Outback road trip with Kiki - written by Michael King (Kiki) & from an outline by Michael King & Mike Regan (I, me)
23 November - 1 December 2014
Trip Diary Notes
Kiki had wanted to get up at 5 am and leave Port Augusta at 6 am for the long drive to Alice Springs. Although we were travelling in his car & we couldn't afford to dawdle in the Outback (it being able to sneak up on you and kill you before authorities come looking for you), I tactfully rejected this notion out of hand & respectfully asked him for plan B. I am a man who needs his sleep (note the absence of the adjective 'beauty' here) & more importantly need at least one and a half hours in the morning to prepare to face the day. It is a routine that has served me well & stood me in good stead over the years & while I am used to the hustle and bustle of Sydney (actually more used to the hustle than the bustle), I won't be rushed in the morning.
I could write more on how I am the pioneer of the slow purposeful commute - whether it be by bullet train or in a traffic jam, on my way to a breakfast meeting or a conference out of town - I can put my mind into an hypnotic, almost hibernating idle, processing deep thought, not distracted from negotiating traffic and those around me, detached from the hurly burly & making my way forth in the world. As such I am the perfect person to research and expostulate on the driverless car...as I said, I could write more, but I won't.
23 November - 1 December 2014
Trip Diary Notes
Kiki had wanted to get up at 5 am and leave Port Augusta at 6 am for the long drive to Alice Springs. Although we were travelling in his car & we couldn't afford to dawdle in the Outback (it being able to sneak up on you and kill you before authorities come looking for you), I tactfully rejected this notion out of hand & respectfully asked him for plan B. I am a man who needs his sleep (note the absence of the adjective 'beauty' here) & more importantly need at least one and a half hours in the morning to prepare to face the day. It is a routine that has served me well & stood me in good stead over the years & while I am used to the hustle and bustle of Sydney (actually more used to the hustle than the bustle), I won't be rushed in the morning.
I could write more on how I am the pioneer of the slow purposeful commute - whether it be by bullet train or in a traffic jam, on my way to a breakfast meeting or a conference out of town - I can put my mind into an hypnotic, almost hibernating idle, processing deep thought, not distracted from negotiating traffic and those around me, detached from the hurly burly & making my way forth in the world. As such I am the perfect person to research and expostulate on the driverless car...as I said, I could write more, but I won't.
So we left Port Augusta at about 8 am Australian Central Daylight Savings Time, heading due north through saltbush, scrub and mulga, passing mesa and salt pan, while making the occasional crossing of railway line. Very early on on this day's long journey, I insisted that Kiki come to an almost complete stop at rail crossings. Even though their lights weren't flashing a warning red, I don't trust these intersections between the descendants the creations of George Stephenson and Karl Benz. There is absolutely no way I want to perish as the victim of a level crossing smash - the tabloids would point out how a road safety expert had been taken by a train & my reputation would be trashed forever. So it is a matter of necessity that intersections with trains are approached in a hyper vigilant way. As it happens, Kiki is even more risk averse than me, and quickly fell into my way of doing things, slowing to a dawdle as we crossed the Ghan railway.
Along the way, we paralleled the pipeline that delivers water to Woomera. As Richie Benaud, the Sir David Attenborough of cricket commentators would say, it is a marvellous piece of infrastructure providing a lifeline to those in such remote dry locations. At regular points along the pipe, there are stopcocks, which in the soft early morning light resemble raptors, perched on water carrying cylinder. Or maybe the shimmering desert air was starting to play tricks on our perceptions & we were seeing life where there were only inanimate objects.
At our first rest stop for a leg stretch, I heard Kiki starting to mutter under his breath about something that was obviously getting on his goat. Profanities spewed from his mouth - I wondered if this was some sort of delayed anger to the rescheduled departure time from Port Augusta. It turned out that Kiki had found a torn piece of paper, on official Government letterhead, partly adhered to the picnic table that mentioned how the road might be closed about 200 kms ahead due to exercises being conducted by the Defence Department.
Along the way, we paralleled the pipeline that delivers water to Woomera. As Richie Benaud, the Sir David Attenborough of cricket commentators would say, it is a marvellous piece of infrastructure providing a lifeline to those in such remote dry locations. At regular points along the pipe, there are stopcocks, which in the soft early morning light resemble raptors, perched on water carrying cylinder. Or maybe the shimmering desert air was starting to play tricks on our perceptions & we were seeing life where there were only inanimate objects.
