Beth and Mark's Gap Year 2014: Out of the Arid Zone into the Tropics

Although we had a great time living the high life at the resort, Beth and I were both missing our little trailer after 3 days of separation and there was a small buzz of excitement as we hooked her up, farewelled Uluru, Yulara and Kata Tjuta and headed along the black top (4WD’er jargon for bitumen) bound for Kings Canyon in Wattarka National Park.

King’s Canyon’s main claim to fame is the Rim Walk which climbs the canyon wall on one side then takes you along that rim, down into the canyon, across the other side and back along the other rim. Needless to say there is spectacular scenery aplenty along the route. We enjoyed it so much that we did it twice. We also took the opportunity to cover about half of the Ernest Giles walking track which links the gorges within Wattarka National Park. Plenty of rocks to clamber over, some of which were reminiscent of the Bungle Bungles “beehive” formations, which got Beth quite excited. All this walking helped to bolster our daily average, which had suffered somewhat during our hedonistic Yulara interlude. Thankfully we are back on track now.

Whist in Yulara, a Melbourne based friend couldn’t help but inform me (gleefully I think) of the pitiful performance of my football team whilst I have been away. I didn’t really need the update because despite our remoteness, I seem each week to have been able to get radio reception of each excruciating loss to date. I replied to my friend that I was well appraised of my team’s performance, and that to allay my pain I would ensure that when next they played that I would be in so remote a location that I would be beyond torment. King’s Canyon ticked all the boxes. No radio reception at all, no phone coverage, no internet, and seemingly no real interest in football. Unfortunately, some greater power must have observed some poor behaviour on my part during my team’s glory years, and decided that I had not yet served a reasonable penance for that behaviour. I should have seen the satellite dish on the roof of the King’s Canyon Hotel and walked away despite the strong inducement of coffee. Instead I entered the bar and of course was confronted by live coverage of my hapless team being put to the sword by the former worst team in the competition. Despite my obvious pain I remained transfixed for half an hour during which time I made a silent promise to never again gloat about my team or to taunt supporters of lesser performing teams. Despite the natural grandeur of this place, I think King’s Canyon will be best remembered by me as the place where it was confirmed that my football team was a basket case.

From King’s Canyon to Palm Valley (in the Finke River National Park) involves a gravel road (the Merinee Loop) which has been signposted as closed due to flood damage. This of course is not what we want because the only alternative is to back track and potentially miss Palm Valley, which we have both been looking forward to visiting. Before heading off we check at the garage, and are told that there are some wash aways in the Merinee Loop and a bit of water, but it is fine for 4WD vehicles driven cautiously. The state of the Palm Valley road however was less clear, and we were advised to enquire about that further down the track. Beth of course nominated herself as the cautious driver (unfair aspersions on me I think) and handled the few tricky bits on the road through to Hermannsburg (where the Palm Valley road starts) with aplomb. Although there were no signs indicating the Palm Valley road was closed we decided to extend our caution and visit the old Hermannsburg Lutheran Mission site to enjoy refreshments (out of town signposts promising excellent scones had seduced me) and check conditions. As we were walking into the township we happened upon a NT outback policeman, and thought who better to ask about road conditions. When we mentioned the Palm Valley road his brow furrowed a little and he asked what sort of vehicle we had. I pointed to the Jeep whereupon his countenance changed. “You’ll have no problems at all getting the Jeep in there” said the policeman with a smile. This made me very happy because in these parts our Jeep is a very minor species amongst the Toyota Land Cruisers and the Nissan Patrols and I get the sense that they are not quite trusted as a bona fide 4WD. So any affirmation of capability comforts me, but one from an outback policeman gives me great joy.

