Breakout to the South Australian Outback

Hattah Kulkyne

The trip got off to a great start with beautiful Mournpall Campsite at Hattah Kulkyne NP. We were the only campers in a huge site next to the flooded lake and its bordering red gums. Parrots and wattlebirds everywhere.

First hiccup was Gen’s discovery that the shower cubicle used as our photo storage centre had filled with a cm of water. By sheer luck the thick shoulderstrap of the photo bag at the bottom had absorbed the water, so drying out was a simple solution. Next hiccup, Bluey, our Ford transit camper, coughed and died when started, however the scare was quickly sorted by fiddling with a few buttons. 

Driving away from Hattah, Robert noticed a hitchhiker arachnid, medium size, clambering up the windscreen. An attempt to eject via the side window, resulted in the spider shooting up into the roof behind the upholstery.

Gluepot

A quick crossing on the ferry at Waikerie takes us onto the backroads of the stations leading to Gluepot. 

En route we trail behind a group of sheep madly dashing down the corrugations to reach their flock which is commanded by two stern looking alpacas, a bit incongruous for the bush. 

Gluepot is a nature conservation reserve with basic bush camping.  Attractions are the walks, the bird hides, and the mallee habitat crisscrossed by sandy roads which are fun to drive, but turn sticky and boggy, the origin of the name gluepot, when wet. Most advice is not to travel here in the 40C heat of summer, however we love the fact we are the only visitors for hundreds of hectares. 

Bluey is a dream, providing iced Gin and Tonic, a glass of white wine with ice cubes beside me as I write, and luxuries to make it all very liveable indeed. A shady campsite in Sitella campground is enlivened by our naked frolics as we do our own ice bucket challenge with the collapsible bucket and rainwater.

The goat hunters have been in for the annual cull and we are warned there is a whiff down the road by the dam close to Sitella where they have heaped their 43 kills.

The bird hides, five in all, each have their character, and cast of creatures. I momentarily land in the doghouse when a collared sparrowhawk lands on our hide’s roof, and as we crouch in silence, awaiting the famed bird’s appearance, I knock a footstool and the bird disappears.

An excellent fresh Caesar’s salad followed by strawberries and cream was being nicely digested with a nap, when Gen woke me to come inside the van and see something. Clinging to the back wall of the shower was a handsome palm-sized spider with juicy palps and a definite look of wanting to stay in place. 

First off, we used a bowl to cup over the spider, then slide a sheet of paper under both bowl and spider. However the plan failed when the spider pushed the paper up and escaped to the bottom of the pile of clothing stored in the shower. 

We gingerly rummaged through the pile to eventually unearth a rather pissed off spider again. Robert came up with the next masterplan to sweep the spider in one stroke into the dustpan and gracefully flick outside. The spider successfully boarded the dustpan; however it started to make a quick exit, so Robert valiantly tried to reach the door, aiming to flick it past Gen's head, only for the spider to fall onto the entrance step in front of Gen who was trying to film the proceedings. A deft flick off the steps landed the irate spider outside under a chair where it remained motionless for ten minutes. 

Gen thought we needed more space, so gave the spider a nudge with her foot when it suddenly shot straight at her; Gen jumped; and the spider continued under the van into the shade. Only tomorrow will we know if our arachnid hauled up again inside the shower.

A cloudy day at Gluepot turns into a later afternoon drizzle plus downpour overnight. In the morning, the local volunteer ranger, Gunter, arrives on his Kubota quad truck, the best vehicle not to ruin the tracks. He advises not to travel the dirt roads for 24 hours. 

We examine the puddles and lounge in camp a while before doing the Babbler circuit walk, a beautiful 90 minutes with black and white spiders; and a small Jacky Winter divebombing us for a reason we found out next day. It is easy to lose our way in the terrain unless we proceed from one marker, then stop to orient to the next visible one.

At noon, a Dutch couple arrived. They were upset after hitting a roo on the way in, and had alerted the ranger that it was not dead, but needed the coup de grace.

In the late afternoon we dropped into the reception centre and got the volunteer ranger to ID Gen’s pics. 

Overnight the weather cleared and we took an early morning retrace of half the circuit walk where we discovered the divebombing Jacky Winter had built a perfect, very shallow nest with two eggs on a branch jutting into the path. 

En route 64km back to Waikerie, we crossed several boggy spots in the road where the water had gathered and a whole procession of emus, kangaroos and honeyeaters bounced in front of us.

