Tuesday, November 10, 2009

Oodnadatta

Felt bleak. We had followed our pink mud map of the Oodnadatta Track (all 406 km, 252 miles), from Marree to Oodnadatta, with its very useful and friendly info (we found that on the back of the map), and when we arrived I think we were a bit disappointed. The mud map was written by the people at the Pink Roadhouse, and we had read from other sources how Adam and Lynnie Plate had revitalised the popularity of the track by putting up information signs all along it, and the surrounding area, to encourage tourists like us to use the track and (ultimately I guess) stay with them at the Pink Roadhouse at Oodnadatta. The roadhouse itself is huge, and really is pink! Unfortunately it was being manned (womaned?) by 2 backpacker girls when we arrived, so we didn’t quite get the Plate welcome we were expecting. It was also a little too pricey for us to camp (yes, $16 a night seems a lot to us!), so we used our Wonder Camping Book, and camped just out of town by the bend of the local waterhole – so beautiful, but MOSSIES!

For the whole journey on this track we had had much difficulty pronouncing Oodnadatta, and had been calling it OoNANdatta…
It wasn’t until we arrived at the place, I worked out how to remind myself how to say it – OOOOOOOOOOOO - NAD - ATTA. With a real OOOOOOOO build up.
– I wonder Darren doesn’t throw from the car at speed….
Oh, he can’t the car doesn’t go at speed.

Lucky Me.

Algebuckina Bridge, The Old Ghan Railway, Oodnadatta Track



Built back in 1889 for the Old Ghan Railway ,this is the longest railway bridge in South Australia, having an overall length of 578 meters, with a height of 12metres from the river bed at it’s deepest point. It crosses Neales River and it was like stopping to be on a set of a World War film, where the only safe way out is via the railway. We clambered up the steep bank to the bridge itself. There was an information sign attached to the railway which some intrepid locals had shot through – you could still read most of it though - nice. In fact, many places we have been to see, when they are off the beaten track any the information boards have been peppered with bullet holes – we ARE in the Wild West peeps!

The track ran high over the river, with sleepers missing in parts. Fortunately, to stop people like Darren going out onto the track above the water, a gate had been put across the track. Unfortunately, someone had taken out the middle 4 poles of the gate for easy access to the track. I felt sick and dizzy when taking this picture of Darren, who of course had to go through the bars, but was not allowed far.

Detour off the O.T. to The Peake Ruins Oct 8, Day 27



15Km off the Oodnadatta track we had seen there were some ruins of a tiny village that had an overland telegraph repeater station at it from 1871 - 1879. It suggested it was a very 4 wheel drive track, so we decided to uncouple the caravan, and leave it near the track, and go to see this old place.

It took us about 40 minutes to travel the 15 Km, it was so bumpy and windy, but we were rewarded with a few stone houses, some in quite good repair, in the middle of nothing. I can only imagine what it would be like to have been living out there in the 1870’s, what a place to try to carve out a living for yourself. It puts our moans about going to work everyday in cosy offices, or with good shoes on our feet and hot food in our stomachs, to shame.

The buildings include the large telegraph repeater station, the kitchen building, a house/dwelling originally built for the Peake [cattle] Station in 1860s, a forge, a shop, and a few other buildings. There was also a copper mine and an artesian spring – from which I guess they all survived. The forge had loads of old machinery and bits of ancient broken bottles piled in it, and other building even had the old cast iron beds propped up in them – it reminded me of ours back home. These houses were a bit tidier than ours though – as you can see from the pictures!

Sitting on the rubble in one of the houses was a hawk that did not move an inch when Darren found it. This was only a baby. And was a much bigger baby than the tiny things we saw in the nest a few days before. In my opinion it was not to be messed with. If that was the baby – how big were the parents? And, WHERE were they?
I backed off (a long way off), Darren took pictures as close as he could, while it solemly surveyed him. I was a bit worried that it was not flying away because it was underfed, had lost it’s parents, and was exhausted (I was pretty hungry and tired myself). Darren said it’s parents would not be far away – hence my retreat – and sure enough, much to my relief, later as we were leaving in the car we saw one of them coming in overhead.

The things you see...


