Travelling Friday–Tnorala (Gosses Bluff) Conservation Reserve

December 5, 2025December 5, 2025 / lmkling / Leave a comment

[In 2013, the T-Team Next Generation, embarked on their pilgrimage to Central Australia. Purpose: to scatter Dad’s ashes in his beloved Central Australia, in Ormiston Gorge.

Once every month on a Friday, I will take you on a virtual trip to the Centre and memories of that unforgettable holiday in 2013, with my brother and his family, the T-Team Next Generation.

This time, the T-K Team ventured out West of Hermannsburg to explore Tnorala (Gosse Bluff).]

Big Day Out West

Night

An alarm wailed.

I sat up and nudged Anthony. ‘What’s that about?’

Anthony snorted, smacked his lips and mumbled. ‘I don’t know. An alarm, I think.’

‘Shouldn’t we tell P? It might be their shop.’

Anthony snorted, turned over and recommenced snoring.

For some time, I lay in bed. Sleepless. The alarm was bleating with lights flashing through our window. I assumed that, like car alarms in the city, a cat or dog had set the thing off and the owners would sort out the problem … eventually.

Eventually, the alarm stopped and somehow, I fell into a good, deep sleep.

[Photo 1: Sunrise in the Centre © C.D. Trudinger circa 1955]

Morning

I stretched and then yawned. ‘Good morning, Anthony, did you have a good sleep?’

‘No,’ he grumbled. ‘You snored!’

Breakfast

After a shower, getting dressed while Anthony caught up on the sleep he apparently missed out on while I snored (nothing about the alarm, I might add), I chatted with K over breakfast.

‘The store was broken into last night,’ she said.

‘So, that’s what the alarm last night was all about,’ I remarked.

‘Yep, happens on a regular basis. One of the windows needs replacing, again.’

P joined us. Leaning on the kitchen table, he added, ‘If you want anything at the shop, you’ll have to wait until it opens. The store was broken into.’ He chuckled. ‘One lady has tried to impress the cops with her tracking skills.’

‘Who tried to break in? Do the police have any idea?’

P shrugged. ‘Kids probably.’

*[Photo 2: Back in the 1940s, some roads in the centre of Australia were virtually non-existent and had to be built © S.O. Gross circa 1941]*

Late Morning

After a slow morning, mooching, chatting with P (K had gone to work), Bible study and then preparing some lunch, Anthony and I commenced our day trip to the Gosse Range. After some twenty kilometres of bitumen, we took the turn onto the Mereenie Loop and the road deteriorated. The Ford suffered the juddering of corrugations and slipping and sliding on silty red sand. Anthony slowed the car and crawled at a tense 20 km per hour.

I clutched the handhold of the door. ‘Is the car going to survive? I feel like the car’s going to fall apart.’

‘Why do you think I’m driving so slow?’ Anthony snapped.

*[Photo 3: My Grandpa’s truck did break down and they had to use donkeys to pull the truck back to “civilisation” © S.O. Gross 1941]*

In the distance, a truck approached us, powering up the road at speed, bull dust billowing behind it.

‘Close your windows,’ Anthony said.

‘They are,’ I replied. ‘I know what bulldust is and does.’ Didn’t fancy my nose, mouth and eyes filled with the stuff as they were in 1981.

*[Photo 4: Rough road—Mereenie Loop. Gosse Ranges in background © L.M. Kling 2013]*

Midday

The truck powered past us, leaving us behind in a cloud of bulldust. Thankfully, the Ford, with its windows wound up, shielded us from the red menace, and we continued to judder along the corrugations for what seemed an eternity.

*[Photo 5: Vehicle comes closer © L.M. Kling 2013]*

Then we rounded a bend in the road and, there, the Gosse Range spread out before us.

We stopped and captured the range, dressed in a soft mauve in the midday sun. As we prepared to jump in the car, another vehicle came roaring up the road towards us. This time, I caught the car with my camera as it sped up the road as if it were a racing track.

*[Photo 6: Gosse Range Approach © L.M. Kling 2013]*

With the car disappearing in a cloud of dust behind our Ford with us safely in it, we prepared to complete our journey to the Gosse Range.

Anthony glanced in the rear-view mirror. ‘Oh, cattle.’

‘Must get photos,’ I retrieved my camera from its bag, ‘evidence for your mum; she does not believe that cattle exist in Central Australia.’

Anthony switched off the engine, and we piled out to take these important photos.

*[Photo 7: Proof of cattle © L.M. Kling 2013]*

After the cattle were caught on camera, we crawled our way to the Gosse Range turn-off. By this time, the jiggling and juggling along the route must have rattled Anthony’s senses and he had become quite cavalier. ‘What the heck, the road doesn’t look too bad.’

I stared at the two-tyre rutted track. I knew, having been there some 36 years before, that the track would not be much of a track further on. ‘Better to park the car just off the side of the road and hike to the Gosse Range, actually.’

‘Looks alright to me.’

‘Okay, if you must. We’ll drive as far as we can and then walk the rest of the way.’

This we did. Our trusty old Ford lumped and “harrumphed” over the rocks and ruts until we decided to spare the Ford any further risk and indignity to its undercarriage and suspension. Then we hiked the final kilometre through the gap and into the pound.

*[Photo 8: Trek into Gosse Range © L.M. Kling 2013]*

‘I’m so glad we were able to walk through the gap,’ I said while marvelling at the cliffs and boulders on each side. ‘If we’d been able to drive through, as we did in the Rover in 1977, I would’ve missed the beauty of these formations.’

