The Pub Crawl in Ballarat

We dropped Jean and Gordon at the airport at 10.30 for their flight to Singapore at 2.30 and we said our reluctant goodbyes and wondered where and when we’d meet up again.

Without a map, we made our way out of Adelaide (which is a city that seems to go on forever). Before long, we were back on the road. It felt strange to be on our own again. With a drop dead date to get to the boat to Tasmania, we wanted to make time. We stopped for lunch in a typical Aussie town, Coonalpyn, at Peg’s Shoestring Kitchen. We were the only one eating Peg’s special cuisine (tuna salad sandwiches with chips), but as we waited for our meal, we browsed through her selection of magazines- from August 1997!

On the wall was this saying:

“If you love something, set it free. If it returns, you haven’t lost it; if it disappears and never comes back, then it wasn’t yours to begin with. And if it just sits there watching TV, unaware that it’s been set free, then you probably married it”

We got into Ballarat, an old mining town, and using our LP, stopped at what was listed as an inexpensive hotel/bar. It was in the middle of major renovation- and we gulped at the room rates—upwards of $200. At 6 PM, and no other recommendations in Lonely Planet, we took to the streets and found another hotel/bar that looked a bit more affordable. Using our “Rules of Hotel/Pub Accommodation”, we checked out the room and asked the question, “What time does the bar close?” The owner told us that the closing time wouldn’t be a problem, but that we should know that it was the night of the local colleges’ “Pub Crawl”—1200 college freshman would be making their way across town, stopping in groups of 300 at the local pubs- ending with a huge blowout complete with band. With no other options, we decided to chance it and made our way to a Thai restaurant recommended by the owner. Dinner was absolutely heavenly.

We hadn’t seen much evidence of the pub crawl as yet. We got back to the hotel and decided to stop for a drink at the bar. Prices were great- specials for the pub crawl had wine at $2 a glass. I was all for leaving before the first group of 300 arrived, but John convinced me to take a front row seat by the door and watch the show. It was amazing- they descended like locusts on the bar and we were immediately surrounded by Aussie 18 year olds—already well on their way to being “pissed”. We were shocked to find that a few of these 18 year olds actually wanted to talk to us. They were probably just as shocked to see two old farts sitting around on this particular night.

We found ourselves adopted by a 20 year old girl named Kirsti with a larger than life personality. She had us in stitches telling us about her nursing education – she “loves blood and guts”. During the summer, she would work in a nursing home and she had stories of giving showers to 92 year old guys who would proposition her. She talked with us the entire time allocated for this pub….and then, came back – dragging along her ‘hot guy” from her high school and one of her roommates. We can’t remember laughing so hard. It was a great way to get back to OZ- on our own. Made us miss Jean and Gordon though—they would have loved this place!

Winding down in the Barossa Valley

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After a good night’s sleep, a shower and a good continental breakfast, we were back on the road heading towards the Barossa Valley where we’d decided to spend our last few days. The landscape was now much flatter and the temperature was cooler, 20 degrees at 9.15 a.m. which felt decidedly cold. When we stopped for petrol, John wondered about replacing his fly net which he thought he’d lost (he later found it in the car). One of the locals in the garage asked if we were heading up i.e. towards Alice springs or down towards Adelaide. We told him we had been to ‘the Rock’ and were heading back. He said the flies weren’t so bad this year compared to other years. Is he joking?? They were horrendous but no – apparently this is a ‘light fly year’ God help those who visit in a heavy fly year!

Had a roadside stop at a place called Bon Bon. This was just a roadside rest area thoughtfully provided with chemical “dunnies” – the sign on the toilet lid said “If you haven’t eaten it, don’t drop it down the tube” Oh gross!! I won’t give you all the details but suffice to say that if we hadn’t been desperate, we wouldn’t have used it. The next toilet stop was Glendambo again – “Welcome to Glendambo. Elevation 150m. Population – Sheep 22,500, Flies 2,000,000, Humans 30” . Took a photo of Freddy behind the bar who remembered us but I don’t suppose they see that many people out there. Then stopped for lunch at a disgusting café where the bacon sandwiches tasted of fish. (That brought back memories of my childhood for some reason) Still 650 kms to go.