During our travels we have seen our fair share of animal remains and bones – this is the desert after all. However, when we left Beresford Siding to continue on our travels up the Oodnadatta Track, someone had put together beside the road, perhaps as a marker, this wonderful specimen sitting up watching the cars coming towards him!
Imagine suddenly seeing that if you were driving in the dark!

Dingo Spotted! – Day 26, Beresford Siding on the Oodnadatta Track


After an afternoon driving beside some of the old Ghan track at Beresford Siding, collecting wood from it and massive old nails, inspecting the old building and generally having a fossick, that evening I was lying in bed reading, and Darren, from outside the caravan somewhere, suddenly called to me to look out of the back window. There was a Dingo only a few meters away from our camp, a beautiful red/brown colour. She scarpered as soon as she realised she had been spotted, but it was my first close up view of one. We saw her a night later in the dark and Darren managed to get the grainy photo here.
Contrary to popular belief (Mother!), generally dingos don’t attack out of hand, and are more timid than we think – especially outback. The problem comes in places like Fraser Island where tourists feed them – that’s where the trouble starts!

Wednesday, November 4, 2009

Tues 6 Oct – Day 25 travelled 362Km (225 miles), Major Day of Events.






















In Which We visit the ‘Go Away From Maree, We Don’t Want To Give You Information Centre’, We lose 2 Petrol Caps, We get on to the Oodnadatta Track, A Window is Broken, Darren Finds a Full Bird’s Nest and Has Two Baths (phew!)







Darren wanted to leave early from Mungerrannie, and since I wanted to wash my hair in a real shower (who knows when the next chance would be?), I had to get up at dawn with the sceaching birds. Fortunately I was rewarded with the most beautiful sunrise, causing me to take 10 minutes to walk to the shower block, because I kept taking pictures. Unfortunately, it wasn’t until I was in the shower I realised I had left the soap somewhere on the ground between the caravan and the showers, when I had put it down to take pictures. Shampoo had to do.
The photos included one of the old mail truck, which the first mailman, Tom Kruse (!), drove over the dunes and stony dessert to deliver mail through up to Birdsville. At the more difficult parts of the dunes, he left corrugated sheets of iron in the dunes, and then would drag them out so he could drive over them to stop him getting bogged. I am sure there were no complaints at the postal service in those days, they would have been just glad to have one!

So we left Mungerannie and it’s oasis of loud birds and bush pools, refreshed and ready for the next adventure. It was a pretty easy 215Km drive down to Marree, which is the other end of the Birdsville Track. It lies just South East of Lake Eyre, and from here we are at last going to gradually head North, around the west of Lake Eyre and up to Oodnadatta and then eventually on up to Alice Springs.

We stopped at Marree for supplies and fuel.
When Darren unlocked the petrol cap doors we discovered both caps had been stolen! Darren was furious, and showed everyone around him what those dirty rotten %**”$!!* (people) had done to us. He had spoken on the first night at Mungerranie to a couple in a Toyota Troopcarrier like ours. He assumed they must have snuck over to our camp and unlocked the cap doors and stolen them. What is the most dirty thing about it, is that there are only unsealed road out of there, so we had driven over 200 ks with all the dust flying in through the loose doors into our petrol(diesel) tanks.
I made the mistake of questioning whether he might have left them at the last petrol station in Birdsville. At this point an elderly lady who was listening gave me a look that said that I was very game to suggest such a thing to this bear with a sore head. Darren treated my question with the scorn it apparently deserved and went in to the petrol station (also the local store and coffee shop) to tell the proprieter. After the story had been told once again to a new group of people, the owner, amazingly, said he had 2 caps that fitted , that other people HAD left behind by mistake. Lucky, lucky, Lucky! While Darren put them on, he told any newcomers what had happened. He was, ‘a bit cross’.