[to be continued…]

© Lee-Anne Marie Kling 2021; updated 2025

Feature Photo: Racing along the Mereenie Loop © L.M. Kling 2013

***

Virtual Travel Opportunity

For the price of a cup of coffee (takeaway, these days),

Click on the link and download your Kindle copy of my travel memoir,

The T-Team with Mr. B: Central Australian Safari 1977

Trekking with the T-Team: Central Australian Safari. (Australia)

Travelling Friday–Hermannsburg Revisited

November 7, 2025 / lmkling / Leave a comment

[In 2013, the T-Team, Next Generation embarked on their pilgrimage to Central Australia. Purpose: to scatter Dad’s ashes in his beloved Central Australia, in Ormiston Gorge.

Over the next few months, I will take you on a virtual trip to the Centre and memories of that unforgettable holiday in 2013, with my brother and his family; the T-Team Next Generation.

This time, the T-K Team (my husband and I) return to Hermannsburg and catch up with friends there.]

Hermannsburg Here We Come

As we powered along the sealed Larapinta Highway, I mused, what a difference some 60-70 years makes. When Mum T lived in Hermannsburg, back in the 1940’s and 50’s, the trip to Alice Springs was a long arduous half-a-day journey on a dirt track in a truck where one spent several days in Alice Springs stocking up on supplies.

*[Photo 1: Travelling in Central Australia in 1950’s required a stop for lunch…]*

*[Photo 1b: Or for the car to recover… In outback Australia, there were few sealed roads back then © M. E. Trudinger 1956]*

As we passed the turn off to Jay creek, I said to Hubby, ‘Mum told us the story of her mum (Grandma Gross) who, when the Finke flooded, had to wade through the waters to reach the other side to continue the journey to Alice Springs. She was 8-months pregnant at the time.’

*[Photo 2: Community enjoying the Finke in flood © C.D. Trudinger circa 1955]*

‘Hard to imagine the creek flooding,’ Hubby glanced at the dip, a dry riverbed, that signalled the up-coming fork in the road leading the Hermannsburg. ‘But I know from camping in the Flinders Ranges, at the first drops of rain, you don’t hang around, you get out.’

‘Your mum and friend didn’t when they camped at Parachilna,’ I said. ‘They were stuck there on an island with the river all around them for days.’

‘I know, my mum’s friend liked to take risks.’

*[Photo 3: K-Team in Parachilna Gorge when not in flood, but very windy © L.M. Kling 2000]*

A sign with an image of a cow, and below written, “Beware of wandering stock”, flashed by. Brumbies galloped on the side, as if racing with us. Hawks soared in the cobalt blue sky above. A lone wedge-tail eagle, having gorged on a carcass of roadkill, waddled off the road just in time, avoiding the same fate as its feed.

*[Photo 4: Brumbies rounded up in times past, Hermannsburg stock yards © C.D. Trudinger circa 1955]*

This time, when we arrived in Hermannsburg, we made a beeline for the FRM store where we located our friend, P. He welcomed us and gave us a tour of the store. So much bigger than in 1981; more like the size of our local IGA store in size and shelves fully stocked. It even stocked fridges and washing machines. P proudly showed us the bakery where fresh bread is made each day and he introduced us to the Indigenous workers at the store.

*[Photo 5: In front of the store © L.M. Kling 2013]*

After settling into our P and K’s home, we spent the afternoon drinking coffee and storytelling with P and K. Storytelling continued over dinner. Much had changed since the T-team visited in 1981. The population of Hermannsburg has now grown to 600, the Finke River Mission still exists there, and the Christian community is growing. However, there remain challenges for the Indigenous community as there are in communities all over Australia, and the world. ‘It just is,’ as P stated, ‘we’re at the coal-face, being a small, isolated outback community; you see everything…’

*[Photo 6: Memories of times past celebrating* *Kuprilya Day* *© C.D. Trudinger circa 1955]*

‘Whereas,’ I concluded, ‘in the city it’s hidden by numbers, a larger population and behind the walls of our castles.’ Then I changed the subject. ‘Oh, by the way, this is the house I stayed in when the T-team visited Hermannsburg in 1981.’

© Lee-Anne Marie Kling 2021

Feature Photo: Hermannsburg way back when, enjoying a game of friendly footy © C.D. Trudinger circa 1955

***

Virtual Travel Opportunity

For the price of a cup of coffee (takeaway, these days),

Click on the link and download your kindle copy of my travel memoirs,

The T-Team with Mr. B: Central Australian Safari 1977

Trekking with the T-Team: Central Australian Safari.

Story Behind the Painting–Mangaruka

October 24, 2025October 25, 2025 / lmkling / Leave a comment

**Feature Painting: Ghost Gum, Western MacDonnell’s © L.M. Kling 2017

Story Behind the Painting: Ghost Gum, Western MacDonnell Ranges

[Extract from The T-Team with Mr B: Central Australia 1977, a prequel to Trekking With the T-Team: Central Australian Safari 1981.

The T-Team with Mr B — In 1977 Dad’s friend Mr Banks and his son, Matt (not their real names), joined Dad, my brother (Rick) and me on this journey of adventure. I guess Dad had some reservations how I would cope… But it soon became clear that the question was, how would Mr. B who was used to a life of luxury cope? And how would the T-Team cope with him?]

Secret Men’s Business

Mangaruka

Dad scraped up the last few oats at the bottom of his metal bowl and then said, ‘I’ve asked our guides to take us to a place which is very special to them.’

‘What? The Gosse Range?’ I piped up. ‘Are we going to that meteorite site?’

