Travel

Great drives

The tyranny of distance in Central Australia

This was like stepping into Indiana Jones territory

As we sped past an awesome landscape of deep gorges, mysterious mountains and rugged sandstone cliffs, I felt I’d stepped into Indiana Jones territory. Like that intrepid traveller, Michael and I also had an urgent mission. We had to get to Kings Canyon by sundown, and the way things were
going, it didn’t look as though we’d make it.

It had seemed such a straightforward route. We were going to drive from Alice Springs to Kings Canyon via Glen Helen and the Mereenie Loop. That meant covering close to 400 km, over half of which would be over a rough dirt road, but the only alternative was returning to Alice Springs and taking the highway, which would add another 300 kilometres to the trip. The guy at Thrifty where we hired our Nissan X-Trail was dubious. It had been raining for the past week, and the surface had been washed away by rain, leaving pools of slippery mud and deeply corrugated ruts. We felt confident. Surely the 4WD could handle it.

Simpson’s Gap is a magnificent sight

We drove out of Alice Springs on a brilliant winter’s morning. There was very little traffic along the Stuart Highway, and soon we turned off for Simpson’s Gap. After watching the bright-eyed little rock wallabies that hopped about we came to the ravine. Its towering walls glowed in the morning sun and when I was able to tear myself away, I walked out backwards because it seemed a sacrilege to turn my back on such a magnificent sight.

At Standley Chasm, only twenty-four kilometres further on, we followed the rocky bush track that wound up towards the gorge, past luxuriant cycads, white cypresses, red river gums and black corkwoods. When we came to the pool at the base of the cleft in the mountain, I had to throw my head back to see the summit of these dramatic cliffs. This was definitely Indiana Jones territory. A gorge-ous landscape.

For 30,000 years, Aboriginal tribes had extracted ochre from this embankment

Driving towards Glen Helen, surrounded by rugged mountains, one stunning ridge behind another, we had the road to ourselves. Intoxicated to a state of recklessness by the empty road and spectacular scenery, we turned off to see the Ochre Pits. For 30,000 years, Aboriginal tribes had extracted ochre from this embankment, mixed it with goanna or emu fat, and smeared the paste over their bodies for ceremonies, crushed it with eucalyptus leaves to heal colds, or rubbed it into aching muscles. This was fascinating information, but what it boiled down to, was that we had made a long detour to see an unremarkable clay embankment with yellow and red bands.

As we headed towards Ormiston Gorge, we had a sudden reality check and the tyranny of distance acquired a new meaning. It was almost midday and we hadn’t even reached the Mereenie Loop. Making a hasty calculation based on the time it would take to cover 241 km of rough, corrugated road, we figured there was no way we’d get to Kings Canyon by sunset. We’d probably still be lurching along the road at night, and we’d been warned not to drive on these roads in the dark as the risk of hitting wandering cattle and bounding kangaroos was too great. We decided to retrace our steps, return to Alice Springs and drive along the highway. That meant adding over 250 km to our journey but as there’s no speed limit on highways in the Northern Territory, that seemed a better option.

A landscape of vermillion soil, gleaming clumps of spinifex and feathery acacias

We were making good time out of Alice Springs along a deserted stretch of road, and as I gazed at the vermillion soil, gleaming clumps of spinifex, and feathery acacias, it struck me that this wasn’t the outback, it was the back of beyond. The first sign of human habitation we encountered was a cluster of homes called Erldunda. `Better watch it,’ the station attendant warned. `There’s a speed limit all along the Lasseter Highway and they pounce on drivers all the time.’ Michael and I looked at each other in dismay. The frustrating speed limit imposed on an empty highway seemed to serve only one purpose - to raise funds for the police department.

Finally we turned off the highway and headed west. I glanced anxiously at my watch. It was already 6 o’clock. There was no speed limit here but now we had the westerly sun in our eyes, a million- watt globe blinding us. To further reduce visibility, the windshield had become an insect graveyard that the windscreen wipers failed to dislodge. The sun was dropping fast, the road was endless, and there was no way we were going to reach our destination in time. I had resigned myself to missing out on the Sounds of Firelight dinner, when suddenly we saw the sign: Kings Canyon, 2 kilometres.

The exquisite degustation menu resembled Tetsuya-in-the-desert

Five minutes later, we were sitting at a table in the garden of Kings Canyon Resort, in front of a crackling open fire. As we gazed at the huge spotlit ghost gum and the starlit sky, the theme from Romeo and Juliet wafted over this intimate outdoor restaurant. Our waitress Nadya brought out six courses that the chef prepared especially for us in an exquisite degustation menu that resembled Tetsuya-in-the-desert. We began with grilled fillet of kangaroo dusted with wattle seed, continued with a silken sweet corn and basil veloute, and then baby barramundi with bush herbs, scallop and braised fennel, followed by pepper berry marinated venison. With each course, Nadya poured us a different wine. As the chef flambe’d our lemon myrtle tart with berry coulis, I sipped the Brown Brothers Orange Muscat and Flora that accompanied it, and knew without a doubt that it had been worth driving 700 kilometres to get there in time for that romantic dinner under the stars.