Well, week 2 has come and gone and with it
another bunch of adventures. It started
out with an early rise in Coober Pedy to get up and go watch the sun rise over
the Breakaways, a bunch of rocky outcrops about 30kms north of the town. Quite beautiful in their own right but kind
of weird just being there in the middle of nowhere. Coober Pedy itself felt like a town of
shattered dreams. As we drove out of
town there were as far as the eye could see mounds of discarded earth dug up in
search of the opal that would change your life had you been the lucky one to
find it… sadly though I suspect not many people did.
So sun risen and off for the short 7 and a
half hour drive to Uluru…our second longest drive we will do thankfully. We arrived late in the afternoon amongst much
excitement in the back of the cars as the boys got their first look at Ayers
Rock and Alex eagerly anticipated climbing it the next day, riding around it on
Sunday (as a Mothers Day treat for Bron he wanted to do the thing that Bron
most wanted to do on Sunday) and then the Olgas on the Monday.
Anyway, best laid plans of micee and
men. We wake up on Saturday morning to
strong winds and Alex not feeling well.
It seems that something he has eaten (suspect it was the left over Pizza
from our dinner out at Big Johns in Coober Pedy) has upset him and so day 1 is
spent around the camp with Alex walking the 50 or so metres to the amenities
block every hour or so.
Sunday arrives…Mother Day. Alex is feeling a little better so off to the
rock we go for the 10.6km ride around it…only problem is that we can only fit 3
bikes in the car so I ride the 18km in and Bron is going to ride it back to
camp (we are still debating who had the headwind and uphill…it was definitely
me!). Now comes Lachie’s turn to catch
whatever Alex had…except we are half way around the rock and not a toilet
within 2kms of us. What to do, what to
do…so we did what any local parent would do, dropped his dacks behind a bush
and held him tightly while dodging the…well you get the picture. And then 5 minutes later I hear “Dad, my
tummy hurts”…so back behind the bush and away we go again….and then 5 minutes
later we go third time lucky. Now, for
all those Dad’s out there and anyone wanting to know how to decide whether to
be a tissue or a hanky user…all I can say is thank goodness I am a hanky user
or he would have one sore little butt…any for the record I am now one hanky
down from the clothes I packed to bring away.
So we complete the ride with a lot of
coaxing and what we thought would take the morning has taken all day. Back in camp Alex has a relapse and 5 or 6
times through the night I take one of the boys on the 50metre dash to the
amenities until, sometime in the morning Lachie has a stomach ache and through
sleep deprived eyes I try to convince him to lie a different way to see if it
helps. The result…”Dad, there’s poo
running down my leg”….and as I leap out of bed to get him out of the tent to
avoid the next 3 and a half months from tragedy I see there is also some through
his sleeping bag. So another morning at
the laundry for Bron, still windy so no climbing the rock for Alex we decide to
go to the Olgas.
Now these are every bit as magnificent as
the Rock itself. Massive domes of rock
creating the most peaceful place you could think of. Good news is we timed our walks in between
toilet stops and got out unscathed.
Tonight we are going to watch the sunset at the rock so food packed,
weber in the back down we head and watch the incredible changing colours of the
rock as the sun slowly slides behind the horizon. Kids fed and Bronnie and my dinner on the
plate ready to eat when…”Dad, I’m busting”.
Again, no amenities anywhere so we put Lachie in the car, prey he can
hold on and drive the 4 or 5kms in record speed to the toilets at the Cultural
Centre, carry him through the nicely set linen tables of a function just as the
buses of people turn up and get him on the toilet in a nick of time. Muttering a few apologies to people better
dressed then we are and who don’t have a 4 year old attached to the hip, we
head back to the sun set to see that the sun has now well and truly set,
leaving Bronnie and I to eat our steak and veges cold, in the dark unable to
see the rock at all.
Needless to say a late departure from the campground
the next day and we head to a place called Rainbow Valley…about 75kms south of
Alice Springs and at the end of a 24km dirt road. We arrive to a bush camp set up, only a
solitary pit toilet for the nightly run (although today the boys seem to be a
bit better) but the most spectacular little cragged mountain range right in
front of our campsite that you could ever imagine. The sunset glowed orange and red and yellow
in the most vivid array of colours and with warm soup in the bellies we went to
sleep on this sub zero night snug in our Arctic rated sleeping bags (except for
the hole where ours zips together which seems to be lined up with my feet…one
of the draw backs of height) incredibly happy because tonight is what it is all
about.
(For the record, the dash up the hill only
happened 4 times tonight , although slipping the thongs on to walk up in the middle
of a sub zero night is what I call cold).
And this brings me to now, tucked away in
the McDonald Ranges Caravan Park a couple of kms south of Alice…..4 and a half
star camping this one…they have shade cloth on the ground for us to fold out
the tent, the kids have a playground and jumping pillows and for 3 nights we
will brave the cold with nice hot showers, a toilet block almost literally across
the street (although both the boys went all day today without the urgent call
of nature so here’s hoping).
On Saturday (I am told it is Wednesday
today) we head north eventually landing in Darwin in about a week and a bit,
but I will fill you all in on that next week.
Till next time,…
No comments:
Post a Comment