Explore Flinders Ranges | Tru-Kling Creations

Skint at Arkaroola

[This Sunday is Hubby’s and my 39th anniversary, so, time to remember our honeymoon in the rough and tough outback. The T-K Team step back in time into the Mt. Painter Sanctuary, Northern Flinders Ranges, South Australia; a land offering a glimpse of prehistory…]

Late 1980’s, and my husband and I planned a honeymoon stay in Arkaroola, the town within the Mt. Painter sanctuary, Northern Flinders Ranges. When we arrived, we rolled up to the motel and presented our VISA card for payment.

*[Photo 1: Approaching Mt. Painter Sanctuary, Northern Flinders Ranges © L.M. Kling 1987]*

‘Oh, I’m so sorry,’ said the manager, ‘we don’t take VISA. Only MasterCard.’

‘What?’ But we were counting on our VISA to cover the costs.

We scraped together the cash amount for the three-nights of accommodation and emptied our wallets of all but a few notes. Romantic dinners in the restaurant, off our menu. The longed-for Ridge-Top Tour, off our track. Then cold hard panic struck, how were we to pay for petrol when we returned to Adelaide? The amount in our tank, Dad’s four-wheel-drive vehicle that he loaned us for the holiday, may not last the journey back to Hawker. All because the town in which we chose to spend our honeymoon, was so remote, they did not deal in VISA.

*[Photo 2: Cornflakes for breakfast © L.M. Kling 1987]*

We sat on our motel bed and counted our measly amount of cash. What were we going to do? It’s not like I hadn’t gone without before—on the T-Team with my Dad. Being like-minded and frugal, we dealt with the disappointment, and decided we’d cook our own meals using the barbecue facilities and not venture too far from the town. Besides, there were plenty of places to which we could hike.

*[Photo 3: Hiking up Radium Creek searching for titanite © L.M. Kling 1987]*

I took a deep breath and picked up the book our pastor had given us as a wedding gift. Inside the front cover I discovered an envelope. ‘I wonder what this says,’ I said to my husband.

I took out the card and opened it. An orange-coloured note fluttered onto the floor. I picked it up. ‘Hey, look! Twenty dollars.’ I waved the note in my husband’s face. ‘Twenty dollars! Pastor must’ve known we’d need the money.’

‘I think God did,’ my husband said. ‘Twenty dollars makes all the difference.’

‘Can we do the Ridge-Top Tour?’

‘Um, perhaps not that much difference.’

‘Dinner at the restaurant?’

‘Maybe, but we still need to watch our spending.’

I sighed. ‘I know.’

*[Photo 4: Dinnertime Hill © L.M. Kling 1987]*

*[Photo 5: Towards sunset on Mt Painter Sanctuary mountains © L.M. Kling 1987]*

In the restaurant, and eating the cheapest meal offered, I spied a photo adorning the wall behind my beloved. A waterhole with red cliffs on one side and cool but majestic eucalypt trees on the other side. ‘Echo Camp,’ I read. ‘I want to go there.’

‘Hmm, not sure, if we have to drive far.’

‘Oh, please.’

‘We’ll see.’

*[Photo 6: Radium Creek © L.M. Kling 1987]*

*[Photo 7: Nooldoonooldoona © L.M. Kling 1987]*

A couple of days passed, and we’d exhausted all the nearby scenic sites to which we could hike. We decided to drive up the road, but not too far.

I spotted a sign to Echo Camp, and not-too-many kilometres off the “main” road. My husband noted that the track was only for “authorised” vehicles.

‘That’s not fair,’ I said. ‘They shouldn’t tempt us with scenic places like that in the restaurant and then deny us because we’re not “authorised”.’

*[Painting 1: Track to Echo Camp © L.M. Kling 1987]

He who was driving, turned into the track. ‘You’re quite right. Ready for some adventure?’

‘Okay, well, it says Echo Camp’s only a few kilometres down the track.’

My husband drove up and down the track. It soon became obvious why the track was meant for “authorised” vehicles. But we were committed, and the track became so narrow, with one side rocky cliffs and the other sheer drops, we had no choice but to lurch forward, upward, downward, sideways and every-which-way. While I clutched the bar on the dashboard, my husband had fun, relishing the roller-coaster ride to Echo Camp.

We reached a relatively flat area where we parked our four-wheel drive vehicle. The Painter Sanctuary mountains rose and dipped like waves before us. A feast for the eyes with shades of sienna, blue and mauve. I captured this beauty with my Nikon film camera.

*[Painting 2: Vista of the Sanctuary © L.M. Kling 2019]

‘By the way, where’s Echo Camp from here?’ I asked.

‘Just around the corner, I think.’

‘How many kilometres have we travelled?’

‘More than the sign said, but it can’t be far.’

‘I get the feeling we missed it on the way here.’

My husband nodded. ‘I think we did. There was a fork back there, but I wasn’t sure. And the angle was too sharp to turn down.’

‘Better check out that track.’

*[Photo 8: Sun fast sinking on secret sanctuary © L.M. Kling 1987]*

We back tracked and found the way leading to Echo Camp. By this time, the sun hung low in the sky, so our time savouring Echo Camp was limited to no more than half an hour, wandering near the rock pool, taking photos, and enjoying the peace and silence of this land untouched by civilisation, and reserved for the “authorised” apparently.

Aspects of Echo Camp

*[Photo 9: Our trusty Daihatsu Four-wheel drive © L.M. Kling 1987]*

*[Photo 10: Reflections in the billabong © L.M. Kling 1987]*

*[Photo 11: Echo Camp © L.M. Kling 1987]*

Then, after braving the roller-coaster road again, we crept out from the contraband track, and back into town.