**[Photo 1: Gosse Range © S.O. Gross circa 1946]

‘Better, than that.’ Dad’s mouth did his signature cat-with-bird-in-the-mouth expression. Then he explained that after discussion with our Indigenous guides, they had agreed to take the scenic route via Mangaruka Gorge; the entry to a sacred site. While Mr. B groaned at the prospect of hiking up yet another gorge, my father allayed his friend’s concerns by saying that we would only travel to the gorge’s entrance, and if we had time, just explore the beginnings of it.

Mr. B grumbled, ‘But we don’t want to be searching for a camp near Talipata in the dark.’

**[Photo 2: Talipata at sunset © C.D. Trudinger circa 1955]

‘Don’t worry,’ Dad patted Mr. B on his rounded shoulder, ‘Talipata is not far from there. Besides, the cliffs of Mangaruka at sunset are stunning, especially with the ghost gums set against them.’

**[Photo 3: Ghost Gums near sunset at Mangaruka © S.O. Gross circa 1946]

I remembered the exact image Dad was dreaming about. On lazy afternoons at my Grandma’s home, I used to rummage through photos and slides from her family’s time in Central Australia. My grandfather was, in my opinion, an amazing photographer. In one corner of Grandma’s bookshelf in the back room, rested a pile photo prints that were kept in pristine condition encased in special cardboard like a card; the best of Grandpa’s work. One scene that I have painted was a ghost gum, it’s white trunk against the deep purple cliffs of Mangaruka Gorge. Another slide that impressed me was the same scene with the ghost gum at sunset. No wonder Dad wanted to stop there on our way to Talipata.

**[Painting: Ghost gum, Western MacDonnell’s © L.M. Kling circa 2017]

After having breakfast, we packed up and drove out into the wild west. The dirt road exemplified that rugged feel.

At Haasts Bluff station we filled up with petrol, water, and supplies to last us in this virgin land. We were going where not many people, except the Indigenous, had gone before. Upon entering the land belonging to these people; there would be no shops, no houses, and no roads. To salute our departure from civilisation, we bought something to eat and drink. I ate a meat pie.

**[Photo 4: The road out West and Haast Bluff © C.D. Trudinger 1977]

Our guides directed us off the narrow, yet graded road onto an almost invisible track. One sat on the bonnet of the Rover and directed our venture into the desert. We bumped and crawled along faded wheel ruts until a small range emerged through the low dunes and the folds and creases in the flat-topped hill, formed a gorge. We had reached Mungaraka Gorge.

**[Photo 5: Mangaruka Gorge © S.O Gross circa 1946]

Dad slowed the Land Rover, parking it just before some soft sand that threatened to engulf its wheels. The T-Team stepped out of the vehicle to be greeted by a welcoming party of small pesky flies. They were most unwelcome.

Swishing the pests away from his nose, eyes and mouth, Dad said, ‘Mungaraka, I reckon the name of the place has something to do with flies.’

‘Certainly a feature of the place,’ Mr. B sniffed. ‘Oh, darn it! I just got one up my nose.’

Richard, my brother clapped.

Mr. B glared at him.

With eyes wide, Richard looked at Mr. B. He then examined his palms. ‘Twenty.’ He flicked the flattened black flecks from his hands and then clapped again.

Mr. B then turned to his son, Matt. ‘Don’t even think about killing tha flies, ma son. They have germs. You don’t want germs, ma boy.’

‘No, Dad.’ Matt pulled his cap over his eyes, turned away and strolled down the track towards Mangaruka.

**[Photo 6: Closer view of Mangaruka Gorge with ghost gums © C.D. Trudinger 1977]

Dad, who had been laying out a spread of food on the tarpaulin, stopped preparations and ran after the boy. ‘Hoy! Matt! Wait! Lunch first, then the gorge.’

Richard laughed. ‘And for extra protein—flies.’

Lunch became a battle of hasty bites of cheese and gherkin sandwiches while trying to avoid the added bits of protein of flies that were only too willing to add flavour to our meal. After, we sipped our billy tea probably flavoured with the odd thirsty fly.

**[Photo 7: Ghost gum of Mangaruka © C.D. Trudinger 1977]

Our guides sat apart from us, and, unperturbed by our uninvited swarm of guests, they ate their bread and murmured quietly to each other. Dad perched on the tucker box and watched them.

I gulped down my last drop of tea. ‘Well, aren’t we going to explore the gorge?’

Dad stood up. ‘Right, let’s go.’

‘What about our guides?’ I asked.

‘Oh, they won’t be going. Mangaruka’s sacred to the Arunda, so they won’t go near it.’

‘What? Are they afraid of the place, Dad?’

‘It’s more complicated than that. They keep sacred stones called “Tjuringa” there in a cave. And they are afraid of spirits there.’

‘Can we go there?’

‘Sorry, Lee-Anne, girls are not allowed. Nor us. Not them. Only the elders. So, we’ll only go to the entrance of the gorge.’

**[Photo 8: Entrance to the gorge © C.D. Trudinger 1977]

Mangaruka held no ghost for us, only flies. Dad, Mr. B and Matt, and I walked up to the entrance of the gorge. Richard stayed behind to keep our two guides company. On the rocky slopes in the gorge, a smooth brown and white stone caught my eye.

**[Photo 9: No ghosts as far as we could see © C.D. Trudinger 1977]

I picked it up and ran my finger over it. I showed Dad. ‘Hey, Dad, it feels like plastic.’

Dad screwed up his nose and shifted his feet. ‘I think we better go back now.’

‘Oh, but …’

‘I’m not sure we should go much further,’ Dad said with an edge to his tone.

