Uluru

Ready for the Weekend Friday–T-Team next Generation (Uluru 3)

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T-Team Next Generation

[Eleven 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.

Once every 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, for the first time in this, my third visit to Uluru, we walked part of the way around the Rock.]

Yet Another Excuse not to Climb the Rock

Wednesday, July 10, 2013

Packing—Anthony was very particular how the car and bags should be packed. He considers himself the master of packing; no one can do packing as good as he can. So, in an effort to get out of some extra work, I decided that since he considers packing his personal gift and calling, I’d allow him to pack while I prepared breakfast. Alas, my plan was not executed as well as expected.

‘Lee-Anne!’ the packing-expert called, ‘Can you come and pack your bags, please.’

It seems I’m the expert when it comes to packing my own bags. So, putting breakfast on hold, I trudged back into the tent to deal with my personal belongings.

[Photo 1: Packing up the tent routine, Mambray Creek © L.M. Kling 2018]

‘Careful not to over-fill the bag,’ came the expert’s warning, ‘you might break the zip.’

He then lifted one of my bags ready to be piled in the car. ‘My goodness! What have you got in here? It weighs a tonne.’

While Anthony grumbled while playing Tetris with our luggage in the Ford station wagon, I resumed preparing breakfast while listening and watching the T-Team pack up camp in a haze of drizzle. Mrs. T barked orders organising her family into an efficient machine of packing and cleaning. Then, executing her sweeping expertise, she swept out the tent, trailer and car.

[Photo 2: Eating breakfast the morning after—Muesli, it’s good for you. Arkaroola Village on our honeymoon © L.M. Kling 1987]

After eating, I trudged to the shared kitchen facilities where I washed the dishes. After three days at Yulara campsite, I had discovered that these facilities offered a communal kettle to boil water. Still, the T-Team had for that time, a more convenient one, courtesy of my brother’s inverter and battery-power.

The thing was, I had to boil the kettle to obtain hot water to wash the dishes. While I waited for the kettle to boil, I chatted to a mum from Sydney whose family were just finishing their holiday.

Back at camp, I helped Anthony pack up the tent.

[Photo 3: Another Prohibition; they’re everywhere! This one found at Kata Tjuta © L.M. Kling 2013]

‘Dad,’ my nephew said in a sing-song voice, ‘can we climb the rock today?’

‘I don’t think so,’ came the mumbled reply, ‘probably won’t; clouds too low, or wet, or something.’

‘Oh, but…’

‘We’re going to walk around the base of the Rock,’ I offered. ‘You could join us, and if it clears up, you might be able to climb the rock.’

‘We’ve had rain, wind, cultural reasons…’ Anthony chipped in, ‘how many more excuses do they have?’

‘Nah, the Rock’s had its chance,’ Mrs T snapped. ‘I reckon we just get going to Alice Springs.’

‘Hmmm, we’ll meet you there, then,’ Anthony said. ‘We’re going to walk around the Rock the other way this morning.’

[Photo 4: Rock approach, but still no climbers © L.M. Kling 2013]

***

However, upon meeting up with the T-Team at the Service Station for fuel, it seems certain T-Lings had changed their parents’ minds. They would be trying one last time to climb Uluru. We agreed to meet them at the entrance to where one starts to climb the Rock.

Upon arrival, Anthony and I trekked up to the gate. The sign read, “Closed due to cloud”.

While we waited for the T-Team, a ranger with a metal panel tucked under his arm, sauntered up to the sign. He unscrewed the “cloud” sign and replaced it with a “high winds” sign.

‘Well, now we know how it’s done,’ I remarked.

Anthony sighed. ‘I guess the T-Team saw that excuse and are on their way to Alice Springs.’

‘I guess so.’

[Photo 5: Sign of disappointment © L.M. Kling 2013]

***

We walked around the “ladies’” part of the Rock. The previous day we had explored the “men’s” section. The cloud cover lifted and the sun emerged, bathing the landscape in a lemony light. Although now dry and sunny, we encountered only the occasional hiker; for most of the trek we were on our own.

We marvelled at the grandeur of the Rock, and the sense of an ancient spiritual presence.

Photo 6: Start of the “Ladies walk” around Uluru base © L.M. Kling 2014

[Photo 7: Natural Dam © L.M. Kling 2013]
[Photo 8: Is that Darth Vader? © L.M. Kling 2013]
[Photo 9: View of Kata Tjuta from walk © L.M. Kling 2013]

After an hour’s walk, we returned to the Rock’s entry point. A small crowd had gathered by the gate. They watched the ranger again fiddling with the notice board.

