Tête en bas

It didn’t take long to Paul, Steve and Trish to understand my inertia, to understand that I like to take my time. They started joking at me during the pizza evening, telling that I would still be there on wednesday. Well, with the car completely full, our stuff absolutely everywhere, and no real sign of us wanting to do anything, I can understand. But I was still saying that we were going to leave at 11. I was not that bad in my forecast, as we finally leave the bloc at 11:45.

We didn’t leave Alice Springs immediately though. We had a last quick stop to do, after the grocery. Visiting the “School of the air”.

The school first started on the 8th of june 1951, guided by Adelaide Miethke, who was thinking that children living in remote area were laking social contact. Radio would make them able to have a better community feeling, as a part of there education. Because when you live a 1000 kilometers from the closest school, you can’t really think about going to school everyday…

The school in Alice was the first of its kind, but others followed later on. Covering 1,300,000 square kilometers (10 times england). Children can start the school at the age of 4 and a half until they turn 13. After that, if they want to go on, they have to leave there parents place, our follow school by mail.

They usually live in cattle station, aboriginal community, touristic place, national park, military bases, or are traveling with there family. In order to be part of the school of the air, you must live at least 50 kilometers from the closest school.

Teachers follow a 3 weeks formation, during which they learn to use all the equipment (with internet and all new technology, school knew a big change) but also learn to drive a 4WD. Because once a year, teacher visits all his student at there home. At the same time, the school organize three or four times a year, one week meetings. Also, when the families are in town, kids are invited to follow there lesson at the school.

And joining the school, children receive all the material they will need, for a total value of up to 15,000$. Of course, everything as to be given back at the end of the school. The school require a budget only 3 times higher than a normal school. As a public school, it provides exactly the same formation than any other school.

If the teaching was first made via radio, with works sending by mail every second week, internet changed a lot the way the school was going. All the children go online together, following there teacher via a webcam. The teacher, on his side, as a couple of camera, in order to be able to show explanation on a blackboard, or to show books, objects… formation also include general teaching, like cooking, music…

We then live Alice Springs for real, driving up to the Devils Marble, where we were planning to spend the night.

For me, “helping on the market” means “gosh, we’ll have to wake up early!” But we’re far from a french market. As long as everyone is ready to leave at 8:30, everything is fine.

“The bloc”. I don’t know where the name come from. It’s where Steve and Trish leave. They have a small hydroponic garden, and they make there own soap and natural product. That’s also where they renovate caravan, where people live. Paul has been living here for more or less two years, and is clearly part of the family. I just see the other from time to time. The bloc is a little piece of paradise, quiet, peaceful, where you just want to relax. They don’t seem to work much. Mainly on markets and during special event.

Today, we’re going to the market. They have two booths. On one, Trish sells soap and other products. On the other, Steve sells “twirled potatoes”. He reckons that it’s mainly for cash. They started the potatoes a few weeks ago, and it’s working great. You take a potato, put it on a stick, cut it, fry it for 5 minutes, add some spice and sauce, and sell it for $5. Yes, that’s quite a nice plus value to be able to sell one potato for $5. Yes, that’s really good. I really enjoy the taste, but it’s a bit too expensive for me. Not a real problem: with my tshirt, I have them for free. I help doing the different job, learning the technic. Doing some industrial spying too. Importing the idea to Canada or France? Interesting idea. What other strange idea will I have? I don’t know! Sara and Hripsime are working on the soap booth. They both prefer the smell of natural product to the greasy smelly oil. I can’t understand that!

The market finished around 3PM. Paul take us to a very well hidden cave, south of Alice Springs. Hidden, but really nice. And not a limestone cave. Definitely different from what I’m used to visit. I’m wondering how they’ve been made. No one know.

We all gather an other time, for a pizza evening around the campfire. I end up with my didgeridoo at some time. And my flute. And also with my fire staff. Because Paul knows photography well, and also because they saw me practice almost every day, but always with no fire…

An other amazing night, with amazing people. As I meet so often. As they are every where. As usual, I’m feeling well. And happy. I’m relax. As usual.