Waikerie 
Woollies and the town bustle was a shock to the system after being on our own in 600 acres of bush. For Christmas, we chose a small vintage pudding which I suggested we could flambé with diesel if in distress.

Lee, our GPS, stubbornly estimated 5.5 hours to Alpana in North Flinders Range. We slogged an 11 hour day with Bluey, but passed through amazing windfarms and desert bushscapes. 

After Hawker, we turned onto Moralana circuit and took the dusty track into the late afternoon light which attracted all sorts of kangaroos, emus, sheep and birds to skip and jump across our path. 

Alpana Homestead
Arriving late at Alpana homestead with the last of the light, we were in ecstasy with the shower. Dawn proved a delight:

Next morning, we dropped in to see Sally, the homestead owner and her kelpie, Dusty. We picked ‘the best of both worlds’: to keep a key to a bathroom outside the homestead; and go into Billy’s paddock, 1km into the bush to camp. 

The rest of the day we recuperated and tried attracting birds with water – our efforts yielded a bunch of very vocal crows who ran the gauntlet of mobbing by dusky woodswallows and willy wagtails each time they came to drink or eat. Interesting too to see the crows caching food in the scrub.

The visitors' book had an interesting entry, almost biblical, regarding mobile coverage:

Blinman
Sunday started with a drive to Blinman. Bluey was still making a high pitched sound, so we decided Monday would be the day to go south to Hawker for a mechanical check. Just out of Blinman we took the Glass Gorge dirt road detour, plenty of wild goats prancing around the road, roos doing kamikaze runs, and shaggy sheep lurking with intent to cross on a suicide mission. 

Moving slowly, we were just about to declare we were lost, when two hours later we landed on the Blinman – Parachilna unpaved road again.

Parachilna
Parachilna is famous for its Prairie Hotel and its feral foods. 

We arrived only to find it was about to close in three hours for the next two months for a break. The host was a bright spark, just back from promoting aborigine art in China. He said he was a greenie at heart and at odds with his family of farmers. The night before, a couple of travelling engineers and the local homesteader had stayed up drinking until 4am when the homesteader and wife succeeded in returning, not without a great deal of reverse spinning of wheels before finding the forward gears.

In the heat of the afternoon we took the dirt circuit through Brachina Gorge and popped back out onto the asphalt to cruise down to Wilpena Pound for a powered site.

The Flinders Range has only two mechanics within 1,000km, so next day we are off to Hawker to see Chris the mechanic about a mystery high-pitched squeak. Parked outside is an unlucky Tassie camper that had an argument with a kangaroo and lost big time:

Whilst Chris diagnoses, we sit outside the village store and café. A succession of locals pass by, largely elderly matrons trying to hang onto their hats whilst pushing a Zimmerframe. Chris had stripped down the fanbelt and was unable to diagnose between the alternator and the water pump, however, just the inspection seemed to do the trick for the return to Alpana.

Arkaroola
A dirt road morning drive got us to Arkaroola, an offroader’s and geologist’s delight, in the Northern Flinders Range. 

The Wilderness Sanctuary is privately owned and operated by the Sprigg family. Reg Sprigg (famous Australian geologist) and his wife Griselda bought this former sheep station in 1967. Their aim was to preserve the unique environment, remove feral animals and re-introduce native fauna and plants. Arkaroola village and roads were established in this remote area to develop an eco-tourism venture (one of the first such ventures of its kind).

Today, Arkaroola is owned by the Spriggs' children, Douglas and Margaret. Travelling with their parents, Marg (then aged 10) and Doug (then seven) became the first motorists to cross the Simpson Desert, one of the world’s most remote regions with its 1,000 parallel north-south running dunes spread over 176,500 square kilometres.

Bluey manned up as a 2WD to some essentially 4WD roads, most of which are old mining roads built for prospecting uranium. 

We bushcamp for a couple of days, getting up at dawn for sunrise special vistas, and star gazing at night. 

We join the Ridgetop Tour for a half day being driven in a 4wd deep into the Arkaroola rocky landscape. This is very extreme 4wd, the stuff of advertising legends, where visitors' vehicles are excluded. Not for the fainthearted, the trip is led by Steve, a geologist and Eva a geology undergrad. On board is David, a garrulous gay travel aficionado and South Australia fan from Adelaide; Brian, a bushey, local earthmoving contractor; and Mary and her hubby – Mary was once the governess for the kids of Reg and Griselda Sprigg. The plucky Toyota Landcruiser truck growls up and down increasingly vertiginous and rutted tracks; everyone holds on tight. 