Anthony shook his head. ‘What excuse this time?’

The ranger placed an “Open” sign on the board and unlocked the gate.

We watched dismayed as the crowd surged through and scampered up the steep incline.

[Photo 10: Open at last! © L.M. Kling 2013]

‘Poor T-Team,’ I said, ‘just as they had given up, the Rock is open for business.’ Using my mobile phone, I snapped a shot of the tourists like ants inching their way up the rocky sides of Uluru. Later, I attempted to share the photo with my niece. But, it seemed my endeavour failed. Anthony had also taken photos with his phone which he then tried to share with the T-Lings. Still no success.

After another failed attempt to send a photo, this time during a stop at Curtain Springs, Anthony muttered, ‘What do you expect from a cheap mobile plan?’ He then extolled the virtues of his Telstra plan.

[to be continued…next, Adventures on way to Alice Springs]

© Lee-Anne Marie Kling 2020; updated 2024

Feature Photo: Like ants they climb up the Rock © 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 memoirs,

The T-Team with mr. b: Central Australian Safari 1977

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

Ready for the Weekend Friday–T-Team

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The T-Team Next Generation

Tuesday July 9, 2013

Another Excuse Not to Climb the Rock

Part 2

[Eleven 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.

Now just a teeny-weeny bit on the Family History front. I delved into some research concerning family traits. You see, the T-team pride themselves on their T-Traits (Dad stresses that the word “trait” is pronounced “tray”.) So, I decided to have a peek at what characteristics, us who are the T-Team, have that make us distinct from other families. I’ll elaborate in a future blog. But briefly, what comes to mind that aligns with the posts I read on Google, are hairline (straight but peaked up at each side of the temple), high forehead (Dad’s cousin always remarked this trait as a sign of intelligence), high cheek bones, good teeth, a penchant for puns and a certain amount of daring for adventure; hence the T-Team and their treks into the outback.

So, again, the virtual journey continues, to the Centre, Uluru and memories of that unforgettable holiday in 2013, with my brother and his family; the T-Team Next Generation.]

Marla Track

Mrs. T slept in the T-Van, while the rest of the T-Team walked the Marla Track to Kantju Gorge. There, we were awed by the caves hollowed out as if by waves crashing into them. We marvelled at the vivid red ochre paintings in rock caves carved out by the sea of time. Tourists filled these caves, spilling out the sides and edges, listening intently to the guides explaining the stories behind the artwork.

[Photo 1: Rick awed by the cave art © L.M. Kling 2013]
[Photo 2: Listening to the tour guide © L.M. Kling 2013]
[Photo 3: Cave in Uluru © L.M. Kling 2013]

‘Where’s the Indigenous guides?’ Anthony asked.

I shrugged.

We returned to the carpark near the entrance to climbing the Rock. “Closed for Cultural Reasons” the sign read this time.

Shoulders hunched; the T-Team trooped to their respective cars.

‘When will we be able to climb the Rock?’ my nephew asked his dad.

‘We’ll try again tomorrow,’ my brother replied.

[Photo 4: Still no climbers © L.M. Kling 2013]

Sunset on Uluru (July 8, 2013)

As the cloud and damp set in during the day of July 9, the T-Team congratulated themselves on completing the mission to view the sunset on the Rock the previous night. Anthony reported, ‘Alice Springs had one of its lowest temperatures ever; 8 degrees Celsius maximum.’

‘Wow! Just as well we saw the rock in all its glory last night,’ I added. ‘Dad always said that the Rock is at its best at sunset when there are clouds to the West.’

[Photo 5: Sun begins to set, its golden rays on Uluru © L.M. Kling 2013]

Someone thought that was not the case, but I argued that last night’s Uluru sunset was the best I had ever seen.

[Photo 6: Setting sun turning the Rock orange © L.M. Kling 2013]

The ever-changing colours of the massif amazed me; golden, then orange, then tangerine…until a rich deep red with the golden grasses glowing in the foreground.

[Photo 7: And tangerine © L.M. Kling 2013]
[Photo 8: Then glowing © L.M. Kling 2013]

And, with the photoshop features on my digital camera, I was able to make my image of Uluru, almost “chocolate box” quality. Not cheating, just capturing how I actually saw the famous Rock.