At our first rest stop for a leg stretch, I heard Kiki starting to mutter under his breath about something that was obviously getting on his goat. Profanities spewed from his mouth - I wondered if this was some sort of delayed anger to the rescheduled departure time from Port Augusta. It turned out that Kiki had found a torn piece of paper, on official Government letterhead, partly adhered to the picnic table that mentioned how the road might be closed about 200 kms ahead due to exercises being conducted by the Defence Department.
While I am a former employee of the Department of Defence, I have not the slightest shred of residual loyalty to them, and while not white with rage at their apparent commandeering of her majesty's highway, I was dumbfounded by both how the army could close a major road for war games, thus incommoding grey nomads & others journeying to and fro, and also at the inadequate nature of the notice given to travellers like ourselves. Kiki and I were in furious agreement about our lack of happiness at the prospect of cooling our heels at Glendambo for a few hours, while our troops took pot shots at each other. However, after a chance to reflect further on the situation, we thought if it saves casualties from from friendly fire in battles on far away shores so be it.
As we pondered what to do about the possible road closure ahead, another odd thing happened. A young woman travelling alone, pulled up in her four wheel drive and approached us. She asked if we knew the way to South Hope. Kiki could not help her despite his many journeys on this road and he remarked to me later that while he was always looking for hope, he really had no idea where South Hope was. I was surprised that a lone female traveller would approach two men in the middle of nowhere for assistance, particularly as we had just started listening to an audio book about the abduction of Joanne Lees and the murder of Peter Falconio on the same highway we were travelling. Later investigation of the name 'South Hope' showed no evidence it existed in South Australia, so our advice to her that we had no idea of where it was, may have been the best guidance she was likely to receive, or on the other hand, the whole event may have been a figment of our joint imagination. The outback does strange things to the human mind.
We passed through the low bush into countryside that looked for all intents and purposes like the Martian landscape. While I haven't any personal experience of visiting the red planet I've seen shots taken from various unmanned missions & the resemblance is uncanny. You have to think that if NASA ever pulls its finger out and sets its sights on a manned mission to Mars, the treeless, grassless red rocks and soil around Woomera will figure in their planning, nodd, nodd, wink, wink, say no more.
In the middle of this faux alien terrain, we came across something mankind is unlikely to find on the red planet, a small family of emus, which consisted of one father bird and five chicks. Apparently roles are reversed in the world of emus and fathers look after their chicks, while mothers indulge in other pursuits, which may or may not include hang gliding. Four of the young emus were in rude health, but one was noticeably lame and unable to keep up with its avian siblings. We slowed and stopped to take footage and photos of this heart rending scene unfolding before us. Kiki was surprisingly moved by this 'red in tooth and claw' tableau and for a minute I thought his choked words, full of emotion were going to lead him to cry. At the time I thought I might need to have stern words with him, telling him to get a grip, but as we left this desperate scene behind, our minds quickly turned to more practical matters like whether we would be able to get a connoisseur ice cream at our next stop.
As we pondered what to do about the possible road closure ahead, another odd thing happened. A young woman travelling alone, pulled up in her four wheel drive and approached us. She asked if we knew the way to South Hope. Kiki could not help her despite his many journeys on this road and he remarked to me later that while he was always looking for hope, he really had no idea where South Hope was. I was surprised that a lone female traveller would approach two men in the middle of nowhere for assistance, particularly as we had just started listening to an audio book about the abduction of Joanne Lees and the murder of Peter Falconio on the same highway we were travelling. Later investigation of the name 'South Hope' showed no evidence it existed in South Australia, so our advice to her that we had no idea of where it was, may have been the best guidance she was likely to receive, or on the other hand, the whole event may have been a figment of our joint imagination. The outback does strange things to the human mind.
We passed through the low bush into countryside that looked for all intents and purposes like the Martian landscape. While I haven't any personal experience of visiting the red planet I've seen shots taken from various unmanned missions & the resemblance is uncanny. You have to think that if NASA ever pulls its finger out and sets its sights on a manned mission to Mars, the treeless, grassless red rocks and soil around Woomera will figure in their planning, nodd, nodd, wink, wink, say no more.
In the middle of this faux alien terrain, we came across something mankind is unlikely to find on the red planet, a small family of emus, which consisted of one father bird and five chicks. Apparently roles are reversed in the world of emus and fathers look after their chicks, while mothers indulge in other pursuits, which may or may not include hang gliding. Four of the young emus were in rude health, but one was noticeably lame and unable to keep up with its avian siblings. We slowed and stopped to take footage and photos of this heart rending scene unfolding before us. Kiki was surprisingly moved by this 'red in tooth and claw' tableau and for a minute I thought his choked words, full of emotion were going to lead him to cry. At the time I thought I might need to have stern words with him, telling him to get a grip, but as we left this desperate scene behind, our minds quickly turned to more practical matters like whether we would be able to get a connoisseur ice cream at our next stop.