**[Photo 10: No Women and Children beyond this point. Sunset on Mangaruka. © S.O. Gross 1946]

‘Girls not allowed,’ Mr. B added, and then called out to Matt who had scampered further up the gorge. ‘Come on son, time to go back.’

On our return, I tried to take a photo of us all in front of this gorge, but our aboriginal companions refused. In the end, Dad took a photo of me in front of Mungaraka. Dad would have like to stay longer to wait for the rocks to turn red, but we had to move on.

**[Photo 11: Mangaruka and me © C.D. Trudinger 1977]

© Lee-Anne Marie Kling 2019

***

Dreaming of an Aussie Outback Adventure?

Click the link below:

The T-Team with Mr. B: Central Australian Safari 1977

Trekking with the T-Team: Central Australian Safari 1981,

To download your Amazon Kindle copy of the story …

And escape in time and space to the Centre of Australia 1981 …

Travelling on a Friday–Back to Hermannsburg (1)

October 10, 2025 / lmkling / Leave a comment

[In 2013, the T-Team, next generation embarked on their pilgrimage to Central Australia. Purpose: to scatter Dad’s ashes in his beloved Central Australia, in Ormiston Gorge.

Over the next few weeks, I will take you on a virtual trip to the Centre and memories of that unforgettable holiday in 2013, with my brother and his family; the T-Team Next Generation.

This time, the T-Team go their separate ways…]

Monday Morning

After a fitful sleep and then early rise, I looked forward to coffee with mum and the boys. With the sun peeping over the horizon, shining in the watery blue winter sky and reflecting golden on the gum trees surrounding the campground, the frigid desert air slowly began to thaw.

*[Photo 1: Sunrise in the Centre © C.D. Trudinger circa 1977]*

First, though, after a warming shower and filling breakfast, the tent had to be packed up. Hubby needed my help with that. Then, he spent an eternity repacking the station wagon. While waiting, I jogged on the spot and puffed out steam of my breath into the below ten-degrees air.

*[Photo 2: Packing up Tent, Mambray Creek, Flinders Ranges © L.M. Kling 2018]*

As if a surgeon performing a delicate operation, he punctuated his packing with commands. ‘Bags!’ So, I passed over the bags which he grabbed and pushed into the boot of the car. Then, ‘Tent!’ I hauled over the packed tent to him. Then, ‘Esky!’ I lugged the cool box (esky) to him. Then, waving his hand while head stuck in the boot of the car, ‘Box!’

‘What box?’ I asked.

‘Kitchen box!’

‘Huh?’ I glanced at the piles of stuff still waiting a home in the Ford. Finding the green crate with breakfast cereals, bread and cans of beans, I passed that one to him.

‘No! No! No!’ he snapped and pointed at the red crate, same size but with cooking utensils. ‘That box!’

Apparently, the green crate must go under the back seat with a blanket covering it.

*[Photo 3: Challenges of packing are not new. Relocating in the Centre by camel © S.O. Gross circa 1940]*

Finally, with Hubby’s version of luggage-tetris complete, we drove the short distance in the caravan park to mum’s cabin.

Again, we found Mum T glued to the phone. On the small pine table, she had spread out a brochure opened to camel farms. In between phone calls she muttered, ‘Mrs. T has asked me to find a camel farm for them to visit.’ She was not having much luck finding a camel farm or someone from the camel farms advertised, to answer her calls.

*[Photo 4: In search of an open Camel Farm © L.M. Kling 2013]*

While Mum T remained occupied with the phone, Hubby and I popped next door to visit our boys. The first words out of their Dad’s mouth when he entered was, ‘Have you packed?’

Son 1 and 2 duly showed Dad their packed luggage waiting by the door.

Satisfied that the lads were ready to depart Alice Springs and not miss the flight, we sat down to enjoy a coffee with them.

*[Photo 5: Memories of my first flight over Alice Springs 1977 © L.M. Kling (nee Trudinger) 1977]*

Mum joined us. ‘Oh, by the way,’ she said over her much-needed coffee to wake up, ‘the park manager came over. They were most apologetic about the mix up yesterday. Apparently, whoever took my booking assumed the people were T’s, because when they asked them, the lady didn’t hear clearly and just nodded and said “Yes”.’

‘You mean the guy behind the counter assumed the lady was you?’ I asked to clarify.

‘Apparently, the guy asked the lady, ‘Are you Mrs. T?’ and she said, ‘Yes.’’

We shook our heads.

‘Maybe the lady who took our cabin had a hearing problem,’ I said.

‘Oh, well, it all worked out in the end,’ Mum T concluded.

*[Photo 6: Desert Park Sands © L.M. Kling 2021]*

After visiting the Strehlow Centre and its Art Gallery again, we travelled to the airport to see our sons safely, and in time, board the plane back to Adelaide. Then a brief stop at Woolworths for Hubby to buy some shorts, before commencing our return to Hermannsburg.

[to be continued…]

© Lee-Anne Marie Kling 2021; update 2025

Feature Photo: Mum’s Ghost Gum near Mt. Hermannsburg © courtesy M.E. Trudinger circa 1950

***

Virtual Travel Opportunity

For Less than the price of a cup of coffee,

Click on the link and download your kindle copy of my travel memoir,

Trekking with the T-Team: Central Australian Safari. (Australia)

Trekking With the T-Team: Central Australian Safari (United States)

The T-Team with Mr. B: Central Australian Safari 1977

Arty Friday–The Red Centre

September 26, 2025 / lmkling / Leave a comment

Desert Storm Brewing

Near Lake Hart, Outback South Australia

Acrylic on Stretched Canvas (c) Lee-Anne Kling 2025

One of the paintings I’ll be exhibiting in Marion Art Group’s exhibition at Brighton Central Shopping Centre, October 13 to 25.

