Postcard from Katherine

Tour guide: Europeans came here and within a few years 90% of the NT was grazing leases.

Some land has been given back to traditional owners. Took 11 years at Katherine. The local aborigines had to show others the sacred sites, prove they had knowledge of the area.

The aboriginal owned land gave the National Parks a 99-year lease to manage Nitmiluk National Park. National Parks manages all tours, flora and fauna including feral animals. National Parks consult with the traditional owners. 

Katherine was named after the daughter of a sponsor of an early explorer.

Chambers paid for the expedition of an early explorer. One of his daughters was called Katherine. Katherine is a nice name but Katherine River already had a name. For thousands of years. Katherine River was called Nitmiluk which translates as cicada place. The name described the place and told people what to look for.

Rock art was for visiting tribes. Told them which sites were sacred. What foods to eat and when.

During Burr or Dreamtime, the world was made and laws were given. Places were named. Sacred sites and sites to avoid were told. Language was given. Ways to behave with other tribes as given. 

Bula: The creator. Came from up north. Changed the landscape because of what he did. Left his image in rock art.

An aboriginal dreamtime story:

The serpent Bolung was made to be a river.  Needs to be respected.

Bolung the Rainbow Serpent lives in the deep green pools of the second gorge. No fishing in these pools. No drinking water from these pools. Pregnant women and new initiates may not swim in the Katherine River. If they, do you will get monsoons and floods.

Nitmiluk is so good its been on TV. On amazing race and MasterChef. That how good this place is. Even been on TV.

Arrive in Darwin

The train is 1km long. We disembark and walk down the long platform. Past staff how smile and say: Goodbye have a nice stay.

Past grim smokers who don’t smile or say anything.

Suitcases are all lined up neatly in rows. A chorus line of suitcases. We wheel our suitcases through the station. We were told to board bus number one. We see a sign which says one, give our suitcases to the driver and board the bus. Find a vacant seat way at the back. Bus contains couples, hats, sunglasses, cameras.

The driver boards the bus, calls us out and says we have boarded the wrong bus. We stand and push our way down the narrow corridor and wait as the driver finds and retrieves our suitcases. We wheel our suitcases to another bus and board. We head for a few vacant seats at the very back. Past all the hats, sunglasses, I-phones and backpacks.

Arrive at our hotel. We wait at our reception in a long queue with other people from our bus.

Walk past the pool to our room. Key doesn’t open our door and then does.

Enter the room and turn off the blaring TV. We notice no bowls for breakfast.

What temp is the air conditioner set at. Got to adjust that.

Mrs. C. I will take this side of this bed.  You can put your stuff over there. Not there. I want to lie and read there.

I check the bathroom. Room on this shelf for my toiletries.

Mrs. C: We can get some bar snacks by the pool.

We order bar snacks then wait. Mine comes after about 30 minutes. Then nothing more until Mrs. C stands and says: I’m not waiting any longer. Let’s walk around town.

Walk down one of the main streets of Darwin. An aboriginal man is yelling, screaming and pointing towards a parked car.

He says: I heard what you said.

The car takes off and the aboriginal walks away throwing his arms in the air and yelling to himself.

We arrive by the harbour. Wide green grassy areas. Deserted. Devoid of anybody. Ideal place for families to picnic, gather. Nobody.

No cafes, pubs restaurants. Ideal spot for nothing.

Wide streets. Very few people lingering, wandering or relaxing by the harbour.

Return to hotel. We have to adjust the AC.

I attack the shower. Can I get the temperature right before getting wet? 

 

 

 

The Ghan Train from Alice to Darwin

We spend a week in Alice Springs then return to the station to board the train to Darwin.

Back at the railway station our luggage gets tagged then disappears. Uniformed staff hustle, bustle and hand out drinks.

A man sits of the platform playing guitar and singing. A uniformed lady point us towards our cabin. Our cabin is near the front of the 1 km long train. We walk in silence alongside the silver train towards our cabin. Our cabin contains a different shower and toilet. Need to learn again. Where is the power socket to recharge my phone?

Night means rocking, rolling, bumping, stopping and starting.

Breakfast with two ladies from Adelaide. They’re in single cabins with communal showers and toilets. We talk about trips coming up, trips gone and grandchildren. How old?  Where do they live? Boys or girls?  Who is looking after your dog? What excursion are you doing when the train stops?

