Bird’s Nest Bevarage – 25% bird’s nest

Just what was i doing fully clothed, yet shivering, frozen bogeys/snot crisp around my nostrils? Auditioning for a remake of Titanic?

Fortunately no. My acting is not what it once was; ‘becoming’ the priest in the school’s rendition of Jonah-Man Jazz was the high point of my thespian career(despite getting my robe stuck around my head when i was meant to strip off). No, i was sleeping under the stars in the outback. One of the highlights of my trip in Oz.

I was lucky enough to get on the trip that some of my other friends were doing. Early in the morning we set off from Alice (“Alice? Alice? Who the f*ck is Alice?” jokes soon became boring), too early if you ask me. This was my 7th early start in about as many days…travelling was not meant to be this difficult!
Our first sighting of Uluru (i refuse to call it Ayers Rock for reasons that the local aboriginal people own the site) was absolutely magical. Imposing, monolithic and yet quite serene. It sits there, timeless, in the middle of a flat plain; it looks so incongruous. As we got closer we could see the climbers, ‘minger-mob’ as the local indigenous population call them (means small, black ants, which should give you some idea of the scale of this rock). I desperately wanted to climb Uluru,. What an experience! But there was no way i would accomplish this desire. The path people climb is one of great spiritual significance. It has been here for thousands of years; tourists just a few decades.

At the nearby cultural centre and signs around the site were numerous requests not to climb the rock similar to the one on this website.

How could i climb it with any clear conscience, without feeling guilty that i had totally disregarded the wishes and emotions of the traditional and rightful owners of the site?

I kept watching people clamber down the last stretch and jump to the floor with a smile on their faces and patting each other on the back as if insulting another culture and law was something to be congratulated. Not to get on my high horse but i was rather disgusted. Would these same people, many of whom were probably religious, have tolerated similar desecrations of their spiritual places? One of the Jewish guys on our trip brushed aside my comments, but i wondered what his reaction to someone clambering all over the Wailing wall would have been.

Rather than close the path the Anangu place their faith in visitors voluntarily choosing not to climb through education and understanding; two traits seemingly in short supply!

However, most of our tour were respectful to the Anangu’s culture and spirituality and recognised we were guests on local aboriginal land. We therefore partook in the base walk around Uluru. A 9.4 km trek around this huge edifice, admiring its size, its various colours, and its pockmarked, creased surface. But i kep thinking back to the cultural centre. “The tourist comes here with the camera taking pictures all over. What has he got? Another photo to take home, keep part of Uluru. He should get another lens – see straight inside. Wouldn’t see big rock then. He would see that Kaniga (sp?) living right inside there from the beginning. He might throw his camera away then.”

I didn’t! But i did try and conceptualise my surroundings more in keeping with Anangu teachings which centre around ancestral beings, giant lizards, warring factions and evil spirits, all collectively known as Tjukuntja (the creation-time). Dreamtime is now deemed a discredited, offensive term. For many aboriginal people dreamtime, or ‘the dreaming’ evokes ethereal qualities which imply an unreality to these tales/histories).

However, ones own worldview is notoriously hard to step outside of. It’s even harder to enter another one convincingly, especially one so fundamentally different. I’ve read that many aboriginal worldviews (there is not just one) have no concept of past/present/future! So for me Uluru remained a large rock, but i appreciated the Tjukuntja at the same time.

I was very impressed with the park. For decades, aboriginal land entitlement and interests were wholly ignored. Their responsibility to the land was brushed aside when the area was made a national park. The land rights act 1976 (shockingly late! Shameful!) allowed the Anangu to lay claim to the area. The result? Wait for it……unsuccessful. However,eventually (in 1985) the thousands year old relationship with the land was recognised  and immediately leased back to the Australian Nature conservation Agency for 99 years. Now the Piranpa (settled Australians) and Anangu work together in a mutually beneficial relationship repairing the damage done to the land under Piranpa control (before the European invasion the Anangu had successfully managed the land for thousands of years!).
The Mutitjula community is home to around 150-180 aboriginal people and living with them are some Piranpa who provide facilities such as sports and day care. Piranpa are also teaching some Anangu how to be park rangers, but this is no one way exchange of information. In return the Anangu are teaching the Pirapa how to manage the land in an effective and healthy way. They have much to teach and generations of knowledge.

