10 November 2011 - Agnes Creek Rest Area, Stuart Highway, South Australia

We left Uluru this morning a little later than we might have otherwise. Just as we were about to attend to the last safety matters such as checking the caravan indicator lights, our Christian mate from Yeovil turned up on a push bike. He and the family had just arrived this morning, having driven the eighty kilometres or more from last night’s camp at Curtis Creek Station. His face seemed puffier that I remembered and his voice slightly nasal, and I decided that he was either suffering the last of a cold or hay fever. When we had met up with them at Glen Helen in the West MacDonnell Ranges, they had told us they intended to come on south to Yulara on Monday, and here it is Thursday. I suspect they have all been struck down with a cold and delayed their departure from Alice Springs until yesterday. This is of course typical of my imaginings and stories that I surround people with when I have no facts.

We filled him in with what we had been doing and gave him what we considered useful tips as to how they should approach the sights and wonders of the area, including those of Kings Canyon still to be visited by them, wished them well and said that we may well meet up again at Coober Pedy.

We went in search of the dump point, situated a few kilometres from the actual resort in an area we discovered to house all the light industry: idle buses, water treatment plant, mechanical repairs, et cetera. The dump site is a disaster; a small hole in the ground covered with an iron cap. Emptying a full cassette into this small aperture is perilous to say the least. Fortunately there was a hose and water to clean up, but the flies had feasted here over the decades and swarmed anew at our arrival. We were pleased to get out of the place and muttered for some time about the inefficiencies, with special mention about the absence of a proper dump point in the camping ground itself. Goodness knows how the less experienced campervan tourists manage; we at least have many years of dealing with effluent disposal.

We were soon on the Lasseter Highway once more, heading back on the same route east toward the Stuart Highway. We delighted once more in the Desert Oaks adorning the red sand dune ridges and the sight of Mt Connor so like Uluru from the distance of the road. We discovered on a panel at Curtis Creek Station that these three outcrops; Mt Connor along with Uluru and the Olgas, are sometimes referred to as the Three Tors.

We stopped as we had before at Erldunda, after 244 kilometres, and had lunch, before heading south. After seventy four kilometres, we arrived at Kulgera, the most southern settlement in the Northern Territory, consisting of a roadhouse come service station and a police station. After checking the price of the diesel and deciding we had enough without topping up at their inflated price, we pulled into the shade of trees and dozed a little, before once more pressing on.

Another twenty two kilometres south, we crossed the border into South Australia, marked by signs spelling out quarantine restrictions and nothing else. There is an excellent rest area there where we could have parked up for the night, however we continued on checking out the rest areas further south.

Unlike the landscape viewed north of Erldunda when we had travelled south from Alice Springs almost a week ago, there was no evidence of the countyryside having been scorched by either wild fire or controlled burining. However for some time the horizon had been a hazy band, and after about ten kilometres south of the border, it closed about us, a great pall of smoke. We drove on for about thirty kilometres as if travelling through winter Waikato fog, noting that we had not passed any oncoming traffic for some time. No flames were visible and it was not apparent from which direction the smoke came from. We decided to carry on and after a while, the sky to the south west cleared a little and we knew we had made the right choice.

We pulled in to this large rest area which is marked in the Camps 5 bible as being very scenic. It has no water, no toilets, but plenty of trees and bushes which the travelling public have made good use of. I do believe there are rubbish bins here, however it has been easier to discard cans and other various unmentionables into the ditches. On arrival I considered donning a plastic bag “glove’ and picking up the rubbish about us, however plastic bags are not provided when one shops in the Northern Territory or South Australia, and our own  stock of bags is rapidly diminishing. The rubbish remains.

Our camp at Agnes Creek

We are one party of four here tonight, the first having arrived before us; a couple of Taiwanese youths, courageously cycling to Uluru. Chris popped over to greet them after dinner and found that they had cycled up from Marla today, about one hundred kilometres south of us. Hopefully they are making the most of the early morning temperatures because travelling in this fashion at this time of the year has to be insane.

We are at odds yet again as regards the correct time. I am convinced that it is now an hour later than it would otherwise be in the Northern Territory, despite the fact we are still within the same longitude zone. Chris says he will change his watch when we first encounter someone in the know. Oh, he of little faith!

A short while ago after we had completed the dishes, we sat with our coffee, inside away from the insects, watching the last of the sun disappear behind the scrub to the west. In the east the moon rose up behind the tall stands of eucalypts and the cries and squawks of the birds filled the air. Then suddenly, all was quiet. I do love camping in spots such as these, away from the structure of civilization with just the wild land about us.