Train presses on and on. Always heading north.  Relentless.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                    

 

Sounds of Silence

Dinner in the desert beside the rock. Billy tea and baked beans are not on the menu. We sit at tables with tablecloths, knifes, forks, plates and glasses of wine. Which are constantly filled.

 

The food doesn’t match the desert, the rock, the night sky. The food would be at home in a restaurant in a big city. Luxurious fine dining in the desert. Our environment (the desert; the rock; the sky) surround and dominates us. Our table chat seems miniscule and irrelevant.

 

After dessert in the desert the lights are turned off and an expert on stars points at and talks about the stars which are lower and brighter than normal. His pointer reaches up and touches the stars. The real-life planetarium is amazing.

Holiday Snaps: Sounds of Silence

 

The Field of Lights

The field of lights is an amazing immersive art installation. 50,000 solar powered lights in the desert. They are laid out in patterns. Not randomly. Lights below. Stars above. Lights in patterns similar to flowers.

 

The ticket to the field of Lights involves being getting transported to the Field of Lights on a bus.

 

Bus driver: Before the Field of Lights, you do what we do in the NT. Have a drink with friends. You can enjoy a cold glass of wine with friends.

 

We sit to sip and a man with his tripod sits next to us. We discuss photography. Around us we see cameras flashing and selfie sticks.  He says he will take on of us if we take one of him. It’s a deal.

 

The tickets also include drinks and canapes. Drink whatever you want. The waiters continually prowl searching for empty glasses.

 

A tourist: They must make a lot of money. Each bus is full. Serval thousand dollars per bus. Each bus is full. And a lot goes to the Land Council for doing nothing. There is no cost to them.

Holiday Snaps: Field of Lights

 

Kata Tjuta

Kata Tjuta means many heads. Appropriately named. Photos do a good job of describing Tata Tjuta.

 

On our tour of  Kata Tjuta the guide stops at a major tourist attraction.

A long drop.

 

Guide: Empty your pockets before using it. Wallets, combs and phones. They will be gone for good. We don’t flush it. It is safe and perfectly healthy.

 

Flies abound. Small non-stinging. Noiseless. They are looking for water. Eyes, nose and mouth.

 

All the tourists talk about where they come from. Where they are going.

 

Tourist: A dingo took my baby.

 

Guide: I don’t talk about the Chamberlains.

 

Tourist: Well, we will never know what happened.

 

I know what happened. The family were innocent victims of a tragedy.

Holiday Snaps: Kata Tjuta

 

Yulara

Yulara is the town near the rock. We stay in a place called Alice Springs Resort. In the past it was called Uluru Resort but the name Alice Springs had to be resurrected. Marketing.

 

Some women lie on the grass near our hotel displaying their dot paintings. Selling traditional genuine aboriginal art. No upkeep. Many tourists bypass them. They must make a lot of money.

 

We buy a piece of art from some ladies on the grass. They are bashful and quiet. Not selling aggressively.

Me: Tell me about this picture.

 

Beryl: This picture of a woman who sees  a goanna.

 

Me: Is that good?

 

Beryl: Yes, very good. Tastes good.

 

Me: And this picture?

 

Beryl: This picture emus.

 

Me: Do they taste good.

 

Beryl smiles: Yes.

 

We are upset when we hear a lady asking for a better price. Sounds disgusting. Wheeling and dealing and bargaining is not part of their culture. 

 

We pay the lady the asking price of $50. We tick the box that says. We are good people.

 

Walk back to our hotel and then I realise I should have taken a photo. I return to where Beryl was. She is gone. The lady remaining says Beryl has gone to the supermarket.

 

The lady says I can take her photo because we just bought a picture.

 

We gave Beryl $50 and she rushes straight to the supermarket tells me they don’t make that much money.

 

Late at night I lie on my hotel bed. Abruptly the quiet hum of the fridge is drowned out by a screaming woman. She sounds drunk. She screams, yells, cries  and bang on the door. No reply from inside the hotel room. Just as suddenly as it started it stops.

 

Next morning a tourist says: They are not meant to buy alcohol but they always seem to get alcohol.

 

In Yulara is a cafe with a sign saying they are training indigenous staff. Everything is pretty much normal. Banana bread, hot cross buns, toasted sandwiches and pies.

