15th November 2016

It was a 5.30am start for the SJP’s three days ago as we were determined to conquer the six kilometre King’s Canyon Scenic Rim Walk – without whinging. Deals were done, bribes were made (discovered these bickies called Wheelies – primo bribo) and the alarm was set. Everything we had read suggested it was pretty tough – a dramatic climb of about 500 stairs to the top of the rim, an above average level of fitness a must (Ah Miss L, I thank you) and a time frame of 3 – 4 hours. We kicked butt – two hours and fifteen minutes and there were high fives all round. To be fair, the start is a killer – it is straight up and unforgiving, but the rest of the hike is easy and well worth it for the stunning views of the canyon, the forest full of ancient cycads on the canyon floor known as ‘The Garden of Eden’ and the incredible geology – you can see the ripples of the old inland sea, the beehive boulder shapes and the north wall which has just sheared off – it would have made an incredible sight and sound to see that huge chunk of rock fall into the canyon!  Note children start and finish of walk.

Then it was back to King’s Canyon Resort as I was determined to use more power for a hot shower – she still wasn’t forgiven. Onwards to that big red rock.

Stopping in at Curtin Springs Station to use the Shelias and the Blokes and treat ourselves to lunch, we learned the station was over one million acres and the owners had lived under a Bough House (which is now the restaurant) for three years before moving into a tin shed – the woman was committed. They were also the first people to begin running tours to Uluru and built the original “Welcome to Ayers Rock” sign. We also wanted to read up on Mount Connor – another monolith in the middle of nowhere that is known for fooling passers by as Uluru – it was quite spectacular with a completely flat top.

Ayers Rock Resort is massive and the town of Yulara where it is situated has a permanent population of around 900 people, a medical centre, primary school, library, cultural centre and a small shopping precinct. We checked into the campground which unfortunately doesn’t have much shade (we played musical camp chairs around the truck finding shade to sit in) and hit the pool as it was stinking hot then headed off to watch our first sunset over one of Australia’s great icons.

What struck me was how big it was – it’s huge – much bigger than I anticipated, and truly a monolith in the middle of nowhere. Because of its iconic status, it does move you to a certain extent, but I was chuffed to discover our own Mossman Gorge has more visitors pass through it per year than Uluru – yeah for us! Beers and cheese, setting up Miss 12’s Batman to fly over the rock, snap snap and we had ticked off a bucket list item. (Soz, Batman is on Miss 12’s SLR so that will have to wait).

Onwards to the camels and Miss 12 was horrified as to how big camels actually are. Being afraid of heights didn’t aid her but her little shriek when Hugo popped up was hilarious. Our cameleers Greg and Burt were awesome – so passionate about camel history and their place in the Australian landscape today (camels as pests are a bit of a myth perpetuated by farmers, with good reason, but in reality, they are better equipped for our country than a horse) – they knew all the camels names – and it was very clear how much they cared for the camels. It was rather amusing to learn they caught wild camels for the tours (males only), castrated them (otherwise they are grumpy pants camels) and spent six to nine months training them for tourism. Strictly no chick camels – can’t castrate them, they are stubborn, hormonal, emotional and unpredictable – nothing new there – imagine a pubescent camel with a menopausal mother – hang on – that’s me and Miss 12!

The girls got to feed two baby rescue camels – the story was shit. The cops had found a chained up baby camel, only a couple of weeks old and called the camel farm who immediately took it in and will care for it for the rest of its life. Neither can be trained to work as they are spoiled (they drink their milk from a sauvignon blanc wine bottle) however they will look after them til the day they die.

Hot and dusty work the camel tour so cold water was required as tensions were high playing musical shade chairs over lunch. Being the princess I am, I decided we were heading over to the five star ‘Sails in the Desert’ hotel for the afternoon. Lush green lawns, huge gum trees to shade us whilst stretched out decadently on a sun lounge each with cold lemon water, a beer for the Husband and a cider for me – all whilst under the watchful eye of a gentleman and his wife who stared at us all afternoon (obviously I am just so good looking he couldn’t tear his eyes off me – was probably due to pool selfie) asking themselves why we didn’t have the regulation white and blue striped towels.
Cold pool, colouring in and a read of the highly amusing NT News (stolen from reception by the dedicated Husband whilst no one was looking) which prides itself on its ridiculous headlines (examples – “Why I stuck a cracker up my clacker”, “Best man left bleeding after being hit in head by flying dildo”, “He left a dump instead of a tip”, “They stole my dog while I was on the bog” and “Horny roo stalks NT women.” Loving the Territory I am, suits me.

Tensions abated, bodies refreshed we made the dash back to the campground to spiff up for dinner at the famous “Sounds of Silence” experience (Thank you Mr B). We were stoked to find out we had been upgraded (I believe Mr B to be responsible here too!) to the “Evening at the Field of Light”, a lighting installation by a UK artist comprising thousands of free standing, colour changing bulbs. Caught off guard, I am casually filming and an English fella asks if he can join me atop the bench for a better view.  Being the tourism professional I am “sure, jump up,” only to be met with “I didn’t recognise you with your clothes on!”.  Holy shitballs, WTF?  It’s old mate from the pool!  By this stage I am totally with a massive head thinking the man thinks I am fabulous considering I was hair down in an ill fitting bikini and now I am hair up, red lippie and the retro dress … I’m not going to fit my head back in the bus door!

Miss 12 thought it looked like a field of wildflowers, myself, I saw lollipops – it’s all open to interpretation. Bubbles and canapes on the sand dune (we even ran into people we knew from home!) then on to dinner. We scored with our shared table, which I know from experience can make or break your evening. Dave and Robyn were lovely and Robyn chattered away to Miss 12 and Miss 10 all night, advising when we sat down she was “going to do the grandma thing”.  Loved her and so interesting – she was a nurse who had worked for the RFDS and on ships all over the world – where she met Dave – who was a captain. Scandalous!

The star talk wasn’t going to happen as it was cloudy, however Eddie our astronomer did an awesome job of talking all about the stars and galaxies without the star attraction – stars.  I was so impressed I went over to him after his talk and congratulated him – being in Sales I was thoroughly in awe of his ability to bullshit his way through it – and I learned a few things along the way.

Right now I am typing by another pool, on another lounge, gearing up for our 10.6 kilometre base walk of the red rock. Again, deals have been done and bribes have been set, but for now I am going for a dip … let’s see how my blood pressure is later on ….

Whoo hoo! We survived! Whinging to a minimum and I swear my arse is going to be a Sports Illustrated contender, we experienced drizzle five kilometres in and WOW, amazing to see water sheen across the rock. There were even waterfalls (and a dumb dick tourist who thought it would be funny to climb up on a sensitive site – but I’m just used to that) and it made the walk lovely and cool. It really was beautiful. Watching the storms form over the desert and knowing a fabulous sleep was on approach with a forecast of sixteen degrees ….

High fives again and we went to watch our final Uluru sunset on the roof of the truck. Love it – complete with bogan shirts and beers watching two wild, black dogs roam around the empty carpark. It was awesome – no one around – carpark all to ourselves.

Too late for mumma bear to cook so pizza and beer listening to the tragic resort singer and his backing tracks (yes, that is really bitchy but you know how I feel about backing tracks) and it was snoozalooza … we had a 7.6 kilometre hike to prep for … Kata Tjuta – Valley of the Winds – and a group of tourists thought it would be funny to run up and down the campsite with a blue tooth speaker – fucktards.

And just in case you didn’t know … Curtin Springs sell fucking good port  … seriously!