I’m totally aware that spending the night at Standley Chasm means a very very slow start the next day. Very very slow. And that’s perfect for me. Hripsimé, Sara and Ray start with a yoga session, while I’m staying in the warmth of the swag. I know they’ll need me soon after that, but I don’t need to be too much awake. Ray asked Hripsimé if she can give him a quick massage lesson. Because of that, my day started with one hour and a half of four hands massages. Hard not to be relax and slow all day after that!

Finally, we say bye to Ray for the third time. We’re not going to be back here. Not for a long time I guess! Back to Alice Springs, I drop the girls downtown before going back to the bloc, to see my caravan again, and talk with everyone. I just realize that I want to cook for everyone tonight, to thank them for hosting me. For the welcoming. For the kinds. For everything. And of course, there’s no problem for us to stay two more nights. I drive back to town, to pick up Hripsimé and Sara, and buy some food. There’s a great pizza oven. Steel one, but heated with wood fire. This oven inspire me. A lot. As those cheese does. When was my last tartiflette? Long long time ago I guess! Well, it’s going to be with Tasmanian Camember. Better than nothing I guess.

Back to the bloc, every one’s chatting altogether. I tell Steve that I really want to give a hand for something before we leave, as I almost did not do anything. “We’ll you still be here sunday?” “hum, yes” “then you can help us at the market?” “with pleasure”! And that’s how the three of us get enrolled to give a hand at the market, the day after tomorrow. I like the idea. I’m happy.

Tartiflette is not as good as I was hoping. Tasmanian camembert is not as good as the one from Normandy. And even less than reblochon. Anyway, still did the job. It’s good. And it’s an other nice evening by the fire.

Tours usually turn back at Kings Canyon, heading back to Alice Springs following the same way they used to come. But for people in 4WD, or adventurous people in 2WD, there’s an other road. The Mereenie Loop Drive. 200 kilometers of unsealed road, usually in pretty good condition. I was expecting to drive it at 50 km/h but it was definitely better that I though, and I end up driving almost always around 70-80 which make the drive way more shorter. The driving experience was really interesting. Complete change from the Stuart Highway when you have to check the road every 15 minutes, just in case there might be a curve. Here, you have to be continuously watching. Checking that there’s no holes our anything hazard on the road, sometime slaloming to avoid the most shaking part. You have to be only one with the car and with the road. It’s harder, more tiring, but I really liked the drive!

Being always listening to the car made me quickly aware of the flat tire. It was easy to except on a road like this one. It really often happen. But it’s not a real problem, as long as you have a spare tire and everything you need, and we were driving again 20 minutes later. Still, I guess it’s a must do to have a flat tire, in the middle of the outback, on a gravel road, 100 kilometers from the closest building. Now that it’s checked, don’t need to do it again!

The plan for the evening was obvious: we were heading back to Standley Chasm for a 3rd night there. Contact with Ray is great, and he even promised us a real room, with a heater and a shower, if we came back. Such a promise pleased the girls!

We meet Ray again with pleasure, and even spend the evening with him. And as his wife was away, share the diner together. Evening goes on slowly, but I’m quite tired after the drive. I realize that I don’t want to sleep inside. I want to see the sky before falling asleep. Again. And again. One more time, I take the option with the swag.

I was looking forward visiting Kings Canyon again. I still don’t have any preference between Kata Tjuta, Uluru and Kings Canyon. The feeling is different in all those places. The energy is different too. In Kings Canyon, there’s nothing sacred. It’s only about the amazingness of the landscape. You already saw that in my previous picture, a few weeks ago. That’s good, because my battery died just after we start the walk. We did it taking all our time, chatting, being flabbergasted every 10 minutes or so. And then, we arrived at the Eden Garden. Motivated after my great success at Edith Falls, I was carrying my swimsuit. Just in case. I forget about the idea when I discovered that just putting my big toes in the water was to hard.