Beth again took the reins for the journey into Palm Valley, and apart from some bumpy spots and quite a lot of crossings of the Finke River (some moderately deep) the first sixteen kilometres to the campground were quite uneventful. A misunderstood sign at the campground (navigator sits in the passenger seat so I guess that would be my fault) meant that we missed the turnoff, but we realized our mistake quite quickly and resolved to turn around at the next opportunity. As we rounded the next bend there was a 4WD parked across the road and a park ranger standing with his hand outstretched. He had obviously spotted us from a distance and performed a Starsky and Hutch roadblock manoeuvre to ensure that we did not take our trailer the last 4 km into the valley. “The Jeep is OK to go into the valley, but I don’t think you should take the trailer in”, he muttered. Despite our assurances that we had just missed the turn, I sensed that this poor chap generally had the job of retrieving the broken vehicles of people who have overestimated the capabilities of themselves and their vehicles, and his demeanour suggested that we were just another couple of those. We duly followed his instructions, turned around and this time took the campground turnoff, set up the trailer and took a lovely walk up into the rocks around the campground.

The next day after another walk amongst the rocks it was time to venture forth that last 4 kilometres into the valley – without the trailer of course. We have been into Palm Valley before on a 4WD tour, and my recollection was that there were quite a few rocky obstacles to overcome, so I was looking forward to the challenge with a little bit of nervous excitement. Given that Beth had got us here in one piece it was probably fair that she got to drive in (it also allowed me to cheat a little bit on the way out). The drive was every bit as exciting as I remember, with the addition of a bit more water to the equation given the height of the Finke River. Once again both Beth and the Jeep were very impressive, and the old adage of “ask a policeman” was proven right. A walk through beautiful Palm Valley, which is filled with ancient red cabbage palms which are unique to this valley and have somehow managed to survive in this place since prehistoric times, and we are off again, this time for a couple of nights in the big smoke of Alice Springs.

No real sightseeing in Alice Springs, our main purpose here is to reprovision and carry out some running repairs. This of course meant a visit to both Bunnings and Supercheap Auto, two of my favourite holiday destinations. I was very happy with this, but Beth was less enthusiastic, so my joy was fairly short lived. We also managed the daunting task of ridding our vehicles of the red muck accumulated over the preceding weeks. Although they are now showing their true colours, there is still plenty of red dust and mud lurking in hard to get to nooks and crannies. I think when we get home a whole day needs to be set aside for car cleaning. Despite the utilitarian Alice Springs agenda, we still managed a couple of nice long walks (one at the start of the Larapinta Trail) and we did enjoy being in something resembling a city again.

The next part of our journey involves getting some miles under our belt to get to our next significant destination (Nitmiluk National Park – Better known as Katherine Gorge) which is still well over 1,000 kilometres away. In years gone by we would have just jumped in the car and done this in a day, but thankfully we have grown out of that and now rate the journey as much as the destination, so our intention is to take 3 days with overnight stops at Devil’s Marbles Conservation Park and Daly Waters along the way.

Having just said that the journey is as special as the destination, I am still trying to figure out what was special about the stretch of The Stuart Highway between Alice and Devil’s Marbles, but Devil’s Marbles was quite enchanting and we really enjoyed wandering amongst and climbing upon the rocks.

The next section of The Stuart Highway was almost as featureless, but the monotony was somewhat broken up by a few more road houses and the township of Tennant Creek where we found an open café (this was Easter Saturday) boasting excellent cupcakes. The coffee was good, but the cake did not live up to its billing. Enjoyable nonetheless. Tennant Creek is an interesting town, I believe that it grew as a mining town, but these days the predominant employer seems to be the public service. Police, Courts, Centrelink and Medical Services are prominent. There is a permanent police station, but there was also a mobile police station set up (in the centre of the road near the pub), and we counted at least 5 police vehicles patrolling the town. I think that this is all a bit of a sad reflection on how we have managed the cultural differences between Europeans and our indigenous folk over the years. Despite the current sad state of affairs, I do sense that there is greater understanding of and respect for aboriginal culture and aboriginal people than there has been in the past. This is definitely the case at places like Uluru, where there is a buck to be made from aboriginal culture, but it also seems obvious in the attitudes of police officers here in Tennant Creek, which is good news. Sadly though, I think that there is still a huge disconnect between the values of white Australians and Indigenous Australians, and despite great efforts and intentions, the future for Indigenous people trying to live their values within their culture seem to me to be quite bleak.