En route, Steve provides commentary, such as, take a break now if you want to change your underwear. The final ascent is a seemingly impossible four wheeled vertical scramble up to Sillers lookout, a fabulous panorama with the plains below and the dry saline Lake Frome surrounded by arid mountains.

As we descend from the lookout, the Toyota skids towards the abyss while Steve cheerily recounts the story when the car jumped out of gear while he was taking the cream of Australia’s top geologists down from the same spot.

Safely back at the bush camp, we settle in for the night. This is shooting star season and there are plenty to watch from the bed. Slumber ceases at 4am with the beeping that indicates the fridge is down due to battery failure. The only remedy is to pack up and head for the powered site to plug into the mains.

 At the powered site, Gen goes on reconnaissance with a torch which flattens the perspective. She signals to go ahead. An ugly scraping sound ensues and Bluey is stuck at an angle. As it’s dark, I can’t see Gen, so she opens the door to speak to me. This triggers the front electric step. At the same time, I reverse. From bad to worse. Now the second step is stuck. We finally manage to free Bluey and call it a day.. Enough woes for the night, so we go to bed.

Next morning, the fridge is back in action, and we ask at reception for help with a hoist and a hammer to remove the offending bent step. Roger the station mechanic works his wonders and regales with tales of his trip to Scotland to see his ancestral lands, plus whisky distilleries. 

Sporting a long white beard and cheery eyes, Roger is a great bloke who spends his free time shooting goats – especially the females who replicate the feral pest – Gen observes that the billies also play a role in procreation! With the step off, we have proper clearance again. Off for new adventures.

Copley – Leigh Creek – Marree

The Copley mechanic was a well-worn character, full of words but without a smile. He said he had rescued two broken down vehicles in the last two weeks from the Oodnadatta track. He advised to be fully prepared because we were unlikely to see any other traffic at this time of year.

At Leigh Creek, a spotless, shady mining town, we popped into the Foodland Supermarket. Then we made the decision to leave our crippled step behind by the rubbish bin, unable to find a place for it any longer in the back. Let’s hope the security cameras pointing to the car park won’t pick up our number plate.

Gen has visions of palm trees and a swimming pool. I ascribe this levity to the road which runs long, dusty, and flat to a limitless horizon populated by the occasional strolling emu and young.

Marree

Arrival in Marree, once a major destination for cattlemen droving to market who stopped for refreshment, grog and a few fisticuffs at the bar. Frequented by cameleers and once a main station for the Old Ghan Railway between Alice Springs and Adelaide, the tiny community is dotted with old timer engines, and locomotives, including one with a bird’s nest in each rusted headlight.  

  

On display in front of the Marree Hotel is the amazing old mailtruck driven by the legendary Tom Kruze. Tom spent many years braving floods, duststorms, and the elements up and down the desert tracks to Birdsville and beyond. 

Heat and dust in the van make it an easy decision to pop into the hotel. Amazingly, there are palm trees and a swimming pool; plus an aircon cabin with a shower.  Joe, the pommie barman, takes our enthusiasm in his stride without cracking a smile. We head to the swimming pool – heavenly cool - where we get chatting to an Aussie family heading for Christmas with daughter at Peak Station, part of Anna Creek Station run by Kidman Co. Anna Creek Station is the size of Belgium, seven times larger than the largest US ranch in Texas.

Oodnadatta Track
Next day, we headed onto the Oodnadatta Track. All day we pottered along, looking at wonderful wedge-tailed eagles, old water tanks and buildings from the old railway. Out of nowhere, a sculpture park appeared with two welded plane fuselages at the entrance. 

The fuselage hosted galahs and down below a lovely bearded dragon who stays put to stare at us, tail up, doing press ups. 

At Curdimurka siding, ferocious rutted tracks led us to the windblasted building, also hosting a bird of prey and galahs, plus zebra finches trumpeting in the bushes. 

Further on, an amazing sight was the saline expanse of Lake Eyre South extending as far as the eye can see. 

A lunch stop at Coward Springs saw the outside temperature push high into the 40Cs.  For early explorers, the Oodnadatta track proved best due to the mound springs along the route which had been known to the Aborigines for years as part of their travels on trading routes. Contrary to the Copley mechanic’s prediction, and to our disappointment, we saw five or six vehicles.

