Swagging in the Outback

So having left Sydney, I flew to Alice Springs. I'd booked myself onto a 3 day camping thingy around Ayers Rock and beyond. Alice Springs is a one horse town, but the horse has left town. It exists just to support trips out to the rock.

First day there, I have a stroll around town to see whats its like. About 30 minutes later I return back to the hostel. The most (not very for me) amusing incident involved me getting some pictures developed in a little mom and pop camera store and coming back an hour later to collect them, and getting some very strange looks from pop behind the counter. A discussion on the content of the pictures, which have since been ripped up, is not suitable material for a blog.

The first morning the pickup from the hostel was at 5:45. I hadn't quite figured that that would be the latest start for a few days. On both mornings that we were 'out in bush' we got woken at the ungoddly time of 4:30. This is the sort of shit that needs to be done if you want to be up, moan, have breakfast, whinge, pack up camp, moan some more, and drive somewhere to see a sunrise or somesort.

The rocks (Uluru, Olgas, Something Canyon) were all fine, but the whole camping aspect was excellent. A side effect of taking the cheapest tour available is that we were roughing it somewhat.

No shiny tents for us poor buggers. Instead we were swagging it. A swag is a kind of a large canvas sleeping bag into which you put a normal sleeping bag. So it becomes a simple matter of check the ground for ants and snakes, unroll your swag, put your sleeping bag in, and go to sleep. At four in the morning on the first night a splash of rain fell for a few minutes, it was enough to wake me up, make me pull my shoes under my swag, close over the top, and go straight back to sleep. For another crappy 30 minutes before Louise (our Aussie tomboy guide person) wakes us all up by playing 5 from the bus at full volume. In future I've decided not to critique others' music tastes.

Eating was a sort of survival of the fattest. Lunchtime was very similiar to how you might imagine piranha might devour a lump of meat. All the ingrediants for sandwhiches are popped down on a table, 15 people charge the table kicking and screaming, and seconds later all the food is gone. In that time some people (and I'm not saying who) have managed to put together a couple of tasty sambo's brimming with tasty fillings. Other people, usually the lovely scandiavian girls, ended up with a limp lettuce leaf and half a piece of beetroot. All excellent fun.

Dinner time was more a coordinated affair. Louise spends an hour cooking over a hot camp fire. Calls grubs up. Everyone takes a fair share. Once that last person has taken their fill, its pirahna time again.

Allow me take a moment to discuss the walking. Holy Fuckbag!! First day we had a leisurly 9k stroll around Uluru (the climb was closed due to winds), it was probably only a sultry 32 degrees. Second day we had only 8k's around the olgas. And on day 3 it was 6k, but that was up the side of a canyon. I pretty sure I thought I was going to die during the kings canyon walk. I'm pretty sure that if someone did die, the rest of group would some Alive style discussions, before calling pirahna time.

But I don't want to make this sound like no fun. It was a great three days. Part of that comes from feeling like your back in the scouts again. Part of it from the comraderie of a good whinge, but mostly it was because every second stop we made along the road was to buy beer. Lots and Lots and Lots of Beer. Ahhh.

On the day we arrived back to Alice, Louise had arranged that we would all meet up that night, for a spot of food, bowling and beer. The food was lovely. I won the Bowling but I'm pretty sure I lost the beer game. The last thing I remember is playing who can drink the most triple shots of vodka with a doctor from london. I know he pucked into his class, and I was declared winner, but this was only the battle and not the war.

Next thing I know I'm being woken up by a nice Aboriginal lady! No its not what it sounds like. Well maybe it is. "You shouldn't sleep there, mate - its gonna get very hot". "Uhhhh!". I'd managed to enjoy a nice nights sleep on the pavement somewhere. As I stand up, someone from our tour group (who hadn't come out the previous night) walks by. "Where am I?" "There's the YHA just over there". So somehow I got in a taxi, been brought to the YHA, but decided that the last 10 yards was too far to walk??? I honestly don't know. That day I met Dr. Dude, and his mates at the airport, they remembered people having a big discussion about where I was staying, but had no idea what had happened to me .....

Oh well ... its actually wasnt all that uncomfortable, though I do wish I'd had a swag!