[Photo 9 and Feature: Chocolate Box Rock © L.M. Kling 2013]

And on that night, as I stood transfixed, taking photo after photo of the Rock, Mrs. T called out, ‘Hey! Look the other way!’

We turned.

‘Wow!’ I exclaimed. ‘What a show!’ The expanse of sky painted in every hue from yellow to crimson; the sun’s parting gift as it sank from this evening’s horizon.

[Photo 10: Desert sunset on that night © L.M. Kling 2013]

More frantic photographing ensued while most tourists ignored the glorious display behind them in preference to The Rock.

Then, as Uluru faded into monochrome shades, I overheard one fellow comment to his partner, ‘Is that all?’

[Photo 11: Colour drains from the Rock into night © L.M. Kling 2013]

The Phone Tree

Evening, and I used our portable camp stove to cook rice for tea. Anthony no longer complained about the use of the stove instead of the cooking facilities. Having skipped lunch, he was hungry, and he knew better than to expect the public BBQ to perform; especially considering a biting wind had sprung up.

The T-Lings, as they had done every night, planted their mobile phones at the base of the power pole which was not far from the BBQ. With cables attached, they left them there to charge up. ‘Would you look after our phones?’ they each asked, expecting me, as I was cooking, to keep an eye on their treasures.

[Photo 12: Dreams of campfire from the past © C.D. Trudinger 1981]

Night fell and as the wind turned bitterly cold, I made a toilet visit where I donned my thermals. On the way back from the toilet, I observed a group gathered around the communal firepit. They asked if I wanted to join, but I declined. The T-Team were playing games.

In some ways I regretted not accepting the invitation. We played card games but as the T-Crowd was too large for the small tent, I ended up playing cards outside in the cold and dark. There, half-frozen despite the best efforts of the thermal underwear, I taught my younger niece to play Patience.

Then, how pleasant it was to snuggle into our minus seven sleeping bags for sleep.

‘Oh, no!’ a T-Ling cried, then rustling. ‘Our phones!’

© Lee-Anne Marie Kling 2020; update 2024

Feature Photo: Chocolate Box Rock © 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…with some Family History

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T-Team, Next Generation: Uluru (1)

Central Australian Convoy 2013

[Eleven 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.

[Photo 1: Ron Trudinger(snr), second from the left © scanned from slide courtesy of L.M. Kling circa 1913)]

I add here, that today, is my paternal grandfather’s birthday. In 1886, he was the first of his family to be born in Australia, a true-blue Aussie. His 12 siblings had been born in England, and his parents in Germany. Like the rest of his family, he was full of adventure and yen to travel. Seven of his siblings were missionaries. Some in China, while he and his brother were missionaries in the Sudan. Although his brother then went on to be a missionary in Korea, my grandpa continued his mission work in Sudan for decades until he retired in 1954. But, even after his retirement, the spirit of adventure spurred my grandpa on to travel to Central Australia to visit my uncle in Ernabella at the top end of South Australian, and my dad in Hermannsburg, Northern Territory.

On that note, over the next few weeks, I will continue to 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.]

Uluru—The Sign Not to Climb

Monday, July 8, 2013

Last night, over a game of cards, the T-Team decided to stay an extra night in the Yulara Campsite.

So, that morning, after a well-deserved sleep in, we pottered around the campsite, cooking, sorting, and relaxing. My husband, Anthony was doing a great deal of hunting…things, where were they?

Around midday, the T-Team, loaded up with hampers for a picnic lunch, set off for the Rock. We dutifully lined up at the National Park check point, for our passes.

[Photo 2: First glimpses of Uluru © L.M. Kling 2013]

Once through, Anthony gazed at the Rock. ‘Wow! It’s huge!’

‘It’s even more spectacular third time round,’ I remarked.

‘How long does it take to climb the rock?’ he asked.

‘Oh, a couple of hours, although, we are older; more like my Dad’s age when he climbed with us kids in 1981. He took longer to climb than us.’ I wasn’t keen on climbing and was going to give my excuses (such as inadequate footwear) when we arrived at the climbing site.

[Photo 3: Memories of the T-Team climbing the Rock © L.M. Kling 1981]

We parked the Ford in the first free space we could find. Before us, stood rows upon rows of busses. The area was already swarming with tourists.

‘This’ll be fun,’ I muttered, ‘the Rock’ll be covered with climbers.’

‘Where do we go?’

