Queen of the Desert
Trip Start
Jan 16, 2012
1
76
92
Trip End
Jan 01, 2014
Where I stayed
Yulara, Northern Territory, Australia
Sunday, July 29, 2012
Friday started with an event free journey to Sydney Airport. I had expected to be slightly later so had plenty of time to pass at the airport and - remembering I was a member of the Qantas Frequent Flyer program from my 2008 travelling days - decided to try and gain access to the Qantas Lounge where I assumed there would be free coffee. Alas, I was told that Bronze members were not welcome - loyalty point grading is 21st century Apartheid - and was forced to hang with my own caste over a Hungry Jack's coffee.
As some of you may be aware, Australia is big, so big that the first of the two flights I would need to reach Ayer's Rock in the country's middle was long enough to watch The Hunger Games and an episode of An Idiot Abroad. Big. That got me as far as Alice Springs, at which point I had to change planes for the final 45 minute leg of the journey. Everything had run smoothly and there was time for me to check-in to the Outback Pioneer Hotel - average - before wandering across the resort to the central square where the welcome to the third ever Outback Marathon would take place. The supposed highlight of this was a traditional dance by the indigenous Aborigines. This consisted of a group of mainly elderly Aborigines with wooden instruments sitting on the floor facing a semi circular stage of red earth. They started clacking together their instruments, including boomerangs, and singing in a haunting but not unpleasant fashion but the stage remained empty and all that could be heard was excited bird-like arguing behind a screen at the back. Eventually, a middle aged Aboriginal woman with large exposed breasts dangling down to her waist shuffled out to the back of the stage and began fidgeting from foot to foot looking unconvinced about what she was up to. There followed a similar display by three women, one of whom looked incredibly old, and another by another solo female performer. The best was saved until last when an elderly white bearded chap - the Aboriginal Father Christmas maybe? - took to the stage and put on an altogether more convincing display, helped by two branches which he swung around as if gently swatting flies whilst strutting through his number. In summary, if Danny Boyle is at a loose end post Olympics then I'm sure his creative input could be used here. After this rather under whelming opening ceremony we all headed for a carbo loading dinner at the nearby Sails in the Desert Hotel restaurant. The food was actually very good, albeit it is always depressing to reflect that it probably takes around 45 minutes of hard running to burn off the calories contained in one slice of chocolate cake (and I had three). All of the runners had very conscientously retired to bed by 8pm so I took the half a kilometre or so walk back to my accommodation, only to find that life was altogether more lively at my end of the resort. There was a full bar and live music so I decided a couple of medicinal pints would ensure an unbroken night's sleep ahead of the marathon. Remarkably, I did manage to stick to the two pints rule and woke up at 5:30am feeling ready to go, especially after taking in an enormous fried breakfast and an hour of the Olympics opening ceremony for inspiration...
It was unbelievably cold at the start area, which had the pastel orange of Ayer's Rock providing a beautiful back drop to proceedings, and I was happy to get running at 7:45am to warm up. The track was pretty sandy at the start - not ideal if one has the after effects of a previous marathon still burning in the thighs - but I was sure most of the run would be on sealed roads so was not too worried. This turned out to be entirely wrong and whenever there was any elevation in the course the sand became even deeper and it was like running on sand dunes. I had also compounded my problems by front loading my iPod playlist with trance music, which meant that I ran far too fast for around 10 kilometres before having to grit my teeth and hang on in there for the next 32 as Snow Patrol and other more chilled musical accompaniment took over. The scenery was incredible - like being on another planet or in some sort of post apocalytic landscape, especially where controlled burning of the foliage had taken place. There was also a helicopter circling to take photographs of the runners in the first few kilometres, making me feel like OJ Simpson. Anyway, I somehow managed to hold things together - even though the sand started to feel like quicksand in the second half as my legs became heavier and heavier. It was all in all a once in a lifetime experience, with the only disappointment being that the course did not get closer to Ayer's Rock, due to National Park access restrictions...
I spent a short time watching other runners come in before heading back to base for a few well earned beers. The combination of exhaustion and beer was not an envigorating one and I fell asleep in the reading room after a handful of beers. I decided to head back to the room for a few hours of proper sleep before heading back to the bar in the evening to toast the day with the other runners. The benefit of the soft ground, which had made running a nightmare at times, was that my legs felt far less battered than normal after road marathons and I was able to walk closer to an evolved humanoid rather than the usual post-marathon Neanderthal man. Again, the night was all rather civilised and the beers and music stopped at 11:30pm, ending off a memorable day safe in the knowledge that the following day would not be too painful...
On Sunday morning I tried to tackle a walk closer towards the base of Ayer''s Rock, which was probably about 10 k's from the resort. Despite this rather obvious landmark, I somehow managed to get lost and ended up wandering around the marathon course, which was the last thing I had wanted to do, for around two hours before cheering myself up by stumbling on a camel farm. It was officially only fourteen degrees but the sun is damn strong here and my skin was somewhere between a Red Carpet and Scooter Red (http://www.crownpaint.co.uk/paint-and-colour/reds-and-pinks.htm) by the time I got back to the resort to await the airport transfer. The flight back was direct but it appeared that the combination of the morning walk and being crammed into an aeroplane had done nothing for my legs as I hobbled onto the runway at Sydney. Oh well, at least I have over six days to recover for the Brisbane marathon...
Shelley was sadly not able to make the trip into the Outback and has spent the weekend tidying the house in preparation for the return of our landlady - Olga - later tonight (it was worth running a marathon just to avoid household chores!). Hopefully she will have a fairly open mind as regards shabby chic furniture. If not, we may be homeless before the time we fly to Brisbane...