It appeared to me this community was a healthy symbiosis i had not encountered anywhere else in Australia. In Cairns there were many ‘Westernized’ Aboriginal people. Although helpful in brushing aside racist assumptions that Aboriginal people cannot become ‘modern’ it would be sad if the future of all aboriginal communities was assimilation into westernized Australian society. However i have met many Australians who desire just that. there appears to be an assumption that westernized aboriginals are somehow ‘good’, healthy and productive while those who cling to their traditional ways of life are backward and irrelevant.  Another argument i encountered was that even when aboriginal communities were westernized they “failed to make anything of their lives”. But this argument rests on the arrogant assumption that western civilization is right for them. The problems faced by aboriginal communities are not those of their choosing, they are a product of invasion, ethnic cleansing, land clearances (and bombings – the Pitjanijatjara and Yankuriytjatjara were lucky enough to join a select few indigenous peoples to have nuclear weapons tested on their land. What a gift!), persecution, and a continuing, unashamedly pervasive racism which i encountered all over the country. Other countires have racism, this is not my argument, but you would be hard pressed to find such brazen prejudice in Britain without some retort from the surrounding public. On a bus to Hervey Bay i was asked by an Aussie why i wanted to go to the red centre when it was full of ‘abos’. Another told me to watch out as the place was full of darkies. I heard of one backpacker being shunned because he called Uluru by its rightful name and not Ayers Rock.

Enough. Back to my trip i think. So, that night as we supped on our beers, we watched the sun set over uluru, the rock turning from a dark orange to a dusty red and finally a deep purpleish brown.    after that we drive out to a remote spot in the bush and set up camp, lighting ther fire, placing our swags (a traditional aussie sleeping bag) around in a semi circle and began a long winded game of charades. When the beer had dried up we all snuggled down and watched the night sky. I have never seen so many stars. One could see the whole milky way…a vast strip of patchy light across the sky streaked with shooting stars every few minutes. Amazing.

Day two we travelled to the Olgas which are a series of gigantic, bulging, swollen mounds that like uluru seem to rise out of nothing. Between these mounds we trekked a path through the crevices and clambered down dried river beds and up tricky rock formations.

After this we ventured into the outback to collect firewood and hunt for some Witchetee grubs. I didnn’t really fancy eating another white, pappy bug so i sneakily chose a bush that had no signs of grub decay. Alas half an hour later my tree had produced three huge grubs. The rest of the group? None. Typical. that night we camped under the stars again but this time with our bellies rumbling from the peanut butter flavoured grubs in our bellies.

Day 3 – we were taken to another site where we climbed up a steep mountainside. At the top of this set of ranges was a small path between two rocks. Past this was the ‘Lost city’! Oooooooo i hear you cry. On top of this mountain was a flat expanse walled in on all sides and populated by small half-spherical mounds, none higher than 2-3 metres that reminded me of those models made from stacks of thin wooden slats. Through the lost city we reached the ‘Garden of Eden’ which was absolutely stunning (damn you Eve!). It lay at the bottom of a deep, very thin crevice about 15 metres wide but which stretched for a couple of hundred metres. the whole area was full of ancient ferns, palms trees and eucalypts. At the far end was a deep, clear green pool protected on three sides by high walls of orange stone.

A fantastic trip to end my time in Australia. I had a great time on the trip, with Gayle, Alison and Lisa in particular.

From here i flew to Perth where i originally began my Oz adventure. I decided it was time to head to Asia. Due to my awful organisational skills i had to fly first class to Kuala Lumpa as there were no other economy seats left – not all bad, the champagne on tap, the wonderful Manhattans and the delightful gin and tonics did wonders for my fear of flying, as did the real china, silver cutlery and edible plane food. Wonderful.

Asia, are you ready?

Instead of taking the usual option of flying the vast distances to Alice Springs which is dead in the centre of Australia i decided to join a trip with Desert Venturer. Its not a tour exactly, more like a road trip with 30 odd other people. Am so glad i chose this option.

The company blurb (“You get to see the real Australia”) was spot on. Although i dislike totalizing any particular part of a country or aspect of its culture as the “real deal” i saw areas of the country that mirrored many of my preconceptions of Australia.

The trip is essentially just a means to get to the centre of the continent rather than see many of the sites along the way, though on our first day we did manage to see some of the ‘highlights’ of the route including the widest waterfall in Oz (unspectacular due to low rainfall), Australia’s smallest bar (a cupboard) and Porcupine Gorge (Australia’s mini Grand Canyon: very enjoyable to see how a small river over millions of years – or 6000 years if you are a creationist and happen to stand against the vast multitude of scientific fields of enquiry – has cut through different coloured rock, from reds to ochres, ashes, oranges and browns. It reminded me of of layered cake.