We’ve completed the walk slowly, before heading back to the car. We saw the english couple again. The one we first met in Erldunda and then in Uluru. Heading to a new campground after that, for our usual quiet evening.

Just after the aboriginals talk, we take the road to Kata Tjua. We were planning to do (again) the Valley of the Wind walk. Unfortunately, it was closed because of a bush fire, and we went to Walpa Gorges instead. More tranquil, shortest. But not as impressive.

As we were heading back to the car, a ranger told us that we have to leave the place. All the area was going to be closed, because the fire was getting bigger. It was time for us to go any way. Saying good bye to Kata Tjuta, good bye to Uluru, and back on the road, heading to Kings Canyon. We stopped an hundred kilometers further, on a free campground, where I was happy to find again the “fucking good port”. The evening starts quietly, before we join an australian couple in there 40s around there campfire. Chatting about everything and nothing, quietly, in a very nice and quiet way, before our group move to meet 3 others australian guy, on there own (bigger) campfire. Songs, laughs, joke, until late in the evening…

This time, I don’t have a guide with me. I’m almost the guide. But the good thing is that australian parks often organize those “rangers talk”. Once a week in some place like the Rainbow Valley, but everyday in Uluru. The ranger talks about the place, giving as much details as possible. As the talk starts at 10AM, we don’t have any choice except to wake up early for this time. We even arrive in advance, which give us time to enjoy an healthy breakfast with an amazing view.

The group is big. Maybe to big. I know most of the information the ranger is giving us, but it’s nice to hear them coming from someone else, a different way. The talk last for almost two hours. After that, we just keep on doing the whole tour by ourself. Sadly, there’s much more people that when I came the first time, and it’s really hard to enjoy the quietness of the place. Typical example is this lady, in her 50s, with her aggressive voice, asking -way to loudly- “so, you’re enjoying the quietness of the place? You’re right, it’s really quiet here”. If I enjoy doing the walk again, I do keep a better souvenir of my first one.

As the meeting with the sunset the previous day was not as great as expected, we stop again for the sunset. This time, there’s no more smoke, and we can enjoy the color changes of the rock, seating on the roof of the car, eating a light salad.

Back at the campground a little while after that, to our usual evening routine.

We are still on our really slow pace. Maybe a little bit too slow. I don’t know. I don’t think so… for the second time in a raw, the campground is empty when we leave it. Actually, the first car are even coming in for the evening!

We drive for a little while. As I did a few weeks earlier, the two girls are trapped by Mount Corner. “Hey! That’s Uluru!” “Are you sure?” “Hum… yes!”. I’m happy to see that I’m not the only one being fooled by this big mountain.

Just after the watching area, we take this little hidden path. I almost missed it, even knowing that there was something here. Minma is back as a 4WD, but not for long. The path is to sandy. We park the car, and finish the track walking, to a very nice salted lake a little bit further. Time to take a few nice pictures, to walk a little bit, and for some girls, to clean there feet.

Back to the car. Back to the road. The timing is perfect. I just drive a little bit faster, just to be sure that we’re not late. We arrive a small hour before sunset. While Hripsimé and Sara are enjoying it, I start cooking diner. That what I would have been doing if I had a job as a tour guide. And I actually like it. Anyway, I just have to raise my head to see the amazing rock.

Unfortunately, there’s a big bush fire, with a thick smoke, hiding part of the sun. Because of that, the rock doesn’t really change color, and stay in a grey sad mood. We leave a little bit after that, heading to the campground where we’re going to spend the night.

Night was cold. Really cold. If it was okay for Hripsimé and I in the swag, Sara had quite a bad sleep and wake up really early. We’ll have to find an other solution for the next coming nights. Anyway. I don’t like the tent.

The day starts slowly. We take all our time to have breakfast and put everything back in the car, before going for a little walk in order to discover the Rainbow Valley. I’m really happy that I didn’t miss it. The place is really amazing, with a very nice magical feeling.