As well as more settlements on this stretch of road there are also more signs of life, strangely enough most evidenced by the road kill, which around here seems to be predominately cattle. I now know why a bull bar is so named. I think in the stretch between Tennant Creek and Daly Waters we must have passed 20 dead cows, presumably the night time victims of the enormous road trains which thunder along this road. The other thing that we are seeing more of along the road is termite mounds, some of which travellers have taken to dressing in t-shirts, hats and even sunglasses. The first of these that I encountered almost caused me to pull over and see if they needed assistance. Interesting and useless fact I learnt about termites. Evidently the total biomass of termites in the Northern Territory is greater than the total biomass of all cattle in Australia. Imagine if insects were able to marshal themselves as a cohesive force against humans. We would have no chance.

After a tough day counting road kill and termite mounds, we rolled into Daly Waters intent on staying at the caravan park attached to the famous Daly Waters Pub. We were little surprised by the number of people at and around the pub, but didn’t think too much of it and proceeded to the counter to book a site. The young girl behind the counter looked a little bewildered and said, “You really do not want to be staying here tonight”. It transpires that Easter Saturday is the date for the Daly Waters B&S (Bachelors and Spinsters) Ball, which young folk come from far and wide to attend and presumably drink themselves silly in a very noisy fashion and generally make fools of themselves. After a few foolish seconds of thinking that it might be fun to observe these antics we came to our senses and agreed with the girl behind the bar and back tracked a few kilometres to a more sedate camp site where we enjoyed a peaceful night.

Next stop Nitmiluk, which we have heard really good things about and are both eagerly anticipating. The beauty of this place is extraordinary, but must be enjoyed at a leisurely pace and with liberal sprinklings of cooling off in pools and air conditioned coffee breaks. The heat and humidity here is quite energy sapping, and whilst Beth seems to be coping with it reasonably well, I have to admit I am struggling.

To make sure that we get our kilometres in we are continuing our strategy of early morning walking to beat the heat of the day and spending the afternoon in the pool. This is working OK, but it seems to get hot and sticky here as soon as the sun rises. Despite the climate, the walks that we have done here have been immensely enjoyable. The vegetation is incredibly diverse and quite beautiful, and the landscape rugged and spectacular, particularly the river gorges. Because there is still a bit of water about the river is quite high and we have been lucky enough to enjoy some waterfalls and flowing streams as well as the river.

Whilst the walks have been fantastic, so has the cooling off and socialising in the pool. Because we have spent 5 nights at the caravan park we have seen many people come and go and have enjoyed chatting with a set of tourists as diverse as the vegetation here (Belgians, French, Spanish, Dutch, Queenslanders and other foreigners). This has definitely been the most sociable caravan park that we have encountered, mainly I think because the pool attracts everybody and becomes a social hub. On our last full day at Nitmiluk we treated ourselves to a fantastic boat cruise through the gorges to give ourselves a different perspective than we enjoyed from our walks. During this cruise we bumped into a family from just out of Geelong (which of course is Beth’s home town) and discovered that they actually occupied the site next to us in the caravan park. We met again in the pool and chatted until we were wrinkled like prunes. The children (Sienna and Charlie) kept us entertained that evening as well, making each of us a bracelet with the kits they had received as Easter gifts, and which I believe are all the rage. Beth and I have been proudly wearing our bracelets in the hope that people will stop and stare and murmur such things as “Wow”, “Cool”, or “Sweet”. It hasn’t happened yet, but it is early days and we live in hope. We really enjoyed the company of this family and were especially impressed with the nature of the kids, who were considerate, clever and capable and made us feel a little bit special, which was great. One of the great things about this trip is the number of really nice people we have met, particularly young people. We often hear tales of woe regarding our young folk and grim tidings regarding the future of the world, but as I see it we are in pretty good hands.

Next stop is Kakadu where we spend 5 nights. Reports are half the park is closed at the moment due to recent rains and high water levels. This means that some roads are impassable, but more importantly, effective crocodile management has not been possible in some places. Rest assured we will not be taking any chances with crocs.