At our last roadside stop, we found the birds sitting on the picnic tables with their mouths open—they were SO hot and dry. Gordon and I found a few plastic buckets and filled them with water. Within seconds, they were covered with birds, dying for a drink. Even the trees in the Outback are unique. While most trees grow tall to reach sunlight, these trees space themselves out for water. It was hard to imagine a more inhospitable landscape.

There is a weed at the side of the road whose fruit looks like yellow tennis balls but has the texture of apples. This is not indigenous to Australia but is believed to have been carried there as seeds on the feet of camels as they are the only animal who will eat them. Apparently they taste disgusting.

To pass the time, we thought up good names for sports teams:
v The Glendambo Go-anners (a go-anner is a type of Aussie lizard)
v The Woomera Wool-bailers
v The Coober Noodlers
v The Alice Springers

This was a long tedious journey with little to look at in the desert. As we got further south however, we passed lots of salt lakes which looked like water and were very picturesque. Eventually, we came back to Port Augusta so stopped at the Information Centre, bought more water and choc ices and managed to get booked in a cottage for three nights. It was called ‘Treasured Memories Cottage’ and was in a place in the Barossa Valley (where they make the wine) in a town called Tununda. Each couple was paying $100 per night including breakfast which would be left for us. This place was about three hours from Port Augusta and at 4 pm when we were there, the temperature was 28 degrees – lovely.

We found Tununda and stopped almost straight away at a Thai/Indian/Australian restaurant in a converted railway carriage. After a nice meal, we found the cottage which was lovely – detached and all stripped pine, lace and little extras like chocolates, port, pot pourri and personal photos. The theme of the place was the Titanic and there were lots of pictures and other references to it around the place. Gordon and I were on the top floor in a bed with a lace canopy, John & Debs were in another room downstairs with a four-poster bed. We had a spa bath and a shower and it was all very luxurious. That night we sat about drinking wine till late.

Next day, Monday the 21st, we all awoke late with hangovers so the day was spent lazily mooching around Tununda and sunbathing (the first chance we’d had – too cold in Adelaide and too hot up country ). Tanunda was a lovely tourist town, mostly built along one long street with a few small shops and restaurants. We decided to eat out so found a German restaurant which we thought would be a nice change but it turned out to be owned by yet another wacko. This guy, Heinz, was born in Dresden but left Germany at aged 6. He began by stating how much he hated Americans for “everything they are doing to the world”. He was actually quite rude seeing as how he had two American customers in front of him but he was obviously weird. He talked at length about his life so far and how his inspiration in all things was Jonathon Livingston Seagull (do you know this? – its about striving for the impossible and is the type of thing they bring out at management conferences – pretentious rubbish!). Apart from slagging off Americans, he said that although he allows the Chinese to eat in his restaurant, he makes them sit outside because “they eat like pigs” but even they do better than the Japanese who are not even allowed in! He warmed to Gordon, told him he looked like a school teacher, and talked to him at length even escorting him to the door but the rest of us got the cold shoulder. And anyway, the food wasn’t much cop and the wine was rubbish!

We spent the next morning and early afternoon visiting some wineries and sampling the local wines. We thought the best was Peter Leiman’s where we also had a lovely lunch sitting in the garden and watching the lovely Australian birds.

That night, Gordon did a barbecue and then we all sat talking and drinking wine. This was our last night in Oz and we had lots to look back on.

Why Coober Pedy?

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Once bitten twice shy and this time we decided to stay above ground. We found a good motel-type place at only $88 per room which was clean and well equipped and welcome after our recent experiences of sleeping in tents and cabins. Had a quick shower then headed back to Tom & Mary’s for more delicious garlic prawns and a couple of carafes of wine.

Then we went back to the hotel bar which was full of weird locals and having had our fair share of wacko’s recently, Debs and I decided not to hang around and we left John & Gordon to get to know them. We later heard about the multi-millionaire who had an opal ring bought for $4000 but supposedly worth $50,000 (which Gordon said was garish and ostentatious) who came from Brazil – another fugitive from justice? He was 60 but had a young trophy wife, Yvonne, who was fine until she smiled and revealed a full set of black teeth! Then there was the Brit – a carpenter who had lived in CP for 27 years (why?), had 6 children and readily admitted to being “quite wealthy”. He was originally from London and came to Australia as a carpenter and somehow graduated to the opal mines where he made his fortune. He still goes ‘noodling’ i.e. sifting the mine waste for missed opals which can be quite lucrative. (They can make $100-150K/year) Gordon and this guy really hit it off and after we got back Gordon sent him a set of chisels as he finds it difficult to get hold of them in Coober Pedy – well, he would! We were quite sorry to leave in a funny way. There are many stories in Coober Pedy – this has been just one of them.

