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…]

© Lee-Anne Marie Kling 2021; updated 2025

Feature Photo: Hermannsburg Historic church © L.M. Kling 2013

***

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Family History Friday–1939

March 15, 2024March 15, 2024 / lmkling / 1 Comment

Letters from our forebears give us today a rich picture of them, their personalities and their lives. As it’s my maternal grandmother’s birthday tomorrow (March 16), I am sharing the first part of a circular letter written by Elsa of the family’s relocation from the Murray Riverland to the desert Centre of Australia back in October 1939. My grandpa, Sam, Elsa’s husband had been called to be a missionary pastor in Hermannsburg, Northern Territory. Note the timing of this adventure. World War Two had just broken out, but no mention in this letter.

CIRCULAR WRITTEN by ELSA GROSS from HERMANNSBURG,

OCTOBER 1939

Hermannsburg

via Alice Springs

October 1939

*[Photo 1: The Family © S.O. Gross 1939]*

Dear Friends,

Well, here we are at Hermannsburg at last, our long journey is at an end. We have a home again, although till now our goods haven’t arrived – we are anxiously waiting for them to be able to pack away our things – but – this is the land of ‘wait-a-while’ – so we will just have to wait until they come.

*[Photo 2: Moving home chaos, home in Berri, Riverland South Australia © S.O. Gross September 1939]*

We had a very pleasant journey up from Adelaide. Went as far as Port Augusta in my father’s car, after having stayed overnight at a cousin’s place in Murraytown. It was very nice going up by car, it saved changing twice and with all our luggage it would have been quite a picnic. We had arranged to meet Karl in Port Augusta, but when we arrived there we discovered he had German Measles, so we could only speak to him from the other side of the room; he was in bed, and he couldn’t even come to see us off, which was quite disappointing.

*[Photo 3: On Father’s (my grandmother’s father pastor F.W. Basedow) Car © S.O. Gross 1939]*

Anyhow, at 4.30am on Thursday 28th we steamed out of the Port Augusta station. We had sleeping berths, the children and I with 2 other ladies in the one compartment, 4 berths in each, and Sam & 3 other men in the next compartment. During the day we were mostly alone in Sam’s compartment, the other men went on the other part of the train and just came back to sleep. It was very nice because then the children had room to romp around a bit. The sleeping berths were very comfortable, 2 at the top and 2 at the bottom. We all had bottom ones, Ruth & Marie in one, I in the other one and Margaret between in her basket. During the day the beds are just ordinary seats and for the night they put the back-leans down and it makes a comfortable bed. The children stood the travelling very well, they were very excited of course to go in the train. The end of the second day (Friday) they got a bit tired of it, but soon got over that. The only one who didn’t enjoy it too much was Margaret, she was running a temperature most of the time and was particularly grizzly on Saturday afternoon. The next morning we could see why – she had German Measles, but the rash didn’t last long, and now she is just about right again. Now we are wondering if Ruth and Marie will get it, they have colds, so we are keeping ourselves isolated out here, we don’t want to give it to the natives, they always get things so much worse than the whites. One of the ladies in our compartment had them too, she was very miserable, was in bed for most of the trip.

*[Photo 4: On the Ghan heading up north to Alice Springs © S.O. Gross 1939]*

Well, to go on with our trip. From Port Augusta to Oodnadatta, which we reached at 9 o’clock on Friday night, there wasn’t much to see, flat deserty-looking country, a lot of it covered with stones, not nice smooth ones, were like broken bits, it makes a person wonder where they all came from — no hills, just these plains covered with stones. We also passed a lake, but that looked as dreary and dead-looking as all the rest of the country. That was to Oodnadatta, when it was night. But when we woke the next morning it was different, grass and trees and ranges and wild flowers. One advantage about this trip is, that they stop at every station or siding, sometimes there are just one or 2 houses, other places a few more. One place we stopped at, Anna Creek, by name, the 2 or 3 railway houses had lovely gardens and lawns, such a contrast to all the surrounding country. We saw something similar at Rumbalara , where the police station is. At this place we had to wait for nearly 2 hours as our engine had broken something and they had to steam up another one. This long stay enabled us to see some of the wild flowers growing along the line. They are altogether different to the ones in the south, and such a variety, too, and they appeared to be past their best too. It must be a wonderful sight when they are all out. This delay at Rumbalara made us late, of course, at Alice Springs. We arrived there at quarter to 5 instead of 2.15. Missionary Albrecht arrived to meet us a few minutes after the train was in, and took us and our host of luggage to Johannsens, where we slept.