Cheers, Lee-Anne Kling

Travelling on a Friday–Alice Springs

September 12, 2025 / lmkling / Leave a comment

All On a Sunday (5)

[In 2013, the T-Team, next generation embarked on their pilgrimage to Central Australia. Purpose: to scatter Dad’s ashes in his beloved Central Australia, in Ormiston Gorge.

Over the next few months, once a month, I will take you on a virtual trip to the Centre and memories of that unforgettable holiday in 2013, with my brother and his family; the T-Team Next Generation.

This time, the T-Team leave camping in the desert behind and tackle the complexities of civilisation—Alice Springs … All on a Sunday.]

Must Register

By the time our family and Mum drove the streets of Alice Springs in search of a hotel to eat, night had fallen, and a blanket of darkness surrounded us. As a convoy of Mum’s rental and the Ford, we wended through the few short streets to the nearby hotel which had been recommended by the caravan park.

*[Photo 1: Memories of Alice Springs way back when—View From Anzac Hill Memorial © courtesy of M.E. Trudinger circa 1955]*

‘Hope we can get a table,’ Anthony grumbled as we walked from the neon-lit car park to the entrance of the hotel. ‘We haven’t booked, you know.’

‘If we can’t, I guess you’ll be cooking tea for us all,’ I joked.

‘It’ll be alright,’ Mum sang her mantra.

*[Photo 2: Mr. BBQ extraordinaire © L.M. Kling 2020]*

Our family of five filtered through the front entrance and into an expanse of dark green carpet and pastel green walls and fronted up to the black topped counter.

‘Do you have a table for five?’ Mum T asked.

‘You need to register,’ the man at the counter said.

Anthony and I glanced at each other. ‘Register?’

‘We need to see your identification; a drivers’ licence will be okay.’

‘That’s normal for me,’ Son 1 said, ‘They always ask for my ID. They don’t believe I’m over 18.’

Son 2 snorted, ‘And here I was getting into hotels when I was under 18, no problem.’

‘Just your luck,’ Son 1 muttered.

‘And I don’t drink,’ Son 2 sniffed.

‘Typical.’

*[Photo 3: Neither does my brother, but you wouldn’t think so by the looks of this shot © L.M. Kling (nee Trudinger) 1986]*

While the boys quibbled and joked, the T-K Team, good citizens that we were, unquestioningly showed our respective licences and registered to enter the hotel.

As we sat at our designated table, we observed the predominance of people of Anglo-Saxon extraction and the lack of First Nation people. There was one Indigenous family way down the other end of the dining hall, but… They seemed happy enough.

Over dinner, roast meat, and smorgasbord, (your average fare for an Aussie hotel at that time), I mused, ‘What’s the deal with registering?’

Anthony waved a hand around the room. ‘Isn’t it obvious? Didn’t you read the sign at the entrance?’

‘What sign?’

Anthony rolled his eyes and shook his head.

Then again, I understood, without further explanation, what my husband meant.

*[Painting 1: Memories of Ormiston Gorge © L.M. Kling 2018]*

Back at the campsite, I used the communal kitchen to prepare a hot chocolate for Anthony and me. While the kettle took its time boiling, I watched a pair of German tourists and their Australian friends Skyping on a laptop to Germany.

*[Photo 4: Dreams of travelling the Romantic Road; something to look forward to. Rothenburg ob der Tauber © L.M. Kling 2014]*

Then, soporific from the effects of warm chocolaty milk, hubby and I snuggled into our sleeping bags and it was lights out for us…only, it wasn’t that much light out—we still had the toilet block light beaming into our tent…all night. And on our minds wondering who were the T-Team imposters?

© Lee-Anne Marie Kling 2021

Feature Photo: Hermannsburg Sunset © C.D. Trudinger circa 1955

***

Virtual Travel Opportunity

For the price of a cup of coffee (takeaway, these days),

Click on the link and download your kindle copy of my travel memoirs:

The T-Team With Mr. B: Central Australian Safari 1977

Trekking with the T-Team: Central Australian Safari. (Australia)

Arty Friday–Kata Tjuta

August 29, 2025 / lmkling / Leave a comment

Kata Tjuta at Sunrise

[Remembering my dad, Clement David Trudinger 13-1-1928—26-8-2012

Extract from Trekking with the T-Team: Central Australian Safari 1981]

Way before the sun had even thought about rising, we gulped down our porridge and then set off for the Eastern Side of Kata Tjuta. Dad was on a mission to capture the prehistoric boulders at sunrise. We arrived at the vantage point just as the sun spread out its first tentative rays, touching the spiky tips of spinifex and crowning the bald domes with a crimson hue as if they’d been sunburnt.

*[Painting 1: Kata Tjuta Sunrise (watercolour) © Lee-Anne Marie Kling 2015]*

I dashed a hundred metres down the track to photograph the “Kangaroo Head” basking in the sun. We stood in awe as the glow of red on the rocks deepened.

Every few minutes Dad exclaimed, ‘Ah, well, that’s it, that’s as good as it’s going to get.’ He packed the camera away, only to remark, ‘Oh, it’s getting better,’ then retrieve the camera from the bag and snap Kata Tjuta flushed with a deeper, more stunning shade of red. The rest of the T-Team, waited, took a few shots, waited, mesmerised by the conglomerate mounds of beauty, before taking more snaps of the landscape.