We decided to push on; the excitement of at last heading North was too good. We were looking for any info. on the Oodnadatta track, on which we were about to venture, so we stopped at the Marree Information Centre. Or should I call it the ‘Go Away From Maree, We Don’t Want To Give You Information Centre’?
The lady in there did not seem happy with her job.
She was on the phone when we went in, and she frowned at us as we entered the coolness of the room. We meekly stood quietly by the desk, as that seemed to be required by her. She continued to ignore us, but she was on a business call, so that seemed OK. Ironically we noticed it was also called the ‘communications centre’ (I think you could use their internet). On her desk was a holder full of pink A4 paper with a mud map on it (hand drawn). This covered the Oodnadatta track, with places of interest along the way, but as it appeared to be just a map, and I wanted a bit more info, I hoped they might have something more. When she got off the phone she just looked at us… So, Mr and Mrs Chipper smilingly, and with cheery ‘hellos’, asked what info she might have on the Oodnadatta track. She unsmilingly pointed towards the pink A4 sheets. I chirpily asked if she had anything else?
“No, and that’s $2”
“Right, (all smiles) $2 it is!”
We took one of the pink sheets, handed over a precious $2 coin - goodess knows what would have happened if we had needed change! – and headed for the door. Darren stopped, “Didn’t you want to use the internet?”, he said to me. I glared at him “ No, no” said Mrs Chipper, “it can wait!”, and with a dazzling smile and cheery “goodbye!”, we got the h*ll of the there.
Even Darren agreed she was pretty rude, and not the sort of person for an information centre - shouldn’t they be cheery ladies that work there part time and make jam and knit sweaters for their grandchildren?
As we walked to the car, I saw that the photocoped paper was called ‘A free map of the Oodnadatta Track’. I was too scared to go back…

There was quite a crowd at Marree – of police. All on a policeman’s holiday, I think they came from Bourke and surrounds. As we left Marree at the start of the Oodnadatta track we were in convoy with about 4 other cars. In the end, we decided to let them pass so we could see the road in front of us, rather than dust. A couple of cars had cardboard taped to the back window. We had been told the night before by our ‘Zim’ friends that this was to prevent stones flying up and rebounding from the caravan onto the back window and breaking it.
Note to self: get cardboard.

While we had stopped we put together lunch. We had stopped near the Old Ghan railway track. The Oodnadatta track follows this old railway line pretty much all the way to Oodnadatta, making for some excellent heritage stops where there have been railway sidings and stops. We went to look at the track, and part of the low bridge it went over. Darren, being Darren, (just call me Mrs. Attenborough), found a tiny birds nest just tucked down by the old track on the bridge, and called for me to take a look. When I briefly peered at it, I saw it was full of very young fledglings. I immediately told Darren to come away, as the poor mother bird would be terrified to find us there. D took a few pictures while I looked anxiously at the sky. He saw the mother calling in a tree nearby – poor thing. I then got very anxious, and ran for it, convinced she would swoop down on us – I would have. He said she wouldn’t as he started to come away from the nest area – and then she did give a couple of dives at us – I was secretly pleased. We waited quite some distance away, until we saw the parents return to the nest. I know Darren hadn’t touched the nest, but I was afraid they might now abandon it after Harry the Heffalump had been looking at it.

Remember what I wrote about putting cardboard on the back window?....You guessed it! As we were driving along I looked back and the larger of the 2 back windows had completely shattered. The tinting film was the only thing holding it in place. Arghghghgh! And this road was one of the best unsealed roads we had been on.
Note to self: get cardboard.

The artesian springs that are dotted around this area really caught Darren’s imagination, and after the very warm dip at Mungerrannie, he was keen for more. There were a couple I had earmarked to go to along the way, Coward Springs and Mound Springs, I just wanted to see Lake Eyre. As there was a lookout to it and Darren was still happy driving, we carried on intending to reach the springs after the lookout. Lake Eyre was a bit disappointing. I really wanted to get up close, and the road lookout I think was a bit too far away. We had decided on the return trip back past Lake Eyre, on our way down to the Flinders Ranges, we would go on the 4 wheel drive road out to it and perhaps camp a night. So next stop Mound Springs.
Mound Springs is a 2Km detour off the Oodnadatta track. It has 2 main springs in the Conservation park. WE stopped at the first one, called The Cup, and it was like walking up to the edge of a big tea cup to see rather slimy water in it. A bit disappointed we got back in the car and drove to the next one. There was noone in sight, and Darren bounded up the walkway ahead of me. The next thing I asw was him way ahead was stripping off and disappearing. Raising my eyebrows a fraction, I stopped to read the information sign. It told of tiny crustaceans and snails living on the water’s edge, and how swimming was not permitted…
Oops.
I walked up the rest of the hill to see the walkway stop over a small pool of water. No Darren; just his clothes. I went to the edge of the walkway and looked down into a pool that was only about 3 meters diameter (10ft ish), containing Darren who is about 1.85m (diameter?!). Talk about a large fish in a small pond! He looked so delighted I felt pretty mean telling him he wasn’t allowed to be in there. Beneath him it was very shallow, and he could push himself along with his hands on the bottom. It was sandy on the bottom and was bubbling up sand and water beneath him. He didn’t like going to near these areas of moving sand, and got particularly freaked out when he thought something had grabbed him from under the water! This really made him get out quicker, though he later realised as he left the water, the ‘thing’ was actually the root of a plant; we were almost disappointed.
I could see the road from where I was, and the 2 cars coming our way. Darren dressed at lightening speed and scurrying to our car, but feeling a bit guilty, we made our getaway.
So – complete success at those Springs. Still feeling buoyant from that excitement, we drove the 10 Ks or so to Coward Springs. This is another natural spring and old homestead that had been renovated by the new owner. My (old) guidebook said you could have a dip in the springs for a nominal fee, or camp there. When we arrived we were disappointed to find that we had to pay to get in to the area at all, and money being tight (even $5 a head is a lot to us), we drove away again.