‘Follow the crowds.’ I sauntered behind a couple with packs on their backs and decked out in state-of-the-art hiking gear. ‘This way.’

We reached the climbing site and gazed up at the empty expanse of rock.

[Photo 4: An empty expanse of Rock © L.M. Kling 2013]

‘What’s happening?’ Anthony asked.

‘Read the notice,’ I answered.

Anthony peered at a sign and read, ‘No entry.’

‘The one behind it,’ I sighed.

Anthony frowned. ‘Hmm, due to high winds the Rock is off-limits.’

The rest of the T-Team arrived. They milled around the gate as if willing the sign to change.

[Photo 5: The Forbidding Sign © L.M. Kling 2013]

‘Well, that’s a bummer!’ Mrs. T said. ‘I wanted to climb the Rock.’

‘We can explore the Olgas instead.’ Rick pointed at the pale blue (distant) stumps of Kata Tjuta. ‘We can have lunch there.’

With long faces, the T-Team trekked back to their vehicles, and we sped west down the Lassiter Highway to Kata Tjuta.

[Photo 6: And leaving Uluru behind…for now © L.M. Kling 2013]

Over lunch, my brother and wife discussed with us their reservations about staying another night, as they had not budgeted for it. A reluctant Anthony agreed we would cover the cost of the extra night. After all, having seen the magnificence of the Rock and the Olga’s, Anthony wanted to spend more time exploring these wonders—and hopefully, climb the Rock…another day.

Kata Tjuta

[Photo 7: Then: Walpa Gorge in 1981 © C.D. Trudinger 1981]

As the afternoon light bathed the conglomerate boulders of Kata Tjuta in bronze, the T-Team explored Walpa Gorge. Except Mrs. T who had retreated to the van. She had a headache.

The site had been seriously sanitised since the T-Team’s last visit in 1981. All for the tourists and preserving the environment. Parts of the track were paved, with plastic bridges over ditches. The edges were roped off and signs warning of fines for those who chose to stray from the path.

[Photo 8: Walpa Gorge in 2013 © L.M. Kling 2013]

The wind howled through the steep valley between the massive lumps of rock. A hoard of tourists followed us as we marched up Walpa Gorge.

[Photo 9: Tourist Group a-marching © L.M. Kling 2013]

Richard and the T-Lings met us on their return.

‘Boring!’ Richard said. ‘You have to stick to the path.’

‘But I want to still see what’s up there,’ Anthony said.

‘You can get a $135 fine if you go off the path,’ a random lady warned as she passed us.

My younger niece nodded. ‘I know, my brother just went a little off the path and this Indigenous guy appeared from nowhere and told us we’d be fined.’

‘So, I jumped right back on the path again,’ my nephew added. ‘I didn’t want a fine.’

As the T-Team Next Generation, we then hiked up Walpa Gorge as far as we could go. Not far, actually. Not like the old days when we climbed to the top of the gorge and could see the “plum pudding” rock formation on the other side.

[Photo 10: The Billabong was as far as we could go © L.M. Kling 2013]
[Photo 11: Top of Walpa Gorge back in the old days © L.M. Kling (nee Trudinger) 1977]

Valley of Winds

From Walpa Gorge, the T-Team drove along the road to the Valley of Winds. After a short hike to the vantage point, we admired the view of boulders that had taken on the formation of rounded steppingstones. A school group passed by. They chatted amongst each other entertaining us onlookers with snatches of assorted topics ranging from food, to adventures in the cold.

[Photo 11: The Valley of Winds © L.M. Kling 2013]

The Mystery of the Missing Boots

Evening and Anthony insisted on cooking sausages using the camping BBQ facilities provided. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, the snags were ready. Even shared a few with the teenaged T-Lings who have hollow legs when it came to food.

Then, as the campsite descended into darkness, Anthony’s voice rose in frustration. ‘Lee-Anne, where are your boots?’

‘Boots? Why do you need my boots?’

‘You need proper hiking boots for hiking,’ he snapped. ‘How are you going to climb the Rock in your sandshoes?’

‘Not going to climb,’ I muttered.

‘Where are they? I’m sure we packed them.’

‘Maybe we didn’t,’ I bit back, then wandered off to the BBQ facilities. There I heated up milk for hot chocolate.

Later, after drinking hot chocolate, I rang Son 1 back in Adelaide. During the conversation, I said, ‘By the way, I am missing my hiking boots. Would you be able to find them and bring them up when you and your brother and Grandma come up to Alice Springs next Saturday?’