*[Photo 5: A picnic lunch on the way © S.O. Gross 1939]*

After we had had tea Missionary Albrecht took us out to the little church which they have in Alice Springs. It was presented by Mr Materne of Nuriootpa as a Thank offering. It is a nice little church with a fairly large vestry and a sleep-out, so that anyone coming in from the mission station has somewhere to stay. At the church we met some of the natives of Alice Springs, they are being cared for by the evangelist Martin, who holds services twice every Sunday, when there is no missionary there and also gives baptismal instruction. He is a very fine man. Here the children met the first natives. They had seen some from the train already and were greatly excited. To our amazement they weren’t at all afraid of them, and not any more shy, if as shy, as with white children. They shook hands with them much to the natives delight.

*[Photo 6: Where’s our homely contents? © S.O. Gross 1939]*

The next day services were held there, in the morning it was in Arunda, but during the service Missionary Albrecht welcomed Sam and he then spoke a few words to them in English. In the afternoon Sam conducted the service and preached the sermon, in English of course. There were about 60 natives there for the services, not as many as usual so they said, some were away working. Several whites came to the afternoon service, Johannsens and others. Unfortunately I wasn’t able to go as Margaret was sick, I was so sorry I had to miss it.

*[Photo 7: The moving van back then on its way to Hermannsburg © S.O. Gross 1939]*

On Monday Sam and Missionary Albrecht had quite a lot of business to see to, and then on Tuesday morning we set off for Hermannsburg at about 11 o’clock, Sam and Marie on the back of the loaded truck with a native man, and Missionary Albrecht and Ruth, Margaret and I in the front seat. It was a fairly hot day but not unpleasant. We called in at “The Jay”, 25 miles from “The Alice”, the home of Mr & Mrs T. Strehlow. They persuaded us to stay there for dinner. They have a nice little home, 3 rooms, with a lovely wide verandah, made of cement bricks. They also have a refrigerator. It was just lovely to have the nice cool water and also ice cream, a real luxury way out in the bush. At about 3 o’clock we went on. It wasn’t quite so hot then. Up to the Jay the road had been fair, it had been made some time ago for the Governor General. After we left the Jay it wasn’t quite so good, it had been washed out by the heavy rains and that meant driving fairly slowly with the loaded truck. We had to cross over so many creeks and of course there were no bridges, but stones and sand instead. The truck had to pull and pant and bump to get across in some places. The scenery was quite nice though. Before we came to the Jay we were travelling right in the ranges, but after passing there the country was more open, a plain, with ranges along both sides. But there is nothing like a desert around here. It is more like one of the back roads in the mallee, only of course more creek beds to cross.

*[Photo 8: The Arrival of all the goods and chattels © S.O. Gross 1939]*

I quite forgot to mention that after we left the Jay we drove around the native camp, where blind Moses is the evangelist. These natives live in grass huts. They were very pleased see us and of course we had to shake hands all around. Then they sang a hymn, after which Missionary Albrecht offered up a prayer and they all then recited the Lord’s Prayer, all in Arunta of course. It was wonderful to think that out there in the bush, underneath the gum trees, those natives praying and singing praises to their Saviour just as the white people do in their Churches. The natives were very interested in our children, and of course our children were very interested in them too. Before we left Missionary Albrecht had to take orders for the different ones, they had a few pennies to spend, one wanted a hair clasp, another some lollies and so on. Next time somebody from here goes to Alice Springs the things have to be taken to them from the store here.