Darren had driven nearly 350Km (215 miles), and we knew it was time to stop. We have a book camp sites in Australia, called CAMPS 5, this lists all the free sites, and ones under $20 a night. Our copy has pictures of most of the sites. The next nearest sites both looked grim, no shade and right by the road. We headed for the first and I said that hopefully it will be better than the picture. Rather upbeat of me, don’t you think?
Beresford Siding was decided upon, all we knew was that the old Ghan train used to stop there. We arrived, and it was clear that whoever had taken the photo for the book, had taken it from the road and kept on driving. There was a track running into some trees, past the open area of the photograph. To our disbelief the track ran past a big dam of water and opened out into a dusty area next to the dam with trees around it. Hoorah! Nirvana! The track then dipped down over a ridge out of sight. After we had uncoupled the caravan and set up, we went for a further explore.
We followed the track down and up the dip and came to an old railway building- Beresford Siding. There was a sign in it, explaining that the property belongs to Anna Creek Station, a mere 70 Km (43 miles) away, and believed to be the world’s largest cattle property. Behind it was an unfenced field and the track went past the building. All the sleepers of the railway were missing nearest to the house where hundreds of campers before us had used the building, and the sleepers for firewood. This is not vandalism, it is an accepted use of the wood all the way to Alice Springs. Near the house there was a big pipe coming out of the ground, which we followed to find it was a constantly flowing artesian bore directed into a cattle trough.
Darren got excited again, and really, I had to agree this was too good a photo opportunity to miss. Off came the clothes (again!), and in true Wild Western style he leapt into the trough. It felt freezing! Meanwhile I tried to get into a good spot to take a photo, and started being bitten by mosquitoes, which completely deranged me. Poor Darren had to sit in the trough, waiting for me to take a photo, while I hopped about, slapping my back, and squealing that I had been bitten. I completely spoilt his moment. Still, I took the photo, Darren hopped out pretty smartish, got dressed and we continued on our exploration.

There was also a massive water softener drum which prepared the bore water for the steam engines of the trains which of course Darren immediately climbed up. He said from that height you could see the railway track for miles – but I still wasn’t tempted to climb.
All that in one day! Because we had clean flowing water – a real treat - we decided to stay for at least a couple of days.

Mungerannie Roadhouse, Birdsville Track - nearest stops 315 Km to Birdsville, 205Km to Maree A Desert Oasis

Literally, a desert oasis. Mungerannie Roadhouse must be one of the most remote roadhouses in Australia. It is just off the Birdsville Track, nearly half way down to Marree. Amongst the trees are the most amazing wetlands, with hundreds and hundreds of birds living there, or like us, just migrating through and stopping for refreshment.

We walked into the bar area to check our caravan in for a couple of nights, and to my delight a classic, rather unkempt old chap with an abundance of crazy white hair under his hat greeted us. We checked in, 2 nights ($32 total).

