Genning Up On The Outback

Thursday 2 November

We were woken during the night (about 02.30) by rain pounding on the tin roof – there’s been a drought in this area for a couple of years, we arrive, and bring typical English weather with us. But by the time we got up for breakfast the rain had cleared, and all but a few puddles had disappeared. The standard of food here at these lodges, is excellent, and breakfast had everything you could ask for. Colin was in his element.

Only about a dozen of our coach colleagues joined in the “trek” into Wilpena Pound and up to the viewing points. The centre’s bus took us part of the way, but then we walked through stands of gum trees and scrub on the base of the Pound – the whole landscape appearing to be painted in hues of gray/greens, making the atmosphere feel quite sombre. We scrambled along red and cream marbled rocks following the dried creek – that once held deep, fast flowing water. After about a mile or so we came across a homestead built in a clearing. This particular one had been rebuilt in the original design, with local stone walls. It had, in the 1880’s, housed twenty members of the Hill family, in four small rooms, as well as all their belongings and farming equipment. Their animals grazed throughout the Pound. We continued on our trek, now clambering up one of the steep sides of the Pound, over large slabs of rocks and rubble, surrounded by spiky bushes and crows calling with their distinctive whining call, to a point where we could see the full extent of the “bowl” over the tops of the trees. Although you had a good view of the surroundings, and the steep cliffs around the circumference, I think you probably have to view the area from the air to get the whole picture. Some members of our group had opted to take a flight over the enclosure, but while we were at the viewing point, we could see low dark clouds scudding towards us from the opposite side of the “bowl”, and when we returned to base, the pilots had decided not to take the planes up, as any views would have been shrouded in mist (which left some of the group disappointed). Colin and I and a couple of others opted to climb to the higher viewing point – Ruben told us it was another 400 metres – he was right – it was another 400 metres up, but that meant another kilometre of climbing to get there! The Pound when viewed from the air is like a stockade, with tall peaked rocks forming a wall in an oval shape round the depressed centre, a bit like the crater of a volcano, only much larger, and vegetated.

We trekked back down the cliff side (going down is often worse than going up), as a fine drenching mist began to fall – the clouds had moved on. By the time we reached the ‘bus stop’, it had turned to rain and was coming down quite heavily, but after riding for about ten minutes in the bus, back to the lodges, it was dry again. A real spring day – sunshine and showers.

We packed our suitcases (not much to put back as we were only here for the one night) and were ready to leave by noon, to retrace our steps back to the town of Quorn, where we stopped briefly yesterday. Paul, our driver, gave us a quick tour of the town and we all wandered off to find lunch. I had spied a café, with turquoise-striped sofas in the window, looking like something out of a Dickens novel, so with Gwen and Bob (the other Harrises) we made our way back to the side street. On entering, it was just the same inside as out, with an old fashioned iron stove, dressers with Victorian dolls, sepia postcards and cushions for sale, and pinewood tables that seemed to have seen better days. But the lady behind the counter bustled quickly forward, and was so pleased to see us – and the other dozen or so of the coach party, who eventually arrived here – that we sat down and perused the menu – we didn’t sit on the inviting sofas, as they were so close to the windows at the front, that there was no leg room, and definitely not enough room for four. We ordered sarnies in various breads and fillings, and drinks. About ten minutes later all of our order arrived and the later entrants didn’t have to wait too much longer either – and the lady was all on her own. The “snack” was very tasty, but large as all Australian meals seem to be. We still had time to wander around the town, to visit the railway station, the start or end of the Pitchi Richi railway from Quorn to Port Augusta (I was disappointed the train itself wasn’t there), the bowling green of artificial pale green turf, where yesterday we had seen people playing in the rain, and the old fashioned shops, probably selling everything you would need, off a shelf at the back. There was a community feeling to the town which I had missed yesterday – perhaps because of the weather – although it was still cold today – and the few people we saw, were inquisitive as to where we had come from and where we were going. As we crossed the road – not at a junction or traffic lights (an offence here), cars automatically slowed for you, or stopped, to enable you to complete your crossing! (Amazing, we only saw a car moving if we stepped into the road!) Very different from most other countries we have visited.

