krijgt een goede blik van Uluru. Rondom staan eucalyptusbomen die soms enige beschutting geven.

Na zo’n 7 km staat de bus weer te wachten. De laatste 1,5 km zullen we morgen gezamenlijk lopen. We zweten ons te pletter, zo lekker warm is het. Helaas doet team Spanje erg lang over de tocht zodat we de beloofde duik in het zwembad op het resort moeten voorbij laten gaan.

We gaan daarom direct door naar een plek om de zonsondergang te bekijken, met ‘the rock’ op de voorgrond. De plek is een grote parkeerplaats, 1 voor auto’s en eenvoor bussen. Voor de luxure tours staat er catering met champagne en hapjes te wachten. Jake gaat ook voor ons aan de slag, maar dan op zijn bushstyle. Om de tijd te doden lopen we naar een uitkijkpunt waar zowel Uluru als Katatjuta (een rotsformatie) te zien zijn. Bij terugkomst bij de parkeerplaats blijkt het eten klaar te zijn, iets van noodles met kip. Ook is de parkeerplaats volgestroomd met touroperators en in zijn totaal staan er wel zo’n 1000 toeristen te wachten op de ’sunset’. Door de neergaande zon veranderd Uluru geleidelijk van kleur. We maken nog wat groepsfoto’s. Als de zon onder is vertrekken de busjes langzaam en wij ook.

Voordat we de campground aandoen stoppen we nog even bij de supermarkt zodat er nog laatste moment inkopen gedaan kunnen worden (ijsje?).

Bij de campground gaat het vuur aan en halen we de ’swags’ tevoorschijn (soort van slaapmatras waar nog een slaapzak in zit, beschermt tegen het inkruipen van leuke diertjes) en maken we een kring rond het vuur. Sommigen gaan direct slapen of nog even douchen. Voor Myra gaat het ligt langzaam uit na 3 biertjes. Patrick zit helaas aan de antibiotica en is in de onderstelling (!) dat ie geen alcohol mag gebruiken. Zo’n koud biertje zou er wel ingaan!

De hemel is helder en we zien heel veel sterren. De melkweg is zelfs te zien. Ondertussen is iedereen zijn slaapzak ingekropen…

Anyone seen a rock?

Uluru-power!

Ons reisgezelschap…

Myra in haar swag.

Why?: I’ve no words of wisdom or a captivating story to explain why this is something I want to achieve. Put simply, I’ve never won anything before – not really. So what better place to put this notion than in a list of things I want to do?

Lately, I’ve been asked how my travel plans are going. Disappointingly, my pitiful answer has repeatedly been something along the lines of “I’ve not really made any” or “I’m concentrating on saving for them”. Honestly, I need to pull my finger out and get planning. Recently, though, the idea of travelling doesn’t fill me with the excitement I had hoped for. It feels like a chore to get stuck into the research and decipher what tours and packages offer the sort of experience I’m after. Truth is, I’m quickly finding that I’m not all that certain what I want to get out of my travels, so I’m going back to basics and reviewing the whole trip.

After some pathetic attempt at reassessing my priorities, out of the blue came a text from a neighbour wants to do the East Coast of Australia, just like me. We don’t know eachother particularly well, although he’s lived two streets away from me most of our lives. He told me of a talk being given by STA Travel’s Liverpool branch about travelling Australia, which we agreed to attend. Other than the words “Melbourne, Sydney, Brisbaine” running around my head, I had no clue what I wanted to do or where I wanted to go on this leg of my trip.

The 90-minute talk included three presentations from similar Australia/NZ-based tour companies, all of which captured my attention and, by the end of it all, my imagination. Seeing itineraries and photographs of ex-travellers lying in swags under the stars in the Red Centre and hearing of 3-day trips on a racing boat visiting the Whitsundays brought the spark back. I was able to visualise myself as a backpacker, sleeping on buses, meeting other foreigners, seeing incredible natural wonders, exploring another land. It suddenly became much more real and I wanted to know more. I thought of all the books, websites and guides I’d need to look through and made a written list of some titles I’d been recommended.

A prize draw at the end of the presentation shortened that list by one. The 40 or so attendees filled in a questionnaire at the start of the talk with the chance to win a discount card or a 2″ thick “Rough Guide to Australia”. With only one more winner to be announced, I said my own name over and over in my head, wishing for my name to be chosen. This time, though, and for the first time, it worked. I collected my prize and with it a bundle of enthusiasm for the journey ahead of me.

Last Friday I blogged about sunrises. So today I’m blogging about sunsets – or rather, one particular place that looks exceptionally glorious during a sunset. If you’ve already watched Rachel and Matt’s video podcast on Uluru, then you know which place I’m talking about. Uluru, or Ayers Rock, is an enormous rock formation in Australia that, as the sun goes down, turns from a rusty red color to an even more brilliant ruby red color. As Rachel puts it: It looks like a rock on fire. The rock, which is the world’s largest monolith, lies in the middle of a vast desert plain, so its color and presence is quite dramatic.

Why does the rock look so red at sunrise and sunset? According to geologists, in the middle of the day, when the sun is directly overhead, its rays don’t have to pass through as much atmosphere – ash, dust and water vapor. So the full spectrum of color makes it through the atmosphere to the rock. The rock still looks red, but it doesn’t look like it’s on fire.

At sunset and sunrise, the sun’s rays have to pass through more ash, dust and water vapor, which filter out some of the blue end of the spectrum of color. That means the light at dusk and dawn is generally redder than it is at high noon. Pair that red light with a red rock, and you’ve got a gigantic fire ruby in the middle of an arid plain. 

It sounds like a fantastic sight to me. You can watch the monolith catch flame at dusk from a camping ground or from a nearby spa and resort (with a glass of champagne in your hand).

Now it’s your turn. Tell me where you’ve seen a striking sunset. I’m making a sunset list, you know.  

For more sun…
Does smog make for beautiful sunsets?
Can the sun kill you?
Sun Pictures

[Also: Don’t forget to watch the Coolest Stuff video podcast to see pictures of Uluru at sunset! They're really cool looking.]

Approaching the NT border towards Docker River, the country changes into a series of spectacular ranges.  Reading Herbert Basedows 1903 journal of exploration through this area made it all the more fascinating. There were no tracks and the journey took him 8 months with a team of 18 camels.

All along the Great Central Road are herds of wild camels. This old fellow was standing under a shady tree just outside Docker River.

Approaching the NT WA border through a cracked and bug splattered windscreen.

We camped the first night back in the Northern Territory between sandhills with a great view of Kata Tjuta (The Olgas).

Ayers Rock (Uluru) is an awesome sight. Photos are useless, it is so massive – the only way to appreciate it is to visit it.

These strange characters, walking up to a viewing platform near Kata Tjuta, wore bags over their heads to annoy the flies!

Around 50 kilometers east of Uluru is Mt Connor. It is like the poor cousin to Uluru, given just a passing glance thanks to it’s famous neighbour.

I climbed to the top of a high sandridge to get a photograph of Mt Connor. In the distance to the north I could see a large salt lake half filled with water. An unusual sight in Central Australia.

We traveled East to the Stuart Highway then turned South through gathering storm clouds to South Australia.