Uluru and the Word According to Mark

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So we left Kings Canyon and headed towards Uluru and its resort town of Yulara. Yulara is the rip-off capital of Australia. Hotels in this complex are upwards of $500 a night and they can charge what they like because there is just nowhere else to stay if you want to visit Uluru. To put this in perspective, we had paid something like $80 for our hotel in the centre of Alice Springs with all mod cons. We had been reading Bill Bryson’s book about his travels in Australia and when he arrived at Yulara, there were no rooms left anywhere so he ended up driving all the way back to Alice Springs. Kaye had told us that she had booked us into a cabin at $360 per person because there was nothing else available but we had managed with the help of the Tourist Information Centre in Alice to find a 2 bedroomed cabin on a camp site for $150 for the four of us. It had a kitchen, a double bed in one room and two bunk beds in another but for that price we were lucky to get it and again, the toilet blocks and showers were clean and functioning.

Before dinner, we decided to visit “The Olgas” – a mountain range which we found quite impressive. It was about a half hour drive from Yulara and worth visiting though again, the temperature was 40 degrees and the flies as thick as pea soup. We took some photos then headed back past Uluru which we would be visiting next morning.

Everything in Yulara was expensive. Wine was $5 a glass ($28 a bottle) and beer $4 for a small bottle. We bought a few provisions and Gordon prepared dinner for us which we ate outside the cabin. We did some laundry and showered and decided to have an early night as we’d had a long day and we had to be up before sunrise in the morning. Unfortunately, we forgot to switch the cooker hood off and between that and the air-con which rattled all night, none of us got much sleep. Next morning, we were up at 5 a.m. and packed up quickly then drove to Uluru.

We had been told that the only time to see ‘the rock’ was either sunrise or sunset and sunrise this morning was at 6.30. We joined a convoy of tourist cars and buses all heading that way (we passed a wild dingo on the way there too which was quite exciting to see) and then when we arrived, we all burst out laughing. It was like a hippy scene at Stonehenge with all these people milling around gazing at the rock as if they were waiting for a mystical experience. It was cold before the sun came up – about 20 degrees – but Uluru itself is awesome. It looks exactly like the photos which everyone has seen and it changes colour as the sun hits it, hence the advice to see it at sunrise. It was definitely worth seeing but for me, the moment was spoilt by the hordes of picture-taking tourists. (Quick statistic- Uluru is 1,150 feet high, a mile and a half long, and five and a half miles around).

As soon as the sun was up, the tour buses filled up and they were all on their way again but we stayed around a bit and then decided to drive right round the rock. I thought the side away from the sun was most impressive so perhaps sunset would have suited me better but what I didn’t like were the dick-heads (mainly though not exclusively, Japanese tourists) who had decided to climb the rock, despite it being a sacred place to the indigenous people. We went then to the Cultural Centre where we had a coffee and then joined a tour ($25 each) which was lead by an Aborigine guide, Mark, who spoke in his own language which was then translated by a young Australian guy, Ambrose. The tour took 2 hours and was very good but I found it really funny. Mark would mumble something (we decided he mumbled to stop the flies going in his mouth and he should have had a fly-hat like us! but the language sounds weird anyway as it is made up of only 2 vowels and 12 consonants)…… so he would mumble something and then Ambrose would say “Mark says…….” and then give us his version of what Mark was mumbling. Every time Mark spoke, Ambrose then went “Mark says……” and really it could have been anything. Mark could have been saying “These f***ing flies are driving me mad” and then Ambrose would say “Mark says ‘Welcome to Uluru’”. In fact, we decided that Mark understood and spoke perfect English and was probably making it all up – “Abo-scam” (why else would they have a no videotaping rule?) And that camel dung and kangaroo tail markings—all planted there before the tour! We did, however love the story of the greedy blue tongued lizard man and the crested bird man.