Our journey started in lush, muggy rainforest. By that evening the landscape had changed dramatically as it would continue to do throughout the three day journey. We were, after all traversing half the distance of the entire continent! Rainforest had morphed into lush grass, volcanic soil and the dairy farms of the Atherton Tablelands, after which eucalypt forests began to dominate.  

Our first night was spent in Hughenden. A small outback town. We stayed in the Great Wester hotel i think. Just what was great about it i do not know. Though we had dinner on the veranda i try not to use such sophisticated words lest people get the impression of high tea at the Ritz. This was a motel through and through. The bar was heaving as it was friday night; the Hughenden glitterati were out in force. Alas shampoo has still not permeated this area of the country. Likewise moral values banning sexual relations with a close members of your family have steered well clear from the town. As Bill Bryson so aptly puts it, this was a town that had clearly witnessed “generations of unbiblical sex”. I’m being overly judgemental though. We chatted to many of them after a thrilling game of Killer Pool (i was the last tour person in the tournament, which was eventually won by a local, and so won a stubby holder!) and they were all very amiable including two aboriginal guys who me and my new friend Alison got on with very well.

Next day was an early start so we could catch the sunrise over the outback. Quite stunning. It was now clear how deep into the continent we were. The terrain was flat and drier with much shorter shrisb and trees peppering the landscape. Stopped in Winton which was the birthplace of Australia’s unofficial national anthem: Waltzing Matilda.

Our next stop was Carrisbrook station, a cattle farm – though farm is not the correct term for these establishments. This particular station was 50 000 acres, and that is not particularly large. Some of the biggest dwarf many European states. The size of this country never ceases to amaze.

The owner of the station was Charlie and he showed us around 3 high lookouts which offered spectacular panoramic views of 2000 square km of dusty, red, flat outback country. While the driver prepared an Aussie BBQ for lunch he took us to see some aboriginal cave painting.  

Next leg of the journey took us to Middleton Pub, the sole building for hundreds of miles. Population? 6 – including pets!

Second days accomodation was Wirrelyena station, another cattle and sheep ranch. We all sat around a log fire drinking, eating a hearty meal prepared by our hosts, and playing with the pet kangaroo, puppies and pigs. The only downside was the hosts son. I kept trying to see if he had 666 on his head or if his name was Damian. I’ve never met a more obnoxious, rude or plain nasty boy. At one point, when he was kneeling over the fire i wanted to give him a short sharp kick in the butt and do everyone a favour.

Day 3 and we were now in the heart of Australia. Dead bushes and stoney desert gave way to nothingness. Just dust. We all got out and did a ‘nothingness’ walk, laughing nervously about how funny it would be if we broke down – but how unlikely it would be.

One hour later we had broken down. The back tyre blew. Stranded in the outback – well, for a good hour at least. Was kind fo exciting actually. we had provisions to last us days if necessary.

Once we got underway we amused ourselves with a game of ten pin bowling down the coach aisle using water bottles and an orange, a quiz in which i came third (i won a toy koala bear) and stopped to admire a five metre high termite mound.

The trip was brilliant. We all had a great time. I would recommend it to anyone thinking of flying. You don’t get up to much, you don’t see the most amazing sites in Oz, but it is fun and very sociable (and cheaper than flying).  

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Song of the Week:   

Waltzing Matilda – The driver clearly loved this song, he played it practically non stop. He even gave out the words and we all sang our little hearts out!

(Most annoying) animal of the week: 

Outback flies. For all that is good and true in this world, if i could have snapped my fingers and killed every last one of these critters i would have. This coming from a person that increasingly dislikes killing anything (I’m on the road to vegetarianism at the moment, when i get home at least). They were incessant. 50 would land on you all at once, buzzing in your ears and around your eyes. Every time you took a bite of lunch you inadvertently swallowed more protein than your food offered you. I started to look increasingly like a crazty person, arms flapping in the air, head twisting violently from side to side and eventually perfecting these techniques by running around in a small circle.

Best moment of the trip:

Watching two kangaroos hop across the outback as we listened to a didgeredoo being played on some tribal dance music. Could not have been staged better.