*[Painting 2: Soft Sunrise Glow of Kata Tjuta (pastel)* *© Lee-Anne Marie Kling 2021]*

TR patted Dad on the back. ‘Well, the early rise was worth it.’

© Lee-Anne Marie Kling 2016; updated 2021; 2025

Feature Painting: Sacred Sunrise, Kata Tjuta (acrylic) © Lee-Anne Marie Kling 2021

***

Dreaming of Australian Outback adventure?

The Intrepid T-Team Series

Available on Amazon Kindle or as your own Aussie coffee-table books.

Click on the links below …

The T-Team with Mr. B: Central Australian Safari 1977

Trekking With the T-Team: Central Australian Safari 1981

Travelling on a Friday

August 15, 2025August 15, 2025 / lmkling / Leave a comment

All on a Sunday (4)

[In 2013, the T-Team, next generation embarked on their pilgrimage to Central Australia. Purpose: to scatter Dad’s ashes in his beloved Central Australia, in Ormiston Gorge.

One Friday a month, I will take you on a virtual trip to the Centre and memories of that unforgettable holiday in 2013, with my brother and his family; the T-Team Next Generation.

This time, the T-Team leave camping in the desert behind and tackle the complexities of civilisation—Alice Springs … All on a Sunday.]

Imposters

Less than one hour later after leaving Hermannsburg, we checked into the Stuart Caravan Park on the edge of Alice Springs. The reception, cast in long shadows, signalled the fast-approaching night and uncertainty that comes with not booking a site. Would there be one for us?

*[Photo 1: Namatjira Country the road back to Alice Springs © L.M. Kling 2013]*

We trod into the kiosk, glancing at each other and hopeful expressions on our faces.

‘Do you have a tent site available?’ Anthony asked the manageress.

‘Let me see…’ the lady opened an A3 sized compendium. ‘Hmm, yes, site 81 is free.’

After paying the deposit, we collected the keys to the boys’ cabin which had already been booked for Sunday night.

*[Photo 2: The boys’ cabin with our trusty Ford © L.M. Kling 2013]*

Mum had followed us in, and I noticed her embroiled in some discussion with a young chap behind the counter. Mum didn’t look happy.

I stepped over to check out the situation.

‘They’ve stuffed up my booking,’ Mum T muttered to me.

‘What? How?’

Mum explained that someone called “Mrs T” had checked in and acquired her cabin as well as a campsite.

Immediately, I dialled Mrs T on my mobile and asked her, ‘Did you book a cabin?’

‘Nuh!’ Mrs T replied, ‘Why would I do that when we can stay for free at me friend’s house.’

*[Photo 3: Backyard view from Mrs. T’s friend’s house © L.M. Kling 2013]*

Fair point. Why book a cabin and campsite if you can stay with friends and save money?

‘Looks like someone impersonated our mum and snaffled up her cabin,’ I said.

‘Mmm! That’s a bit rough,’ Mrs T said, ‘Hope she can get her money back. She can stay with us if she likes.’

I looked to Mum T. ‘You can stay with the T-Team at their friend’s.’

Mum T smiled. ‘It’s okay, the manager has given me another cabin free of charge.’

Glad that we had decided to return to Alice Springs and had been there to support Mum. Still, rather ironic that, Mum, who had been the first to book her cabin way back in March or April to ensure she had a booking and not miss out, was the one who almost did. Still, she got hers free.

*[Photo 4: After all, Mum T had had her fair share of camping in the Finke River © C.D. Trudinger circa 1955]*

In the golden tones of late afternoon, Anthony and I set up our tent and then took a leisurely stroll around the caravan park and onto mum’s cabin. Fortunately, her cabin was near our sons’. On the way we “happened” to pass the cabin containing the fake T-Team. There they sat, out on the front porch, an elderly couple and a younger couple. Didn’t appear to be your average criminal type or distant relatives even.

*Photo 5: Boys settling into cabin © L.M. Kling 2013]*

Visited the boys’ cabin. Son 1 and 2 had settled in for the night, happy with the comfort that the rooms afforded. Son 1 particularly pleased that he wouldn’t have to hear our snoring.

Son 2 however asked, ‘What are we doing for tea?’

‘Maybe we can go to a hotel to eat,’ I said.

My husband frowned. ‘What? Are we made of money?’

‘You want to cook?’ I questioned. ‘Anyway, it’s Mum’s and the boys’ last night up here, they leave for Adelaide tomorrow.’

Anthony sighed, ‘Oh, alright!’

Sprinted over to mum’s cabin and knocked on the door. Mum, holding the phone, ushered me in. Then I stood in the small lounge area while Mum sat at the tiny wooden table, phone glued to her ear.

I waited.

Mum, with phone at her ear and silent, waited.

‘What…?’ I began.

Mum batted her free hand at me to be quiet.

So, I waited.

And waited.

Might as well do something while waiting for goodness knows what. Must be something to do with the imposters, I thought.

*[Photo 6: Mum hanging on the phone © L.M. Kling 2013]*

‘Yes…’ finally, mum gets a response, ‘yes, right…nine o’clock tomorrow…be there half an hour before…no, we don’t have any luggage; only hand luggage…Right, thank you.’

‘Not news about the T-Team imposters, then?’ I laughed.

‘No, just had to do the check in with Qantas for the boys’ return trip tomorrow,’ Mum replied.

Only then, was I able to discuss with mum about going out for tea. Of course, the suggestion was fine by her.