I have talked at length about our walking targets, some of the beautiful (and not so beautiful) walks we have completed, and how we go about managing our walks according to weather, but I haven’t really given you the anatomy of our walks yet. For those of you heartily sick of hearing about walking, perhaps you should close this page now and I will see you at my next blog instalment. All others please read on.

You will perhaps not be surprised to hear that generally our walks are well researched and meticulously planned, but very occasionally they can also be impromptu (although these do cause Beth some anxiety, particularly if a map cannot be secured). Regardless of the type of walk there are common tools, protocols and rules that we observe, and you will probably also not be surprised to learn that we each have distinct roles which we perform.

Before we embark on a walk Beth insists on having a map which she commits to memory before we head off. Despite taking this mental picture, she still prefers a paper map which she can roll up in the shape of a baton and clutch in her left hand as she walks to use both as a pointer and something to be pondered over and cursed over at tricky bits on the trail. Where a paper map cannot be secured, it is my job to photograph the maps painted on signs so that we can refer to and curse at the camera at these tricky spots.

Backpacks are loathsome burdens which we try to avoid, but on some walks the carrying of provisions and other paraphernalia makes them a necessary evil. Very rarely though do we need to carry more than one between the two of us. Although Beth often volunteers to do the toting, there seems to be a vestige of machismo in me which insists that I should be the beast of burden.

Like all athletes we have our little pre game rituals that we carry out. We empty shoes of debris, inspect socks for burrs and prickles, swap orthotics from shoe to shoe, take a long drink (I generally take a small snack as well – which typically induces frowns), apply bandages, slop on lotions of every description, clean our glasses, adjust our walking poles etc. etc.

When we set out Beth will almost always assume the role of lead and navigator. Whilst you may assume that this implicates Beth as a control freak, it is nothing of the sort. Any of you who know my spectacularly poor sense of direction will understand the folly in allowing me to take the lead. Beth’s leadership is a practical necessity borne not out of a control instinct, but a survival instinct.

I follow along, from time to time offering inane advice regarding directions (which is duly ignored), but generally sticking to my role as official photographer. This following is a whole lot more difficult than you might imagine. Beth is a little like a diesel locomotive, she starts out slowly, but then she settles on a steady speed and holds it regardless of terrain. I on the other hand am a little more akin to a bicycle ridden by an overweight elderly gentleman, I move relatively quickly downhill (albeit unsteadily), and need to be dismounted and pushed slowly with much puffing and wheezing uphills. Combine this inconsistent speed with my propensity to be consumed by photographic subjects from time to time, and it is not an unusual thing for me to lose touch with my good wife, which means that I need to either run to catch up or meet her at the next map pondering point (not because she is perplexed and needs my advice, but because she knows I will get lost is she does not wait. One thing that works in my favour here is that Beth seems to be outrageously incompetent at keeping her shoelaces tied. She ties them tightly, then does the double knot, but you can guarantee that within a kilometre they will have come loose. Lace tying is one thing at which I excel, and the infrequency of my need to re-tie laces relative to Beth does help me to catch up. Despite these difficulties we seem to make things work, and more importantly we enjoy the experience and accept the differences. (Is likening my wife to a diesel locomotive an indication that I am secure in my relationship, or is it just foolish I wonder??)

As well as official photographer, I also hold the important role of official archivist. My children gave me a GPS sports watch for Christmas, which was intended to map and keep track of my jogging exploits, but it has now been pressed into service to record all our walks. From time to time limitations of the technology (and occasionally my forgetfulness) means that our walks have not been officially mapped, but by and large all our walks have been GPS tracked and recorded on an internet based data store and mapping tool, which is pretty cool.

One last note before I sign off. Some of you have told me that you are unable to add comments to my blog. I am sure that there is a technical widget that I need to tweak to make this happen, but I am afraid I cannot readily find it. So if you feel the need to make a comment or (perish the thought) suggest a correction or seek a retraction, please send an email to bethandmarkjohnson@gmail.com , we would love to hear from you.

Until next time…..