Son 1 assured me that he would.

© Lee-Anne Marie Kling 2020; updated 2024

Feature Photo: The Empty Flanks of Uluru © 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–T-Team Next Generation (3)

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[Over ten 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 weeks, I will take you on a virtual trip to relive and rekindle memories of our travel adventures. This time again to the Centre and memories of that unforgettable holiday in 2013, with my brother and his family; the T-Team Next Generation.]

Yulara

Sunday 7 July 2013

Creature Comforts

Anthony tore off the tarpaulin and then, armed with the foldable shovel, stomped off in the direction of the bushes.

In the harsh light of morning, the scene into which we were brought under the shroud of darkness last night, was revealed. Road trains thundered past on the nearby Sturt Highway. On the opposite side of the road, a couple of these road-monsters basked in the golden rays of the rising sun. Camper vans and caravans crowded the free camping area.

*[Photo 1 and Feature: Early morning road train onslaught © L.M. Kling 2013]

I pottered around the wire fence that protected us from the Adelaide to Darwin rail line. I did not fancy an oncoming Ghan crushing me. Toilet paper littered the stony ground, shreds of it caught in the barbed wire of the fence, and nests of it rested under the salt bush. I gingerly picked up an armful of wood scraps. Hope it wasn’t contaminated.

Anthony returned from his morning adventure; a frown fixed on his face.

*[Photo 2: Our free “camping” accommodation © L.M. Kling 2013]

‘How did you sleep, dear?’ I asked.

‘Not good, I didn’t sleep a wink.’ He pointed his shovel at the quiet mound resembling my brother and wife. ‘I had a chorus of snorers keeping me awake all night.’ He then glared at my pitiful gathering of sticks. ‘What’s that?’

‘Sticks for a cooking fire.’

My husband rolled his eyes. ‘And where are you going to put that?’

‘Where there’s a clear space.’

‘Good luck.’ He sniffed. ‘There was nowhere even to do my business. I had to walk miles.’ Anthony loves to exaggerate. ‘I can’t believe people don’t cover their mess.’

My nephew came jogging up to us. ‘I want a fire. Where’s the campfire? It’s freezing.’

I glanced around. Spying a clear patch of ground, I announced, ‘Here, I’m getting it started now.’

‘Watch out for any poo. This place is full of it,’ Anthony said.

My nephew chuckled. ‘We’ll use it as fuel, Uncle Anthony.’

Anthony shuddered. ‘Won’t be eating anything from that fire, then.’

I bent down, then cleared stones away to create a shallow basin to make the fire. Soon a small but functional campfire crackled away. Perched on top of the coals, a billy bubbled with boiling water.

Anthony sat some distance from the fire munching on his cereal. There was no way he’d get close to the fire. After all, who know what lies beneath or nearby, on the ground in this part of the world, unregulated by OC Health and Safety.

*[Photo 3: Fire master Anthony © L.M. Kling 2013]

My nephew fried eggs on a frypan on that small but adequate fire.

The free camping site slowly emptied itself of vehicles. First, the trucks disappeared. Then, the Grey nomads, and their luxury on wheels vanished. I imagined they had left once the sun had peeped over the horizon. The caravans had gone too. Just us, the not so grey T-Team stumbled around the parking bay, slowly packing up bedding, wandering beyond in search of a bush in lieu of a toilet, and then gulping down breakfast.

I picked up a stray piece of wood for the fire. A poopy looked up at me. I recoiled. ‘Ee-yew!’

To avoid the inevitable “told you so” from Anthony, my nephew and I announced the fire a success, doused it and covered the remains with dirt.

‘Time to go!’ Mrs. T yelled. ‘Next stop Marla.’

‘What?’ Richard, my brother asked. ‘That’s only about twenty kilometres away.’

‘There’s no way I’m squatting anywhere ‘round here. It’s a tip!’ his wife replied.

*[Photo 4: Making progress; SA-NT Border gathering of T-Team, Next Gen © L.M. Kling 2013]
*[Photo 5: T-Team Climbing the Wall, SA-NT border © L.M. Kling 2013]

So, after a day of driving with the quick toilet stop at Marla, an obligatory exploration and photo stop at the South Australian—Northern Territory border, and then a petrol pause at Erldunda, we turned down the Lassiter Highway to Uluru.

