30 October 2011 - G’Day Mate Tourist Park Alice Springs, Northern Territory

We woke to overcast skies, having heard rain in the night, all as correctly forecasted. The birds were not concerned about the lack of sunshine, but were out in force as every other morning here. It is a lovely park, with heaps of shade and full of birds. We had no difficulty in deciding to extend our stay here, albeit for just a further three days for now.

Over breakfast I put my ideas for the day to Chris and he surprised me by suggesting that we venture out to the West MacDonnell Ranges despite the likelihood of rain and thunder storms. He is the driver and he has been here before. Many of the attractions here are déjà vu for him, although not so for those of yesterday. And so once more, the eski was packed up and we set off, via the Coles supermarket in town to buy some fruit.

Our first stop was at John Flynn’s Historical Grave, the resting place for the ashes of the mastermind of the Flying Doctor Service, and his wife. The monument or grave is situated on a knoll looking back toward the town. How appropriate when he so obviously was passionate about this great outback of Australia.

The next destination was Simpson’s Gap, just eighteen kilometres from Alice Springs, being one of the most prominent gaps in the Western MacDonnell Ranges. It was Sunday which may have explained the greater number of tourists than yesterday, however I believe that the West MacDonnell Ranges are promoted more than the East as a tourist destination.

Simpson's Gap

Here at Simpson’s Gap we watched a Stimson’s Python eating a skink, and then slink away. The Python was probably a metre long but quite slim, more interested in his meal and then, seeking somewhere for it to settle, than us. We were quite excited, I because I have not seen too many snakes on this great adventure, and Chris because he is disappointed at the lack of snakes particularly on the roads as we travel along.

Thirty two kilometres further we turned in to see the Standley Chasm. We had been warned that payment of a fee was required here, this being on aboriginal land. We had also been told that the time to see this was midday when the walls of the chasm apparently blaze a fiery red from the overhead sun’s reflection. We thought about the lack of sun and the need to pay for something we probably would not even see, turned and decided to revisit this when we plan to explore the furthest extent of this area.

As we entered the aboriginal reserves which cover over 50% of the Territory, there were the same signs we had seen as we had travelled south on the Stuart Highway, stating that we were entering a Prescribed Area where there was to be "no Pornography or Liquor". We have not stopped to read the small print on the signs to discover exactly what “pornography” covers. Does it include some episodes of Coronation Street? However we should not worry ourselves about it; I cannot see how this or the liquor ban could affect us.

Hermannsburg is the non-aboriginal name for the Arrente settlement of Ntaria. These days so many of the place names, particularly of National Parks, are changing back to the original aboriginal one, just as so many of the names of New Zealand geographical sites are reverting to their original Maori name. Co-incidentally, just last night, we saw a news report on the television about the poor attendance at the local Ntaria primary school, despite the input by sporting hero mentors, when it does briefly spike.

Hermannsburg is the birth place of Australia’s most famous and successful Aboriginal artist. But first the history of this place:

The remnants of the Lutheran mission at Hermannsburg

Hermannsburg was the first Aboriginal Mission in the Northern Territory, established by the Lutheran Church in 1877, or more specifically by Carl Strehlow. He had been working with aboriginal people in South Australia and had mastered their language before moving north into the Territory. Here  he found the local people spoke a different language and faced the new challenge of communicating with  this lot. He, Pastor Strehlow, was obviously a linguistic genius, because before long he had the local vernacular mastered, and later compiled a dictionary containing over 8000 words, translated the New Testament and wrote many ethnographic accounts of the local people. Like most missions of their time, the Christian leaders taught the locals trades and their wives taught embroidery and tatting, both very useful arts in such an environment. The organisation and reputation spread and soon other aboriginal people joined the mission, situated on the banks of the Fink River. With the added pressure of population, water was scarce and the industries of tanning and general self-sufficiency required better resources. In time water was piped from a well eight kilometres away.