Anyway, he gave us the history of Uluru which has been passed down verbally through the generations. Elders are respected as they have the greatest knowledge and the Aborigines have their own laws and punishments. We were shown how to make a fire by rubbing two sticks together (but it didn’t quite work and nowadays, they use matches) and how to make glue from leaves. Then the men were given a lesson in spear- throwing and we ladies got to balance a bowl on our head. We were told about the Abo culture still practised today and about some of the punishments – men who have spears pushed through the soft parts of their legs (14 times- 7 per leg) and women who hit each other with sticks until one of them bleeds – it all sounded very far fetched but he swore it was true and apparently, once the punishment has been administered, the matter is forgotten and no grudges are held. The revenue from the tours is used to fund things like the building of schools. There is a charge of $25 per person to enter the National Park which houses Uluru and 75% of the fee goes back into maintaining the park. The remaining 25% goes to the indigenous people. Only $2 per stay (not per person or per night but per stay) in a hotel in the overpriced Yulara finds its way back to the Aborigines which is a disgrace. This was a good 2 hour tour and definitely worth the money. As soon as it was over, we got back in the car for the 800 KM - SEVEN HOUR drive back to Coober Pedy.

King's Canyon

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King’s Canyon was a place I’d read about on the internet and as it was in the vicinity of Alice Springs and Uluru, we thought it might be a good place to visit. It turned out to be another 4 hour drive but we were becoming used to these epic journeys by now. So, after checking out of the Aurora Hotel, we bought steaks, lamb chops, fruit and salad and decided we’d have a barbecue that evening as we were staying in some sort of cabin that we’d booked at the tourist information place. Sounded different anyway and was very cheap.

On the drive there, we passed wild horses and wild camels and again were glad of the air conditioning in the car as it was once again 40 degrees. We had tried to pick up some wine and beer in Alice, but were on the road too early and the liquor stores were closed. Assuming that we could find something on the way, we headed out. We stopped at one of the infrequent roadside fuel/food/motel stops and found NO wine and beers for $4.50 a can. John and Gordon managed to negotiate a discount price of $2.00 a can if the bought a slab. Jean and I waited in the A/C car watching the scene—buses of tourists pouring out to get a bite to eat or make a pit stop—and abos in their beat to shit cars holding naked children with wild hair.
When we arrived we were a bit taken aback as it seemed like some sort of ranch and it was deserted (after all I’d said to Kaye about staying on a cattle ranch!). A young man appeared at reception and he turned out to be English doing his gap year or something so he told us that in high season, this place would be packed with families and there was lots of entertainment laid on. At this time of year though, we were almost the only visitors – I think another couple of foreigners were the only other guests – but there was a swimming pool, an excellent barbecue area, clean shower blocks etc so it didn’t seem too bad for one night. Then we saw the canvas cabins where we had to sleep. We had one per couple and basically it was two single camp-beds in a tent. AND NO AIR-CON!! Well, you just have to make the most of things so Gordon and I went for a swim. John and I took a drive to check out the place- and buy an overpriced bottle of Australian wine. W met the only other tourist in the cabins- an Austrian wearing a bathing suit (As John called it, a “pud protruder”). Concerned about the lack of A/C in 120 degree heat, we asked him if it cooled down at night. His response, dead-pan, was, “It’s cooler than it is now”. What a relief!!?? When the Robson’s got back from the pool, we sat in our cabin with the fan going- the coolest place in the camp- and drank a few beers before dinner. That night, we did a BBQ, at least Gordon did it and the rest of us watched and drank wine and took photos. We had a right laugh, the food was great and afterwards we all laid on the top of the wall and watched the stars. In the middle of the desert where there is no pollution, we felt we could reach out and touch them.

After far too much wine, Gordon, Debs and I all decided to visit the toilet block at 3.30 in the morning – an unexpected encounter but it gave us a laugh and another chance to look at the stars. This place had turned out to be another altogether different experience. We still had to see the canyon itself though so after a weird breakfast cooked for us by another young man, we headed out to see what all the fuss was about. (The breakfast was in a huge mess hall, obviously designed for high season when the place is packed with tourists looking for the authentic outback experience. We had eggs and bacon and enjoyed watching the huge cockroach cross the room).

