Introduction

During the start of the Palaeozoic Era, about 550 million years ago, central Australia was covered by shallow seas. Sedimentation and volcanics combined to form a new continental crust and then huge pressures acted upon this sedimentary and volcanic crust forming metamorphics. About 100 million years later massive orogenies, mountain building processes, pushed this crust up in a series of ranges in central Australia. They peaked at a height of over four thousand metres but the minute they reached their apex the process of erosion started to wear them down again till they became what we know today as the MacDonnell Ranges.

The MacDonnell Ranges are divided in two by the Heavitree Gap in Alice Springs where both the Stuart Highway and the Adelaide – Darwin railway cut through. The ranges to the east are known as the Eastern MacDonnell Ranges but the ones to the west are simply known by the locals as the West Macs. It is important to note that they are plural as they are made up of several distinct mountain ranges all over 1,000 metres and running east west like a series of waves heading from north to south. Some of the ridge lines actually do look like breaking waves. In the West Macs are the Kintore Range, the George Gill Range, the Gardiner Range, the Ehrenberg Range, the James Ranges (a plural range of its own), the Stuart Bluff Range, the Chalet Ridge, the Heavitree Range,
the Chewings Range and the Rungutjirba Ridge.

One of the major forces in the erosion process was the Finke River. The Finke was named by John Stuart in 1860 after a William Finke of Adelaide, one of the promoters for Stuart’s expedition. It starts at the conjunction of Ormiston Creek and Davenport Creek near Glen Helen in the Heavitree Range and flows (and I use the term very loosely) for just over six hundred kilometres to the western edge of the Simpson Desert in northern South Australia. It spends decades without a drop of water in it and only flows after great rains. In extreme flood the river pushes through to Lake Eyre in South Australia via the Macumba River.

In the Heavitree Range, the Chalet Ridge and the James Ranges through which the Finke flows (note it flows through at least three mountain ranges) there is clear evidence of deeply incised meanders. Now, because meanders only form on flat plains, the river must have been formed before the ranges were pushed up over 450 million years ago. It was flowing hundreds of millions of years before the Tigris and the Euphrates were even trickles. The Finke River is the oldest river on earth.
However, to the local aborigines it is not known as the Finke River. They call it after the great serpent which lives in the West Macs. They call it the Larapinta.

The Larapinta Trail is also named after the great serpent as it was routed to wind up and down the ranges and back and forth across the desert plains of the West Macs.
To tell the truth, I hadn’t even heard of the Larapinta until a couple of very good friends, Simon and Ali, moved to Alice Springs so Simon could take up a posting at Pine Gap for a couple of years. When they left Canberra I dutifully promised to visit. We emailed each other spasmodically for about six months when I became aware that there was a long walk west of Alice called the Larapinta Trail and that it was very popular. I looked up everything I could find on it. There is a remarkable amount of information available on the net. There’s even an entire web site administered by the Parks and Wildlife Advisory Council of the Northern Territory devoted to the trail. It is full of track notes, current conditions, who will be on the trail when and other mundane details like where to get water which could be rather handy to know in the desert. It also had twelve maps, one for each section, which I immediately downloaded and printed off. There was also two 1:250 000 scale maps of Alice Springs and Hermansburg which had the trail marked on them but at that scale were about as useful as a map of the London Underground in south-west Tasmania.

There is an information package that I had mailed to me from P&WAC which contained six coloured strip maps. These, along with the section maps I already had, became our maps for the trail. And, then most fortunately, on 6th June 2008, John and Monica Chapman published their excellent guide to the Larapinta. I had it on pre-order and it arrived the day it was published. It was great. It described the walk in both directions and gave us enough information to be able to change our itinerary once we were actually on the ground if necessary. It also really cemented our plan to walk from Red Bank Gorge back to Alice Springs in fourteen days so I put my leave form in.
Then I started to hear the horror stories. A friend of Simon’s, Ben, works in Lone Dingo, a camping shop in Alice Springs. He told of hikers crawling bloodied and exhausted in to the shop after cutting short their walk as the trail had destroyed their boots. Well, OK, I added the “crawling bloodied and exhausted” bit but it captures the spirit Ben was trying to convey i.e. don’t take on the Larapinta lightly. A colleague at work said his brother, who had done walks all over the world, had just finished it and he said it was the hardest walk he had ever done even with professional support teams carrying their bedding and food.

We forged on with our planning anyway and pushed the negative vibes to the back of the preparation list. Simon and Ali very, very, very graciously offered to support us by dropping us off at Red Bank, meeting us at two points along the trail to resupply us and putting us up for a couple of days afterwards. So with all the doubts and misgivings packed in with our food and bushwalking baggage, we were right to go.

Day 1. Sunday, 6th July 2008. Redbank Gorge.

Lisa dropped Niv and I off at Canberra Airport at a quarter to six on a very cold morning. Our flight to Melbourne was due to depart at twenty to seven. You’d think that at six o’clock on a Sunday morning there’d be no one around but the terminal was packed. Everyone obviously thinks that if you fly early on Sunday morning no one else will either so that’s when everyone decides to fly. We tried to get our boarding passes with adjoining seats for both legs of the flight but I made a complete hash of the self checking service and so we ended up sitting a couple of rows apart. We checked in our bags and went through security. Since we were already dressed for walking, we had to take off our boots, belts and everything in our pockets (compasses, notebooks, pens, etc.) before passing through the scanners holding our boots in one hand and our trousers up with the other. After getting dressed again with two dozen other people all trying to get a place on the two chairs provided to put our boots back on, we had a short wait before QF795 to Melbourne was called. Breakfast was superb. Special K, blue berry muffin, strawberry yoghurt, juice and coffee and I passed the time re reading the track notes for the first couple of days. We soon touched down at Tullamarine where we had to rush to the other end of the terminal to get our connecting flight to Alice at twenty to nine. It’s a rule of flight. The distance to your departure gate becomes greater as your flight time nears.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t get our seating changed for the next leg so we were still a couple of rows apart. While we waited for our flight to be called, I did a quick skim of the maps for the next day. Our flight was called and we soon found our seats. Just before we took off, one of the flight attendants came up the aisle with my map case which I had left in the lounge. It had the entire walk plan in it. I was extremely alarmed when I realised that I hadn’t realised it was missing. I was just so thankful. Anyway, it was only a two hour flight but our seats were aisle seats over the wing so we couldn’t see anything out of the windows nor talk with each other. Since I couldn’t see out the windows, the landing at Alice was a bit of a shock. It was the worst landing I’ve ever experience. We bumped and slew until we came to a stop outside Alice’s terminal and I couldn’t help but wonder what on earth we had landed on. Surely it was a bitumen runway and not some rutted corrugated dirt field. It was a perfectly level bitumen runway so, after we disembarked into a glorious warm and intensely blue day and we made our way in to the terminal, I couldn’t help but stare at Captain Kangaroo and his crew as they made their way through looking totally nonplussed and that sort of landing was perfectly normal to them.

Simon arrived just as we retrieved our bags and we were soon heading in to Alice. Just past the airport we saw our first camel ruminating behind a fence beside the road. It turned out to be the only camel we saw on the entire trip. Soon we passed through the Heavitree Gap and in to Alice Springs itself. The Heavitree Gap, or Ntaripe in the Arrente language, is an important sacred site to the Arrente people and passing through it was avoided until the road and rail link was put through. As the picture shows the Heavitree Gap is the only way through the range for quite some distance. It was a rather long walk round if you wanted to pop in to town from the south for a carton of milk so it was no surprise that they built all the transport links through the gap instead of digging a tunnel
through the range or going around some other way.

A gap is a pass cut through a mountain range usually by a river down to the level of the surrounding plains and the MacDonnell Ranges are full of them. The most famous, each for totally different reasons, being Pine and Simpsons Gaps but there are at least two dozen others. The West Macs themselves have more gaps than a South Sydney defensive line up. Several months later, at Simon and Ali’s wedding, all the tables were named after gaps in the West Macs. Nice touch, I thought.
Simon took us up to the lookout on Anzac Hill from where we could see the entire town. We even saw the Ghan making its way south to Adelaide. Then it was in to town to get some things for lunch where there was a stark reminder of how hot it gets here. Every car space in the supermarket’s carpark was in the shade of an awning. Simon mentioned that in summer you can drop the temperature by up to five degrees just by stepping in to some shade. We were soon at Simon and Ali’s place which is a very convenient five kilometres west of Alice Springs just off Larapinta Drive. We lunched on beautiful salad sandwiches and then Niv and I each had an episode of exploding pack syndrome as we emptied our bags of everything and repacked our packs ready for walking. Our resupply rations and a few other bits and pieces we packed in to plastic crates which would be brought out to us on the trail. Ali and Simon simply packed their food box, stoves and swags in to their Pajero. This sort of lark was obviously nothing new to them. Niv and I then climbed aboard with our gear and we all headed west along Larapinta Drive in to the West Macs. It’s worth noting that Alice Springs has more swags per square metre than your average suburban shopping mall has Ugg boots. They’re everywhere.

