Uluru, the Anangu and the Outback!

The minibus trundled accrosas the red dusts that constitute Australias semi arid desert oif an outback. Midnught Oil pumped out of the sound system as Uluru loomed over us, the worlds largest onland monolith, red as blood shining in the midday sun. I had arrived at last, arrived at the centre of the Anangu people, the spiritual home of ancient Australia.
The last time I wrote was from Townsville, nothing happened there. TRhen I got an early bus to Mt. Isa, which is the most boring town in the world, but the start oif the outback, so the views from the greyhound bus are miles of nothingess, juts red dust and bush. At Mt. Isa nout much happened it was basically a stop gap for me to rest along the journey. I had to endure two whole days of boredom there, the hostel was ok thouigh.I also met some cool people though who we all sat up late drinking and telling yarns with, but most people who lived there were farmers so you wopuldnt see them for hours on end, leaving the place earily deserted.
Once out of Mt. Isa I headed over nigthto Tennant creek. I wanted to see the Devils marbles but alas they are a mission to get too from Tennant creek and in that small town full of Aborigionees shouting 'mala' (give me) at me, the accommodation is expensive so you are besically held to ransom. So instead of a stop off there I did a marathon trip over land to Alice springs, the town built around a radio relay post.
This is a real outbacktown, but still is surprisingly touristy. But here I would do my adventure to the Red Centre and Uluru (Ayers rock). Officially the rock has been called Uluru since 1985 when the lands were handed back to the traditional owners the Anangu people of that area.
To get to Uluru by Alice is the only feasible option. You have to go on some sort of adventure tour. Tour, yuck thats a dirty word I hear you cry. I know itsa a horribl;e thing and against my principles as a traveller, but this w\one is acceptable as I am not in the position to go to Yulara and stay in the Maerican owned and opressively over priced hotels, or buy a car and drive there. So for just over a hundred quid I went on the rock tour. Which would turn out to be one of the best decisions I had ever made. Buyt before the tour departed I thought I need some sleep. So as I was goign back to the hostel what should happen, another monumental piss up erupted and I was involved, finally I got to bed at 3 and was up at 5. Luckily as we trundled through the red centre stopping at random homsteads in the middle of nowhere that kept emu's as pets, I could sleep a little.
Finally after what seemed an age of travelling with ska blasting out of the speakers we arrived at Kings Canyon. This is where I first talked to the group, because we had all been snoozing and noone had peeped up a word so far. Our group was quite a cool one, a mix of English, New Zealand, Germans, Swiss and Italians. OhI almost forgot a Belgian and some Danish lass who was on bloody hyperactive mode all the time.
Kings Canyon, oh what a site, caused my massive earth spilts and cracks thousands if not millions of years ago. It was like being on mars, but mars with a few plants and little lizards and Thorny devilas running around your feet. It was a truly magnificent site, someof the cliff faces being limestone were too dangerous to loom over the edge of, but there were a few of solid rock that I crawled up too and looked down into the abyss. There is even in the middle of it a permanetn water hole wher all sorts of wild life live. This is called the garden of Eden!!! But sods law when we got there the path had collapsed!
Now the thing I hate about tours is that you have a guide, but this guide we had (Daniel) was a true blue larrikin outback bush boy, he even revealed ti us that only last week did he get an email address and the last tour group made him cut his mullet off! This guy was the exception to the tour guides. He was a cool fella who had a rule where one of us at random when he picked them would have to brown eye another tour bus, especially if the bus was full of Japanese people with orange backpacks!!!! Oh a browneye is Australian for moon!
This tour guide grew up in the bush, so like Dear old Steve Irwin would slam the brakes on and dive intot bush and come out with the worlds seconds most poisonous snake, rock on! He also loved me as I was the beer king, last to bed and I introduced him to a game that he said was the best one he had ever seen!!!
This game I introduced as we walked around the national park was, if you see a man with a beard you all start clapping. If you see a moustache you all salute. If someone is in a fly net (silly looking net that cobers the face) you shout 'sexy' at them. If they have a chopper Read moustache you shout 'you beaytu' and lastly if they have mutton chops you shout 'haaazaar'!!!! Endless fun, although we didnt see another single sould in Kings canyoj as we jumped over mini ravines and up rocks that looked like the winds of time had been tickling them leaving them in an amaizingly corroded shape.
That day was mostly spent exploring about Kings canyon, but after we had had our fill of this wonder we then drove way out bush to stay on the grounds of a cattle farm that was bigger than Belgium!!!!!