What can I say about King’s Canyon? It was tremendously hot, populated by tourists and the inevitable flies (another day wearing our fly-hats) and ……. Ok. That’s all. I could’ve done without it but you never know these things till you go see for yourself. Basically, it was a flat walk along a valley where there were lots of huge boulders that had rolled down over the years and on either side were red cliffs. Eventually, you came to a viewing platform, took your photos then headed back. Maybe we should have gone there at a different time of the year, or the day? But of course, if anyone asks I shall tell them it was unmissable…………

A Town Called Alice

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The next day, Monday February 14th – St Valentine’s Day, was spent mostly continuing our journey to Alice Springs. We did almost 700 kilometres in 40 degrees of desert sunshine. Gordon and John shared the 6 hours of driving which started at 9.30 a.m. The Sturt Highway was something to behold. In every direction – for as far as the eye could see- was red earth covered with a brittle grass called spinifex, low bushes and lunar looking rocks. The sky was brilliantly blue and makes a mockery of Montana’s claim as “Big Sky Country”- and the sun was blistering. The clumps of spinifex have needle sharp points (which, if they break off and become embedded in your skin will fester into horrible sores). It was definitely a place that you didn’t want to be stranded in…
And, the road stations are great fun- check out the Road Station in Erlunda.

As soon as we arrived in Alice (about 3:30), we headed for the tourist information centre where we got good rates on our hotels in town, and accommodation in Yulara and King’s Canyon. Kaye had told us there were no hotels available in town but we got a good one for the first night only and then an equally good one for the following two nights – no need to stay in an out-of-town camp site as she had planned. After we checked into the hotel, Jean headed directly for the pool, while I did some much needed laundry. The boys, as expected, checked out the town to find a local dive bar. They found it at Todd’s Bar—locals- big men and big women. Could there be some inter-breeding going on? We had dinner that night in an Indian restaurant and an early night as we were exhausted after the heat and the tedious journey.

The hotel we moved to next morning was very central to the town, its name was the Aurora and we stepped out the front door right into the shopping mall. It was very similar to a lot of towns and didn’t have much going for it except for its location in the middle of the desert. First on the agenda was the purchase of a new leather hat for Gordon and fly-nets for us all – you would not believe the millions of pesky flies in Alice. And they are so persistent!! Swatting them becomes part of life like breathing, in fact we named that particular motion as “The Australian Wave”. The fly-nets are green and sit on top of your hat and then fall over your face and you tie it at the neck otherwise the blighters will find a way in. What did we look like? But no-one gave us a second glance as all the tourists are similarly clad though strangely not the locals. Obviously the flies prefer fresh blood.

Anyway, now that we were suitably clad we headed out to a place called Standley Chasm which was supposed to be a local beauty spot. I have to say it was a bit disappointing. It was a trek to get there in 36 degrees of scorching heat, battling a million flies and when you got there, it was just a deep chasm between two rocks and not really worth the effort – I could’ve lived without it though we agreed that if anyone asked, we would say how wonderful it was. A bit like the ‘King’s New Clothes’ really.

We headed back to Alice for a lunch of Doner Kebabs and then Gordon and John went for a cold beer at Bo Jangles while Debs and I got some retail therapy. This is a town built for tourists and that’s what most of the shops are geared up for – it’s a rip-off of course but I managed to find a nice plate for Ann and a lovely polished wooden box for me and one for Debs which I gave her before we left at the end of the holiday.

In the afternoon we visited the Flying Doctor Base which was quite interesting. The service was established in the 1930’s to provide medical aid in emergencies for the remote areas of Australia. Today they cover more than 7,150,000 sq kms. Dinner that night was at an Australian/Swiss/Indian restaurant, an odd combination but which had been recommended by Billy Connelly in his TV programme about the place. I had the vegetarian option which was delicious and then we bought wine and sat outside at the hotel drinking and talking shit – just what we do best.

There are lots of Aborigines in Alice Springs and without doubt, they are one of the ugliest races on this earth. They drift around the town in packs which can be quite intimidating. We were told that they would approach us and ask for money or alcohol but we were to give them a wide berth, especially at night, which isn’t a hard thing to do as they smell to high heaven. I believe we were told that buying them alcohol was unlawful. These are Aborigines who have been disowned by their own communities, usually for drunkenness, and they sleep in the centre of town in a dried up river bed. They are universally disliked by the white Australians (who we found to be very racist anyway) and somewhat of a headache for the Government. I have to say that I saw no endearing qualities in those in Alice Springs despite a wish to come down on the side of the “oppressed natives”. We didn’t like them either.