Along the way we stopped at Point Howard lookout and I had my first encounter with spinifex grass which is found everywhere you look. There are a couple of dozen varieties of spinifex and they all hurt. The leaves are needle like and can pierce most clothing and some can even piece soft shoes Unfortunately, I had left my gaiters at home so I had to quickly learn to avoid it whenever I was walking, sitting, setting up my tent or standing still. A bit further on, we turned on to Namatjira Drive then stopped at the turn off to Serpentine Chalet ruins where our first resupply was to be. It had some interactive signage explaining how, back in the 1950s, someone had built a chalet out here as a Mecca for tourists wanting to see if what young Albert painted at Serpentine Gorge actually existed. It did but unfortunately, the resort wasn’t exactly situated in the most picturesque spot. As a matter of fact, it was a five hour walk over some pretty rough terrain to the gorge from the chalet. Something we were to find out about the following
Saturday. And there wasn’t any water here so they built a dam further up the valley. Some other enterprising people built another resort further west at an incredibly beautiful water hole called Glen Helen which had magnificent views of the mountains which Albert painted and consequently Serpentine Chalet went bankrupt after only five years. We had a bit of an explore around and double checked our maps to make sure this was in fact where we were to meet up at the end of the week. I had my first inkling that there were to be no soft grassy campsites for us on this trip. The campsites around the chalet ruins were all just red dirt but they were flat. A bit further on were the Ochre Pits, a sacred site where the aboriginals collected different coloured ochres to be used as body paints in ceremonies. We wandered up to a viewing platform to view them. They were beautiful. Soft reds, yellows and browns stripped the cliffs. Unfortunately, a family with teenagers was there and they had descended from the platform and were streaking each other’s faces with ochre. Their parents were on the platform and filming them with a camcorder right next to the sign which promised a $5,000 fine for interfering with the site. I mean, what do you do?! It is one thing to profane something but to record the event is just stupidity.

We were soon on our way again and arrived at Red Bank Gorge soon after. There are four distinct sites at Red Bank. There’s the gorge itself, the picnic area, the Ridgetop Camping ground for bushwalkers and the Woodlands Camping ground for car based camping.
Our plan was for us to camp at the Ridgetop camping ground and get away first thing in the morning but it was on an exposed ridge top and the bushwalkers already camping there were using rocks to hold their tents down. Also, even though it had a toilet, it was a five hundred metre walk down and across the valley through some pretty rough scrub to the picnic area to get water. The picnic area is the actual start/finish of the Larapinta. It has a shelter, toilets, a water tank and a big “No Camping” sign which was a shame as it was sheltered and had everything else. The Woodlands camping area was down the other side of the ridge top and it too had it all including tables and gas BBQs and stoves so that’s where we decided to spend the night. We drove around it for a while before deciding on a couple of sites. Niv pitched his tent on the site near our table and I wandered across the track to another site to pitch mine. There were heaps of vacant sites all with tables and gas facilities so I couldn’t see any reason not to spread out. Ali and Simon just threw their swags down near their Pajero. It was just on five-thirty and, since sunset was due at six, we decided to get our dinner cooked. Niv and I flashed up our Jetboil stoves and each got a meal out of our pack. This turned out to be a big mistake which we didn’t realise for another three days.

After dinner, we watched a very spectacular sunset with a tiny sliver of a moon following the sun down. After sunset it started to cool down and we were playing a game of yahtzee with our headlamps on when we noticed that the little sliver of a moon was shining so brightly that we had shadows on the table. It was magnificent. Even more magnificent was the night sky above us. It was brilliant. I have never seen such an incredibly bright night sky. We spent the next hour or so watching it. Every now and then we would see a meteor or a satellite pass over head. Eventually it became too cold and we concurred that it was time for bed.

Day 2 Monday, 7th July 2008. Mount Sonder and beyond

It was a very windy and blustery night which contributed to the usual first night on the ground restlessness. Then it rained very briefly and lightly before clearing to a beautiful and cold dawn at about seven. We packed up and drove over the ridge top to the picnic area for breakfast. It was still quite cold but we made ourselves some tea and breakfasted on muesli. There was already a Trek Larapinta Landcruiser parked there when we arrived and no one else around. By eight Niv and I were keen to start so we waved farewell to Simon and Ali after thanking them profusely. We decided not to visit Red Bank Gorge as we wanted to climb Mt Sonder first and do the gorge afterwards. It would depend how we felt. It was a short stroll down to the Red Bank creek past the water tank. The creek was the first surprise. It was sandy, about twenty metres wide and
totally dry. The creeks and rivers only flow very briefly after heavy rain but when they do it is a torrent. We crossed over and made our up to the track junction. According to the guide, it’s eight kilometres to the summit; it climbs eight hundred metres and takes eight hours. We followed the main track down to another creek bed where we unpacked our packs and hid all our equipment except what we would need for Sonder which we promptly repacked. We returned to the junction and started the climb up. There was a very strong wind blowing from the east and it was still very cold. However, the climb kept us warm and about an hour after we started we reached the Mt Sonder Lookout. The lookout had a great view of the mountain, and interpretive sign describing all the geographic features and a warning sign which pretty much stated that if you weren’t sure what you’re doing then here might be a good place to turn back. We were to
encounter several of these signs along the trail all the way to Alice. Not long after we passed the sign we encountered the group from Trek Larapinta making their way back down. They were all rugged up and wearing headlamps. They had climbed to the summit to watch the sunrise and warned us of the increasing strength of the wind and the cold further up. We thanked them and continued on. The track was very rocky and we crossed numerous slate shingle sections. It was a long continual climb until we reached the summit cairn at about eleven o’clock. There is a compass rose on top of the cairn with directions and distances to all the major features. Alice Springs and Ormiston Gorge were roughly due east at 130 km and 20 km respectively in a straight line. Mount Ziel and Haas Bluff were to the north-east at 27 km and 62 km. The views were amazing. To stand on top of one mountain and to look down to several other mountain ranges is just spectacular.

The actual summit of Mt Sonder is only a couple of hundred metres to the east of the cairn but involves a very dangerous descent from the cairn and an equally dangerous ascent to attain it. All the guide books warn against climbing it and we were quite happy to follow their advice. We had a long way to go and really didn’t want to jeopardise the rest of the trip. It was still quite cold so after signing the visitor’s book and taking a hundred odd photos we descended to a sheltered spot on the north side and ate our lunch overlooking the plains and the next line of ranges. The descent was quite fast and we reached the track junction at the bottom by two thirty. We agreed that a night at the bushwalkers’ campsite on Ridgetop would not be very pleasant and since we still had three and a half hours daylight left we decided to push on. I took our water bottles back to the tank at the picnic area and filled them before returning to Niv down at the creek bed where we had stashed our gear. We repacked and brewed up a coffee for afternoon tea. It was really delicious and agreed that this could become a tradition along the track. We were both pretty pleased with ourselves for conquering the highest point on the track relatively easily and early in the afternoon. This gave us a huge boost in confidence and allayed any apprehension we had in our abilities which would last for the rest of the trip. Mt Sonder, or Rwetyopme, and its surrounds are considered sacred so camping and fires are not permitted anywhere on the mountain. The track skirted around the southern base of the mountain and a strict no-camping zone exists for a long way along it. We determined we had to walk about five kilometres to be outside this zone so after we packed up we started off. At every kilometre along the length of the Larapinta Trail are markers telling the distance to or from the next track head. We always knew how far we had travelled and how far to go without all that messing about with map scale and such so we were pretty confident we would know when we were outside the no camping zone.
The track is extremely level for most of the way along the mountain’s flank with only the
occasional descent and ascent across the numerous dry water courses coming down off it. The huge bulk of Mt Sonder towered over us as we made our way along and we became aware that dry water courses aren’t the only things which come down off the mountain. At one point along we had to negotiate our way across a fairly recent rock slide which was a bit unnerving and we saw further evidence every now and then of some falls. As they say, “Geological time is now.” and sporadically we thought we heard the faint tinkle of a falling stone. It was probably just paranoia after passing the rock slide but it was safer to be wary than not. There were numerous anthills along the side of the track being built over stumps or clumps of spinifex. Unfortunately, level areas clear of spinifex or rocks were not evident at all and I was starting to consider the possibility we would have to push on to Rocky Bar Gap to find any sort of campsite which would involve walking at night. It’s only twelve kilometres from Red Bank Gorge but we only had a couple of hours of daylight left. Looking back, I can see those fears were unfounded as we could have easily followed the track in the dark if we had to. However, just past the six kilometre mark and well away from the mountain’s side, we came across a flat clear dirt area with just enough room amongst the spinifex for both our tents. It was nearly five-thirty and experience has taught us not to pass up a God sent opportunity like this. Niv did a little explore a bit further on where river bed wound through a stand of ghost gums but it was far too rocky. We erected our tents and set up our bedding. Amongst a small stand of white cypresses, a fallen one became our seat for our kitchen. A cup of tea followed by dinner was definitely the order of business. We watched the satellites and meteors pass overhead for quite a while before heading to bed. I read for a while and noticed, after I turned my light off, that the moon seemed much brighter that night, shining through my tent.

