Kings Canyon
Trip Start
May 05, 2004
1
6
Trip End
May 15, 2004
Alice Springs, Australia
Friday, May 14, 2004
We stopped at several roadhouses along the way, most memorably Kings Creek Station, where we enjoyed what the owners accurately described as the best coffee in the Outback. I also bought a souvenir tin mug and a highly practical hat. We drank our cappuccinos sitting on the verandah, watched intently by a tiny dog that obviously expected us to feed him. A group of camels in a nearby corral lifted their long, ugly heads to stare haughtily at us as we took their portraits.
The road to Kings Canyon was flat, the vegetation sparse. Several people had warned us that the countryside between Alice Springs and Ayers Rock and Ayers Rock and Kings Canyon was really boring, but we loved it. My assertion that the Australian countryside was pretty much the same wherever one went was proved untrue, much to my pleasure.
We arrived at Kings Canyon Resort at one o'clock, two hours before we could book in. To fill in the time we first took the sunset walk along a boardwalk which came to an abrupt end, the final hundred metres or so being as yet uncompleted. Another track, less well defined, took us on a hike around the hills surrounding the resort. The buildings had been placed in such a way that they were almost invisible unless you were standing right outside.
As I write: Margaret, who rhapsodised over the beauty and peace of the bush fronting our room, is fiddling with the TV and complaining that we have only one channel. A couple of native mynahs are drinking water from a puddle a metre from my foot. They're gone!
Our room was almost perfect, the only negative being the septic tank smell which pervaded the bathroom. Broad glass doors opened onto a balcony which faced open bushland and we spent several minutes luxuriating in a silence broken only by the twittering of tiny birds. We should have allowed more time at Kings Canyon!
Dinner tonight at the George Gill Bar. T-bone steak which, though hugely expensive, was also huge in size. Always conscious of the starving children in Ethiopia I forced myself to eat everything, down to the last piece of garnish. Margaret had to leave a fair proportion of hers on the plate, meeting my disapproving glare with the suggestion that I should ask for a doggy bag and mail the remnants to Addis Ababa. By an amazing coincidence we found ourselves sitting at a table near to a couple from Eastwood, a couple from Epping and a couple from North Ryde, all travelling independently. We joined the couple from Eastwood, David Isaacs (a paediatrician specialising in infectious diseases) and his wife Carmel who live in Wentworth Street, not far from us.
We had a long and deep conversation about the plight of the Aborigines but couldn't come up with any solutions. The rest of the evening we spent sitting on the verandah sipping coffee, snacking on almonds and contemplating the injustices of life.
DAY 10 FRI Margaret had asked for a wake up call at 6.45 so that we could be ready to go on our Kings Canyon Rim tour at 8.45. She should have made it 7.45 as we were totally organised an hour early. Light rain fell continuously, which, while it would make climbing a little more difficult, would at least keep the temperature down.
A large coach took us and a large group of companions four kilometres to the beginning of the tour. Our guide told us that the first section required us to climb five hundred steps to the top of the ridge and that anyone who doubted his/her fitness should switch to the less demanding walk along the canyon floor. Several people took one look at the steep, rocky staircase and moved to the wimp group. Margaret and I were intent on making the climb, but after the first two hundred steps she almost decided to give up and join the other group. As my wife she is almost a blood Cullis and therefore unwilling to reject a challenge. We laboured to the top of the ridge and were very glad we had. The view of the valley from the rim was breathtaking. Before long we were both rock dancing as we followed our guide along the six-kilometre "track".
Some time ago I had wisely concluded that it was foolish to compare the beauty of different countries. Doing so only resulted in one's not paying attention to the beauty of the one deemed less beautiful. When our guide told us that Kings Canyon was more than 300 feet high I briefly scoffed. Back in 1994 I had climbed to the top of Angels' Landing in Zion National Park, which was fifteen hundred feet high. Stop! No comparing. If anything this canyon was more interesting than Zion due to geology and plant life.
Our guide was full of information about the flora, fauna and history of the area and a fair wit as well. The top of the canyon reminded us a little of Borobodur, crowded as it was with domed rock formations. Halfway along the path we climbed down some slippery stairs into a small gorge known appropriately as the Garden of Eden. The peaceful beauty of this oasis is hard to describe in words; hopefully my photos will illustrate why the Garden of Eden is an apt description.
In 1994 I was going through a midlife crisis during which I felt that I had become an old man. To overcome this irrational belief I climbed along the side of a cliff at Angels Landing without once using the chain, which had been, hammered into the cliff face. I am proud to say that I managed to complete the entire six kilometre Kings Canyon Rim Walk without once holding anything for support. This meant descending a lot of stairs and clambering over rocks made slippery by the incessant drizzle. I considered myself to be pretty macho but Margaret thought I was foolish.
The ladies were particularly impressed to learn that some of the sandstone of which Kings Canyon is made doesn't contain salts and, when crumbled into a paste between the fingers, acts as a national skin softener. I was more interested in a couple of thousand year old bonsai trees which had begun growing about the time William conquered England.
By the time we finished the walk we were all exhausted. All but Margaret, that is. She was ready and willing to immediately begin the twenty-two kilometre one way walk along the Giles Track. Was this the same woman whose aching coccyx had made previous walks agony? I suspected that she was high on adrenalin and Advil.
After returning to the resort we bought sandwiches and loaded up the car. It was vital that we reach Alice Springs before dusk and it was an awfully long drive. We had reluctantly abandoned our plan to return via the unsealed Mereenie Loop due to the heavy rain, which might have caused problems (not to mention the effect of the road surface corrugations and would have played havoc with Margaret's bad back). So far Margaret had done most of the driving while I had lazily enjoyed the fruits of having recently suffered several eye operations. By the time we reached Kings Creek Station Margaret was worn out and asked me to take over. I drove the rest of the way to Alice Springs (at speeds of at least 140kph). By the time we drove into the outskirts of town I was bone tired. How had Margaret found the stamina to drive from Alice to Ayers Rock?
After carrying our bag to the same room in the Ayers Rock Resort that we had occupied previously we drove into town and had dinner again in the Todd Tavern. Before fully relaxing we (Margaret) repacked our bags for an early getaway. My hopes for an early night were shattered when Margaret switched on the TV and proceeded to watch the Danish Royal Wedding, a ceremony that started at ten and continued till past midnight
The plan was to book out, return the car then spend our remaining hour or so in town looking for small gifts. We made it back to the resort with minutes to spare before the shuttle bus arrived to take us to the airport.
It was with much reluctance and no little sadness that we bid adieu to the Northern Territory and my evil-smelling joggers. Our flight back to Sydney took a mere two and quarter hours and was much more pleasant than our first flight to Darwin ten days earlier. As we descended the escalator at Kingsford Smith our spirits were lifted by the sight of Alex and baby Bill waiting below. Home sweet home!
