The great outdoors

I got what I wanted: a taste of the Australian outback. Civilization in Australia, as you may know, concentrates largely at the coast. On the 'outside' of the continent, at or near to the sea. Behind that coast comes the 'hinterland' (a nice example of a germanism in the English language -- we have so many anglicisms in the German language that it is good to see an example of the vice versa phenomenon), and behind the hinterland comes the 'outback'. There is no exact definition as to how many kilometres away from the coast or major cities you must be. But when you're driving on a road that has no human settlement for 300 km, it's a good sign that you have reached the outback.

Another sign is that the drivers passing you raise their hand from the steering wheel to greet you friendly. A third sign is that there are so-called 'road trains' on the roads (big trucks that pull one, two or three trailers (Anhaenger)). The road train driver will not greet you. And you'd better not greet them either because you need a firm grip on your steering wheel when they pass so the side wind will not blow you off the road. And the fourth sign is that the kangaroo roadkill density increases to about two per kilometre on average. In 600 km of outback roads I must have passed more than a thousand dead kangaroos. In all sizes and all stages of decay.

The etappe from Townsville to Emerald was dreary: hot and dry and flat. Not barren like a desert. There are trees and there is yellow grass. But the trees don't cast a shadow and the sun is relentless. Emerald has the world's biggest sunflower painting (a Van Gogh copy) mounted on an easel (Staffelei), 25 m high. And they have a 'botanical garden' which is too dry in my opinion. I love botanical gardens, but I think you shouldn't build one in this climate zone if you can't irrigate (bewaessern) it.

On the route between Emerald and Roma the landscape becomes a bit more interesting. There are more trees and a few hills and mountain ranges in the distance. And there are two national parks which I spontaneously took the chance to visit while I was here.

The first is Minerva Hills National Park. It was a challence to drive into: 10 km of steep unsealed gravel road, just to get to a nice lookout. The photo at the very top of this posting, with my van, was taken there. The photo with the cows resting in the shade under the tree was taken on the way to the other national park.

This is Carnarvon Gorge. I spent two days there. In this region, nature, with the help of a mountain creek, has carved a giant gorge (eine Schlucht, mit senkrecht hoch aufragenden Waenden) into the sandstone. The main gorge has several picturesque side-gorges to the left and the right. On the first day I did a short but very pretty walk into 'Mickeys Gorge'. As you walk in, the valley continually narrows in, from a wide U shape to a steep V shape, somehow feminine, like a birth canal. At the end -- or at the beginning, depending on how you look at it -- you can touch both vertical rock walls with your outstretched hands. A place with a very spiritual, sacred, feeling.

I stayed the night at a caravan park and on the second day I undertook the 'big' walk: 10 km into the main gorge and back. Including the side tracks a total of 22 to 24 km. It was absolutely beautiful, peaceful and majestic. Carnarvon Gorge is an oasis in the surrounding plain bushland.

The vegetation consists of various trees and fan palms (Faecherpalmen), which seemed somehow out of place. Maybe because I typically associate them with hotel resorts. In the cooler side gorges grow ferns and tree ferns. The walking track crosses the creek 20 times, numbered nicely from 1 to 20, and all those crossings are using step-stones. Very pretty. As to wildlife, I saw kangaroos, wallabies, all kinds of birds, a long-necked turtle (see photo), and one echidna.

As to culture -- yes! The gorge has some of that too. There are aboriginal wall paintings and relief carvings they made in the soft sandstone. The paintings are mainly handprints (made by blowing ocre pigment from the mouth onto the wall with the hand used as a stencil -- or sometimes other objects such as a boomerang), and the carvings are mainly vulvas. That's how it is. The aboriginal culture being destroyed by the European invasion, and having left no literature, we can only theorize about the meanings of these, but we soon have to admit that we know nothing.

When I finally made it back to the exit of the park, my feet informed me that I've been asking a lot of them today. Ouch with every step. I stayed a second night to give them rest before moving on. On driving out I saw the sign: "Carnarvon Gorge. Good for your soul. Bad for our feet." What a nice, and apt, way to put it! :)