The Top End

We arrive at what the Aussies inventively call “The Top End.” The city of Darwin was a remote outpost at the end of hundreds of kilometers of rough, unsealed road until WWII when the U.S. came to the aid of Australia and the bombed wreck of Darwin. They paved the road in record time, saving Oz from becoming Japan-South and enabling us to visit 65 years later. A major thing that people of The Top End do is try to stay cool. We fall into this custom like a couple of pros. The whole region is dotted with crystal clear limestone pools and waterfalls. Here you see photographic evidence of our diligence in inspecting as many as we can.



BUT…… Don’t swim just anywhere! Another featured creature of this area is the formidable, not to mention huge, saltwater crocodile. Salties live quite successfully in fresh water as well as salt, and they swim far up rivers in search of dinner. Dinner is anything they can clamp their jaws around, including unwary humans. There are freshies, too, but they’re more reclusive, smaller, and only capable of inflicting serious wounds, so nobody worries too much about them.

By now we have so many photos of the riot of birds that we could dazzle you for days. Instead we prefer to just tantalize you with one or two at a time. The expressive Frogmouth was surely the inspiration for Oscar the Grouch. And when was the last time you saw a flock of geese hanging around in a tree TOP?



Termite mounds continue to abound. How would you like to have this one for a neighbor?



Distances between inhabited areas are vast and the land is pretty flat. To transport goods most efficiently the Aussies have developed the “road train.” They transport everything from gravel to cattle to jelly beans. Of course these guys can’t stop on a dime (or even several dollars), so we give them plenty of space.

Tomorrow we will point our compass west, leaving the town of Katherine for the no-man’s-land of Western Australia. Stay tuned for further exciting encounters and challenges.

Northern Territory

Aussie animals continue to captivate us. The clever Black Buzzard breaks emu eggs by picking up stones with his beak and hurling them at the egg until it cracks.

We don’t know what the Horny Devil does for a living. By his appearance, anything he wants.

Aboriginal people lived nomadically in Australia for 40,000–60,000 years. About 220 years ago when England began sending convicts to this land, their lifestyle took a distinct downward turn. We are trying to puzzle out what this means today. The two cultures couldn’t be more different spiritually and materially. Most of the blacks we see in the towns seem to have lost themselves, and alcohol is a major problem. However, in national parks and cultural centres we learn about their proud culture, traditions, and sacred places. What gives? In Alice Springs we meet Eric Brown and his deaf/mute Aboriginal wife Napaljari who is a painter. Eric has a wealth of information. He lived among them out in the bush for thirty years.

We learn that the traditional ways are surviving just fine deep within their own land where possessions have no value. Closer to “civilization” are Aboriginal towns run by their Councils of Elders where people live in houses, go to schools, etc., but alcohol is prohibited. They’re sort of halfway into the white people’s world, though holding many of their own traditions and rules intact. Sadly, the most visible Aboriginals are the ones living in the midst of whites. Since few whites can fathom such a completely different way of being, there is considerable suspicion and resentment. And, on the part of the Aboriginals, there’s a lot of sitting around and drunkenness.

Back to nature. We can’t have a blog installment without a cliff photo. Here is Trephina Gorge, east of Alice Springs.


Heading north, we suffer our second punctured tire at the Tropic of Capricorn. Back we go to Alice Springs to repair it, then north to Devil’s Marbles. The many huge balanced boulders were formed underground when molten magma solidified, fractured, and weathered when the surrounding land eroded away. Water seeping into a crack weakens a rock until its own weight causes it to split apart.




Busy termites construct many tall mounds as far as the eye can see.



We are now in the tropics, roughly equivalent to northern Mexico. We have timed our arrival for the winter, but still it’s hot and humid. Swimming is a welcome diversion, though caution is advised. Stay away from salty (crocodile) territory! Katherine Thermal Springs (about 90 degrees F) and Edith Falls are lovely.

We leave you with this little-known bit of trivia: what does Qantas (Airline) stand for? “Queensland and Northern Territory Aerial Service.” It was founded by a couple of WWI pilots.

The Australian Outback

The ferry from Kangaroo Island is cancelled due to rough seas so we camp for the night in the parking lot. We’re not the only ones: when the resident Little Blue Penguins come ashore at dusk, a pair settles in directly outside our window! Through the night they don’t get much sleep, and neither do we. He has sex on his mind, she’s willing, and there’s a lot of conversation and strolling around. By dawn penguin-reveille is sounded, and our short friends join their comrades in returning to sea.

Back on the mainland we decide to cover some ground, postponing explorations of Adelaide till later. We’re itching to taste the Outback. On the way we spend several days in Mt Remarkable and Flinders Ranges national parks, scaling cliffs and whatnot as you know we are wont to do.

And then quite suddenly we have reached Nowhere. It’s important to carry a lot of water and fuel; who knows where we’ll find more of either. We test Art’s four wheel driving capabilities, honed on Vermont’s dirt roads, with a trip out to Lake Eyre, a salt water lake that dwarfs America’s Great Salt Lake…except that it’s dry. Water is, however, just below the surface. The farther we walk out, the spongier the salty sand becomes, and we leave deeper and deeper puddles of footprints. The water has evaporated from other’s prints, leaving pure white salt thick enough to scoop up.

After the rough track out and back, we’re glad to be back on average unsealed roads for the next few hundred kms. If we trade in our Troopy for something a bit larger, would the ride be smoother?