Many stops were called for despite the thousand kilometres to be travelled. We stopped at beautiful salt lakes, some of which were part salt and some water, and others that were 100% salt. I went for a walk on some of the salt pans. I am still the weight I was thirty years ago so the thin crust of the crystalline sodium chloride was just able to support my weight, as it crunched and compressed under my feet. Kiki wanted to follow me, but again, in the interest of risk management, I advised him to keep his 110 kg self at the edge. It's quite ironic that when filled with salt water these lakes are very buoyant and even a man of Kiki's obesity can be supported. But when the water has gone they are a complete death trap for the overweight, either swallowing up fatties completely or trapping them, their corpulent bodies stuck in the gluey bog, leaving them easy prey for Wolf Creek types or other feral animals.
Kiki had a steak sandwich at Glendambo. As it turned out, the Defence Department had already shot off and exploded all of their shells & the road ahead was not blocked after all. Kiki was relieved & I was hopeful & happy that he might be able to enjoy some peace of mind till the next bee entered his bonnet.
Half way to Coober Pedy, we came upon the roadway widened so that it could be used as a landing strip for the flying doctor & any other planes that might land in the vicinity. As Kiki said, this is all very good if there is an accident nearby, like the Defence Department blowing someone up, but we were both at a loss to understand what would happen if someone came to grief 100 kilometres further up the road. And if a large plane had to land on the road, how would it negotiate a road train? So as with many aspects of life, there were many unanswered questions, and given this, I was pleased to be able to at least figure out the rationale for the concordance between the colour of nearby stones and rocks and the red surface of the sealed road we motored upon.
Kiki fuelled up the CX5 in Cooper Pedy, which is a town that has adapted an idea of my former neighbours, Nev and Allison Reece of building living space underground. In Coober Pedy, the houses are underground because it is very hot during a large part of the year, while underground it is a constant 23 degrees. Coincidentally, 23 degrees was the temperature Kiki preferred to run the climate control car air conditioner at. I preferred something a little warmer, given my Body Mass Index is not as large as Kiki's. The CX5 had separate climate control for each side of the vehicle, which seems an idea that can't possibly work given you can't separate the air masses in cars. So as I could not persuade Kiki to set his temperature to my preferred 24 degrees, I turned my knob up to 25 degrees and let the dual system reach some acceptable (to me) stasis.
While in Coober Pedy I had to pay 50 cents for hot water for my tea bag, which shot out of the dispensing machine, making capturing the jet of water a difficult task. In truth, I was slightly disappointed that I had to pay for hot water, especially as we had purchased petrol at an expensive price, not to mention Kiki buying a cappuccino from the same machine. Back In Cobar we had been able to persuade the woman in the coffee shop to give us the hot water for my tea bag for free, but here in the opal mining capital of South Australia, faced with a machine & not a human, providing the second necessary ingredient for a cup of tea, there was no avoiding the half dollar price on offer.
Up the road about 150 kilometres, which seemed a mere hop, step and a jump in the outback we stopped at Cadney Park, and Kiki had another steak sandwich. Whether he actually needed more junk food sustenance is a moot point, but his rate of ingestion told me clearly that at no time in the near future would he be tip toeing on any salt lakes.
Further on we stopped at the Marla roadhouse. When you traverse the vast empty spaces of Australia, it is a small tonic to find a remnant of civilisation in the middle of nowhere. However whoever wrote the sign calling Marla as an oasis would be rightly described as using real estate agent terminology.
Later we stopped at a non flushing long drop toilet, just past the Northern Territory border. We put our time pieces back an hour to Australian Central Standard Time & gingerly opened the door of the outhouse for closer inspection. Kiki confided that he sometimes has nightmares about dropping his car keys into one of these. Peering down into them, they are a dark foreboding concatenation of slowly decaying human waste & paper. While Kiki has nightmares about associations between car keys and long drops, he really is accustomed to the privations of outback privies and quite happy to use them should the need arise. Later, in what might aptly be categorised as 'too much information', he indicated to me that while the outback dunnies quote "do the job", he would prefer more feedback re. the results of his toilet visits.