[…to be continued]

© Elsa Gross 1939

Feature Photo: The Gross Girls on the Ghan © S.O. Gross 1939

***

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T-Team Series–Mt. Liebig

December 21, 2021 / lmkling / Leave a comment

THE DAY TO HIKE UP MT. LEIBIG

Thursday, August 27, 1981

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

Part 1—First Leg of the Journey

By the time we left camp to climb Mt. Liebig, the sun peeped over the horizon, and the nose-shaped hill leading up the mountain glowed in crimson.

*[Photo 1: Mt. Liebig at dawn © C.D. Trudinger 1981]

Dad looked at his watch and said, ‘The time is 7:05 am.’ I imagined him continuing with “Captain’s Log, Star Date the 27^th of August 1981…” But Dad’s focus switched to negotiating the lumps and bumps of the make-shift road ahead.

We parked near the foot of the range and then hiked through the second gully from the north-eastern edge of mountainous waves jutting up from the plain. We trekked up and down four ridges until we arrived at the base of the gully nearest Mt. Liebig. The lads bounded up the gully while I lagged behind with Dad.

*[Photo 2: The terrain around Mt. Liebig © C.D. Trudinger 1981]*

My father seemed to be dragging his feet. He looked left and right, and every so often screwed up his nose.

‘You won’t find it,’ I said.

Dad kicked a spinifex clump. ‘No harm in trying.’

‘You lost the quart can last time we climbed four years ago, way before the gully leading to the summit. Besides, we went a different way.’

‘Oh, I thought it was around about here… You never know.’

Dad scanned the prickle bushes, loose rocks and red sand for his beloved quart can. How Dad survived the intervening years between 1977 and now, without his quart can, I’ll never know.

‘I remember that ghost gum,’ Dad said and pointed at the gum as if its pure white bark set against the blend of purples in the cliffs shadows held special powers to cause Dad’s quart can to materialise.

*[Photo 3: Suck on lemons for refreshment © C.D. Trudinger 1981]

We rested under the ghost gum, eating apples, sucking lemons to find strength to continue, but we failed to locate Dad’s trusty old quart can. Dad gazed over the valley of silver slopes of grass, his mouth downturned, and his glasses fogged over. He missed that quart can. He stood and patted his pockets. ‘Ah, well! We better keep on going.’

One by one we hauled our packs on our backs, and loaded up as pack animals, we picked our route over rocks, loose stones and sharp spinifex spears. My brother wore home-made vinyl shin guards. Much had changed since we last hiked up here in 1977; boulders had fallen down, the spinifex grew in more abundance, and effigies of burnt trees dotted the terrain. Single-file we mounted the steep ascent until we reached the pair of five-metre-high walls at the top of the gully.

Dad shaded his eyes and squinted up the barrier of rocks to the west. ‘I don’t know,’ he said. Some of the ledges on the cliff had crumbled.

*[Photo 4: The tantalising Trig © C.D. Trudinger 1981]

My brother sprinted up through a gap in the boulders. We waited for his return and signal to proceed.

The wind whistled through the alley of cliffs. I looked through the crevice between the rocks. No sign of My brother.

‘I hope he’s alright,’ I said.

More minutes passed. We sat poised to move at any moment as if sitting on spinifex, yet we remained calm, mesmerized by the emptiness of the landscape, and the silence.

*[Photo 5: Down the Gully from where we had climbed © C.D. Trudinger 1981]

I looked through the gap again and asked, ‘What’s taking him so long?’ Then I slumped onto a large stone. Visions of my brother falling off the cliff plagued my imagination.

‘I’ll go up and have a look,’ David R (our guide) said, and then he disappeared through the hole.

More minutes ticked by. I glanced at the hole that had swallowed up David. ‘What’s happened?’

‘Just be patient.’ Dad seemed content to sit staring at the scenery. ‘They’ll come back.’