Back in the coach, we were soon on our way to Port Augusta – named after the first Governor’s wife (flowers were not enough in those days) – a city at the head of the Spencer Gulf – it was from here that Matthew Flinders first saw the mountains he later the Flinders Range. The road followed the arrow gauge railway track all the way, twisting and curling through cuttings in the rocks, around hills, criss-crossing the railway track according to the landscape.

The first sight of Port Augusta was the huge electricity station, on the edge of the town, that produces 40% of South Australia’s electricity from coal, brought down from the mines in the north of the state – a real blot on the landscape of a not pretty town in the first place). We crossed ove
r the bridge, leading to the city centre to find a museum called the Wadlata Outback Centre, which had extensive displays of the geological history of the Outback, alongside what they call “Dreamtime” - stories and legends passed down by the Aborigines. One section was devoted to exhibitions and working displays on the history of the pioneers and explorers from the first half of the 19th century, such as Eyre (from Sydney across the Blue Mountains), Sturt (from Sydney west and north to discover lands in South Australia and up to Ayers Rock), Giles, (who pushed further west to discover Perth and the south and west coasts), and Stuart, (who pushed back the boundaries to find a way across the centre of the Australian deserts from east to west coasts, and then promptly completed a return route, in just a couple of months, using camels. The next area showed us the development of the animal world, and the last ended with the present day Outback, with mining and farming, rocket ranges and telecommunications. There was loads to touch, see and hear, and we spent a very interesting couple of hours wandering the corridors and rooms, trying out the exhibits such as the morse code tapper – I cold only get TETT?!?, in relply to the questions- and the dolly-eyed telephone exchange, which I remember from my Mum’s office and even West End Central Police Station in the mid 1960’s! We watched films, dvds and interactive exhibits, all helping us to understand the Outback and its culture.

From here (after a quick trip to the supermarket for a chemisty top-up), we were taken to our “hotel” for the night – which turned out to be a series of self-contained apartments right by the river, that contained not only a huge double and a separate sitting area and a large screen television, but kitchen fully equipped with microwave, fridge freezer, and in the bathroom, a washing machine and tumble dryer. We set to and sorted the washing, and found out how the machine worked – an LG top loader! The programme finished just before we were due to go to dinner, so we piled all the clothes in the tumble drier and left.

These apartments do not provide meals, so we were taken back across the river to the Augusta Hotel, where another huge meal of squid, steak and pavlova/brandy baskets and fruit (our choice) was served with exemplary service. More merlot was on tap. It was another old-style hotel, such as would have been found in England in the 1950’s, except that it advertised a Poker room, pool and television. We should all have walked home, but Paul, the driver had abstained from drinking, so we let him drive us in the coach. Once back at the apartment, I blogged while Colin sorted the now clean and dry washing.

The weather has been distinctly cool again today, and often windy – temperatures not reaching above the very early twenties (not forgetting that it rained at Walpena Pound). This weather pattern is quite unusual for this part of the country at this time of the year (their spring), and local folk seem as bemused by it as us. As I only have a couple of long-sleeved tops with me (and those I bought to take with me trekking in the Thailand Highlands) I am hoping the television weather forecast is right, when it says it will be warmer tomorrow, as we head north, up through Womera (of rocket range fame), on our way towards Uluru (Ayers Rock), Alice Springs and Darwin.

We nearly had a riot on the coach this morning as two German ladies (one of whom now lives in Broome in North West Australia, and her old school friend who is visiting – they are well in their 60’s) refused to conform to the seat rotation plan organized by Ruben so that everyone gets a chance to sit at the front. The seat numbers are all jumbled on the coach, and the idea is that you move to the next number each day, thus rotating backwards and forwards along the coach. “The two Barbaras”, as they are affectionately known, are sitting just back from the middle and refused to move when the new occupants of those seats arrived. Luckily at the moment, there are about a dozen spare seats (we still have ten people to pick up somewhere on the tour), so the elderly couple just found themselves an alternative seat for the day. But we wait to see what happens tomorrow. We have continually sat towards the back of the coach from choice, but tomorrow, on seat rotation, we are due to sit in one of the front seats. Colin will be videoing all the way to Woomera.

Final update on the toes – both nails have now fallen off (one in Singapore and the other yesterday). The toes themselves are peeling like mad, but it looks as if the nails are growing back – hope so, or I will have deformed toes! They were fine when I was trekking today, so I am intending to put the medical supplies away in my case (oh no – more kilos!!).