We travelled in convoy on this perfect sunny day. Anthony’s mood seemed to thaw, and he was happy to take the wheel while I filmed parts of the drive with my Dad’s digital movie camera. The bold purple mesa, Mt Conner emerged above the rusty-coloured sand dunes.

We parked at the viewing station to take a photo of this spectacular landform. Some of the T-Party took advantage of the facilities. I had in mind to follow them. But as I approached the wooden huts, the stench and surrounds thick with flies buzzing, made me turn back to the car. I decided to hold on until we reached the Yulara camping ground.

*[Photo 6: Mt. Conner in the afternoon light © L.M. Kling 2013]

The stretch to Yulara wowed us with tantalising glimpses of the rock, in shades of mauve peeping through the waves of low sand dunes and desert oaks.

*[Photo 7: Glimpses of Uluru © L.M. Kling 2013]

We reached the Yulara Camping Ground which lies just outside the Uluru-Kata Tjuta National Park. Then, we had to wait in line to register and pay for our camping allotment.

Anthony drummed his fingers on the steering wheel and muttered, ‘Unbelievable! Hope we’re not too late.’

‘No wonder the grey nomads left early,’ I joked. ‘Anyway, I thought we’d booked.’

‘You know what thought did.’

Yep, after no sleep and all the driving, Anthony was not happy. Fortunately, though, our sites were still there and after tolerating the queues, we paid our fees and were directed to our adjoining grassy patches near the edge of Yulara. Not too distant were the toilet/shower blocks. As soon as we had parked, I made a beeline for these creature comforts.

Anthony set up our barely used 4-man tent with only the bare minimum help from me. Must remember that the thick pole has to go at the front and the thin pole next in line. While Anthony hammered in the tent pegs to secure the tent, I stood holding the pole and watching my brother’s family battle in the construction of their new tent. Five of them, twisting and turning, standing and sitting, lifting walls and dropping them, labouring at snail’s pace to build their tent.

*[Photo 8: Our tent and campsite in the Flinders Ranges 2007 © L.M. Kling 2007]

‘Amazing,’ I remarked, ‘Their tent needs five people to build it and you’ve put ours up by yourself, Anthony.’

Anthony looked over at the T-Team and grunted, ‘Well, since I put up the tent, you can cook tea.’

This I did, using our portable camp stove. Signs all about the camping ground warned that there would be consequences, a fine for making one’s own personal campfire. The BBQ facilities opposite our campsite were monopolised by other campers.

As I stirred the spaghetti sauce, Anthony walked up to me and narrowed his eyes. ‘What are you using that for? Can’t you see?’ He pointed at the now vacant BBQ stands.

‘They weren’t available when I started,’ I replied. ‘Too late now, tea is almost ready.’

Later, I tried boiling water on the stoves that Anthony preferred. I stood, hovering over the billy of water, watching and waiting for something to happen for twenty, then thirty minutes.

*[Photo 9: Billies boiling on fire—Ah, those were the days when campers could have their own fires © L.M. Kling 1989]

Anthony marched over to me. ‘What are you doing?’

‘Waiting for the water to boil.’

We waited another twenty minutes in the icy cold darkness. ‘Seems that it’s too cold for the water to boil,’ I concluded.

Anthony and I sauntered over to the T-Team’s camp. Richard invited us to play cards and enjoy a hot drink. My brother had hooked up lights and electric cooking facilities courtesy of an inverter/generator which he had brought along for the trip. My brother connected the inverter to a spare car battery which was charged as the car travelled, and voila, the T-team had light, and their own personal electric cooking facilities.

Beyond, on route to the shower block was a communal fire pit. But on our first night in Yulara, no one was taking advantage of that.

*[Photo 10: Stories around the Campfire © L.M. Kling 2017]

I pondered that with a bit of distance between us and the snoring T-Team, perhaps Anthony will sleep more soundly this night.

[to be continued…next chapter, The Awe of Uluru]

© Lee-Anne Marie Kling 2020; Updated 2024

Feature Photo: Mt. Conner © 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 memoirs,

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

The T-Team with Mr. B: Central Australian Safari 1977 [United States)

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

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

T-Team Series (15)–The Cave

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The T-Team with Mr B—Uluru (Ayers Rock Back then)

The Cave

 [The last few months I have revisited The T-Team with Mr. B: Central Australian Safari 1977 which is a prequel to Trekking With the T-Team: Central Australian Safari 1981. In preparation for its release later this year, I will be sharing posts of this adventure.