[to be continued…]

***

Virtual Travel Opportunity

For the price of a cup of coffee (takeaway, these days),

Click on the link and download your kindle copy of my travel memoir,

Trekking with the T-Team: Central Australian Safari. (Australia)

The T-Team with Mr. B: Central Australian Safari 1977

Travelling on a Friday–Historic Hermannsburg

July 4, 2025 / lmkling / Leave a comment

[In 2013, the T-Team, next generation embarked on their pilgrimage to Central Australia. Purpose: to scatter Dad’s ashes in his beloved Central Australia, in Ormiston Gorge.

Over the next few months, I will take you on a virtual trip to the Centre and memories of that unforgettable holiday, with my brother and his family; the T-Team Next Generation.

This time, the T-Team explore historic Hermannsburg, but fail to find any ghosts.]

Mystery in Historic Hermannsburg

We checked out the old school room. Mum reminisced the terrors of teaching the fellow missionary kids who were barely younger than her. They just refused to listen or obey her. Some were constantly daydreaming and never did their lessons. Mum vowed never to teach again. She escaped this teaching fate by getting married…to Dad.

*[Photo 1: T-Team Next Gen gazes out the school room © L.M. Kling 2013]*

Then we proceeded to the church.

‘The only time we wore shoes was for church,’ Mum said. ‘Sundays was for Sunday best.’

*[Photo 2: The historic church back in the olden days © C.D. Trudinger circa 1955]*

T-Tummies began to grumble and so, the T-Team Next Gen decided to head for the Precinct Café which had been the Manse of the Hermannsburg Missionary Supervisor.

As we investigated the old rooms that had been converted into a souvenir shop and tea rooms, Mum said, ‘This is the room Dad and I stayed after we got married.’ I took a photo of Mum in that room which was now filled with souvenir clothes and hats.

*[Photo 3: Mum T in her old room © L.M. Kling 2013]*

Finally, Mum and I approached the counter and asked the young Arunda lady serving, if we could have a table for our party of ten.

She guided us to some tables on the porch where we could sit. Along the way, Mum mentioned to her that she used to live in the house. From that moment on, this lady could not do enough for us, making sure we had the best slices of apple strudel and helping us with the self-serve tea and coffee.

*[Photo 4: The Manse and what was then, what would be, the front porch where we sat © C.D. Trudinger circa 1955]*

When she had left us to serve someone else, Mum whispered to me, ‘I think she is GW’s (an elder) granddaughter.’

Later, as we were leaving to explore more of the village, the girl who had served us ran up to the T-Team to continue the conversation with us about the Hermannsburg of old and answer any of our questions about Hermannsburg today.

*[Photo 5: Hermannsburg of old—the compound © circa S.O. Gross circa 1940]*

*[Photo 6: Hermannsburg in 2013—the compound © L.M. Kling 2013]*

Then, she had a question for us. ‘Have you seen or sensed any ghosts?’

We shook our collective heads. ‘No, we haven’t.’

‘Apparently, some people have seen a girl in period clothing, circa 1900. And some have seen an old man in this café. The young girl plays with my children,’ the lady who served us said.

*[Photo 7: Funeral for a Mission Worker © courtesy S.O. Gross circa 1941]*

I tried to think back to my previous visits to Hermannsburg. Can’t recall any ghosts then…just dreams of the olden days, way back when…And the pioneer missionaries and Afghans trekking across the desert on horses and camels.

*[Photo 8: Caravan of camels starting out desert trek © S.O. Gross circa 1942]*

More exploration of the Historic Precinct where Mum walked us through her childhood. First, her old home and the porch converted into a bedroom in which she slept. Now, the home is “renovated” into an art gallery. Her room fetches up to something like one thousand dollars a night for an authentic experience of yesteryear’s accommodation. To think, I did that virtually for free in the 1970’s…not her room, but…

*[Photo 9: Inside Mum’s old childhood home (at last!) © L.M. Kling 2013]*

Then, the native girls’ quarters and the native boys’ quarters. Once upon a time, one hundred years ago, they were locked in at night, so they wouldn’t escape and get up to mischief.

Photo 10: Meanwhile locked out and waiting to go; a re-enactment by the T-Team. Mum said that my grandpa spent “hours” in there, while my young mum hopped around the outside waiting her turn © L.M. Kling 2013]

Then the huge shed; a museum of machinery and long-forgotten technology, for butchering cattle, and tanning of kangaroo skins. Outside, my niece sat on an old tractor.

*[Photo 11: On the old tractor © L.M. Kling 2013]*

‘I wonder what happened to the green Mission truck?’ Mum said.

*[Photo 12: Memories of the Green Mission truck. Dad T seen sitting inside © S.O. Gross circa 1955]*

While the T-Team Next Gen rested at a picnic table by the morgue, and Anthony filled the water canteens, Mum shared how, as a child, she and her sisters played funerals. ‘We’d dance around the table pinching our noses.’ Apparently, back then, funerals were a regular occurrence. Mum added, ‘The most eerie experience was the wailing by the Arunda when someone died. Sent shivers down my spine.’

*[Photo 13: Funeral © S.O. Gross circa 1940]*

Meanwhile Anthony battled with the nearby water pump which was situated just behind the Historic church building.

Mum glanced over and remarked, ‘Last time we visited in 2010, we were told about this competition Hermannsburg and another mission were in for who had the holiest water. Someone had drunk the water from this other mission where the water had bubbled up to the surface through the sand and was healed. So, then, Hermannsburg had to out-do this other mission and also make water with healing qualities.’

*[Photo 14: Near the site of holy water tap © L.M. Kling 2013]*

The T-Team laughed.

‘Hey, Anthony, you’re pumping holy water,’ my sister-in-law, Mrs. T called out. ‘Are you allowed to do that?’