But they didn’t. Instead, the hole drew in older cousin (C1), followed soon after by younger cousin(C2). I peered into the tunnel of no return.

Dad hovered at my back. ‘Don’t go up there.’

‘Why not?’ I replied. ‘Everyone else has.’

‘Let me see,’ Dad said as he nudged me away. He crawled further in the hole and traced the granite wall inside with his fingers.

‘Don’t you leave me behind.’ I saw Dad place his foot in a crag and lever his way up to a ledge. ‘You tell someone to come back and help me, you hear.’

Dad called back. ‘Don’t you move.’

Easy for him to say. ‘Yeah, okay, but don’t forget about me.’

[to be continued…]

© Lee-Anne Marie Kling 2017; blog update 2021

Feature Photo: Dreams to climb Mt. Liebig © S.O. Gross 1946

***

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T-Team the Younger–Chambers Crusaders

November 21, 2021 / lmkling / Leave a comment

Flinders Trekking with the T-Team (4)

The Four Chambers Crusaders

[Last few days filled with cold weather and rain. But today the sun has come out just as in 1984, after the rain in the Flinders Ranges the sun emerged offering a beautiful day for the T-Team The Younger to explore Chambers Gorge…]

Doris sidled up to me and asked, ‘Do you have a boyfriend?’

I shrugged. ‘Sort of…maybe…um…not really.’

‘Come on, you can tell me. I bet you have.’

‘Nah, just a lot of bad luck.’

‘Oh, like what?’

‘Nothing…no one,’ I replied. ‘What about you? Are you and Barney…?’

‘Are you kidding? No way!’

That shut down the conversation in romance and we hiked along in silence. Up the gorge. Towards Mount Chambers.

*[Photo 1: Hiking up Chambers Gorge © L.M. Kling 1984]*

‘Cor!’ Barney exclaimed. ‘What’s all this rubbish? It’s like Chamber-Pot Gorge, not Chambers Gorge.’

‘I wish people would clean up after themselves,’ Doris remarked.

I gazed at my brother, Rick who was racing ahead. He seemed oblivious to the discarded soft drink cans scattered on the dry creek bed, plastic stranded in the sand, and toilet paper fluttering on prickle bushes.

‘Where are all the campers?’ I asked. But for all the litter, there seemed a distinct lack of people that morning as we trekked to Mount Chambers.

Barney sniggered, ‘I guess the rain the previous night had flushed them out of the gorge.’

‘Not literally,’ Doris added.

‘I remember our mate Mel saying how when he and his family camped in the Flinders, at the first sign of rain, they packed up their belongings and were gone.’ Barney clicked his fingers. ‘The rivers in outback Australia can flood, just like that.’

*[Photo 2: Flooding of the Finke River, NT © S.O. Gross circa 1950]*

‘Yep, they don’t call it flash-flooding for nothing,’ Doris said.

‘We survived,’ I reminded them. ‘We’re not floating down Chambers Gorge in Rick’s Charger, are we?’

‘We got to higher ground,’ Barney said.

Doris smiled. ‘We were lucky.’

‘Yep, I guess we were,’ I sighed and thought, I wish such luck translated to romance.

More silence as we trudged along the creek bed, the dry creek bed; all the rain from last night had been absorbed into the sand. The gorge had narrowed, and Barney had disappeared; absorbed by the copper brown cliffs and pale yellow shrubs.

‘I heard there’s some rock carvings on Mount Chambers,’ Doris said.

‘That should be interesting,’ I muttered. ‘Just my luck, Rick would’ve left us behind, and we won’t find them.’

‘He won’t.’

Sure enough, as we rounded the bend in the gorge, there Rick and Barney sat, perched on a tree stump.

‘Do you know where we are going?’ I asked.

Rick pointed. ‘It’s that mountain up there.’

The T-Team stuck together as we hiked down the narrowing gorge. The cliffs towered over us, too dangerous to climb.

Rick gazed up at the cliffs. ‘I think we’ll have to go round and climb up the hill.’