There was a changing of the guard and while one Pastor Albrecht was at the helm, in 1934 he was called upon by an artist by the name of Rex Batterbee who displayed his work at the mission. Local Albert Namatjira was thirty two years old at the time and was fascinated by the artist’s water colours. Pastor Albrecht suggested Albert accompany the artist two years later on a two month trip. During that time Batterbee instructed Albert and he, Albert, took to it like a duck to water. Just two years later, Albert’s first exhibition was arranged and an immediate success. Over the ensuing years, Albert exhibited regularly, his work sold and his fame spread. He died in 1959 but even after all this time, his water colours are much sought after by art dealers.

Chris called in to the Mission site thirty nine years ago, to find it all rather dismal and decrepit. Today we called in to find that great pains have been taken to restore it to its 19^th century state. Art works by Albert Namatjira and his family and friends who were also influenced by Batterbee, but not as talented, are on display, along with stories, photos and the history of this place.

But alas, by now the rain was becoming more persistent. Earlier we had eaten our lunch in the confines of the landcruiser and when we alighted at Hermannsburg we had put our caps on to keep any rain off our glasses. By the time we had mooched around the restored whitewashed German style buildings, I was cold, as cold as I have been since flying back from New Zealand.

Travellimg up through the Fink River valley

We pressed on to the Finke Gorge National Park, the entrance not too far from Hermannsburg. There was a clear sign spelling out that the twenty two kilometres road ahead  was only suitable for 4WDs. Chris had travelled up to Palm Valley all those years ago in a two wheel drive car with three others, and while they had become stuck in the riverbed overnight, he had positive memories of the place.

Palm Valley

More views of the road to Palm Valley

We drove up a corrugated dirt road, past a flock of Major Mitchell Cockatoos, the first we had seen off the pages of the field guide, criss-crossing the sandy bed of the wide Finke River, mostly dry, through deep soft red dirt, over great shelves of hard rock, passing amazing great cliffs, until we reached the Palm Valley, home to a diverse range of plant species which are rare and unique to the area. It was the Red Cabbage Palms and cycads that impressed me, giving the valley the impression of an oasis of date palms in an Arabian desert. We passed two tour buses coming out, but no one else until we reached the end of the road where we found one 4WD vehicle parked. We had walked the last kilometre after having driven up a particularly tricky section of the road. Chris realised that this road had now moved up to No.1 on the scale of difficulty; I was terribly impressed with how well he had handled the road. Reaching the shelter at the end of the road, we decided to do just ten minutes of the walk up the valley; it was getting late and the rain was becoming more persistent. Even that token view of the valley on foot was just amazing and I considered the effort to get up here well worth it.

Returning to the beginning of the walk, we found that the driver of the hire vehicle was back. He offered to drop us back to our vehicle which we appreciated greatly. It turned out he had flown into Alice Springs from Sydney for a job interview with the National Parks. We wished him well and kept closely in front of him as we both drove out on the roads much wetter than they had been on entry. While he had confessed minimal experience in driving such roads, he did seem to lack a little confidence, and we do think he was pleased that we could travel convoy style back to the main road. Chris summed up this 21^st century experience of this Palm Valley adventure as follows:

In 1972 I travelled this road in a two wheel drive Holden but I am sure that this road is now very different. I doubt that a two wheel drive vehicle would make the journey now; it is demanding enough for a 4WD with a high clearance.

Let this be a warning for anyone travelling in a whizz-bank (camper van with a sliding side door) or an ordinary car.

The colours that so inspired the works of Albert Namatjira

Chris suggested I drive the rest of the way back, and so I did for the last eighty kilometres. We stopped twice to rescue a couple whose battery was playing up, hitching up to the jumper leads and seeing them on their way. Each time they sped off and the third time their car faltered, someone else had come to their rescue before we reached them.

Again home by about six o’clock, the rain having cleared away and another day of adventure still to be decided.