An adventure

A couple of campers are taking the dirt track to Hermannsburg on their way to Alice Springs as there are some sights they wish to check out, and they have heard that the road is in okay condition. We conclude that this is the best way for us to go as well (especially seeing as how they will be traversing the track with a 2-wheel car and caravan and by deduction we conclude anything they can do, we can do better). They said that the track is a bit rough at each end but pretty good in the middle. 200km of dirt road..... hmm... we discuss our options, which come down the following:

1. 99km really rough dirt road + 200km bitumen (Giles Rd)
2. 450km bitumen road, some in the wrong direction (south then west then north)
3. 200km reasonable dirt road + 100km bitumen (via Hermansburg)

After much deliberation we decide that we are ready to embark on an adventure and so choose 200km of reasonable dirt road. We let the pressure in our tyres down to 30psi, take a deep breath, try not to clench, and driiiiiive...

After 10km we stop and question our decision. (and ask "are we COMPLETELY INSANE???")

After another 10km I hop in the caravan and get a sense of the road while Jase drives for a few kms. The furniture is shaking, and the trays in the oven, the Weeber, and the microwave are rattling loudly. I find this all a bit worrying.
We turn around and start to head back.

After a few kms I drive and get Jase to sit in the van to experience the same thing.
We discuss it a bit further. While we are ready for an adventure, we are not comfortable in taking so much risk on such a long journey. With our tails between our legs, we drive back towards Kings Canyon, picking up speed as we go (we know the road pretty well by now!).

“The road isn’t so bad when you drive fast.”

“Maybe we should turn around and head back on our original journey?”

“Yeah, maybe?”

This goes on for a little longer. The road smoothes out. I smile. “Carn babe, let’s do it!”

So we turn around, once more, committing ourselves to driving the whole way.
Do we regret our decision? No chance! The road was utterly dreadful but it fulfilled our need to be adventurous. The corrugations were so deep in some places that we doubt any 2-wheel car towing a caravan will get through without damage. (In some spots my boobs were bouncing around in my bra and nearly hitting me in the face!)

The only way to endure this excursion was to drive as fast as we dared, allowing our rig to bounce over the corrugations, as we looked out for frequent gutters, ridges and pot holes (which demanded a swift changing in gears and reduction in speed).

Every 50km or so we stopped and went into the van to ensure everything was still secure. It was. (and I had taped some things closed such as the microwave door etc)
Some time into the trek the car began to aquaplane and Jase did an outstanding job of not only controlling the car (because any amount of oversteer might have tipped the whole rig) but also concealing his fears from me (because I worry so!).

During our lunch break (a very enjoyable cold-sausage sandwich under the shade of a small tree), we had a chance to stretch our legs and relax for a few minutes. I took off my shoes. Underfoot, the sand is soft and warm, like a beach. But its grains are tiny, hence the dust. And dust is everywhere. The caravan has taken on a whole new personality; it is now a trekker, an explorer, a real Aussie battler. It is enduring pain and adversity with grace; it still feels like the Hilton with its dark granite bench tops, lush blue upholstery, wood panelling, and down-lights.

Some time late in the afternoon we arrived at Hermannsburg and we soon learned it is a town best driven through without stopping. The streets are crawling with stray dogs; and cars with broken windscreens and bent doors adorn front yards. Although we were tired, we continued on. It’s 120km to Alice Springs.

The green grass of the last few weeks has bolted to seed and given over to gold. The road is a red streak that cuts right through this gold, and in the distance, mountains of bright red rock jut out of the earth, covered partly in white-barked trees.

A horny devil (little lizard-like reptile) sits on the road with its head proudly upward, oblivious to the car. A hawk feeds on the remains of a snake. Mules lie on the side of the road, watching us pass. Wild horses gallop across the road, through the thick scrub.

Metal grids lie across the road, designating the separation of ‘paddocks’ in million-acre cattle stations. We pass dozens of signs that warn us to “use safe driving techniques” and “do not drink and drive” and that there are “wandering stock”.
We make our first river crossing, and I am quick to leap out of the car, wade across, and turn around to photograph this event.

And we make it to Alice without incident. The van survived well(although some screws have come a little loose), we are exhausted, and the pizza we bought for dinner tasted heavenly.

So what does our future hold? Will we start to resemble the Leyland brothers, choofing off down dirt tracks at every opportunity? Nooooo..... we've done it, we kicked bum, .....and given a choice, we won't do it again!!!!!