Day 3 Tuesday, 8th July 2008. Mount Sonder to Finke River

We woke early to a clear cold morning. Our planned itinerary for the day was to Hilltop Lookout but it was now only about ten kilometres away so we decided that we would push on to Davenport Creek which was five kilometres further on. It would mean carrying all our water from Rocky Bar Gap but we had planned on doing that anyway. We breakfasted and packed up. Niv wanted to hang around for a while to get a shot of the sun coming up over Mt Sonder which made me pause and get the maps out. I discovered we were next to the water course which flows between two southerly
running ridges and realised we didn’t have as far to go to Rocky Bar Gap as we had thought. It was a lovely stroll along to Rocky Bar Gap and we reached it easily by mid morning. It has plenty of flat campsites and a single water tank which is resupplied by rangers accessing the site via a management track coming in from Namatjira Drive. We filled up everything we could with water and set off for the gap itself which would take us through to the northern side and the long ascent to Hilltop Lookout. The gap was sandy and cool and lined with ghost gums all the way through. On the other side was a vast rocky plain scattered with spinifex and mallee. It was starting to warm up considerably and after about three kilometres of winding through the scrub we started the ascent to
Hilltop with ghost gums all across it. They are incredibly hardy trees as the soil was obviously very poor and water nonexistent anywhere near the surface. The track was very rocky and indistinct in places so it took a lot of concentration and sometimes backtracking to keep on the correct route up. This gave us plenty of opportunities to take numerous shots of Mt Sonder. Eventually, we reached the summit cairn, very hot and sweaty. We took several shots of each other with Mt Sonder in the background before moving off to one of the campsites and sheltering from the sun under a very stunted mallee. There were only about six flat clear areas big enough for a tent and they were all very exposed but it is THE place to camp if you want glorious photos of sunset over and sunrise on Mt Sonder. As we were lunching a young man and women wandered up from
the other direction with full packs on. They were walking the entire trail from Alice Springs and were heading for Rocky Bar Gap for the night and finishing by doing Sonder the next day. They had spent the previous evening at Finke River and had gone in to Glen Helen for a meal and a beer, an eight kilometre round trip. We told them, apart from Sonder, it was a breeze from here to Redbank and that Rocky Bar Gap was only an hour and a half away. They were very happy to hear this and took several photos before heading off down the track.

This made us realise that we were also only an hour and a half from Davenport Creek so we got the maps out again and realised it was only nine kilometres to Finke River and we had all afternoon to do it. That being decided we shouldered our packs and headed off along the very rocky track. It was a long, steep and dangerous descent to the plain again and we were very relieved to reach the bottom, hot and sweaty once more. It was however very shady across the plain to Davenport and were saw numerous tracks in the sand. One set were definitely camels so we were eagerly trying to spot one through the scrub. Eventually we came to the Davenport Creek bed. It was enormous. The bed was flat and sandy and about fifty metres wide and three metres deep. The volume of water
required to fill it was enormous and it all comes down off Mt Sonder. Davenport Creek was lined with enormous Red River Gums and after a bit of exploration up stream we found a water hole which could be used in an emergency but we still had plenty so we pushed on.
It was a very hot afternoon as we crossed the plain towards the Finke River and the Glen Helen turnoff. Early in our planning we had discussed the possibility of spending a night at the resort but decided against it. We reached the turnoff and turned north-east towards the campsite. After crossing the enormous bed of the Finke we climbed up the other side to what is known as the Finke Hilton. There are two of these along the trail, one at the Finke and the other at Jay Creek. They are enormous three sided shelters especially built for walkers. They have two huge sleeping platforms, cupboards for storing gear and food away from the animals, a gas cooker and BBQ, two water tanks
and very high tech composting toilets. There is no doubt that the campsites along the Larapinta are more than adequate. This one was however already occupied by a group of four, three Richards and Mary and Kelly. I asked about the third Richard and we were told he was camping on the other side of the Finke. Whilst they did offer to share, we declined and headed back to the Finke as there were no suitable campsites around the shelter. We found a lovely sandy site in the bed and as there were no forecasts for rain for the next few days we pitched our tents and had a cup of tea. As the site was very sandy we had to use rocks to hold our pegs in the ground. We spent some time talking and watching for meteors and satellites. Niv mentioned that camping here was fulfilling one of his life’s goals as the Finke figured prominently in some stories from his childhood. The moon was much brighter that night and the ghost gums in the river bed really shone brightly. They are definitely named correctly. It started to get very cold so we turned in and I soon drifted off after reading for a bit. I was so glad we had packed for the cold of the night. I had a thermal top, satin boxers, beanie, faux silk inner and my Dandelion bag and I was very warm.

Day 4 Wednesday, 9th July 2008. Finke River to Ormiston Gorge

Another cold, clear dawn greeted us as we emerged from our tents to make a cup of tea and prepare breakfast. As we stretched I noticed dog prints all around our tents. Lots of them! And I hadn’t heard a thing all night. Our packs weren’t touched but it made us very careful about storing our gear overnight, either in our tents or hanging up in a convenient tree from then on.
It’s only ten kilometres from the Finke River to Ormiston Gorge with a short climb up and down along the way. We were happy to have an easy day and looked forward to hot pies and paddle pops from the kiosk and a hot shower when we got there. The group from the Finke Hilton passed us as we were packing up. Niv wandered off to get some
photos and I backtracked to the Hilton to fill our water containers. My three litre water bladder had leaked slightly under the full load the previous day and this was some cause for concern. The thought that my water would be leaking out as we walked to Waterfall Gorge the next day was worrisome as there was no guarantee of water between Ormiston Gorge and Serpentine Chalet Dam. I only filled my one litre PET bottle as that would get me through to Ormiston as I wasn’t anticipating any problems along the way.
It was already quite warm by the time we set off and the first three kilometres were relatively flat. Then the climb up to the lookout at the second Hilltop started. They really didn’t sit up all night thinking up the names of these summits did they?
It was a fairly easy two kilometre meander up to the summit and when I arrived one of the Richards was still there. He was in his early sixties and was planning on doing the trail in twenty days. It turned out he was an ex high school teacher from Yarralumla, A.C.T. Sometimes this world is way too small.
From Hilltop it is a very gentle five kilometre descent to Ormiston Creek and Ormiston Gorge but it was very hot and we were glad to reach the campsite by noon. We found out it was over thirty degrees according to the ranger’s notice board. For the first time I was starting to get an inkling what this must be like in Summer. The bushwalker’s campsite is right beside the trail as you enter the campground from the west. It was packed. The Richards et al had taken up a section and another group had taken up most of the rest. We settled for a few square metres on a soft platform and set up our tents. It also had a nice cleared area under some trees where we set up our kitchen and got lunch under way with the luxury of a cup of tea.

Just as we finished lunch a large party arrived from the east. They were a group of men, all over sixty, from the Sunshine Coast and their leader, Brian, regularly led walks out here. They had come across from Mt Giles to pick up a food drop before heading west to Mt Ziel. We vacated our kitchen area for them to pitch tents and had some great chats with Brian about the area and what great spectaculars were worth visiting off the Larapinta. I could almost see Niv’s cogs starting up to plan another trip out here to do Ziel.
One thing Brian did tell us was that we should really consider spending the next night at Giles Lookout. There was no water but it had good campsites as well as splendid views back to Sonder and the sunsets/sunrises were well worth it. It sounded like a pretty good idea to us so we adjusted our plan accordingly. Then the conversation turned to our Tarp Tents. Quite a few of the party were checking them out and they nearly fell over when we told them they only weigh seven hundred grams. Brian’s party settled down to their lunch and we packed up and set off to explore the bazaars and fleshpots of Ormiston Gorge.
A banana paddle pop from the kiosk was top of the list. We wandered across to the main campsite and found about two hundred Flinders University geology students camped there and laying siege to the car park, toilets and overflowing rubbish bins. They were on a bit of a field trip apparently. A bit further on was the hot showers and flushing toilets and then we reached the kiosk. Apparently it had been closed for about six months and was unlikely to open that afternoon to sell us neither pie nor paddle pop.
Disappointed with territory capitalism (not to mention the paddle pop yearning unfulfilled.), we ambled back to our campsite and got our gear together to wash some clothes and wallow in the hot showers. It was great. After showering I wandered back to where the kiosk wasn’t profiting and read the notice board. This is where the weather reports are posted and pamphlets on Ormiston’s charms and other information can be gleaned. One point of interest was that this evening there was to be a power point presentation by one of the rangers on the West Macs’ habitats and inhabitants called just that. The camp fees for Ormiston are six dollars each per night and for that you get a
campsite, water, rubbish bins, toilets, hot showers and now a night at the flicks. Luxury!
It was just as we were preparing to cook dinner that the mistake we both independently made on Sunday evening became evident. We had planned on four dinners before resupply. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday and resupply on Friday at Serpentine Chalet Ruins. No matter how many times we added things up we were both still short one dinner. Luckily we both had an extra emergency ration with us. I decide to have mine then and leave my tuna for the following evening while watching the sunset from Giles Lookout. My emergency ration was pasta, peas and corn cooked in a pea and ham soup so it wasn’t too shabby at all.
It grew dark quickly and started to get cold as we finished dinner. We rugged up with everything we had and wandered down to the camp’s amphitheatre. It is a large covered concrete area surrounded by a low concrete wall, well lit with a screen and power point projector already set up. There we discovered all of the bushwalking community in attendance plus a few interlopers from the caravan area on folding chairs. Obviously, Flinders University didn’t include the presentation in the geology curriculum as they were all having various parties at their site which we passed on the way.
We all took seats on the concrete wall surrounding the presentation area and behind the caravaners. Unfortunately, the seating was rather hard and cold but Ranger Kelly soon arrived and gave a great presentation on the three main habitats (mountains, deserts and rivers) and the inhabitants therein. One of the denizens she mentioned is a huge monitor (three metres plus!) called a Perentie (varanus giganteus). It’s the fourth largest lizard in the world and not the sort of thing you want to meet. It’s apparently not very bright and scavenges and eats anything and everything including bones which explained

the lack of dead animals I hadn’t seen so far. She then casually mentioned that it tries to eat anything it comes across, things like feet sticking out of a tent and such like. She also spoke expansively about Ormiston Pound which was on the other side of the gorge. One of the caravaners asked the question, “What is a pound?” to which Brian immediately replied, “About twelve shillings!” This, of course, went over the heads of the majority there but it got a few grins.
It was absolutely freezing by the time the presentation finished and we shivered our way back to the campsite. A hot chocolate was definitely in order to warm us up before we climbed in to our tents and warmed our sleeping bags before sleep.