The rest of us groaned.

‘If we keep going this way, we’ll get stuck,’ he insisted.

‘Oh, alright,’ I sighed. ‘Don’t want to get stuck.’

‘Okay, everyone,’ Doris gestured to us to line up, ‘Gretchen time.’

I took a photo of Rick and Doris’ Gretchen pose to mark the end of the hike in the creek before we commenced our climb.

So, after back-tracking, the T-Team laboured up the slope. My shins ached from the steep gradient. While Rick sprinted up, my two other companions struggled up the slope. Before Rick would vanish over the lip of the hill, I had to take a photo of this priceless moment. I raised my camera.

Doris turned. ‘No, that’s a boring! Come on everyone, let’s dance.’ She waved and hollered, ‘Rick! Come on, dance-photo time.’

Rick, Doris and Barney took their dance poses and I snapped a couple of shots.

*[Photo 5: Let’s Dance © L.M. Kling 1984]*

My brother then pointed at some caves. We took the slight detour and well-deserved rest break. Near the caves we ate our scroggin (nuts, dried fruit and chocolate), and admired the Indigenous rock carvings.

*[Photo 6: Rock carvings © L.M. Kling 1984]*

*[Photo 7: View from the cave © L.M. Kling 1984]*

Refreshed and energy restored, the T-Team of Chambers crusaders, marched up the hill to the summit of the mountain.

Doris chuckled, ‘Remember Mount Ohlsen Bagge when Mel kept saying to his girlfriend, ‘Just five more minutes’?’

‘Ha-ha, five-minute Mel,’ Barney snorted.

‘Yeah, didn’t help much, his girlfriend gave up halfway up,’ I said.

‘She had asthma,’ Doris said.

‘I know,’ I said, ‘Promising that you have only five minutes to go to the top, doesn’t help much if you can’t breathe.’

*[Photo 8: Future memories of Mt. Ohlssen Bagge with the K-Team: L.M. Kling 2007]*

Mount Chambers didn’t seem as high as Mount Ohlssen Bagge, and by lunch time, we had reached the cairn of stones that marked the summit. The T-Team gathered around the stones and I took a photo as proof of our achievement.

*[Photo 9: T-Team triumph over Mt. Chambers © L.M. Kling 1984]*

Then, after a light lunch of more scroggin, we began our descent. Half-way down, I observed Barney hunched over, backpack on his back.

I laughed, ‘Hey Barney, let me get a photo of you; you look like a tortoise.’

‘So do you,’ Barney shot back.

Doris tucked her pack under her T-shirt and Rick did the same.

I set up the camera on my tripod and following Doris’ example, the T-Team became the four hunchbacks of Mount Chambers.

*[Photo 10: The hunchbacks of Mt. Chambers © L.M. Kling 1984]*

Then, discarding our packs, we transformed into the T-Team Crusaders again.

*[Photo 11: The Four Crusaders of Mt. Chambers © L.M. Kling 1984]*

While trekking down to the plain, Doris spotted a white Holden Kingswood with two strapping young fellas attached to it. Being the bush, and the guys being the only other humans in the vicinity of Mount Chambers, Doris approached them.

I followed.

We had a good yarn with them. They were from Melbourne on a road trip. We swapped addresses.

Some months later, one of them actually wrote to me. So, on a road trip with my Dad to Melbourne, I caught up with this fellow. But, just my luck, by the end of the meeting, I realised that he was interested in Doris, not me. In hindsight, now, lucky for the future Mr. K., or more appropriately, God’s plan for my life.

***

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T-Team Next Gen–Alice Springs and Things Eternal

April 19, 2021 / lmkling / 1 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-K Team once again return to Alice Springs as they begin their journey back home.]

In Search of Gas

While Anthony packed the Ford, I prepared a “thank you” card for our friends. I found a photo of a rock formation near Mt. Liebig, then I painted a frame around the photo, and finally, sketched Mt. Sonder from memory in the middle of the card.