Here we would camp in swags, which are like an all in one ground mat and sleeping bag thing. Under the stars of the most amaizing sky I had ever seen, the sky was beautiful and all the stars winked there eyes at us.
We made a massive fire, and when I say massive I mean we were burning entire trees at one pint. Then the boozing began.
The next morning we were all up raely and drove past Atila, this is a table shaped flat topped mountain near Ulur. But it is also the lost marvel of the Northern Territioy, not known like its famous sister a few hundred kilometsre away. This is now fly country and as soon as you step into the dry blistering heat you are swarmed by bloody flies all over your face, they get up your nose in your ears and worst of all in your mouth!
Soon we could see what was formally known as Ayers rock, Uluru loomed over us. What a magestic sight. But we were not heading there. Oh no, our destination was what was formally known as the Olgas. Kata Tjunta.
Kata Tjunta was once a massive piece of rock, but time, wind, rain and all sorts of erosion have made them 36 domes of differing sizes, from small to bloody massive. You can walk through the valleys of the sacred site and the echoes are impressive verging on magnificent. Clambering up large slopes and looking through the valley onto the oputback, the harsh desretland the heart of the country!
We spent 4 odd hours there walking around and covering every inch that we are allowed to walk on, for most of it is sacred and never has an aboriginee climebed or attemped to climb Kata Tjunta.
The after dropping off all the wood we colected and didnt burn last night at the campsite in Yulara (what a horrid horrid town) we drove to the place that I have dreamed of going to, Uluru!
Uluru.
Uluru is actually a name of the water hole on the summit, yes there is water a some sort of poind life up there. The Aboriginees actually only call it 'The rock'. So off to the rock we went.
Now I decided long ago that as a mark of respect to the Anangu people I would not climb to the summit of Uluru. Even though I so wanted too and my hedonistic side was pleading me to do so. But I stood firm and was respectful of the wihes of the Anagu people who ask you not too, the entire thinbg is a contradiction really. The guide book says please dont, all literture in the national park pleads that you dont climb, recounting the stories of those who had died before doing so but then there is a chain going up 300 meters that helps you, contradictory or what!!!!!! Take the chain away and hey presto, but then will more people die. 35 have doen so far!
Instead I did the base walk, 9 plus k's around the base visiting all the sacred siretes and waterholes. I also did the Mala walk where a lot of paintings and features were explained, like the real colour of the rock is grey and the atmosphere makes it red!!
The rock itself is so awe inspring that when you look at it you are moved by its pressence. There are many sacred areas too that photography is forbidden and you cannot enter them. But even though the climb is frowned upon there are areas that you are openly asked to climb up, not the actual climb, but small reas that you can clamber all around on. The reason the climb is frowned upon is that you are walking in the footsteps of the only two aborigniees to climb uluru many thousands of years ago, to pay a homage to the spirits.
We then kicked a footbsll around watching the sunset. It was very impressive and the rock gradualy changes colour before being engulfed in the darkness of the land. Much more impressive than sunrise where there were too many Japanese with orange backpacks.
That night we all camped at the horrible ill plcade and ugly town of Yulara. The Aussie govermnent couldnt make any money out of the town so sold the entire thing to some septic company who make bloody millions!!! We camped and it was nice to have a shower, the water runs red off you because of all the dust.
Once again we had a massive fire and a few Tooheys new beers. But again it was up early and my goodness did it get cold that night!
Our final day at Uluru before the marathon drive back stopping only at fly infested roadhouses, we got there early and made out way to see the sunrise, we were the first people there and then suddenly out of nowhere hundreds of people all came in massive coaches from Yulara. The sunrise was good but not as impressive as the setting the previous night. Many ahouts of 'sexy' and rounds of applause happened spontaeously that nmornign as there were many bearded wonders and the like!!
Our last morning was spent doing the base route. We walked all around the rock and I have decioded that a 5 lap race would be so cool,the Uluru marathon! There are many caves and paintings and waterholes and no until you get back to where the climb is do you see any other walkers, no one does the entire route so we were alone with the rock in the desert.
The time finally came to say goodbye to Uluru. I had fallen in love with the place.
Finally after a long haul drive we were back in Alice springs. Oh what a piss up followed. I had a bus at 10am the next day and when I boarded the bus I was still drunk. The shot we were doing!! We even managed to get some photos of the locals, men with mullets and massive tashes!! One looked like Macho man Rnady Savage from wrestling when I was a kid!!
It was a great night and a great way for the group to part!!