Day 5 Thursday, 10th July 2008. Ormiston Gorge to Giles Lookout

Brian and the Sunshine Coast boys were up at six o’clock and consequently so were we. It was a very cold and clear night out. There was a bit of light hearted banter about my alleged snoring keeping the dingoes away, and me pointing out that, firstly, I never heard any snoring when I woke up and secondly, if, if mind, I was snoring it didn’t keep then away the previous night, did it? So we packed up, bid each other a genuinely fond farewell and wandered down to the picnic area to get a hot brew going, had breakfast and sat back to watch the dawn light up the red gorge. Gorgeous? Definitely!
We loaded up all our water containers to see us through the next thirty hours. There would not be any water until we reached Serpentine Chalet Dam the following afternoon. I had my three litre water bladder, a four litre wine cask bladder which also doubled as an extra pillow and a one litre PET bottle, all full. Eight kilograms of water which effectively doubled my pack load. And every drop worth the effort.
Ormiston Gorge is one of the thirteen designated checkpoints on the Larapinta. At each one is a log book for signing in and out and a map of the trail showing where you are on it as well as information on the track conditions either way. We logged our intentions, dropped our packs and headed for the gorge to try and find the rock wallabies which famously inhabit it. Ranger Kelly had recited a story the previous evening about a python taking a rock wallaby there then having to lie by the waterhole to digest it for a couple of days. Apparently this was upsetting a lot of the tourists so they bundled it up and transported it up to the Ormiston Creek bed where it finished its digestion then made its way back to the gorge. As you can see by the photo below, rock
wallabies aren’t the easiest of animals to spot. However, once you do, you know what to look for and then they seem to pop up everywhere.
A lone heron was basking by the severely depleted waterhole when we arrived but Monty (as all pythons are known) was no where to be seen. Looking at the water marks on the cliff face opposite showed the water level to be down by about five metres. We were to discover all of the waterholes along the trail were well down. They had water but I would only drink it if we didn’t have a choice and only then after loading it up with puritabs. There’s a fair bit of irony being in the desert during a drought.

A couple of hundred more photos (“What did people do before digital?” I hear you ask. Well, they just took a chance that Aunt Mavis didn’t ruin the shot, basically.) and we were back at the track head where we shouldered our packs and headed off to follow the dry Ormiston Creek upstream before the track turned off and started meandering through the foothills of the Heavitree Range.
It was a very pleasant eight kilometres with a few ups and downs before we arrived at the locale known as Base of Hill. It had warmed up considerably by now and I stripped down to shorts and a tshirt in preparation for the three-hundred metre climb ahead. This was one of the steepest climbs along the trail from the west but we were fairly mentally prepared for it. All you can do is put one foot slightly higher than the other over and over again until there’s no more up. And that’s exactly what we did. Even with the heaviest load we would ever carry on the trail it was done by lunchtime.
We sat in the shade of a lone white cypress, drank about a litre each and ate lunch. There is always a great sense of achievement felt after such a climb. The trail east to Giles Lookout was very rocky, indistinct and occasionally followed a very thin ridge way. After about three kilometres of this the top of the range opened up and we were soon at a very sheltered campsite to the side of the track. There was enough space for about six tents in three separate locations all joined by rock lined pathways. Sparse shade was provided by white cypress and mallee. Unfortunately, as I was setting up I discovered my water bladder had leaked again and I lost about two litres. I had plenty left but it
was a worry.

We spent the remainder of the afternoon chatting, reading and staring from a vantage point to the north across the great expanse of Ormiston Pound and the huge bulks of Mt Giles to the north and Mt Sonder to the south and, further south, Mt Ziel. The walls of Ormiston Pound made it clear that this was once a vast and deep part of the inland sea. The plain below was coated an olive green by Mallee and Ghost Gums and the lines of the creeks and rivers were vividly marked by the bright green of the River Red Gums and the white of their sandy beds. I couldn’t help but wonder what it must have been like for Giles and his party coming through here not knowing what was ahead and seeing vast expanses like this filled with nothing and always the constant worry about water.
We waited for the promised glorious sunset and we weren’t disappointed. We must have sat at our vantage point and watched the changing colours for about an hour before we conceded that it was now too dark and cold to stay there any longer. A late dinner under a much brighter moon then an early bed followed as we had decided to get up at six o’clock again, pack up and breakfast watching the sunrise from Giles Lookout.

Day 6 Friday, 11th July 2008. Giles Lookout to Serpentine Chalet ruins

The moon had long since set by six o’clock but it was still cold and very clear. We quickly packed up and hurried along the track using headlamps. It was only a kilometre to Giles Lookout but we knew we were racing the sun and we just made it. A bright purple glow to the east was just fading as the dawn brightened. We had our first cup of tea while we switched our view from east to west and back again as we tried to take in as much as possible. Mt Sonder glowed bright red as the sun reached it then the walls of Ormiston Pound lit up. There is no doubt that the Larapinta just presents
one magnificent vista after another.
So, breakfast and the dawn show completed we started the long steep descent to the creek bed three hundred metres below. The track was indistinct at the beginning and we knew it zigzagged most of the way down so we were very relieved to find that the track markers were more frequent than previously. We reached the bottom and headed up stream looking for the conjunction indicating the turnoff to Waterfall Gorge. It had started warming up by this stage and, as I had only two litres of water left to get me through the day, I was eager to really move along.
We soon reached the junction and made our way up to the waterfalls. Well, the waterless falls anyway. Still, they would make a lovely series of babbling cascades when the water did flow. There was one small pool of stagnant water near the tent site marked on the map. I would have had to be completely out of water before I’d even consider taking it from there.
It was a short climb up from there to a broad open valley which climbed up to a saddle about three kilometres away. Sheer cliffs lined the edges of the valley and this intensified the heat and the light which seemed abnormally bright. By the time we reached the saddle, I was feeling its effects.
Luckily a breeze was blowing up the valley on the other side so I dropped my pack and made an umbrella out of my hat and one of my trek poles before having a large drink. We rested for a while and admired the view. It was another four kilometres down this valley to Pioneer Creek then up the other side to the turnoff to Inarlanga Pass. We reached the entrance to the pass and stopped for a very late lunch under some shade in the creek bed which headed in to the pass.

I was out of water by this stage but it was only a kilometre through the pass then two further kilometres to the track head at Serpentine Chalet Dam. The pass is a very sacred place as it is the border between two of the aboriginal tribes and it has a definite surreal feel to it after the openness and heat of the preceding valleys. It was very cool and dim as we clambered across, around and, once, under the boulders under the high cliffs on either side. There were dozens of Cycads growing amongst the rocks.
We had a lot of difficulty spotting the markers which indicated the route through. At one stage I completely lost the route and was looking around everywhere for a marker when a raven perched on top of the right hand cliff cawed loudly. I looked up at it and there high up but below the bird was a marker. We climbed up to it and the raven flew across the canyon to the cliff on the opposite side. We watched its flight and it perched high up but directly above another marker. Now, I’m not usually given to irrational flights of fancy but I did say, “Thank you” to the bird. We were soon out of the maze and standing at a track junction. Four kilometres to the west were the Ochre Cliffs and two kilometres east was the Serpentine Chalet Dam track head.
It was a very pleasant stroll to the track head but I was about beat when we arrived. I was hot, sweaty, slightly sun burnt and extremely thirsty. It was time for a big drink of water followed by an all over wash and a shave at the water tanks. I felt way better when I was done. Niv went for a wander up to the dam itself while I had a rest under the shade of a stand of white cypress. When he got back I was feeling way better so we headed off to the Serpentine Chalet Ruins to rendezvous with Simon and Ali. Along the way we passed a group from World Expeditions. They were doing the trail in style. They had transport for all their gear, cooked breakfasts and dinners and were only walking the “best” sections of the trail. The one they were scheduled to do the next day was from Serpentine Gorge back to here. One group was a young family from Canberra and we
promised to greet them as we passed as we were heading to Serpentine Gorge ourselves.
Niv and I continued on towards the ruins but we were unsure of the exact meeting spot. We settled for a spot near the ruins and did our bible study for the day before Simon and Ali drove up. We did a quick recce of possible campsites before settling on one close to Larapinta Drive. We soon had the site set up and Simon proceeded to make the most delicious stir fried chicken, veggies and noodles preceded by drinks and nibbles. Some people do the track tough and some don’t.
We told them of our adventures over dinner but we didn’t linger too long out of bed once it was dark. One of the rules of the West Macs are that, yes, you are allowed to have a fire in designated fireplaces but, no, you’re not allowed to gather wood so if you want a fire you have to bring your own. There are only so many satellites and shooting stars to look for so when I had gathered my self imposed quota, one of each, it was time for sleep.