Next day, Wednesday February 16th, we had breakfast in the hotel at 8.30 then headed out to the Alice Springs Desert Park. This was a sort of safari park with areas for kangaroos, birds etc and we enjoyed it despite the searing 40 degrees of heat and the inevitable million flies. (Run by the Parks and Wildlife Commission of the Northern Territory, they’ve recreated three primary desert habitats- one very dry, one with a little moisture, and one that is normally dry but occasionally is swept by flash floods. As you walk through the park, there were several large walk-in enclosures containing birds and other small desert animals – bandicoots, possums. There was a large nocturnal house housing all sorts of marsupials – numbats, quolls, and potoroos. It was not only amusing to find these small creatures in the dark – but the enclosure was wonderfully cool and a break from the heat of the park. We started off watching a display of wild birds - falcons, eagles and the like and then wandered round the other displays. It was too hot to stay long though so we headed back to Alice and Bo Jangles Bar. Gordon and I thought we’d go to the Botanical Gardens while John & Debs gave it a miss because of the heat. It proved disappointing though – not much to see and too hot to walk around anyway. I had thought it would be a cool green oasis where we could have relaxed in the shade but couldn’t have been more wrong. We didn’t stay long. Dinner that night was at a restaurant called Oscars where the staff was rude and the menu touristy so we soon headed back to the hotel for a glass or two of wine and an early night.

The Outback - The Happy Crotcher and Coober Pedy

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We were on our way now. It turned out that when John and Debs had gone to pick up the car, the guy driving it from the compound to the forecourt had had a bump on the way round and damaged the one we should have had so we got an upgrade and this one was lovely and much more roomy. Things were looking up.

We decided to travel first to Port Augusta to pick up water and the information office there was very helpful and gave us lots of tips and leaflets about Alice Springs and Uluru. The info center warned us of driving into the “Never Never”, “Beyond the Black Stump”. With miles and miles of emptiness, very little local traffic and only the occasional “road train” (multi-trailered trucks up to 150 feet long), they suggested having food and water and making a stop at each and every petrol stop. We made an immediate stop in the grocery store to pick up water (lots of it) and some lovely chocolate biscuits, then made a stop at the Liquor World. Jean and I went in and passed some abo’s on the way in…oh the smell!

We were going to stop off at Woomera on the way up and stay there for the night as it looked a good distance and anyway, there’s not that many options on the Sturt Highway. So off we went to Woomera which we’d heard of as that was the place where the UK had exploded an atom bomb in the 1950’s. The journey there was long and uneventful and to begin with, I was still upset after the row but I soon put it behind me. Woomera though was a pretty weird place – a veritable ghost town. It seemed to be arranged in a sort of grid which we drove around looking for a hotel but we didn’t find the hotel and we didn’t see a soul. Not one person! No traffic, no animals – it was like something from an Alfred Hitchcock movie. Then on our second circuit, we saw one guy and we slowed to ask directions but as we got closer, we changed out minds. This guy had cross eyes, buck teeth and an odd expression on his face as if to say “Ah, fresh meat!” . We waved and drove off – sharpish.

A look at the map showed a place called Glendambo a couple of hundred kilometres up the road and there was an advert for the Glendambo Outback Motel so erring on the side of caution, I made a quick phone call to check that they were in fact accepting guests. I needn’t have worried as there were plenty of empty cabins – again, thoughts of Alfred Hitchcock and Bates Motel came to mind. The rooms were basic but clean and cheap (the exchange rate was in the Brit’s favor—we personally thought that $95 AUD was a bit high for a 50s style motel room—but you had to admit that they had a corner on the market and with nothing else available for 300+ miles, it was a bargain) The pub/restaurant was a bit spartan—with a large bar, assortment of tables and a pool table. We had a meal of sorts in the restaurant and then headed into the bar to see the local talent. The place was run by Freddy and Greg, two brothers who seemed to be the end products of much inter-breeding. Although friendly enough, if you asked them a question, there was a few seconds delay while they processed the information before answering – definitely a bit slow. We ordered wines and beers and after a while we were joined by two Aussie guys who, it turned out, repaired generators for fibre optics in the outback, something to do with the distance between phone lines or something technical like that. These guys were so funny and had us in stitches. Another couple also joined us, a young lad who said he was a crotcher and his hickey-covered girlfriend, Tiffany who didn’t utter a sound all night. We asked what a crotcher did and he gave us this brilliant and very graphic description of a job he obviously loved. In between shearing, the back ends of the sheep must be kept clean otherwise the blow-flies lay their eggs in the wool and the sheep get aggravated by the maggots. So, you must lift the tail, clean underneath it and then shave round the offending area thereby removing all the disgusting, horrible things that live on a sheep’s butt!! Now imagine, that you do this everyday in 100+ degree weather with millions of flies circling your face and trying to get into your eyes, nose, mouth and ears – and you’ve only got to shear about 350 sheep butts before your day is over. Evidently, the really experienced crotchers can do up to 500 a day. Our crotcher also told us stories of the abo crotcher who cooked up “guanna” (iguana) and wombat. He cooked them over hot coals and our crotcher told us that it had a taste somewhere between sheep and beef. Guess we’d have to take his word for it!

This description was given with a straight face, with enthusiasm and with not a trace of mirth or embarrassment while we received it open mouthed. Are people really employed to shave sheep’s backsides day in and day out?? And not only that, but to get rid of all the disgusting mess and then go home to the lovely Tiffany?? We didn’t laugh, we didn’t even question – indeed at that stage, I don’t think any of us really believed it. It was only in the car the next day that we went over what we’d heard and then we laughed like drains and christened the guy The Happy Crotcher as apart from anything else, he obviously got a kick out of what he was doing.

The other two guys told us lots of tales that were equally hard to believe. When they’re on their field trips, they just sleep outside under the stars and don’t bother about tents or anything like that. We asked about snakes or killer spiders or any of the other plentiful things that lurk in the Australian bush and will kill or maim you as soon as look at you. They said they get into the sleeping bag which has a hood which is pulled right over so that there are no exposed areas at all. When the zip is pulled up, there is a tiny square of fabric that is open to the elements so that is plugged by their jockey shorts. Anything can crawl over them in the night but nothing can enter the safety of the sleeping bag. They drink beer at the beginning and the end of a job regardless of the time on the clock so if they begin at dawn, that will be the time of their first beer and the distance between camps is measured in “tinneys” i.e. it is 280 cans from this job to the next”. As for hygiene and namby-pamby stuff like washing and changing clothes, well it’s just not done and one trucker they knew called Lefty, who drove huge road trains with only one arm apparently only ever changed his socks when they were so stiff, they wouldn’t bend!

They told us about the native Aborigines and what a problem they are in some, but not all, parts of the outback. They have a penchant for sniffing petrol as by law, they are unable to buy alcohol – something about a gene they are missing which means they cannot tolerate alcohol in even small quantities. They strap petrol cans to their heads so that if they pass out while they are sniffing, they will still be under the influence and it is not uncommon to see these guys lying by the roadside out sparkers with cans strapped to their heads. In areas where the problem is at its worst, nobody can buy petrol and the road maps will show you where, on the roads, petrol is for sale. We also talked about what they find to eat and apparently wombats and kangaroo are so delicious that certain hunters catch and kill them then take them in a cool bag down to Adelaide where they are sold to restaurants. We were warned not to hit the wombats- as they are hard as a rock and will tear up your suspension.

We had a great night at this place. Debs bought a nightie based on a poster on the wall advertising “The Maggoted Woolbailers Bachelor and Spinster Ball 2004”. Bet that was worth going to! We had noticed the temperature creeping up as we got further North and they told us that last year they had 18 consecutive days where it was over 50 degrees. Mind you, next day we conceded that they could’ve made all those tales up to amuse the tourists but whatever, it made for a great night and there were kisses all round as we finally left to go to bed. What an eventful day!

For much of the time, driving in Australia consists of miles and miles of straight roads with scrub on each side, few fellow travelers and only the occasional road kill to provide interest. It never ceased to amaze me that with all the hundreds of miles to chose from, and only one truck or car passing a particular point once every few hours, that a kangaroo will pick that precise moment to step into the road and get wasted. Just a few seconds either side and he would have missed it. The only logical solution is that they are as bored with the scenery as the rest of us and are committing suicide – either that or playing a dangerous game of “Chicken” where they leave it till the last moment to see if they can get across without being hit. These guys are big and can do a lot of damage to your car if you hit them but the huge road trains, some pulling 4 trailers, would probably just bowl over them and never even know they’d hit -until of course they stop and have to scrape bits of kangaroo or emu (for they are just as stupid) off the front of the cab.