Then came the walk home to my hostel. I was chased by Aboriginees wielding sticks. I had done nothing juts was walking home, luckily I can still run at quite a good pace when slaughtered, so avoided being beaten to a pulp. That made me for a fleeting second wish I had climbed Uluru. But the Aborignals in Alice are not Anangu, so the thought evaporated immediately and I rid my mind of it, in the knowing that I had done the right thing.
Alice is home to all the mispaced Aboriginals, such as those who are been forced from their lands for crimes etc. So you end up with a melting pot of ruffians and drunks, nive mix!!
I write this after 20 hours on a bus which stank of peoples B.O. I left Aliceand went to Coober Pedty, the opal mining town where if you walk off any path the earth will swallow yiou in an old disused mine shaft. The town was once again a very rough place, but I have never seen such dust storms, the streets were engulfed in a mass of dust and some of the locals were stuck in a time warp. Mullets everywhere!!!
Now I am in Adelaide, the capital of South Australia having left the dust of the Northern Terriitory behind.
Lets see what adventures I can go on now.
Cheerio my long lost buddies.
x x x

Bye bye my Asian lover, and how do you do Miss Australia!


Bye bye my Asian lover, and how do you do miss Australia!


I have been slacking of late in the old massive emails department. I apologise for all you out there who crave my installments of my worldwide rambles and frolics in the sun. But here after a hiatus of a few weeks is my latest adventure filled written monologue of love, lust, intrigue and danger.
So lets begin shall we......
Aftre I landed back in the capital of Loas Vietiene I had to endure a 35 hour plus bus journey accross the Thai-Lao friendship bridge( which is a piece of poo) back into the KIngdom of Thiland. But as buses go this one was the best, truly magnificent. We had only juts got out of walking distance from any known civilisatiuon when 'boom', soemthing in the engine explodes pissing oil and shite all over the road. Therfore we had to camp pout int he bus by the roadsiode in the heat, sweating like a midget in a porn shop fpor hours until a new bus could arrive. So my 3 countries in one day tour was rather slow and sticky!
But while we sat on the road side a plucky entrpeneur came up to us trying to vainly sell drugs. 'i have everything', he said. So me and this random guy decided to abuse him. 'do you have a panda' I enquired? Bemused and befuddled the poor fellow said he had and went off to try and find one. We were gone by the time he returned. so we never will have known if he managed to steal a panda or not, the other thing we asked for was a black and dekker power drill!!!!!
So it was back to the greasy heat and the pollution of Bangkok. Oh how I hate that sodding place, its so fake. Its not really Asia or a western country, its limbo. A place inbetween where you wait to travel again onto some other destination. Thats exactly what I was doing.
But luackily I met some Irish lads from Loas and we watched the Arsenal game while drinking mekong whiskey, but I collapsed as I was so inebriated and went to bed before we lost the game. Bangkok is a hub of travellers coming and going and you are bound to see people you ahve met before, but I was shocked at just how many people I came accross in the capital, so many from the travels of the last months.
Finally the time came for me to board a bus and head to the airport where the runways are sinking because in their wisdom they built them on swamp and marchland, well done!!!!!
It was bye bye to Asian, but hello to Australia. I was surprised just how empty my emirates flight was and I had an entire row to myself, I should have had a sleep lying down but alas I watched all the films and tried in vain to hear what slyvester stallone was actually mumbling on about in the new steroids pumped up rocky film! It felt strange to be finally leaving Asia, my lover the hedonistic capital of the wolrd with its communist rulers and randomness.
As soon as I got to Sydney I went to a central station backpackers and before I could even unpack or wash I was drinking goon with a bunch of mentalist from my hostel. We did so many bars in the city that I could never name them. But it was a great binge up.
The next day I started on my Aussie tan, to add to my Asian one I went with some Welsh girls I had met to an open air pool in central sydney and proceeded tpo get rather red, but never fear my readers I am so brown now I would be the envy of you all, he he!
Last time I was in Oz was 5 long years ago and while there I did Fraser Island. On my Fraser trip was a rather lovely girl called Jenny Page whom I have always kept in touch with. By some miraculous chance shge and her fella the charming Matt live in Manly. So I spent 4 days living in their lovely flat onyl walking distance from the beautfil Queens cliff beach. I relaxed, washed my clotehs went running along the beaches and also got drunk! It was sado to leave them but I loved having some sort of base where I could unpack and get all the sand out of my bag and discover receipts and papers right at the bottom that I hadnt seen for months, I also found my socks!!