In this episode we venture up close and personal to Uluru/Ayers Rock…]

When we arrived at the fence that bordered the Ayers Rock-Olgas Reserve (as it was known back in 1977) *, we took more photos of the Rock, rusty-red with black streaks, and towering above us. We drove to the Park Ranger’s office to pay an admission fee to enter the reserve and see the Rock. Once Dad had returned from fee-paying, we commenced our drive around the Rock.

As there were more tourists in their Land Rovers and cars also circling the Rock, Richard and I descended from our high status on the top of the Rover and crammed into the back cabin. The roads, though not sealed, were better graded with gravel tempering the bull dust, so though the dust was still a nuisance, it didn’t make me cough.

*[Photo 1: Approaching the Rock © L.M. Kling (nee Trudinger) 1977]

‘When are we going to climb the Rock?’ Matt asked his dad.

‘Soon, ma boy, soon.’

‘Have you climbed the Rock?’ I asked Dad.

‘Erm…’ Dad coughed.

‘Of course, you did. Back in the 1950’s. Not so many tourists then, I reckon. Were you the only ones camping near the Rock back then?’

‘Um…er…umm…’

 ‘You went with mum and her family back then, didn’t you Dad?’

Dad put his dusty handkerchief over his mouth and coughed.

‘I remember the beautiful photos taken by Grandpa. He was a missionary pastor at Hermannsburg, you know, Mr B. And Dad was a teacher at Hermannsburg. That’s where he met mum, did you know, Mr B?’

*[Photo 2: Ayers Rock 1950’s © S.O. Gross circa 1950]

Mr B rolled his eyes. ‘I know.’

‘I bet the place has changed a lot since then.’

Richard chuckled, ‘More tourists.’

‘The roads are better,’ Dad said. ‘They were just tracks back in the fifties.’

‘I dare say, ol’ chap,’ Mr. B butted into our conversation, ‘the Rock must still be the same.’

Dad chewed his lip. ‘Well, er, yes, I s’pose.’

‘If you ask me, all looks primitive to me,’ Mr. B said. ‘I mean to say, the land looks like we’re back in the 1950’s. I really think they should invest in some decent hotels or motels. Perhaps a tourist village. For the tourists. I mean, just look at the Rock—they’re missing money-making opportunities.’

*[Photo 3: Sign and reasons not to climb Rock © L.M. Kling 2013]
*[Photo 4: Tourists climbing the Rock when allowed © L.M. Kling 2013]

Dad shifted his weight in the driver’s seat. ‘Er, I don’t know if having lots of tourists is a good idea for the Rock. The Indigenous consider the Rock sacred. I think they’d want less tourists, not more.’

‘Tourism, that’s where it’s at. And from what I’ve seen of the natives in this part of the land, they could do with some money to boost their living conditions.’

Richard and I glanced at each other. I pondered, Was this man for real?

Dad pursed his lips and turned into road leading to a cave in the Rock. ‘Before we climb the Rock, there’s this cave. It has ancient aboriginal artwork on the walls’, Dad said.

*[Photo 5 & 6: Aspects of the walk around the Rock, Caves & Liver Spot © L.M. Kling 2013]

We walked along a narrow path under the shade of ironwood and acacia trees. The Rock awed me by its size. If I had a camera with unlimited capacity to take thousands of photos, I would have spent the whole trek to the cave snapping away behind the lens. Nearer, the Rock surprised me with shades of tangerine, crimson, umber and red of the iron stone. As we got up close and personal with the Rock, I thought it looked like a giant elephant’s flank all scaly and knobbly. It had looked so smooth from far away.

We entered a cave which appeared as though it was a huge umbrella from the inside. In a zone of wonder we walked along the narrow passage under the roof. I imagined that waves had crashed against it and carved out its form. In one part, I studied the carvings of the ancient owners of this land.

We trod through the cave in silence. This was sacred ground.

[Photo 7 & 8: More aspects of the cave © S.O Gross circa 1950 and L.M. Kling 2013]

To be continued…

© Lee-Anne Marie Kling 2016; updated 2022

Feature Photo: In Awe of an Uluru Cave © Lee-Anne Marie Kling 2013

[*Note: Named by William Gosse in 1873 in honour of the chief secretary of south Australia, Henry Ayers. In 1993 the rock received the dual name, Uluru/Ayers Rock, Uluru being the Pitjantjatjara name for this sacred site.]

***

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