I drove the last hundred kilometres and as evening turned into night, almost inevitably, we saw several kangaroos on this last stretch. Authorities have little meta data let alone actual data on how many roos are killed annually on Australian roads, but the carnage and numbers involved must be truly staggering. However, as noted earlier, this supports a large amount of activity involving road kill de jour, rescuing joeys and untold amounts of panel beating.
In Erldunda we stayed at a hotel that had note on the door about not leaving the door open because of snakes entering the room. As neither of us have any tendency towards being latter day Steve Irwins, we kept the door firmly closed and locked. I even checked under the bed for vipers, with the same level of care shown earlier when I gave the outback outhouse the once over.
Kiki had a steak sandwich at Glendambo. As it turned out, the Defence Department had already shot off and exploded all of their shells & the road ahead was not blocked after all. Kiki was relieved & I was hopeful & happy that he might be able to enjoy some peace of mind till the next bee entered his bonnet.
Half way to Coober Pedy, we came upon the roadway widened so that it could be used as a landing strip for the flying doctor & any other planes that might land in the vicinity. As Kiki said, this is all very good if there is an accident nearby, like the Defence Department blowing someone up, but we were both at a loss to understand what would happen if someone came to grief 100 kilometres further up the road. And if a large plane had to land on the road, how would it negotiate a road train? So as with many aspects of life, there were many unanswered questions, and given this, I was pleased to be able to at least figure out the rationale for the concordance between the colour of nearby stones and rocks and the red surface of the sealed road we motored upon.
Kiki fuelled up the CX5 in Cooper Pedy, which is a town that has adapted an idea of my former neighbours, Nev and Allison Reece of building living space underground. In Coober Pedy, the houses are underground because it is very hot during a large part of the year, while underground it is a constant 23 degrees. Coincidentally, 23 degrees was the temperature Kiki preferred to run the climate control car air conditioner at. I preferred something a little warmer, given my Body Mass Index is not as large as Kiki's. The CX5 had separate climate control for each side of the vehicle, which seems an idea that can't possibly work given you can't separate the air masses in cars. So as I could not persuade Kiki to set his temperature to my preferred 24 degrees, I turned my knob up to 25 degrees and let the dual system reach some acceptable (to me) stasis.
While in Coober Pedy I had to pay 50 cents for hot water for my tea bag, which shot out of the dispensing machine, making capturing the jet of water a difficult task. In truth, I was slightly disappointed that I had to pay for hot water, especially as we had purchased petrol at an expensive price, not to mention Kiki buying a cappuccino from the same machine. Back In Cobar we had been able to persuade the woman in the coffee shop to give us the hot water for my tea bag for free, but here in the opal mining capital of South Australia, faced with a machine & not a human, providing the second necessary ingredient for a cup of tea, there was no avoiding the half dollar price on offer.
Up the road about 150 kilometres, which seemed a mere hop, step and a jump in the outback we stopped at Cadney Park, and Kiki had another steak sandwich. Whether he actually needed more junk food sustenance is a moot point, but his rate of ingestion told me clearly that at no time in the near future would he be tip toeing on any salt lakes.
Further on we stopped at the Marla roadhouse. When you traverse the vast empty spaces of Australia, it is a small tonic to find a remnant of civilisation in the middle of nowhere. However whoever wrote the sign calling Marla as an oasis would be rightly described as using real estate agent terminology.
Later we stopped at a non flushing long drop toilet, just past the Northern Territory border. We put our time pieces back an hour to Australian Central Standard Time & gingerly opened the door of the outhouse for closer inspection. Kiki confided that he sometimes has nightmares about dropping his car keys into one of these. Peering down into them, they are a dark foreboding concatenation of slowly decaying human waste & paper. While Kiki has nightmares about associations between car keys and long drops, he really is accustomed to the privations of outback privies and quite happy to use them should the need arise. Later, in what might aptly be categorised as 'too much information', he indicated to me that while the outback dunnies quote "do the job", he would prefer more feedback re. the results of his toilet visits.
I drove the last hundred kilometres and as evening turned into night, almost inevitably, we saw several kangaroos on this last stretch. Authorities have little meta data let alone actual data on how many roos are killed annually on Australian roads, but the carnage and numbers involved must be truly staggering. However, as noted earlier, this supports a large amount of activity involving road kill de jour, rescuing joeys and untold amounts of panel beating.
In Erldunda we stayed at a hotel that had note on the door about not leaving the door open because of snakes entering the room. As neither of us have any tendency towards being latter day Steve Irwins, we kept the door firmly closed and locked. I even checked under the bed for vipers, with the same level of care shown earlier when I gave the outback outhouse the once over.
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