While I stayed with them we spent many hoiurs on the beach and in the sea, but one day it pissed down with torrential rain and that was the day we got the Manly ferry back to Circular Quay and the Operah house and Harbour bridge. The ferry rocked violewntly as we crossed the Harbour heads, old men went flying and of course I tried to isile surf!!!! That day we went to the rocks market, very arty and very nice and also discovered a gourmet pie shop, yum yum, not to mention explored the Botanic gardens and watched massive Eric like fruitbats poo on old men reading the paper on park benches!
The Sydney manly ferry has a great slogan. '8 miles from Sydney, 1000 miles from care'. Its so true, the ferry ride in the evening is so calming as you see the illuniated skyline of Sydney recede into the darkness, very theraputic.
I left Jenny and Matt's and went back to Home backpackers hostekl where I was staying before and immediately hit it off with some Dutch lads who decided that a piss up was on the cards. So after copius amounts og goon (boxed wine) we hit the town and went to some random bars like: Slide bar and the scary canary. At the latter bar they dressed us up in bangdages as it was a hospital theme!
This night out ended with me and Rik from Gronigen being chased by tramp for some drunken reason or another and we climbed every statue we could find.
The next day I was to be reunited with Ally, my travelling partner for a month in THiland.
So I took the 18 hours night bus up the coast to Surfers Paradisae on the gold coast. It is just like Romford on sea and once there I immediately wanted to leave. But after a day or two I persuaded Ally and two others Kurtis from Ongar and Christain from Noirth Weald to come to Fraser Islans with me. What a great decision was made to do that trip!!!
While at surfers I contented myself by using the gym in Allys' apartment block, flirting with women in my hostel, running along the beach and getting drunk in the evening. Australia is all I remeber it to be but better, the bikini clad women, the sun, the surf, the adventure, I love it.
FRASER ISLAND and beyond.......
I must warn you that the following content is for adults only. No children should be allowed to read this bit or touch dogs!
Welll here goes but for legal and naughty reasons some of the details have been left out (my Mum reads this)!!
After bussign up to Hervey bay and settling into beaches backpackers and a drunken night in the bar, we all assmebled in the bar at 6.30am for our pep talk.
The groups were drawn up and I was with Ally and 8 other Scandinavians while Kurtis and Christian were with a group of Brits and few others. But this didnt put us off as re went over what food and booze to buy. Then came the point of who will be the driver. Ally didnt want to and none of the Swedes, Danes or Naughty Norweigians wanted to either. So capitaino Bengy was named responsible driver in chanrge of the Toyota landcruiser for the weekend.
After having a talkijng to by the people who hire the cars out, saying things like"dont drive in the sea', dont feed dingoes and dont crash basically we were off.
Our group ended up being absolutely mental with the Swedes coming accross as the funniest people I have ever met. They would do things like hold hands and walk up to random people and ask them if they wanted to join them in the showers for some sexy time before walking out like John Wayne!
We caned it all over the Island and out two groups had some mental drag races and went up soem crazily steep path. I was relishing driving as I could see all the massive bumps ahead and could choose to warn the back pasengers on the bench seats or not, th eresult was them always smackign their heads on the roof!
For some odd reason the Swedes called me Uncle Bob all weekend and would stock pile beers for me to have when my driving was over and we were safely back at base camp where the goannas try to get in the bins! All the time as I was driving all I could hear was the sound of cans opening and slurps of beer! But I was the designated driver and roared off along the beaches and dirt tracks trying to spot dingoes. We only saw one this time round!
The first day we went to Lake Wabby and slid and ran down the massive sand dunes and managed to carry an entire esky of beer there too. We also found a bra on a tree and made Jonas one of the Swedes wear it for the rest of the day. Next stop the first day was to Eli creek. This is where the birthplace of England verse Scandinavia was dreamt up. For the rest of our Fraser trip we had random competitions on the worlds largest sand island against each ither, rangiong from Touch rugby, to creek racing, to drag racing, tosinging to drinking games! No one knows the final score in the end, but really who cares.
As soon as we had finished buggering around in the creek we caned it up to base camp and hammered it therought he lose sand tracks and as soona s we got there the Swedes lept into action and the tent was up in a matere of moments. I then spent the next half hour rescuing some of the gilrs fcrom their colapsed tent!
The evening kicked off and it was like a football match, we sang we chanted to drank to oblivion and whats more, there was no vomit. That came the seocnd day. We scared the shite out of the other people in our campsite and made them run for cover, we muts have come accross as complete lunatics. At first some of the other Brits were a little cagey about all this random funness, but soon they qwere joining in on the fun and everyone had nicknames, we even Christened oen Brits Crouchy and thats all he know goes by!