Day 7 Saturday, 12th July 2008. Serpentine Chalet ruins to Gap Creek

Saturday dawned clear and cold once more and Simon and Ali managed to outdo dinner the previous evening by cooking up a huge breakfast. As we were stuffing ourselves silly, the World Expeditions bus went past and we waved. Breakfast over, we waddled back to our tents and packed up.
Simon unloaded our resupply crates and we very, very, very carefully checked our rations for the next four days. I also decided to offload some gear. My dining shelter was obviously superfluous out here. I also left my woolen shirt as it was hot during the day and my thermal top, bushwalking shirt and wisp-wind shirt would be adequate since we were always going to bed not too long after sunset. My water bladder was still leaking so it went in to the crate. Ali had a two litre PET bottle in their esky, full and frozen, which became my main container. So, even though I gained two and a half kilos of rations, I also lost about a kilo of gear. ☺
Deluges of thank yous were given as we waved goodbye to Simon and Ali after they dropped us all the way back about a kilometre from Serpentine Chalet Dam. The party was over and it was time to get back to business.
We ambled through open woodland along the base of the Heavitree Range for about four kilometres until the track turned and started the three hundred metre climb to Counts Point. This part of the Heavitree really shows it was once the bed of a sea. There are slabs of sedimentary rock which are rippled just like the floor of a shallow sea. Also shells and rounded pebbles protruded from the eroded rock walls. Another very pleasant surprise was that stone staircases had been built on the steeper sections which made the going much easier. They really did a great job putting the track
work in.
It had heated up considerably by the time we reached the track junction at the top of the range. To the west was a one kilometre walk to Counts Point and to the east, a five kilometre walk to the end of the ridge before the track descended to Serpentine gorge. Twin white cypresses provided shade and a sign at the intersection provided somewhere to drop packs and hang my map case.
The World Expeditioners came along just as we started to head for Counts Point so we joined them and chatted along the way. The view from Counts was fantastic to the north across the desert plain.
We returned to our packs. Niv decided to take some more photos so I ambled off across the stony ridgeline. It was a very easy and pleasant stroll to the end of the ridge and I completely switch off for a while. Along the way two wedge-tail eagles rose up out of the valley to the north on some thermals and hovered about three metres above me, checking me out. They swooped off and did two more sorties over me before they headed west, probably to check out Niv and I went back to my mindless reveries.
After about four kilometres I came to the end of the ridge line and decided this was as good a place as any for lunch. I found some shade under a lone cypress next to the track, moved a couple of rocks to make a seat and dug in to my pack for my water. As I was drinking I decided to check my maps. That was when the horrible fact dawned on me that I didn’t have my map case with me. I looked around but it was definitely not there. I had left them hanging on the sign five kilometres back. I had just about resigned myself to an extra ten kilometre round trip when Niv strolled up. Thankfully, he had them with him.
Lunch completed, we descended the three hundred metres to the plains below and after a kilometre through the scrub we came to the Serpentine Gorge carpark. There was a toilet, a water tank and a couple of picnic tables. The bushwalkers camp was a further two hundred metres across the creek. Of all the camps along the Larapinta, this was the least impressive. The ground was rock hard and most of the sites were sloping. There was a tank fed from a larger tank up the hill, a tin shed for storing food caches and lots of poles with melted power points on them sticking out of the ground. This was obviously a burnt out caravan camping site which had just been reclassified as a bushwalkers camp. It was pretty uninviting. We filled up our water and decided to head for Serpentine Gorge to see if anything better was offering further along. We soon reached a T intersection. Straight ahead was Serpentine Gorge and to the east was the Larapinta Trail to Ellery
Creek. A quick read of the track notes told us that it was only about three kilometres to Gap Creek from the turnoff. We decided to try and find a campsite there but first we had to check out Serpentine Gorge. We hid our packs off the track and set out for the gorge.
We soon reached the waterhole which effectively blocked the entrance in to the gorge but it was a very beautiful place. The steep red walls on either side framed the crimson gorge beyond. We took numerous photos before debating whether to take the zig-zag path which leads to a lookout far above. Unfortunately it was late in the afternoon and even though we only had to do three kilometres we didn’t know if we would find a campsite when we got there. We walked back to the junction.
The Larapinta meandered once more below the Heavitree range. It took us under an hour to get to Gap Creek and there were no suitable campsites at all along the way. An unnamed gap to the north in the Heavitree gives Gap Creek its name. We scouted around for about half an hour until we found a suitable spot amongst the spinifex, rocks and the ghost gums. It was just up from the main creek bed but was obviously a secondary bed during flooding. There were a few dingo prints and large monitor prints going in to and out of the rocky, sandy bed.
We pitched camp and had a cup of tea while we watched the sunset light up the range above the gap. We had a late dinner by headlamp then set about ensuring out gear would not be disturbed by any night time visitors. The night time cold had set in but I needed a toilet break before bed. I went for a walk up out of our campsite and discovered that the air temperature rose by about five degrees.
All the cold air obviously settles in to the depressions created by the water courses. I casually mentioned this to Niv before turning in. It turned out to be the coldest night on the trail.

Day 8 Sunday, 13th July 2008. Gap Creek to Rocky Gully

I was very cold when I left my sleeping bag that morning to answer another call of nature. We decided to push on to Rocky Gully that day. It would mean a twenty four kilometre day but we had done much longer days before. The only thing we were unsure of was water availability at Ellery Creek, ten kilometres along. There was permanent water in the gap there and there had been some mention of tanks being installed but nothing definite.
We decided to walk our own walks that day so I packed up and started off. The track was becoming more and more rocky. It was very rough in some places and the dolomite bed rock started to become more prominent. It seemed to take for ever to reach Trig Point along the trail. There are great views there and the trig point itself is a forty four gallon drum hoisted up a metal pole.
From Trig Point the trail deteriorated further. It started following a line of very rocky hills. The first one was a steep climb followed by a steep descent and the possibility of twisting an ankle on the stony path was very real. Small ridges of dolomite lined the path way and crossed over necessitating me lifting my feet higher than normal to cross them. I could easily understand how the trail destroyed boots. After the third of these steep and rocky hills, each one taking about twenty minutes to walk, I decided at the base of the fourth to leave the trail. I set off in to the spinifex and contoured around the hill. Five minutes later I was back on the trail on the other side. I repeated this maneuver for the next hill and it was far easier. I soon crossed a stile which marks the border between the
West MacDonnell National Park and the Roulpmaulpma Aboriginal Land Trust of which Ellery Creek is a part of. Consequently camping is banned everywhere except at the bushwalkers camp at Ellery Creek.
For the first time in a couple of days I started meeting other people walking the trail coming from the other direction. They were all only walking sections but we passed on information about what was ahead to each other. One party had spent the night at Ellery Creek and they confirmed that the tanks were installed at Ellery and were full. They also mentioned that the water in their billy had frozen overnight. I knew it had been cold but, even so, that was a bit of a surprise.
It had warmed up considerably by the time I reached Ellery Creek. There was a brand new toilet block there with the promised water tanks on each side. I filled up and had a wash. The dirt carpark was full of tourist busses and four wheel drives and the bushwalkers camp was right in the middle of the main loop leading in and out of the carpark. It was incredibly dusty and I was glad we weren’t spending the night there. I waited around in the camp for Niv but after about half an hour, I checked in and out of the track head and started the long haul up to the saddle which would take me across the Heavitree range back in to the West MacDonnell National Park and down to the plains on the northern side.

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It was about three kilometres to the saddle but it was a two hundred metre climb. I stopped at the top and decided that this was lunch and as good a place as any to wait for Niv.
Unbeknownst to me, we had just missed each other at Ellery Creek. Niv had gone down to the waterhole to take some photos and had decided to lunch there. I must admit I was starting to get a bit worried but I decided to press on after lunch. It was another long descent to the plain known as Alice Valley. As I reached the bottom I looked back to the saddle and saw Niv coming over it. Much relieved, I pushed on.
It was soon very hot crossing Alice Valley. Just past a management track I came to a stream bed and there clearly in the sand were the bare foot prints of three people heading west. This was the first sign I had seen of aboriginals out here. A bit further on piles of brumby dung started peppering the track. It started being hard work due to the heat and I was getting tired because of the long day. I soon reached a large stream bed which is marked as a campsite on the maps and guide book. There was a very inviting patch of shade with a sandy hollow and I decided to rest here for a while. After half an hour I was feeling much better. It was only about six kilometres to Rocky Gully from
there so I pushed on. About half way to Rocky Gully I overtook three young men who were carrying very large packs and really doing it hard. The packs were huge. I said hello and about an hour later I descended from the plain to Rocky Gully. That stretch of the trail is definitely not the most picturesque and I really didn’t enjoy it at all. It was very rough going and hot.
I walked through the comparative cool of the gully to the bushwalkers campsite at the other end passing one small and one large campsite on the way. The bushwalkers campsite was hot and without shade. The ground was also rock hard. Another group had set up camp a bit further on in the stream bed which flowed through the gully. They were quite an elderly lot and had spread out quite a bit. I tried engaging them in conversation but all I got was monosyllabic replies. None of them looked particularly happy. I returned to the bushwalkers’ campsite. There were two water tanks there and the management track I had crossed after lunch came right in to the campsite. If I
had known this I would have seriously considered following it as it was much shorter and easier to walk along.
I filled my water bottles and returned to the gully, planning on setting up at the larger of the two campsites there but when I returned the three young men I had passed earlier were already there. I stayed and chatted with them for a while. One of them was in the navy and based at HMAS Albatross near Nowra. I asked him about his huge pack and he told me he had borrowed it from the army parachute training school there. The he told me the pack on its own, without anything in it, weighs seven kilograms. Definitely not light weight bushwalkers. I casually mentioned that my pack, without food and water, was only seven and a half kilos.
I retreated further up the gully to the other site when Niv came down the track. It took a while to organise enough space for our two tents in the small site but some tetris like maneuverings did it.
We set up and got the first cuppa of the evening under way. I told him about the three guys and their packs and he was just as flabbergasted as I was. We were both pretty beat from the heat and the long day so it was a very early night even for us.