Time flies, and most of the day is behind us when we finally leave the place. We were planning to drive up to Uluru, but decide to take a slowest way. We’ll stop at Erldunda campground. Where the Stuart Highway meet the road to the rock. Where I’ve been waiting for hours as I was hitch hiking to Coober Pedy.

As it’s really early, we even take the civilized option to wash our clothes and ourselves. It’s sometime really useful. And definitely a great feeling! Occasion to talk with a few nice people too, including this english couple, traveling in a van, but who still find the night pretty cold.

A swag is one of the symbol of australian outback. As long as you haven’t try it, you don’t really understand. Your not sure. You’re asking question. And then, one night, you end up sleeping in a swag. And you can’t sleep in anything else after that. You even end up buying one!

Swags came from germany, but was not really adopted in his mother country. The weather was not the best for it. But Australian climate was just perfect, and it was a great success. Lot of ozie have there own swag (specially those traveling in the outback).

Good. But what it is exactly? Well… it’s the son of a tent and a sleeping bag. Imagine a sleeping back, with a mattress in it, in a big strong fabric, and you’ll get the idea. Perfect for sleeping outside when the weather is nice to watch the star. If it’s a little bit to cold, you can bring the fabric back to protect your poor little noise. Just perfect! But why only it the outback? I haven’t try the waterproofing of a swag yet, but I can of feel that you prefer to be in a dry place. You also prefer to be in a warm place, as camping outside when it’s freezing is… freezing. And it’s also the pleasure of watching the star. And there’s no better place that the remote australian outback for that. Swag was used a lot by worker/wanderer, going from one farm to an other one. Very handy: you roll all your stuff in the swag, and in 30 seconds, your ready to go to bed. The next morning, you’re ready to go in 30 seconds too. Not really easy when you’re hitch hiking or traveling light. But perfect if you have a car!

So…

A rolled swag looks like that :

An open swag with a sleeper in it looks like that :

And if you want, you can transform your swag to a comfy couch:

As the swag is really classical in australian culture, we find it in the very famous song “Waltzing Matilda”. Probably the most known traditional australian song. Yes, a Matilda is a swag. And a swagman is a wanderer. If you want to complete story of the song, a visit to wikipedia is a must: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Waltzing_Matilda

Once a jolly swagman camped by a billabong
Under the shade of a coolibah tree,
And he sang as he watched and waited till his billy boiled:
“You’ll come a-waltzing Matilda, with me.”

Waltzing Matilda, waltzing Matilda
You’ll come a-waltzing Matilda, with me
And he sang as he watched and waited till his billy boiled:
“You’ll come a-waltzing Matilda, with me.”

Down came a jumbuck to drink at that billabong.
Up jumped the swagman and grabbed him with glee.
And he sang as he shoved that jumbuck in his tucker bag:
“You’ll come a-waltzing Matilda, with me.”

Waltzing Matilda, waltzing Matilda
“You’ll come a-waltzing Matilda, with me”,
And he sang as he shoved that jumbuck in his tucker bag:
“You’ll come a-waltzing Matilda, with me.”

Up rode the squatter, mounted on his thoroughbred.
Down came the troopers, one, two, three.
“Whose[N 1] that jolly jumbuck you’ve got in your tucker bag?
You’ll come a-waltzing Matilda, with me.”

Waltzing Matilda, waltzing Matilda
“You’ll come a-Waltzing Matilda, with me”
“Whose that jolly jumbuck you’ve got in your tucker bag?
You’ll come a-waltzing Matilda, with me.”

Up jumped the swagman and sprang into the billabong.
“You’ll never catch me alive”, said he.
And his ghost may be heard as you pass by that billabong:
“You’ll come a-waltzing Matilda, with me.”

Waltzing Matilda, waltzing Matilda
“You’ll come a-waltzing Matilda, with me”
And his ghost may be heard as you pass by that billabong:
“You’ll come a-waltzing Matilda, with me.”