*[1. Painting : Mt. Liebig © L.M. Kling 2013]*

After placing the card with gift money enclosed, on the kitchen bench, I joined Anthony to pack the last few items of mine in the Ford.

*[2. Painting: Mt. Sonder © L.M. Kling]*

Anthony checked his expert handiwork at packing, and then said, ‘Ready to go?’

‘Yep, let’s go over to the FRM store and say goodbye to our friends.’

We bid our Hermannsburg friends farewell, promising to catch up with them when they returned to Adelaide. After more storytelling by P, and some souvenir shopping by us, we were ready to farewell Hermannsburg.

*[3. Photo: Just a reminder that Hermannsburg once had a cattle station to employ the locals © C.D. Trudinger circa 1955]*

Following a few more stories from P, then a phone call to my brother who said they were about to leave Alice Springs, we were set for this town.

Except…

‘I just want to check out the graveyard,’ I said.

‘Do we have to?’ Anthony sighed. ‘There’s nothing there.’

‘I just want to see who’s buried there.’

‘If we have to.’

Anthony trekked after me as I trudged over to the graveyard that looked more like a neglected paddock of red sand than a cemetery. We gazed at the iron crosses of the early missionaries such as Kempe, and a sad tombstone of a Latz baby of 10 weeks.

‘Vogelsang, who’s he?’ I asked.

Anthony shrugged. ‘Probably a missionary here, since he’s buried here.’

*[4. Photo: Standing where my mum stood. Funeral of Hermann Vogelsang storeman / gardener at Hermannsburg mission from 1938-1940 © courtesy M.E. Trudinger 1940]*

With plans to fill the Ford with fuel both petrol and gas, and then lunch at Emily Gap, we commenced our drive back to Alice Springs.

‘What about we take a slight detour and have a look at Serpentine Gorge,’ I said, with hope in my voice.

Anthony seemed not to hear my suggestion, but pointed, ‘Look! Another cabin car. Must be lots of workmen going out to do roadworks.’

‘So, we’ll leave Serpentine Gorge for another time when there’s not the threat of roadworks.’

[5. *Photo: Serpentine Gorge, for another time © C.D. Trudinger 1958]*

1pm, we rolled into Alice Springs making a beeline for the petrol station.

‘We must fill up with gas before we start on the journey back to Adelaide,’ Anthony said.

‘Might be a bit difficult,’ I pointed at the LP Gas bowser, ‘it says “Out of Order”.’

Anthony topped up the Ford’s petrol tank and we steeled ourselves for the hunt for LP Gas. We reckoned in a country town such as Alice, most fuel stations lined the main roads leading into and out of the town. So, down the Stuart Highway we travelled, in search of a service station which offered gas. Prophetic of a future without LP Gas, our search proved elusive.

[6. *Photo : Farewell to the Governor General as he departs from Hermannsburg © S.O. Gross 1954]*

Anthony gripped the steering wheel. ‘How are we going to get back to Adelaide?’

‘I’m sure there’s a station that sells gas somewhere in Alice.’

‘How far do you want me to go? Adelaide?’

‘Don’t be silly,’ I said. ‘Turn around and let’s go back into the town.’

Anthony grunted in protest at where he could safely do a U-turn, then did a U-turn. Approaching the radio station, I spotted a white van with a trailer.

‘Guess who I’ve found,’ I pointed at the van with the T-Team spilling out of it.

‘Do you want me to turn around?’ Anthony asked.

‘Yep, Rick may know where a service station is that sells LP Gas.’

*[7.Photo and Feature: Proof. Duke of Edinburgh, Prince Philip at the opening of the Flynn Memorial Church Alice Springs © S.O. Gross 1954]*

We spent some twenty minutes touching base with the T-Team. Rick gave directions for a LP Gas-friendly service station within Alice Springs and we were on our way to this fuel stop of promise, and then out to Emily Gap. Meanwhile the T-Team visited their friend who worked at the radio station.

[to be continued…]

***