William Creek
Arrival at William Creek in a cloud of dust was our signal to pile into the William Creek Hotel for some aircon, icecream and a cold drink. A trickle of visitors came through the bar: a family with three young boys (the youngest around 4 years old and all set to do the Track) up from Victoria; a flyer in from Cairns with his wife who was thrilled with the aerial views of the country; and a couple with three daughters travelling down for a break from their B&B in Darwin.

We spoke in the evening to Trevor, the boss, who owned the whole of WC – he’d started in younger years earning money locally doing flying, then purchased the hotel, and now 20 years later had it all (shop, petrol station, campsite, cabins)as an empire. Next morning, the sky was leaden and clouded, so we gave the thumbs down to taking the flight over Lake Eyre and the Painted Hills which are on Anna Creek Station and off-limits to land travel.

As we left WC, we waved to a doughty duo of 2CV Citroens, all decked out with decals and expedition signs.

Weird stuff at the campsite included a prop from a ghoulish film set (no moggies were actually harmed):

 As a bit of fun, we parked off the road and decked Bluey in festive Christmas decorations:

Recent travellers on the Oodnadatta Track have enlivened the journey with amendments to the signs, so dips and crests become ‘dip shits’ and ‘brests’. 

 Old wrecks appeared in vintage splendour by the roadside:

Again, we leisurely worked our way up the track, past the Algebuckina Bridge to Oodnadatta where we refuelled at the legendary Pink Roadhouse – pink by name, nature, and by virtue of two pink canoes, even pink bins and pink workshop. 

Still thinking pink, later we see a quirky Offroader letterbox:

Just in time for late afternoon light, we took the sidetrack to the Painted Desert, a wonderful geological blending of creams, browns, reds and yellows.

Saturated with the desert colour, we went a few kms further to drive into the backyard of Arckaringa Homestead, the only place where camping is allowed. Two friendly dogs met us at the door, evidently pleased to see human life. Protracted knocking on the door proved no-one was at home. So we parked the camper at the back and opened all the doors and windows to let the wind blow through and cool us down. Settling in, we opened a bottle of wine, watered and fed the dogs whose bowls were empty. One of them, a one-eyed mongrel, was busy excitedly chasing lizards, perhaps as a replacement for not being fed yet. 

Evening became night, still no sign of the owners. One last effort with the Satphone to raise them, and then we gave up. At dusk, hefty winds whipped up, black clouds rolled in and an electric storm started at the same time as a concert from the squeaky windvane. Spooky atmosphere descended all of a sudden. Through the night, Gen kept visualising drastic dramas and deeds at play in the darkness around us.

An early start cleared us from the spooky surroundings and we caught the beautiful early morning light while retracing our tracks to the Painted Desert. From here we went via Mt Barry, keeping pace with an assortment of roos, noses pointed skywards in suspicious poses.

The scenery turned lunar, vast expanses of pebble strewn desert from horizon to horizon. This was Moon Plain, famous location for Mad Max films, and we appropriately did some ‘mooning’ at the Moon Plains sign.

About 15kms outside Coober Pedy, we turned off to the Breakaways, a geological erosion of hills with colours of melting chocolate sundae blended with the grandeur of the plains beyond.

Heading into Coober Pedy, we soon guessed what conical anthills of rock represented beside the road – opal diggings and shafts as far as the eye can see, over a million shafts all ready for someone to walk backwards for a selfie and disappear into the abyss. Machinery includes blowers, like this contraption:

To celebrate the Oodnadatta Track farewell, we collapsed into the Desert Cave Hotel and chose an underground room. Heat and cold extremes have traditionally prompted locals to seek constant temperatures underground.  

Next morning, the tomb-like surroundings revealed the first flaw: we no light to wake up to – so late start for Christmas Eve, no worries. During the day, we visited the Big Winch, part of a collection of weird items on a viewpoint; and dropped down the road into the Old Timers Mine to see how incredibly tough life was in a mine in the early 1900s. 

Whilst underground, we paused for a while to marvel at the exhibits, and suddenly the lights went out. Oh no we thought, they’re closing for Xmas Eve. Here we are, marooned in a mine for Christmas… Robert shouted a hesitant ‘hello??... not to worry, by moving around, the motion sensors kicked back in – phew!