*[Painting 3: Echo Camp © L.M. Kling 2015]

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© Lee-Anne Marie Kling 2016; updated 2019; 2022; 2026

*Feature Painting: Dinnertime Northern Flinders Ranges © Lee-Anne Marie Kling 2018

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Want more but too expensive to travel down under? Why not take a virtual travel with the T-Team Adventures in Australia?

Check out my travel memoirs.

Click here on:

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

Trekking With the T-Team: Central Australian Safari 1981

And escape in time and space to Central Australia

Story Behind the Painting: Bunyip Chasm

Have a Happy and Blessed Easter.

As it is the Easter weekend and in keeping with Arty Friday, a story of my Easter break camping in the Gammon Ranges with my father and then future husband.

THE BIRTH OF “BUNYIP CHASM”—THE PAINTING

You need to loosen up with your painting,’ my art teacher said.

So, with a palette-knife, I did with…

Over the Easter break in 1986, Dad took my boyfriend (future husband) and me to the Gammon Ranges. Dad had gone there the previously with his photographer friend and he was keen to show us some of the scenic secrets these ranges held.

We bumped and rolled in Dad’s four-wheel drive Daihatsu down the track into the Gammon Ranges. We camped near Grindell’s Hut, backpackers’ accommodation. A murder-mystery from the early Twentieth Century involving the hut’s owner, spiced our discussion around the campfire that night. Then we set up a tent, for boyfriend, on the ground above the bank of the creek. I placed my bedding also above the creek under the stars. Dad opted for his “trillion-star” site underneath a river gum. No tent for him, either.

*[Photo 1: The Daihatsu © L.M. Kling 1986]*

The next day Dad guided us along the Balcanoona creek bed shaded by native pines to Bunyip Chasm. After an hour or two of hobbling over rounded river stones, we arrived at a dead-end of high cliffs.

*[Photo 2: Balcanoona Creek, beginning our hike © L.M. Kling 1986]*

*[Photo 3: Trekking of the T-K Team in search of Bunyip chasm © L.M. Kling 1986]*

*[Photo 4: Waiting for me to catch up © L.M. Kling 1986]*

‘Is this it?’ my boyfriend asked. ‘Is this Bunyip Chasm?’

‘I think so,’ Dad said as he squinted at the waterfall splashing over the cliffs. ‘It looks familiar.’

‘I don’t see any chasm,’ I said.

‘Just wait a minute,’ Dad said and then disappeared through some scraggly-looking bushes.

I waited and took photos of the water spattering over dark cliffs set against a cobalt blue sky.

*[Photo 5: Is this it? The end of the gully with cliffs dotted with native pines © L.M. Kling 1986]*

*[Photo 6: Water cascading over cliffs © L.M. Kling 1986]*

Dad tramped back to us. ‘It’s over here. The water’s deeper than last year, so I don’t think we can go through.’

We trekked after Dad, pushing the bushes and then reeds aside. There, the split in the hillside, and a deep pool of water lurking in the shadows.

*[Photo 7: Beginnings of Bunyip Chasm © L.M. Kling 1986]*

‘Do you think we can swim through?’ I asked. I had worn my bathers in the hope of swimming in a waterhole.

‘Nah, it’s too deep and cold,’ Dad said. ‘I wouldn’t risk it.’ Dad then scanned the surrounding cliffs and shook his head.

I took more photos of the cliffs, hillside and of course the chasm.

*[Photo 8: Waterfall near Bunyip Chasm © L.M. Kling 1986]*

‘Come on, we better get back,’ Dad said and then started to hike back the way we came.

We trailed after Dad. Although native pine trees shaded our path, the hiking made me thirst for a waterhole in which to swim. I gazed up at the lacework of deep blue green against the sky and then, my boot caught on a rock. I stumbled. My ankle rolled and twisted. I cried out. ‘Wait!’

*[Photo 9: Afternoon return to camp © L.M. Kling 1986]*

‘What?’ the men said at the same time.

‘I hurt my ankle; I need to soak it in cold water.’

Dad stamped his foot. ‘Well, hurry up. We have to get back to camp before dark.’

I pulled off my jeans and T-shirt.

‘What are you doing?’ my boyfriend asked.

‘I’m soaking my ankle; I twisted it, and I learnt in first aid that you need to apply a cold compress to it.’

Boyfriend put his hands-on hips and sighed.

I gave him my camera. ‘Here, take a photo of me in the pool.’

Boyfriend swayed his head. But as I soaked my foot and the rest of me—any excuse for a swim—boyfriend took my photo.

*[Photo 10: My Foot-soaking pool © A.N. Kling 1986]*

After about ten minutes, with my ankle still swollen and sore, I hobbled after the men. We climbed down a short waterfall and at the base, I looked back. The weathered trunk of an old gum tree leaned over the stream, three saplings basked in the late-afternoon sunlight against the sienna-coloured rocks, and clear water rushed and frothed over the cascading boulders and into pond mirroring the trees and rocks above.

‘Stop! Wait!’ I called to the men.

*[Photo 11: Waiting for me to foot-soak © L.M. Kling 1986]*

‘We have to keep on going,’ Dad said and disappeared into the distance.

Boyfriend waited while I aimed my camera at the perfect scene and snapped several shots.

*[Photo 12: The scene that inspired the painting © L.M. Kling 1986]*

Then holding hands, we hiked along the creek leading to our campsite and Dad.

‘I’m going to paint that little waterfall,’ I said.

We walked in silence, enjoying the scenery painted just for us—the waves of pale river stones, the dappled sunlight through the pines, and a soft breeze kissing our skin.

[In memory of my father Clement David Trudinger (13-1-1928—25-8-2012)]