There were closely growing trees and bamboo, with large paths for caravans and cars to drive in to, in which to camp. Further into the trees there were openings that lead out into the wetlands area, beyond that were sand dunes leading back out to the desert. Darren dozed and I actually felt compelled to go for a walk. Armed with my camera and home-made fly hat I set off to walk around the wetland area to get to the dunes….
perhaps now is the time to tell you about my fly hat?
In an effort to save $12 each for 2 fly nets that go over a hat, before we left I had gone to Spotlight and bought 3 meters of netting and some elastic. I had sewed them so the elastic fitted around the brim of my white hat and the netting came down around me. Everyone else’s netting stopped around their neck, mine stopped at my waist, so I looked like some strange bride with white shirt and trousers on, a large brimmed white hat, and a black veil over my face and half my body….(Bride of Dracula?) However no Bride of Dracula would have lasted 2 seconds in the sun that was burning down as I went started my walk, she would have been ash within 2 steps! (Tel-tale Buffy watching reference). It was hot, but beautiful. The sky was bright blue, there were morehen – looking birds paddling in the water, and cockatoos, galahs and kingfishers in the trees. When I walked near some trees to get around the wet, the cockatoos set up such a squark to warn, who? Other cockies, I suppose. It was almost embarrassing while other people were just sitting on the edge of the wetlands enjoying the peace, and I was walking with all these birds screeching at me. As I hurriedly left the trees where they were, they stopped and I had a quieter walk around to the other side of the small ponds.
There were so MANY birds! Right here in the middle of the desert. To the East from us (but with no direct road), was Innaminka, which is where I supposed many birds had come from, or were going to. But even Innaminka is about 200 Km as the cockatoo flies. I guess they too must make use of the water bores along the Birdsville track to get so deep into the desert. And boy, these cute feathered friends were to be SO extremely noisy in the late evening, and at dawn. What a screeching and squarking and carry on there was to be in the mornings! (Marcus, you would have hated it!). At the moment though, I was blissfully ignorant of the alarm clock that was going to pierce our ear drums while we tried to slumber in the mornings. At the moment they were creatures of wonder in the desert.

By the water there were white barked, leafless trees with many birds perched on them, and I spent a long time taking happy snaps of them. A small kingfisher taunted me with his colours, by being just out of range to take a picture, so I spent most of the time with the zoom on the max, and trying to keep a steady hand. I was rewarded at last by one goodish picture of the kingfisher, but not before many blurry takes, and many flies in the frame. ‘Cos there were flies all right. It looked like I was walking alone, but really it was me and a buzzing mass of flies that went for that walk. In the end, I got their hint, and walked back in quest of a shower.

When I got back to the caravan I heard Darren call very quietly but distinctly to me, and eventually found him near our caravan in the middle of a bush. Completely unsurprised (for it would have been more extraordinary if I had found him in the caravan like any one else), I asked him what he was doing there. While I had been chasing birds, Darren had found a goanna which he was stalking with his camera. The goanna was staying very still and not doing a thing, and Darren had to patiently wait till he could get an ‘action shot’. In the end, he left his camera on the ground, videoing, in the path of it. Much to his delight when he played it back, the reptile had the last word. (See video).

After we had had our David Attenborough moments we settled down for a drink with our new neighbours, two sisters and their husbands. Darren had seen one husband at the Petrol station in Birdsville just before we left. Since he had seemed to have been having some trouble with the fan belt Darren had of course struck up conversation at Mungerranie, and they were soon both peering into his bonnet, in the classic ‘how many blokes does it take to work out what is wrong with a car’ way men have about them. They had all been living in Zimbabwe (or ‘Zim’, as they called it), but had left and lived in Brisbane, and were of the age also to call it Rhodesia. Great people , they fed Darren delicious dip (always a crowd pleaser), and we had a chat about life out there for them. That is the lovely thing about caravan sites over 200 Km from anywhere, you are always going to meet good people, and makes me a bit sadder that we don’t stay at the official parks more often – but $16 a night is a stretch for us!

Dotted around the desert are artesian hot springs which bubble up from the centre of the earth. Some at boiling point, others at a more bearable temperature. We are headed for the largest of these, Dalhousie Springs, 794Km away. Here however they also had a spring, and had created a ‘bush pool’, made from railway sleepers, and filled with very warm spring water. It had been a warm day, but the temptation of what was, ostensibly, a hot bath, was too much for either of us. The owners had even provided plastic chairs to sit on in the water. As the sun set behind the sand dunes, Darren and I eased ourselves into the water and enjoyed a good soak. All that was needed was a wine and a beer to make things perfect!