The next day we had to wait for the tide to go out to enable us to drive on the beach and while driving and looking out for landing planes headed north up to Indian head and the champagne pools. We climbed the cliff to look for sharks but in the end juts had to make do with stingrays! At champagne pools we swam in the safe area of the sea well away from the tiger shark breeding ground. But we all decided that we wanted to retunr to the fresh water and so drove back down the beach to Eli creek to bathe in the clear and clean waters that you could have drunk.
That venbeing I asked does anyone want to drive and Eirin the Noweigian girl decided she did. So I had a drink and she drove into a tree. From that night on I was the only one allowed to drive!!! Luckily there was no damaged so poor old Johans credit card (for he was the bond holder) was touched!
That night even though we only had a small gap to drive down the beach at 6am before the tide would limit our travel paths, we still went mental and drank too much goon! As with last nigth we were making to much noise on the campsite so had to move down to the beach to party on. We were going mental and some people no names mentioned came back in different clothes as soem massive clothes swapping game ensued. By this time the drinking games were in full swing and we were so out chanting the table next to us that they were postively scared. When they did chant back we destroyed them with a massive chant of ' Your fat and your mums a slag"! This they had no reply to at all and thus we won!
How we managed to all get up the next morning and pack away the tents to catch the only tidal gapo to drive on the beach was beyond me, but we had vomit in our car, lots of vomit!!!!!!!
Our last day before I had to trickily manouver the car backwards onto the ferry was spent at the three wonderful lakes of Birrabean, Mackenzie and the other one beginning with a B, Benijini or soemthing like that.
At one lake there was a massive layer of black slit and as soon as we got in we were destroying the ecosystem and lathering each other upo with it and lobbing it at all passers by. Lake mackenzie was glorous but too crowded so we went to the last lake and swam in the tea tree watersd, which is great for the skin. A few lads decided to drive off without washing off the silt and it took them a good hour of scrubing to look any where decent!
We caned it through amaizing routes inland and bounced all over the place, I swang the wheels like mad man and shouted hold on on many accoasions as we lurched down dusrty massive hole laden snacd tracks. We must ahve done so many miles as we went from lakes to cebntral station to the town of Eurong back to the beach to play football!
Finally it was time to go and back to Beaches hostel we went. That night was a drunken spectacle of mayhem where firehoses weere let off, random acts of naughtiness occurred and we danced on the tables like homoerotic gods! The photos are very inuendo ridden indeed!
But time passes and people gpo off on their buses to other areas, some went up to Airlie beach, some down to Noosa. Ally, Kurt and Chris went back to Tomford on sea and thei 12th story apartment. I ended up going with 3 girls to the delightful placed called 'Town of 1770'. It was the birthplace of Queensland and the first place Jame sCook stopped and anchored inthe state. It is twinned with Agnes waters and its so relaxed and tiny that I fell in love with the place.
We were given a free tour of the place so they could sell their activities and as soon as I walked out of the hostel there was 3 large land cruisers waiting for us. One large bloke approached me and said, 'can you drive an automatic'. Yes was my reply and he chucked me the key. No questions asked, he didnt even check that I was sober or had a licence or anything. So I followed the cars around with a car full of Irish girls in someones unisured land cruiser, quality, The Aussie are so laid back when it comes to things like laws!!
That day I decided with a load of other people too do the chopper tour, where you paid about a tenner and drive these mini chopper bikes all over 1770 and Agnbes waters. We saw kangaroos galore and even stopped at a pub where they encouraged you to drink and ride!!!!! At the bar some old man with a massive father christmas beard exposed his belly at us all!!
It was great fun on the bikes and as I was up the front we all raced each other and the finishing line ended with me and two Germans girls crossign it simultaneusly!
That evening as therte is no real bars open we bought a few goons and a crate of beer and sat in the hostel listening to the prodigy.
This almost brings me up to date, the last day I spent all day in the sea surfing or sunning myslewf on the beach and yes I can stand up!!!
But now I write this in a bus terminal in Townsville. I left 1770 and they shuttle bussed us to some grassy glade by the side of the road as we waited for the main greyhound. Images of the Texas chainsaw massache came to mind. But the bus pulledf uyp and after 15 hours of bumpy sleep I arrived tired and on my own for the first time in ages in the capital of Northern Queensland. Tomorrow at 7am I leave for the outback, to Mount Isa. Its thousands of miles away, another 12 hours on a bus. So sleep for me tonight me thinks.
I must dash now my lovers, I need to find a hostel to rest my head for tonight. Otherwise I will be camping at the bus staion and I dont want to as there are lots of drunken aboriginees around causing trouble.
So til next time my dear readers, sleep tight.
xxxxx