This Wasn’t In The Brochure, Part 4:

The Land Down Under

From the farm, I took in Melbourne and Adelaide, then headed into Australia’s empty interior.

Its easy to forget how big Australia is.

The 6th biggest country in the world in area but only 56th for population. One website quoting the UN ranks it 230th for population density with just 3.32 people per km. This is further skewed by the fact that around 85% of Aussies live within 50km of the coast, leaving a whole lot of space in the middle. The size and sparseness of inhabitation meant many hours on buses, setting off at dawn to cover hundreds of miles while stopping off at points of interest on the way.

A few hours out of Adelaide the vegetation changed in hue from green to beige and became more sparse. The towns got smaller and further apart and traffic reduced to two main vehicle types; senior citizens in motor homes and road trains. Massive lorries pulling two or three trailers up to 53 metres long delivering goods to the outer reaches that power along at 100kmh on the straight and empty roads. Overtaking one of them takes nerve as well as plenty of time.

There was also a familar sight of roadkill in the form of dead kangaroos.

For variation it was an emu we encountered. They grow to nearly 2 metres and can run at nearly 50kmh. One morning I watched one running parallel to the road slightly ahead of us. Quite the sight to see it going full tilt. But for reasons known only to its birdbrain, it veered 90 degrees – straight into our path.

There was a loud bang and explosion of feathers.

Most vehicles out there have bull bars fitted due to the dangers of hitting a kangaroo at speed. We got out to find the impact of the bull bars had obliterated the emu with blood and entrails spattering the front of the bus and all the way down the undercarriage. They did their job in that although the emu left a cracked and caved in imprint in the front of the bus it was just cosmetic damage.

The towns we passed through had character. Coober Pedy is the Opal mining capital of the world. Its charms are such that it was the location for the post apocalyptic landscape of Mad Max 3, heaps of rubble and the debris from mining litter the surface. The climate is so inhospitable in summer that traditionally much of the town was built into the ground. Fortunately I was there in winter. I stayed in an underground hostel which we shared with some unseen but hungry visitors. I put my bag under my bed and during the night heard rustling noises underneath me but decided I’d rather not go looking for the cause in the dark. In the morning I discovered that the likely intruders were probably mice. Or maybe rats. Whichever, they’d sniffed out the unopened snacks in my bag and helped themselves.

Onto: Uluru (the rock formerly known as Ayres).

At that time you could still climb it. But as a sacred site for the Anangu people, they asked people not to. I respectfully complied and stuck to a ground level view doing a full circuit which was stunning in itself. The red hue of the rock changes over the course of the day with the sun.

One element of the red centre that wasn’t so fun were the flies.

In transferring from one bus to another I spent half an hour waiting at a gas station offering little shade and stood there sweating and attracting flies. An unrelenting swarm buzzed round my head and took it in turns to land on me. Insect repellent had no impact. And swatting them just moved them around a bit and freed up space for another to land on me.

Carrying on north the vegetation became greener and the humidity increased as you pass the Tropic of Capricorn. This area of Australia has some amazing national parks and scenery but its location and the difficulties in getting there meant there were no problems with overcrowding.

There are plenty of tales of crocs turning up in these places.

Most, but not all times in the rainy season, drawing a distinction between the larger more aggressive saltwater crocs. The ones that you do not want to meet in a watering hole. And, the smaller freshwater crocs which are (mostly) safe to swim in the presence of as they only attack when they feel threatened. Reassuring!

Winter temperatures in Darwin were still in the 80s, and it was humid.

I was told that in summer if you have a shower the humidity is so oppressive that trying to dry yourself just produces more sweat.

They didn’t expand on whether this meant waiting to dry naturally or just not showering during summer.

The standard backpacking route in Australia is along the well populated east coast.

It was always my intention to head that way after Darwin, and make my way down to Sydney over several weeks for the plane home. I like getting off the beaten track though, and had not yet had my fill of wilderness. I undid all my planning and headed down the west coast to Perth.

Cue more endless days on buses, passing through small towns and visiting deserted beaches and beauty spots.

And then there was Port Hedland. It wasn’t a destination in itself, just a convenient location for an overnight stop on the way somewhere else. The port services nearby iron ore mines and has a frontier vibe befitting its isolation, and the heavy industry sustaining it. More specifically, we spent the night in a hostel in South Hedland, a small satellite town a few km away.

There were five us plus our guide. Three of us decided as it was Saturday night, we’d visit the local pub.

Our guide gave an evil cackle and agreed it was a great idea.

But he wouldn’t join us. From the outside it was no looker, it had the appearance of a small bungalow, one that was in need of attention. There were no windows for a start. Well, there had been windows but they were boarded over. We walked in and came to a stop just inside the door. There wasn’t a lot to take in but there was a lot to process.

The decor was minimal. Reflecting the country itself the interior was mostly empty space. The one item of furniture was a table bolted to the floor. All the way around the walls was a ledge just wide enough to rest your drink on. Once upon a time it had been painted white, now it was a faded, scuffed off-white best described as grimy.

The other main feature was the barmaid who had a similarly minimal look, wearing just underwear.

She saw the looks on our faces smiled and shrugged as if to say; “Yeah, I know. But what can you do?”

Recovering our poise, we ordered drinks and stood around the one table. There were a handful of other drinkers, stood together in the corner. They looked at us as we entered then paid us no attention. The three of us quietly made conversation doing our best not to do or say anything that might change that.

It was pretty obvious from the lack of furniture and windows that this place had seen its fair share of brawling. We drank up and decided that as fascinating as it had been, we didn’t want to outstay our welcome. Getting back to the hostel our cackling guide gleefully asked what we thought and confirmed the pubs reputation for violence which had led to them removing anything that could be thrown.

Further down the coast at Coral Bay the locals were just as fascinating but not so intimidating. The Ningaloo Reef isn’t as famous as the Great Barrier Reef but is still 260km long and at Coral Bay is so close to the beach you can pick up a snorkel and swim out to it. I swam along on the surface looking down on barrel rolling manta rays with a 20ft wingspan feeding on plankton and krill.

And so: On reaching Perth there was just the small matter of getting back to Sydney.

Fortunately there’s one of the worlds great train journeys; The Indian Pacific. A mere 65 hours taking in 3 nights covering 4,352km.

An economy ticket bought an airline style seat in which to watch the world go by and sleep in. Or, if you’re like me, to not sleep in. Over three nights I might just have made it into double figures for hours of sleep. There was a buffet and lounge car so you could get up and walk around. A necessity as my seat was next to a fellow Brit who enthusiastically told me ‘we’ would soon get everyone going in a singalong.

We?!?! 

Leave me out of it, mate. He progressed to telling me ALL about his motorbikes including how the engine set up of a Harley differs to Japanese bikes.

I wished I was back talking to my alien loving colleague. I was just thankful that he got off at Adelaide after 2 nights.

Despite his best efforts it was one last special experience to round my year off.

Having had little sleep and realising that the couple of hours I’d managed was it, I headed to the lounge car before dawn. There was just me and one old guy, we nodded at each other and got down to staring out the window in restful silence other than the comforting rattle of the train. I saw a lot of sunrises and sunsets in some great locations over that year but sunrise over the vast emptiness of the Nullabor was the best I’ve seen.

As an added bonus, kangaroo bounded through the wilderness beside the train. It seemed too perfect and staged to be true.

This wasn’t in the brochure.

But it was far better than any brochure made out.

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