 

Lunch we go upmarket and receive the menu.

 

4 pages of food. Dishes include wattle seeds and saltbush.

 

12 pages of drinks. Drinks are wines, beers, liqueurs, rum, gin, vodka, bourbon, whiskey, aperitif, brandy, cognac.

 

Us tourist lounge in our hats, flynets, shorts, sunglasses, walking boots, backpacks and cameras. We all fiddle on our phones and sip water. The women all wear light dresses or shorts. No jeans. Nothing scruffy. No signs of physical activity. No sweat, stains or dust stains.

 

Us tourist always  greet other tourists. Where are you from? What are you doing today? What did you do yesterday?

 

Behind us on the wall are dot paintings and a sign saying No Photography please.

Holiday Snaps: Yulara

 

Uluru

In Yulara we walk to a lookout. A gaggle of tourist loiter. They are comparing tripods and cameras. Looks good. You can trigger it with a remote control. No need to touch the camera.

 

We join in. Where are you from? What tours are you doing today? Have you done the camel ride or the helicopter ride?

 

Everybody takes multiple photos of the rock. Always changing colour. Shadows always changing. The sky always changing. It is alive. Looking at the rock I feel like an Aussie. It’s my rock.

 

The air is still and light and vanishes into the clear blue sky above us. Everywhere I go the air contains flies. They miraculously appear out of nothing, spy me and aim for the moisture in my nose, eyes or mouth.

The environment is all powerful. It surrounds us and dominates us. Butterflies, birds, ants and the heat.

 

Walking around the rock the guide points out all the scared sites. Don’t go there. 

 

Urban myth that a tourist looked at Uluru and said: If we had this rock in India, we could decorate it properly. Paint it. Put some statues and a chair lift on it. Make it look good.

 

Uluru. Us tourist celebrate Uluru sensuously and aesthetically. We eat and drink to excess. We take photos or paint pictures.  

 

I wish somebody would tell me the story behind the rock. Why it is sacred?

 

According to what I can find out:

 

The aborigines living near the rock are Anangu.  Been there for 60,000 years.

 

The caves and fissures were all formed during the dreamtime. Each area of the rock was formed by a different spirit.

 

The rock is living and breathing. Different areas have different customs, rituals for different reasons.

 

This morning all us tourists taking photos of the rock also saw the rock as alive. As living and breathing. None of us tourists knew any dream time story behind the rock.

Holiday Snaps: Uluru

 

Roads, buses and roadhouses

Bus to Uluru.

 

Driver tells us the history of Alice Springs. Telegraphs. Alice Todd was the wife of the main man building telegraph line.

 

I stare at the road ahead. It narrows.  It is in perfect condition. No bumps, holes or recent work. Random scattered abandoned cars and blown out tires.

 

Around me passengers chat and laugh. They all say where they are from and where they are going.

The driver describes the trees and scrub around us. And he talks about the early explorers.

 

Desert contains many floodway signs.

 

Driver: I don’t know why people want to climb it. They are unfit. Don’t do any exercise. Suddenly they want to climb a rock.

 

And its not a good way to see it. You don’t go to the Mona Lisa or David and think I’d like to sit on top of it to appreciate it properly.

 

Bus from Uluru back to Alice.

 

We loiter around reception waiting to board a bus. I talk to the guy in reception. He says: From Sydney. Originally Thailand. All the staff are from somewhere.

 

Bus arrives. Scanned in. Luggage gets tagged. Board bus. Get a seat as close to front as possible. Before grabbing a seat, I look at the sun. Need a seat on the right side of the bus in the shade. 

 

A different driver. He commentates for five minutes about the mountain on our right, Mt Conner.

He finishes and a lady says: What is that mountain over there?

 

He talks about the early explorers who named everything. After benefactors or themselves. Searching for route to WA or Darwin or an inland sea. They travelled with their mates against the conditions. It was us against the environment. Not us against them.

 

The road has no intersections. No fences. No signs of cattle. Famished looking scrub on both sides of road.

We never pass another car. Ahead us small cars become larger and larger and whiz past us on the right with a small wave.

 

Road built for us. Straight. One intersection in 200 kays.

 

Holiday Snaps: NT roads and roadhouses