Day 9. Monday, 14th July 2008. Rocky Gully to Hugh Gorge

We had both been looking forward to a much easier day today. It was only sixteen kilometres to Hugh Gorge and the going was mostly flat with one downhill section of about one hundred metres. A doddle in fact and it was. We were really looking forward to hiking through the desert and there were a couple of major sights along the way. One was Ghost Gum Flat and the other was Hugh’s View.
We had a late start and the elderly group camped in the stream bed passed us as we were having breakfast. They looked less happy than they had the previous day. We finished up and headed for the water tanks to fill up before heading off. On the way back we again stopped and chatted to the heavy weights. They had started at Ellery Creek and were only going as far as Simpsons Gap. We wished them well and returned to our camp to pack up. The three of them passed us as we were just finishing up and started the climb up the track out of the gully. We followed about ten minutes later. It was a steep pitch but once we crested the rise it was fine.
We soon caught up with the three young men and they were already moving slowly. It was going to be a long day for them. It was very easy going for us and after seven very easy and delightful desert kilometres we descended down and across to Ghost Gum Flat. The walk that morning was exactly how I envisaged the desert to be. Red, red soil, dry water courses, sparse vegetation and relatively easy on the boots and consequently our feet. The track was a sheer joy, meandering through the scrub with only a very slight rise now and then.
Ghost Gum Flat is distinguished by a huge Ghost Gum and a picnic platform under one of the Ironwoods there. It has a very nice campsite but no water. We saw some brumby bones along the way which indicated that the perenties were not in this area. I must admit to being a bit paranoid about things sticking out of the tent at night so this was a bit of a relief. We lunched on the picnic platform.
It was only about three very relaxing kilometres from Ghost Gum Flat to Hugh’s View which was very distinguished by a sign with a pair of decidedly ruined boots stuck on either end.

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We sat and admired the view. Hugh Gorge was a brilliant red under the sun as was the Chewings Range which it cuts through. However, the last three kilometres to Hugh Gorge seemed to take forever. It was the same easy and lovely desert we were walking through but we were keen to get there. After every little bend or rise on the trail we expected to be there.
Eventually we reached a set of wheel ruts which led us to a campsite with a Toyota Landcruiser ute parked there. The Landcruiser camp was a bit of a mess with gear laying everywhere and a small fire scar filled with flecks of alfoil. We met the owner later on up in the gorge and he told us he was support for a group hiking through from Ellery. He said he was leaving the next morning.
A bit further on was the water tank and track registration shelter. The float high above the tank indicated that it was full. According to the sign next to the registration log, the bushwalkers’ camp was a bit further on. We ambled down to the dry Hugh River and followed it upstream.
Unfortunately, the group who was at Rocky Gully the previous day had spread right out again and taken all the good sites. We eventually found the only site left which was right up at the entrance to the gorge and only about two metres up from the river bed which had a lovely waterhole full of water. We set up camp and spent some time watching a willy-wagtail dance around the waterhole.
Even though it had been a relatively easy day, we had been on the track for eight days without a break. We really needed a rest day but we were scheduled to meet up with Simon the following evening at Birthday Waterhole to replenish our rations. Also, there was the minor detail that he was bringing pizza and beer for that night’s dinner. Not something to be missed.
Our planned route from Hugh Gorge to Birthday Waterhole was via Rocky Saddle and Fringe Lilly Creek campsite, a total of sixteen kilometres but both the Chapmans’ guide and the Larapinta Trail strip maps rated it as “Very Hard”. I remembered the management track we crossed the previous day and widened my scrutiny outside the Larapinta. Sure enough, a management track which serviced the tanks at Hugh Gorge and Birthday Waterhole ran in from Namatjira Drive. It was only fourteen kilometres via that track to Birthday Waterhole and flat, much as we had experienced today. That was our rest day planned. We did have some mourning about missing an obviously very
scenic part of the trail but the reality was that we weren’t up to it and it would have made it a long and hard day with the real possibility that we might not make it before dark. That was a risk we didn’t need to take.
So, how to fill the rest of the afternoon? Well, there was this rather large gorge to explore so after a cuppa we set off. Soon enough we met the owner of the Landcruiser returning and after a short chat, went our respective ways. We only planned to go as far as we felt like but, as with all larks like this, we constantly just wanted to see what was around the next bend. It was a beautiful gorge with the occasional full billabong. However, there was flood debris high up in the branches of the gums and some of it was very large. When the river came down from the Chewings Range, it didn’t muck about. The going was extremely rough and tough also. We had to back track a couple of times to get
back on the trail even with the Larapinta markers there to guide us. After about two hours of very slow exploration, the shadows started rolling across the gorge and a half moon started rising in the
east. We estimated that we had reached Pocket Valley which was only about two kilometres from the gorge entrance. Boy, we were glad we didn’t have to carry our packs through here tomorrow.
The return journey seemed twice as fast and we were soon back at camp preparing dinner. We talked about the three young men who we hadn’t seen yet and how rough the going was through the gorge. As luck would have, it was just then that they appeared looking very tired. We told them of our plans for the morrow and advised them to do likewise but they were adamant about continuing. They were heading for the campsite at Hugh Gorge Junction about four kilometres in to the gorge.

We told them how rough the gorge was and to reconsider but to no avail. We wished them well as they headed off again.
Just on dusk a flock of Major Mitchell Cockatoos flew in to our little waterhole and the trees surrounding it. The moon was well and truly up by the time the sun set completely and the gorge was lit up brilliantly and as a consequence all the shadows seemed much darker. We admired the view for a while before the cold sent us to bed. I read for a while and dozed off.

Day 10. Tuesday, 15th July 2008. Hugh Gorge to Birthday Waterhole

Have you ever seen that Looney Tunes cartoon called “Father’s Day” with the three bears? It has a six hundred kilo baby bear in a nappy, a real mid-western momma bear in a cotton dress and a floral hat and a little grumpy pappa bear. The baby bear has set ten godzillion alarm clocks to go off around pappa bear’s bed because it’s Father’s Day. The alarms go off and baby bear starts jumping up and down with excitement and saying, “Oh. Goody, goody, goody. The great day has arrived, the great day has arrived!”
Well, that’s pretty much how we felt that Tuesday morning. We had only a fourteen kilometre stroll over flat terrain with the magnificent mountain back drop of the Chewings Range. The short walk meant we could spend the afternoon relaxing, doing some washing and giving ourselves a sponge down. Oh, and did I mention that night we were getting pizza and beer? Simon was going to do the world’s longest pizza run for us from Alice. Have I mentioned that we sure owe him big time?
So, we had a bit of a relaxing morning. The elderly group, who were still not happy, left first to head up Hugh Gorge passed us. Many of them commented on our tents and, once more, they nearly fell over when we told them they were only seven hundred grams.
We also wanted to wait until the Landcruiser man left as we didn’t want a dust bath as he passed us on the track. Eventually we heard his diesel start up and idle for about ten minutes before he drove off. We finished packing and wandered back to the water tank to fill up for our journey.

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It was a really delightful stroll to the Birthday Waterhole turnoff. We took the opportunity along the way to make a few detours straight through the desert just to get the feel of it. We discovered brumby tracks and dung heaps, an old weather recorder and a high ropes challenge course in the middle of no where. It did however get rather hot so we were keen to get to the waterhole and have lunch.
Not surprisingly, the waterhole was dry as was the river which flowed down from Brinkley Bluff in the Chewings Range. We set up camp at the end of a long sandy patch beside a ridgeline which separated us from the river bed. After lunch, we went across to the water tanks on the other side and washed ourselves as well as our clothes. We strung out washing up on a line behind our tents and went to explore upstream. The only thing of any note along the river bed was a huge river level recorder set way up on the
bank. We climbed up to it and circled back to our camp where we spent the afternoon reading and just generally lazing around in whatever shade was available.
Late in the afternoon we heard voices from over the river and wandered over to see who it was. It was the three heavyweights. They looked exhausted and I bet they were. Carrying those huge packs up and over Rocky Saddle in the heat would have just about done me in. But they were young and healthy and still smiling. We chatted for a while as they cooked up a huge dinner.
At about six o’clock with dusk well and truly set in Simon rolled up in his Pajero with one of his colleagues, Aaron, who decided that doing a one hundred kilometre pizza run and a night out on the Larapinta sounded pretty sweet. After introductions we sat back in some chairs Simon brought and enjoyed our much anticipated pizzas and beer. It was delicious. However, it soon grew cold and, as much as we would have liked to sit around drinking beer, it just wasn’t comfortable. Aaron pitched his tent, Simon just threw his swag down next to the Pajero and we retired to our much loved tarp tents.
Did I mention that we owe Simon big time?