Curiously - and Coober Pedy has plenty of surprises - there is a Serbian underground, as in subterranean, church:

For the evening light, there was no better place than the glowing Breakaways. What bliss sitting on the lookout with a cold drink, gazing at the formations.

We feted Christmas Eve with a G&T and Christmas pud.  Christmas day we spent dedusting Bluey – tons and tons of dust.

 Lake Hart
 We pull up to visit the shoreline of Lake Hart. We cross the railway and are followed by a couple of American ladies who are just stepping over the rails when there is a hellish blast of horns from an oncoming train. "Holy crap!", puff the ladies, as they scrabble madly to get out of the way of the gargantuan train.

Glendambo
Just outside Glendambo we pull into a rest stop and an Aborigine, thin and dusty, walks up to get a light. He says his car is 'over there', out of sight; then takes the peach that Gen has proffered, and walks off. As we hit the road again, we pass the same guy with a mate hitching next to a broken down car, or so it seems. Arriving in Glendambo where we had hoped to get them some breakdown help, we see an amusing sign that denies the hope:

An interesting sight whilst driving is the road set out with airstrip markings for dual use as road and landing strip for the Royal Flying Doctor Service.

Port Augusta
Major highlight was the enchanting  Arid Lands Botanic Garden.  Cosy bird hides, bushland trails, mangroves, and  an excellent visitor centre with citron vanilla slice as a bonus.  Arriving early and late, we have the gardens to ourselves and catch variegated and white winged fairy wrens.

Wilmington
Beautiful Valley Caravan Park in the farming country provides us a lovely bush site, tucked away in a clearing of gum trees.

On the main street, the toy museum featured an imprressive lineup of ancient Landrovers.

 

Christmas cheer appears in displays by the roadside:

Orroroo
Entrance to the town is heralded by a quirky artist’s display of a nodding team of horses and their plough. 

 
Flat white sipped at a cafe in the main street follows the slow pace of rural life, time for a chat, always a pleasure. The local lookout at tank hill has been inundated by snails, clambering over fence and grasses.

The road continues through the prosaically named town of Nevertire, with an enormous silo ready to ship hundreds of tons of grain into the wider world. 

Peterborough

En route to Peterborough, we stop by the roadside for a pic of cattle. Gen walks back down the road and steps onto the grassy verge. As she clicks the shutter, she feels a wriggling underfoot, looks down, and is shocked to see a brown snake retreating hastily into its hole. Close call indeed!

A short stopover in Peterborough at the Railway Museum lets us visit a bygone era First Class Ghan carriage and then provides a shot of a steam leviathan:

Broken Hill
Late afternoon light draws us to the Desert Sculpture Sanctuary, an array of stone sculptures placed on a hilltop overlooking the town. 

An inclination for a different bed in Broken Hill takes us to the Red Earth Motel – we luxuriate in a beautiful, discounted spa suite with soft sheets. In the morning Gen is photographing the main street when a local stops to point down the street – he excitedly recounts tales of 5 years ago when a duststorm whirled at each end of the street.  Dust at the OK Corral.

Silverton

Silverton, the old mining ghost town, has been revived somewhat with trendy galleries…and a herd of donkeys that nuzzle passing cars for food; and sidle up to the bar in the hotel for a drink.

Wilcannia
Once a major paddle steamer port and cattle droving centre, the town is now in decline: boarded doors and windows; crumbling buildings; and the gritty feel of the past centuries. We head for the Darling River and billabong at the nearby Warrawong Caravan Park. Under the water tank, a colony of birds has formed lovely vase-shaped nests.

The new manager takes us through bone-dry paddocks to a swimming spot on the river, but we follow our instinct to spend the arvo with pelicans at the billabong. 

As the sun descends, we go for a walk and discover a dead, old-timer Bedford truck; closely followed by the discovery of a dead pig – probably shot earlier by hunters – that has died under a tree. In the morning we visit Wilcannia, delighting in the arrival in town of a flock of red-tailed black cockatoos with their mournful calls.

The road to Cobar is a slalom between all kinds of roadkill  – goats, pig, emu, and roos…all making a smorgasbord for crows and birds of prey.

Cobar
New Year’s Eve is spent with the Apostlebirds, lovely social birds with all sorts of antics and squabbles to settle. The first day of 2015, we head for the centre of  this mining town, out to the lookout over the massive open cut gold mine: