The final chapter in our jaunt through the Australian Outback. If you need to catch up, check out:
Once more we wake to pre-dawn pot banging (I am eternally thankful that this is the last time) to see the sun rise over Kings Canyon and begin our hike before it reaches 1,000 degrees (apparently 850 is a tolerable hiking temperature). A steep 500-step climb helpfully nicknamed “Heart Attack Hill” kicks off the Kings Canyon Rim Walk, a six kilometre loop that takes approximately three to four hours. Cam and I lead the way, our good buddy Argentina not too far behind us, practically running, scattering rocks and dirt in his wake. I don’t know – maybe he doesn’t get hangovers… or maybe he’s still drunk.
Once at the top, we admire the expansive view. Then, bored of waiting for the rest of the group to catch up, some of the more adventurous and restless souls (this of course includes Argentina) decide to press on, ignoring Kyle’s instructions that hike as a group. We figure we wouldn’t go too far; just enough to see what’s ahead. The path is well-marked and the terrain not even remotely treacherous. Off we go for about 10 minutes or so before we hear some frantic shouting in the distance. We stop just in time to see a breathless Kyle run up to us, looking shaken and disheveled. Once he catches his breath, he gives us an earful about how important it is to stay as a group, as it’s easy to get lost if you don’t know what you’re doing (we didn’t really), or where you’re going (ditto to that). Sufficiently chastised, we hang our heads and wait for the others to join us. Under Kyle’s watchful eye, we carry on, marvelling at the terrain with its red and gold rocky outcrops and weathered stone, all set against a stunning backdrop of clear blue sky.
As the temperature begins to rise, we welcome a descent into a sheltered valley surrounded by bonsai-style and ghost gum trees until we reach the Garden of Eden.
This Eden also contains a natural spring waterhole. Out of all of us, only Argentina and I decide to brave the water (a young Irish couple in our group didn’t even know how to swim – not too unusual, considering a ‘hot’ day where they’re from is something like 19 degrees Celsius). We both jump in, Argentina practically somersaulting, landing in the water with a thunderous splash. I swim, revelling in this cool and refreshing escape from the heat and dust of the canyon. However, we soon discover that getting in the water is a heck of a lot easier than getting out, thanks to a nice slick coat of green slime covering the rock we used as a launching pad. To add insult to injury, not too many people were eager to help us back up; Cam being the only one to take mercy on us. Even then, thanks to a severe lack of foot grip, manoeuvering up the slime without sliding back in proved quite challenging. (In Argentina’s case, it was more than highly amusing, as he slid along, falling backwards into the water several times before succeeding.)
After this frolicking of sorts, we climb back up out of the valley and quickly find ourselves gazing upon several dome-shaped formations resembling giant beehives, formed by the erosion of joint bound sandstone. Fittingly, the place is nicknamed “The Lost City.”
We then proceed to go around the ridge to face a severely eroded cliff, the result of a massive rock slide about 70 years ago. The story goes that it literally disappeared right in front of someone’s eyes as they were taking pictures from the other side. Kyle then invites us to lay on our bellies at the over 100 meter-high cliff’s edge and look down. There we lay: all 15 or so of us, lined up in a row on the very edge, with this as our direct view across:
Indeed, the effects were dizzying. The faint-of-heart need not apply.
Tearing ourselves away from this spectacle, we make our way back along the trail’s loop, Argentina in the lead and scrambling all over the place (this time down the rock instead of up). We enter the parking lot to discover none other than an enormous King Brown snake waiting for us – fortunately, it was dead. Kyle expertly picks it up, and after making the identification, proceeds to inform us that said reptile is the second longest snake in Australia, and one of the most venomous in the world. I think one of the Danes almost fainted. Put it this way: if you happened to stumble upon it while it was still living, it would not be your friend. Our timing was undoubtedly perfect.
Somewhat unsettled with this sensory overload, we all enthusiastically pile back into the bus and sputter across the lot to the long and winding road back to where most of us started – Alice Springs. I take in the landscape, experiencing a sad, almost yearning feeling for a place that I will probably never see again in my lifetime. Although I definitely won’t miss the black flies.
Finally, we’re at the outskirts of Alice, en route to our hotels, signalling the end of the tour. And then, out of nowhere, we spot a couple of familiar looking chaps walking along the side of the road. Kyle asks, “Does anyone know who these guys are?” Cam and I perk up and instantly reply: “Mormons!” Looking exactly the same as they do in North America: black pants, white shirt with suspenders. The only difference? Camel packs full of water. A fitting end to a rather Biblical day. Still wish I’d seen a Thorny Devil, though.
– S
From Barcelona to Bali 