Day 11. Wednesday, 16th July 2008. Birthday Waterhole to Standley Chasm

Well, we had our rest day and it was now time to do the big one. It’s only seventeen kilometres to Standley Chasm from Birthday Waterhole but there’s this little thing called Brinkley Bluff in the way which has, at times, an almost vertical six hundred metre climb from Stuarts Pass. Happy, happy, joy, joy. Not!
Let me tell you, cold Hawaiian pizza for breakfast is certainly one of life’s treats. After licking the oil off the pizza boxes we set about restocking our rations for the remaining five days. (We didn’t really lick the oil off but we felt like it as the pizza really tasted that good.) Simon and Aaron had to get back to work so we were breakfasted, rationed, packed and were on the track by eight.
The first part of the track followed a very sandy river bed before leaving it and heading for Mint Bush Spring. Mint Bush Spring is one of the only sources of water for animals around. Unfortunately the water is very brackish and there is a lot of dung trampled in to the ground around it. A very dead scrub cow was decomposing quite happily near the spring so we passed on tasting the water and continued on.
Over a slight ridge and we were back in the river valley and heading for Stuarts Pass. There were brumby tracks in the sandy soil of the track and after a while we caught a glimpse of three brumbies up ahead. They must have got wind of us before we saw them as they were already trotting away before we could get our cameras out. The next two kilometres to Stuarts Pass were spent moving as silently as we could through the scrub hoping to catch up to the brumbies and get some shots but we never saw them again.
As we reached Stuarts Pass, we met a party of four who had spent the night on Brinkley Bluff. They mentioned that the night was very cold up there and the campsites were very exposed. We started the long climb up. The first three hundred metres of the climb was over two kilometres to a saddle before dropping a hundred metres to Rocky Cleft. It wasn’t bad at all. However, the last three hundred metre gain in altitude to the summit was only over one kilometre and it was very steep but, again, it was only a matter of putting one foot in front of the other over and over again. The track zigged and zagged all the way up and at the end of each zig or zag was a short vertical climb up on to the next section of the track. I tend to switch off during these climbs and only concentrate on
where my foot is going next so it was a bit of a surprise when the track levelled out and we breasted the last rise to the cairn on the summit. Needless to say we were again very pleased with ourselves.
Nine days on the track had conditioned us physically and our mental preparation came from all the experience we had of climbing big mountains in the past. And it’s the mental preparation which makes the climbs easy. Once you accept that it’s going to be a long hard slog you just get on with it.

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The views from the summit were absolutely spectacular. (Ho-hum, more spectacular. When will this torture ever cease?) We dutifully signed the visitors’ book and settled back to take it all in and enjoy lunch.
The decision to walk from west to east had been full of doubts as most guides are for walking from east to west but there have been several times along our route when we were really glad we were heading east. The first was climbing Mt Sonder. Knowing we had already done the highest peak was a real confidence booster for the rest of the trail. The climb down from Hilltop Lookout on the second day was also something we were glad we didn’t climb up as was the climb down to Waterfall Gorge. Now we had another reason to be glad we were heading east. From the summit of Brinkley Bluff the Larapinta follows the very narrow and rocky ridge of the Chewings Range gradually downhill to Reveal Saddle, four kilometres away. It was very hot, very hard on our feet and very hard going as we criss-crossed the ridge line at least a dozen times. Oh, and bear this in
mind, we were going downhill. We passed a couple climbing up with big packs. They didn’t look at all happy and they didn’t even acknowledge our hellos as we passed. They were definitely not having fun.
From Reveal Saddle it’s a long six kilometre descent to Standley Chasm and we were very tired by this stage but Standley Chasm has a kiosk. The promise of a banana paddle pop once more motivated us on. Somehow, just before the bitumen Niv and I got separated when Niv stopped to change the batteries in his camera. I waited around for a while sitting on a wooden sign which pointed to a nature walk. After about thirty minutes I headed for Standley Chasm. The area is owned and run by an aboriginal trust and it closes at five o’clock. It was just on four thirty when I reached the bitumen road heading up to the car park and the kiosk, five hundred metres away. Quite a few cars and 4WDs were heading down as I walked in to the car park. When I arrived, Niv came out of the kiosk and said that he had already paid for our entry and camping fees. There was already a tent set up in the grass picnic area. Wait a minute! Grass? Yep, grass.
It was luxury. OK there wasn’t a lot of it but there was more than enough for us to set up our tents on. We set up and headed back to the kiosk where two very efficient girls were packing up for the night. I know it’s a real pain to have customers coming in two minutes before closing so we were really apologetic about turning up when we did. They didn’t seem fazed at all and very happily sold us banana paddle pops, cokes and a sausage roll each at half price because she said they would be thrown out anyway. The kiosk area had the kiosk, a gift shop with post cards, akubras and didgeridoos and a large verandah with tables, chairs and a large open fire burning. We retired to a table right next to the roaring fire and enjoyed our bounty. The pangs of banana paddle pop withdrawal eased and we relaxed.
While we were there we perused the blackboard menu and seriously thought about having fish and chips for breakfast but we didn’t know what time they would be opening and we wanted to get going early to check out the chasm itself. The picnic area had wood BBQs with the wood supplied so we got a fire going while we cooked our dinner. We sat at a picnic table near our tents and chatted until it got dark. Just before bed, I wandered over to the very garish toilet block and had a really good wash. It felt so good to slip in to my sleeping bag being clean. (ish.)

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Day 12. Thursday, 17th July 2008. Standley Chasm to Mulga Camp

We were up early, breakfasted and packed long before the kiosk opened. We headed up in to the chasm and dropped our packs at the Larapinta Trail track junction before setting off to explore the chasm. It was narrow, huge and went a long way. After an hour’s exploration we returned to our packs and started the long two kilometre haul up to Gastrolobium Saddle. There were stone stairs for the initial climb before we dropped slightly down to Angkale Junction which we discovered could be reached via a tight squeeze out of Standley Chasm. If we had carried our packs through the chasm we could have avoided the long climb. There was a large sign on a log which read, “Alice
Springs – 60 km. From this point the Larapinta Trail is intended for experienced and prepared walkers only. If you are a casual walker visiting Standley Chasm TURN BACK NOW!”
We continue to climb up to Gastrolobium Saddle without the stairs and soon reached the top. Gastrolobium is a very poisonous plant which grows there after fires apparently. It was four kilometres from there down Cycad Creek to Millers Flat and it was very rough going. The trail was well signposted but the track left a lot to be desired. It was narrow between high walls. At one point we had to climb down five metres via a dry waterfall as this was the only way to go. Cycad Creek certainly lived up to its name with the big ferns growing everywhere. About one kilometre before Millers Flat we came to a spring. It was very brackish and uninviting. Millers Flat was a bit of a nice change from the hard going of Cycad Creek. For a start, it was flat. Funny ‘bout that. Anyway, it was also very open and had some shade which we happily made use of for morning tea. We decided to push on to Mulga Camp that night as the Alice Springs markets were on the upcoming Sunday and we felt like we had the chance to make Alice by Saturday.
From Millers Flat there are two routes, the high route which would take an extra hour and a half or the alternative low route as it is known in the guides. They both came out at a place called Tangentyere Junction about four kilometres away with or without the four hundred metre climb. Not much of a decision there if we wanted to push on to Mulga for the night. The low route followed the now wide but plaited bed of Cycad Creek. It was fairly easy going and we soon reached the junction.
Three kilometres later we reached Fish Hole. It is a beautiful spot and very sacred. It was full of water but unfortunately surrounded by churned up sand and several hundred cubic metres of dung.

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This is the only water source for the brumbies and scrub cattle between the little soak at Millers Flat and Spring Gap, eight kilometres away. Camping is prohibited anywhere near the water hole and the only permissible route to Jay Creek camp is to follow the bed of Jay Creek itself. Another no brainer as the surrounding terrain was very steep with thick scrub. The one kilometre stroll to the Jay Creek Hilton and lunch was fairly easy but the heat had once more set in for the day. That and the light reflected harshly off the white sand of Jay Creek.
The Jay Creek Hilton is an exact replica of the one back at Finke River. We made full use of the facilities and I started by pouring two litres of water over myself and then drinking another two litres. A bit of a dehydration headache had begun to set in along Jay Creek but all that water sorted it out. Lunch was a very leisurely affair spread out on the sleeping platforms.
We finished and set out once more in the heat to walk the six relatively flat kilometres to Spring Gap. Not long after Jay Creek I switched off and just enjoyed the walk. I reached Spring Gap far ahead of Niv. It too was a lovely waterhole but again there was the churned up sand and dung. A dingo skeleton added to the ambience. I only gave it a cursory glance as I passed it.
I switched off again which was a big mistake as it led to what could have been the end of the walk or even the end of me. The Larapinta had lulled me in to a real nonchalance about any dangers and it decided to remind me just where I was in a big way. I walked up a small crest and there, not five metres away, was the most dangerous thing I have ever encountered on a bushwalk. It was a full grown scrub bull. It was huge, muscularly, had about a one metre spread of horns and it was staring right at me. I was at a total loss as to what to do. I quickly scanned around for a suitable tree but they were all stunted sapling size scrubby things. I thought about doing a Harold but I knew there was no way I would get more than a metre before it was on me. I undid my waist belt and sternum strap in preparation for a fling and flight which I also knew I didn’t have a hope in winning. I was just hoping my pack would keep it occupied long enough for me to think of something else.
Anything else really!
We just stood there staring at each other for about two minutes. I calmed down a bit and, for some reason, I got my camera out and took a quick snapshot. It snorted at me and some ping of lunacy made me raise my trek poles above my head, whistle and go, “Yar! Yar!”, á la Rawhide. It stared at me in a rather dumbfounded way and I thought that I had just made a really big mistake but it just turned and started trotting off along the trail in the direction I had to go. After my heartbeat and blood pressure had dropped to
about marathon rates, I cautiously followed along but I kept my straps unbuckled. I caught a glimpse of it way ahead in the scrub off the trail just before the trail crossed the small stream bed of Rocky Creek and headed up to the ridge above Mulga Camp. I later learnt that I was extremely lucky. It was obviously not part of a herd as there can only be one bull. If there had been any cows around that would have meant they were his and, as a way of protecting them, I would have been turned in to mince pretty pronto.

