Little Bit Long Way

Back in Alice after four days camping: sore but elated.

The Ghan dropped me in Alice on Monday afternoon. Next morning at six the bus rolled off in the dim light and eventually collected a full load of campers. Half of them were Europeans and all rather subdued. The sounds of silence. I thought, this is going to be a big laugh.

The bus heated up and a few of us started talking. We had collected firewood and were back on the road when I spotted a huge red rock on the left. I poked Andrew, the farmer's son from south-west Queensland, who was bouncing next to me in the back of the bus. "Uluru," I said. Word passed down the bus and we all started snapping madly. Kav, the guy sitting at the opposite end of the back seat passed his camera down to Andrew so he could record the scene. Then Chris, our tour guide/driver/cook/fearless leader/font of all knowledge, said: "You wouldn't be the first to mistake Mount Connor for Uluru." I quietly pulled my head in, like a rock wallaby in the canyon.

The Red Centre looks more like the green centre lately. The average annual rainfall is 280 mm but more than that fell in one week, earlier in the year. It's now had over 600mm and the year's not over yet. There are wildflowers all over the landscape. No road kill because there's so much water the animals don't have to approach the road to lick the condensation from the edges.

Picked up our last contingent of campers, making a total of 24, from Ayers Rock Airport. Walked around the rock. Nothing I have ever seen had prepared me for the majesty, the colour, the texture.

That evening we went back to the area to watch the sunset colour the rock and toasted the icon with champagne.



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