Contrary to popular opinion, there’s plenty of variety in the Outback. You just have to go pretty far to experience the diversity. In remote areas of the U.S. one often finds signs riddled with bullet holes. Here in Oz more ingenuity is displayed. We wish we had photographed more (and will doubtless have the opportunity). A couple we remember: CREEK becomes I LIKE GREEKS; CREST becomes BREAST TESTING AHEAD; FLOODWAY becomes FLOODWAY open between 6 & 7 and sports a fish silhouette.

Coober Pedy’s claim to fame is opal mining. Signs caution people not to walk around after dark or even to walk backward lest they fall into a mine shaft. The area is dotted with hundreds of pyramids of bone-dry limestone slag. The heat is ferocious in the summer and nights are near freezing in the winter. Back in the 1960s miners discovered that the temperature remained a constant and comfortable mid-60 degrees underground. By now many of the town’s residents live (and even go to church) in underground caves.

The famously persistent flies are out in force. What do they want? They don’t bite; they just like to crawl around on people’s faces, in their ears, eyes, noses, lips. Head netting is essential, and it’s time to replace the screen with the holes in it. Stitching a new one in (ouch ouch ouch), we feel great appreciation for Gerda and Franz who replaced the other two.

We drive north, out of South Australia and into the Northern Territories. At last we reach awesome Uluru, formerly known as Ayers Rock. It is sacred to the Aboriginals, and they ask people not to climb it (it’s over 1,000 feet high) so we just walked the 10 km around it. A curious thing happened at sunset. We don’t know how to explain it. Here’s the sequence:
1. Late afternoon sun
2. The rock and Art bathed in the warm light of the setting sun
3. The sun sinks below the horizon leaving the rock and Art in shadow
4. A glow begins in one corner and grows (though the land is still in shadow)
5. The rock seems to be lit from within (though Art & land are in shadow)
6. The rock slowly darkens for the night.

We press on to Watarrka N.P. (King’s Canyon) to satisfy our constant urge to hang around in high places. After that, disaster strikes. We drive a couple hundred kms of corrugated (washboard) red dirt. At the site of an ancient comet crash, far far from civilization, we discover our rear fuel tank (which is full) has sprung a leak. We spend the night near feral camel tracks, serenaded by dingoes, with a bucket under the leak. We have timed it so we only have to awaken once during the night to pour the contents into our front fuel tank. In the morning we make a run for Alice Springs, about 250 kms away. Upon arrival we seek a repair shop. Every time we stop we have to put the bucket under the leak. No one can help us till Monday, 5 days hence. So we buy a siphon hose, park on an unused street, and gradually transfer the remaining fuel from the back tank to the front.

Then it’s back out to the gorgeous gorges of West MacDonnell N.P. and Finke Gorge N.P. Camping on a hilltop we set up a Barbershop with a View. Another night we bush camp in a dry riverbed with a glorious sunset. Calmed, we return to Alice Springs on Sunday for our Monday a.m. welding appointment. We stroll the Sunday market and return to find a punctured tire! Further, we seem to be missing part of the jack. Well, we have a king-sized bush jack lashed to the rhino bar in the front, so Art jacks the rear up alternating between that jack stuck into the hitch receiver and the regular jack under the axle. Hair-raising!

We’re all fixed now, and this has become much too long so we’ll leave further news for another episode.

Along the South Coast

It seems we are covering very little territory, yet there’s something brand new every day, often an animal. Our first experience with kangaroos happens when a mob thunders past, surrounding us. In excitement we report this astounding news a little later to some Aussies about to embark on the trail. With tolerant smiles and rolling eyes, they say, “Really? That’s nice.” It isn’t long before we realize you have to be blind to miss seeing kangaroos and their smaller cousins the wallabies all over the countryside. Here our tour guide Cassidy clarifies some of the finer points of wallaby behavior.

Others are a little more elusive, but we’re persistent. Koalas munch eucalyptus tree leaves and sleep in the treetops 19 hours per day. Emus can run up to 40 mph. The shy little echidna is another marsupial (has a pouch) who is covered in spines like a porcupine and has a long snout. So far we suspect that the wombat, yet another marsupial, is a mythical creature. We see droppings and diggings, but no animal. Jeanette and Barry, entertaining travel companions for a few days, take us on a nighttime wombat hunt but still no luck. What do YOU think?

Still, we can hardly complain. We can tell you from first-hand experience (a claim few can make) that the duck-billed platypus really does exist! This little fellow is swimming in a forest pool on Kangaroo Island.

Life in our diminutive Troopy keeps us in shape, especially when we need to reach something at an inconvenient time. We continue to tinker with our nest, removing gizmos installed by previous owners that don’t work (the gizmos, not the owners) (well, maybe the owners, too) and adding our own innovations. When we begin to be seriously plagued by the famous Oz flies, we’ll find out whether our back-door-screen curtain works.

Coastal limestone formations are captivating. Inland a hundred miles or so, limestone still rules. Back a few years (like maybe millions), the ocean would have been lapping at Art’s feet here in the Grampian Mountains. Composed of the calcified remains of ancient sea creatures, soft limestone erodes into fantastic shapes.



When we stop for the night, a neighbor drops onto our door to make sure we’re comfortable. The birds of Australia are brilliant and profuse.