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The short climb up to the ridge line was like walking through a park. There was no ground cover and all the trees were white cypresses scattered about. At the ridge line the trail crossed a management track and headed down to Mulga Camp. There were great views of Arenge Bluff from there and when Niv came through he got some spectacular shots of the full moon rising over it. Mulga Camp was set amongst a stand of large mulga trees which had some very welcome shade. It has a toilet, water tanks, picnic tables and a definite park feel to it. I set up my tent on a nice flat site and got a cuppa on while waiting for Niv. He wasn’t far behind. I told him about the bull and he said he had
heard the yelling back at Spring Gap when he stopped to take a photo of the dingo. As you do.
It had been another long day at just under twenty five kilometres and much harder than we anticipated with the long, difficult haul down Cycad Creek and the hot trudge through sand to Jay Creek so we spent what was left of the day just sitting in the shade and enjoying the water. Just on dusk as we were cooking dinner a young couple came in to camp from the east with very sensible sized packs. They were planning on walking the entire trail and were scheduled to be in Standley Chasm the next evening as a whole bunch of their friends were turning up on Saturday morning for a breakfast birthday party. We advised on an early start as the trail ahead for them was pretty tough.
They thanked us for the advice and got on with setting up their camp and having dinner.
By the time we had cleaned up twilight had gone and the full moon had lit everything up as if it was day light. It was brilliant. My quota of satellites and shooting stars was not going to be filled that night so I thankfully just turned in and fell asleep almost at once. I awoke once during the night and thought it was day due to the brightness of the moon shining through the tent but I checked the time and instantly fell back asleep.

Day 13. Friday, 18th July 2008. Mulga Camp to Wallaby Gap

The young couple told us not to miss Bond Gap as it was extremely lovely so after breakfast we packed and headed off after wishing them well. Six rather easy kilometres later we were contouring around Arenge Bluff and soon reached Bond Gap. All the big climbs were behind us now and we had started the relatively flat and easy stretch along the ridge lines of the Chewings Range and the Rungutjira and Euro Ridges to Alice. That and eleven day’s conditioning meant we were really moving fast.
Bond Gap was beautiful with lots of water, green grass and water reeds growing everywhere. It was obviously well patronised by the native animals but there was no sign of neither brumbies nor scrub bulls. We took some photos and started the flat and easy eight kilometre trek to Simpsons Gap.
About two hours later, just before the Standley Chasm bushwalkers’ campsite, a ranger was taking readings from an optical walkers’ meter. I had seen one just up from Rocky Creek the previous day but wasn’t in the right frame of mind to register what it was. I complemented him on the standard of the Larapinta and what a great walk it is. He told me they were all pretty proud of it. And with good reason I might add.
It was hot and the air full of diesel fumes when we arrived at the car park. We lunched in the shade of the Larapinta registration shelter and filled our water bottles. Quite a few people ride up here on mountain bikes from Alice as it is only seventeen kilometres down the road. We briefly toyed with the idea of just walking down to Ali and Simon’s but it was only a fleeting muse. We had a trail to finish.
I texted Simon and asked us if he was happy to pick us up the following day instead of the Sunday as we had planned. I didn’t get a reply until that evening as he doesn’t have any mobile coverage at Pine Gap. Can you believe that? The most sophisticated communications facility in the southern hemisphere doesn’t have mobile coverage.
Anyway, we left our packs at the shelter and headed in to the gap to check it out. I must admit it is pretty awesome. It has to be the biggest gap. Huge cliffs rose up either side and it’s along way through to the other side. We seemed to be the only ones there as we walked past the “No Swimming” sign near the drop down to the sandy bed of the gap. That all changed about fifteen minutes later when we were at the waterhole at the northern end. About a dozen tour busses must have pulled in after we started in as suddenly hordes of camera wielding tourists poured in behind us and started setting up tripods and arranging group shots. We beat a hasty retreat.

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Wallaby Gap is only ten kilometres via Hat Hill and the eastern section of Rungutjira Ridge. It was a fairly easy climb up Hat Hill as the trail circled right around it and climbed gradually from the south instead of going straight up to the saddle via the north side. As we contoured along the southern cliffs of the ridge a large group of aboriginal children with some adults were walking to Simpsons Gap from the east. They were spread out for about two kilometres. The adults were all young youth workers. I chatted briefly to one of them and discovered that all the children were from settlements throughout the territory. They were spending their winter holidays at Hamilton Downs Youth Camp which is north-west of Jay Creek off the Tanami Road.
We dropped down off the ridge way and had a very easy six kilometre stroll through the desert to Wallaby Gap. There were bloodwoods and ironwoods as well as mulga scattered throughout the plain. We bypassed Fairy Spring and Scorpion Pool as we had been told they were dry and we soon reached Wallaby Gap camp. It had a nice shelter, a gas stove, a water tank, a toilet and picnic platforms. This was to be our final camp site on the trail.
Unfortunately, it was also a disgusting pig sty. There were shopping bags, half eaten rolls, cakes, orange peel and half eaten oranges and glad wrapping lying everywhere. The group we had passed had obviously lunched there and just thrown what they didn’t want where ever. I even found about two dollars in change under one of the platforms as we set about cleaning it up as best we could.
However, there was no way we could have carried all that rubbish out so we left it in bags next to the toilet. It was rather disheartening and, although I wasn’t angry, I certainly lost any sympathy for the children. How they could leave such a beautiful place in such a mess is beyond me. And the adults had obviously done nothing about it. “Leave nothing but footprints, take nothing but photos and kill nothing but time” has always been the bushwalkers’ philosophy so this was close to sacrilege to me.
Wallaby Gap camp looked a whole lot better and we decided not to let the incident put a damper on our last night on the trail. It really is a beautiful place so after setting up our tents, we just sat on one of the platforms drinking tea and enjoyed a magnificent sunset. We decided to forgo exploring the gap until the following morning and set about preparing dinner.
Another huge bonus now revealed itself. As the sunset lit up the west, a full moon rose in the east bathing the dusk in a very surreal light. It was a great way to spend our last evening out.
Just after dusk we heard voices coming down the trail from the east. They were a group of four girls who were hiking the Larapinta as their end of high school treat. They had started at Alice Springs Telegraph Station that morning. They didn’t bother putting up tents but just laid a tarp on the ground and their bags on top.
Needless to say, headlamps were totally unnecessary in our tents that night. The full moon was so bright.

Day 14. Saturday, 19th July 2008. Wallaby Gap to Alice Springs Telegraph Station

It was still shining brightly when we got up. Dawn was lighting up the sky as we sat on a small knoll above the camp with our cameras waiting to get a shot of the full moon setting as the sunrise lit up the ranges. We weren’t disappointed. It was probably one of the most spectacular sunrises I have ever seen.
Packed and breakfasted, we wandered down to Wallaby Gap and then back to start the last thirteen kilometres to Alice Springs Telegraph Station. The first part of the trail involved a short one kilometre pinch up to Euro Ridge. Oh, by the way, the ridge is named after the wallaby like marsupials which inhabit the area and not after the continental currency so we spent the next three kilometres trying to spot them and not to fall off the crest of the ridge line which the track followed a bit too closely sometimes. It was a fair drop down to the valley floor below, about two hundred metres actually. Alice could easily be seen in the distance and I texted Simon with an ETA of noon.
He said they’d be there.
We soon dropped down off the ridge and the trail undulated for the next three kilometres through the desert plain until we reached the Alice Springs to Darwin rail line on top of a small saddle. It was hot again and the tracks shone like twin mirrors. Declining the invite to put my ear to one of the tracks to listen for a train we settled for taking shots of each other beside the “LOOK FOR TRAINS” sign.
Two kilometres later we crested a small rise and there was the Stuart Highway crossing over a ravine cut by the Charles River via the Geoff Moss Bridge. Geoff Moss’s claim to fame is that he’s the father of Ian Moss, Cold Chisel’s lead guitarist. Seriously! Oh, and apparently he was also the Northern Territory’s minister for public works. Thundering down the highway heading for Alice was a magnificent three-trailer, cattle, road-train. It made an incredible site crossing the bridge. As a matter of fact it almost stretched the length of the bridge. I marvelled at the sight before kicking myself I hadn’t got my camera out to capture it.
We crossed under the bridge and wandered along a section of the old highway before cutting through the scrub again to meet up with the Adelaide to Darwin telegraph line. Surprisingly most of the metal poles and the wire are still there. Even more surprisingly was the fact that most of the ceramic insulators hadn’t been shot off. We were about five hundred metres before the cemetery at the telegraph station when my phone rang. It was Simon and we were running late so we picked up the pace.
We soon reached the cemetery and stopped to read the headstones protected behind a stone wall topped with glass. One of the headstones had a rather eerie inscription:
SHOULD THE STURDY STATION CHILDREN PULL
THE BUSH FLOWERS ON MY GRAVE
I MAY CHANCE TO HEAR THEM ROMPING OVERHEAD.
Now, I don’t know about you but I bet there were a few sleepless nights after some telegraphist’s children were out gathering wild flowers for their mothers when they stopped by chance to read the inscription after their mothers called them in for supper.
One hundred metres on, Simon and Ali formed a guard of honour on each side of the track and did a Mexican wave as we officially finished, what was to me, the best walk I have ever done.
Guess what? Alice Springs Telegraph Station has a kiosk and, guess what? They didn’t have any banana paddle pops so we had to settle for rainbow ones which taste like banana anyway.

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