The outcome of the tedious drive is that wherever you do see a stopping place – a roadside café or even just a comfort break provided by the Highways Agency, you tend to take advantage of it, so our next evening would be spent at Coober Pedy, the opal mining capital of the world. (Our friends from the night before called it “A Bloke’s Town” The name came from Aboriginal words “kupa piti” – assumed to mean “white man in a hole”.) 85% of the world’s opals are produced here; it is a town like no other. Stuck in the middle of the outback with nothing around but remote cattle ranches, it is surrounded by triangular piles of pinkish dust in varying sizes. This is the residue of the opal mines and it makes the landscape resemble that of the moon. Those people who are no longer fit enough to actually mine the opals can sometimes make a lucrative career from “noodling” which is sifting the waste for small opals previously missed by the bona fide mining operation. Most of the population live in underground homes hollowed out of the rock and providing a constant temperature in the fierce desert heat. Fortunes are made and lost here and if ever a town was populated by wackos, this is it. 48 different nationalities live here in relative harmony though it is not unknown for differences to be settled by sudden explosions or deaths. The town seems to police itself.

With no reservations, we decided to do a quick check of the options. The CP backpacker hotel was quickly eliminated (although, we did have a nice conversation and tour with the owner, a large scruffy guy with his two front teeth knocked out) We decided to stay underground and booked into the Desert Cave Motel. This was a big, quite luxurious hotel with a proportion of its rooms above ground for those who had presumably been here before but we had a sort of suite. The main door opened onto a hallway with a bathroom facing and steps off to the right. At the bottom was a bedroom/lounge with a TV, tea & coffee making facilities, a fridge and a double bed so this was to be John & Debbie’s room. Off that was another room which was quite basic with another double bed and that was to be ours – obviously, neither of the rooms had any windows and the walls which were hewn out of the rock were a sort of red marbled effect. This was definitely the stuff nightmares were made of – and so it was……. Probably the worst night’s sleep I’ve ever had, much akin to sleeping in a coffin! Although we were air conditioned, all I was longing for was to open a window and breathe some fresh air.

That was to be later however. We had arrived in Coober Pedy around lunch-time so first of all we took stock of the place and tried to find somewhere to eat. The town seemed to consist of one main street with all the hotels and shops in there and other streets with housing leading off. There didn’t seem to be many places open – maybe they all had a siesta at this early afternoon hour but one café was open so we headed there. We were the only patrons to begin with so we played safe and ordered something bland and unadventurous like chicken. Soon we were joined by another customer – a huge guy who was filthy, dusty, dressed in working gear and shorts and who had obviously just finished work in the mines. He smiled at us as he came in and we soon got chatting. He was German and when we asked how he came to be here in the middle of the Australian outback, he said that he was originally from “corporate Berlin” but being bored by it all, he one day decided to change his life so he came to Coober Pedy. Now let’s think about this for a minute – you are bored with life, fancy a change……. Yes, no problem with that but then how on earth do you end up living underground in the middle of the Australian desert mining opals? I mean, that is some change is it not?? I would guess most people have never even heard of the place so WHY COOBER PEDY?? We asked ourselves that question many times and decided that this town is full of fugitives. They are either escaping justice or running from similar unpleasant situations; bankruptcy, hopelessness, general despondency…..who knows? This certainly would be the place to escape to – who on earth would think of looking for you here?

Anyway, we did the obligatory tour of the town and the opal mines, the Serbian Church which is attended by many nationalities and was hollowed out of the rock face (all these underground places have pink walls which are shot through with a red-ish vein rather like ‘monkey’s blood’ on an ice-cream cornet).

The Breakaways which was a local ‘beauty spot’ resembling a moonscape and reputed to be the setting for some of these weird science fiction films. Including Priscilla, Queen of the Desert. All around us were these little piles of pink dust which was fall out from the mining and it was 36 degrees. We also stopped at the famous, “Dog Fence” – the longest fence in the world, stretching 5,300 km across Australia. Its purpose was to stop dingos from traveling from the north- cattle country- to the south- sheep country. Our guide was another German named Gunther – maybe these were all war criminals – he said he was a photographer and movie maker who had ended up mining opals in Coober Pedy. WHY COOBER PEDY?? He dodged the question so we never got to the bottom of how he had got there or even more intriguing – why he had stayed?? We decided they should do a TV series about the place which could end with an unseen narrator saying “There are many stories in Coober Pedy – this has been one of them”

We ended the day in a fabulous Greek restaurant called “Tom & Mary’s” where they did garlic prawns to die for. We had lots of white wine and fell into our underground caves exhausted.

What an experience!