‘It’ll be alright,’ Mum said. ‘No one’s looking.’

Anthony took a sip and frowned. ‘It tastes awful!’

‘Too salty?’ I asked.

‘Well, that’s convinced me!’ Anthony put his hands on his hips. ‘We’re going back to Alice Springs for the night.’

So, with our water containers empty, Anthony and I joined the T-Team on the return trek to Alice Springs.

‘I hope we can get a campsite at the Stuart Camping Ground,’ Anthony said.

[to be continued…]

***

Virtual Travel Opportunity

For the price of a cup of coffee (takeaway, these days),

Click on the link and download your kindle copy of my travel memoirs:

The T-Team with Mr. B: Central Australian Safari 1977

Trekking with the T-Team: Central Australian Safari. (Australia)

Trekking With the T-Team: Central Australian Safari (United States)

Trekking With the T-Team: Central Australian Safari (UK)

Travelling on Friday–Hermannsburg

June 6, 2025 / lmkling / Leave a comment

[Twelve years ago, the T-Team, next generation embarked on their pilgrimage to Central Australia. Purpose: to scatter Dad’s ashes in his beloved Central Australia, in Ormiston Gorge.

Over the next few months, I will take you on a virtual trip to the Centre and memories of that unforgettable holiday in 2013, with my brother and his family; the T-Team Next Generation.

This time, the T-Team farewell Glen Helen, then struggle with the concept of driving in convoy.]

Hermannsburg

Midday, and Mt. Hermannsburg rose up above the desert scrub; just red sand dotted with tee tree bushes, spinifex and the invasive buffel grass. At regular intervals, horse poo appeared in high piles on the roadside.

‘I wonder why the horses do that?’ I remarked while driving Mum’s hire car.

No one in the car could explain.

‘The locals say that the buffel grass is a curse,’ Mum muttered.

‘Do you reckon it’s changed the weather here in Central Australia?’ I asked.

‘Would’ve made the bushfire worse a couple of years back,’ Son 2 said. ‘Now we can’t have a campfire anywhere.’

‘Why did they introduce the buffel grass, Mum?’ I asked.

‘Camels, I think.’

*[Photo 2: Horses corralled to be broken in © C.D. Trudinger circa 1955]

I read later that buffel grass was introduced to stablise the desert soil and reduce the risk of bushfire. The problem with this grass is that it is pervasive, compromising the growth of native plant species. PIRSA (Primary Industries and Regions, South Australia) has declared “Buffel Grass under the Landscape South Australia Act 2019”.

A massive animal carcass on the side of the road flitted past.

‘What’s that?’ I pointed, then placed my hand back on the steering wheel. ‘It’s too big to be a roo and too woolly to be a brumby.’

Son 2 piped up. ‘Camel?’

‘Hmmm, hate to think what happened to the vehicle that struck that camel,’ I said.

*[Photo 3: Wild Camels © C.D. Trudinger 1981]

Not long after the camel carcass, we passed the memorial to Hermannsburg Mission and then a sign welcoming us to Ntaria—Hermannsburg. To our left, a supermarket, a pale brick structure languishing on the edge of a paddock near the road.

‘That’s where our friend, P, from church works,’ I announced. Our friends, P and wife, K had invited us to stay with them in Hermannsburg.

The convoy came to stop on the gravel road edge by the store.

*[Photo 4: Mount Hermannsburg (feature photo) © L.M. Kling 2013]

I hopped out of the car and entered the store. Searching for P, I wandered up and down the aisles, filled with the owners of the Land, the Arunda people, but shelves empty of anything to buy. Except for the pie warmer, choc-full of pies, chips and other fast foods.

I approached the check out where an Indigenous lady served a long line of customers, who each held pies, chips, hot dogs, and burgers. I stood in line and waited my turn to purchase an answer to my question.

Finally, my turn. ‘Could you tell me where I can find P?’

The checkout lady stared past me.

‘P? I thought he worked in the supermarket,’ I said.

She nodded. ‘Ah, P?’

‘Yep, P.’ Expecting an instant reply.

‘Just wait while I serve.’

*[Photo 5: Way back when regular, whole-roast kangaroo was on the menu © S.O. Gross circa 1940]

I waited about 10 minutes while she served a stream of customers purchasing their pies and other junk food.

So, I left.

‘Perhaps we’ll find an answer or P at the Historic Precinct,’ Mum said.

The T-Team convoy led by Mum’s hire car, then continued through Hermannsburg to the Historic Precinct. We passed a gated community. Yes, you heard right, a gated community. Houses painted in bright pastel green, yellow and pink, could be viewed through the cyclone fence, and their occupants sitting in backyards of red sand.

*[Photo 6: Early houses built by the Mission © S.O. Gross circa 1940]

Further on, we rolled past another store. This one painted in pastel blue and decorated with a mural of native bush, mountains, and a kangaroo. Near a broken window, a faded sign, stating its identity as the “Finke River Mission” Store.

Mum waved a hand in the store’s direction. ‘I reckon P works here.’

*[Photo 7: Later me in front of the FRM Store. Artwork by Wendy Schubert (another of my friends from church) © A.N. Kling 2013]

The door appeared locked by a security gate of thick metal bars. Without stopping, or alighting from the car, I said, ‘I think it is closed on Sunday.’

A few metres on, we parked just outside the Historic Precinct. The wooden gate leading to the old buildings swung in the breeze, open. To one side, though, a formidable sign discouraged us with the words in black letters, “Closed”. Despite this sign and its statement, people wandered across the compound and in and out the buildings.