Into the Outback

Early on Sunday morning, we were met by our AAT Kings driver, Tim Coach (yes, that's his real name) and cook, Cameron (Cam) Holt, who helped us load all our gear into the back of our 4 wheel drive Mercedes coach (not a bus!). The trailer contains all the camping equipment, kitchen gear, and food. This is the kind of vehicle they would use for 3 week treks across the Simpson Desert, etc., so the 1 night we expected to be away from "civilisation" should be no worries at all. Surprisingly, our's was the only group that had chartered an AAT Kings vehicle for such a trip. I'm not sure if Tim or Cam really knew what they were letting themselves in for, or what kind of people would ask to camp on one particular barren, remote hillside in the middle of the South Australian desert in summer, but they were about to find out. Our first stop on the way out of Adelaide was in the pretty town of Gawler, but sadly nothing seemed to be open before 11am on a Sunday.

To their credit, the South Australian government had taken steps to prepare the locals for what was to come. However, as in so many other countries we had visited previously, the warnings about safe viewing of a solar eclipse tended to be along the lines of "Go inside, close all the curtains, and hide under your bed". Now I know from experience just how difficult it is to explain to people who have never witnessed a solar eclipse when it is safe to look with the naked eye (during totaility), and when it is not. Unfortunately, Australia has joined the ranks of the litigious society, so authorities are forced to take the overly-conservative approach. Aside from the standard warnings against using exposed film, welding goggles, etc., I was surprised to see that they were also warning against the use of commercial mylar "eclipse viewing glasses", on the grounds that they did not meet Australian standards (never mind that there are no Australian standards for such a product!). The day after the eclipse, that prestigious journal the Adelaide Advertiser reported that several eclipse watchers had resorted to using "home-made cardboard apparatus"(!), by which I presume they meant pinhole cameras, which are of course one of the safest ways to view the partial phases.

Considering that South Australia is one of the driest states in one of the world's driest countries, it's amazing they don't run out of water more often. Apparently, the secret is this tap in the town of Clare, which runs continuously, but with no obvious supply. Of course, being in the heart of the Clare Valley wine district, it could just as easily be chardonnay pouring out of there...

It took us most of the day to reach Wilpena Pound, in the Flinders Ranges National Park. Wilpena Pound is a natural amphitheatre, about 17 km long by 8 km wide. Once we had everything unloaded, Tim gave us our first lesson in how to erect the tents. First trick is to stake yourself out a spot near or under trees, as the ground there tends to be softer, and easier to drive tent pegs into. Of course, there's also an increased risk that the tree might fall on you...

Ta-da! That looked pretty easy, didn't it? Now, you try. I won't tell you how many attempts it took Mervyn and I to get our tent up, but suffice to say by the end of our 4 day's camping, we were getting pretty good at it.

Meanwhile, Cam explained the kitchen arrangements. Basically, the rule is stay out! And woe betide if you mislaid the ladle for hot water after getting yourself a cup of tea... After dinner of pork chops and pavlova, we bumped into some amateur astronomers up from Tasmania for the eclipse, who kindly offered the use of their telescope and binoculars for the benefit of the northern hemisphere folk who were ready to be blown away by the sights of the southern sky, including the globular cluster 47 Tucanae, and the Tarantula Nebula star-forming region, in the Small and Large Magellanic Clouds respectively. Unfortunately, the sight they'd all come to see, the Southern Cross, is about as low as it gets in the sky in early evening December.

Monday 2 December

Next morning was a "6 - 7 - 8", i.e. wake-up call at 6am, tents down and breakfast ready to be served by 7am, then ready to roll at 8am. We had the morning free for a spot of bushwalking, but unfortunately that wasn't enough time to climb all the way to St Mary's Peak, the highest spot in the Pound. Instead, Mervyn and I set off to tackle the Mt Ohlssen-Bagge walk up and onto the rim of the Pound. By starting early, we hoped to "beat the heat", but in fact the day was still fairly overcast and humid, with light showers. With 2 days still to go until the eclipse, I wasn't too worried at this stage about the weather, and part of me was happier to see it cloudy now, in the expectation things would be different in a couple of days. Here we are part-way up the climb, looking back down to the campground which is just outside the Pound proper.

The rocks in this region show great evidence of uplift and tilting, with all sorts of weird angles in the layers. The colours too are sublime, though not at their best without direct Sun.

It took us the best part of a 1.5 hours climbing up a rocky but well-formed track to reach the rim of the Pound, but it was well worth it. Surveying the panorama, it was hard to envision farmers trying to eke out a living from this sort of country. Ultimately they'd given up, and the land had been passed to the National Parks Commission. After a quick descent, it was time for a hard-earned ice cream and some souvenir hunting (fridge magnets - what else?).

After stopping in the town of Hawker for supplies (ice mainly), we drove on to the village of Leigh Creek. This is a purpose-built "oasis" in the desert for the thousand or so people associated with the nearby coal mine. The town itself was built here in 1980 to replace the previous settlement, which was bulldozed to get at the coal underneath it. Every day, 162 rail wagons of coal are sent from here to Port Augusta to supply one of the state's primary electricity generation plants. The Leigh Creek campground was to be our home for the next 2 nights, but much to my surprise it wasn't full at all. When someone asked Cam what was for dinner, he went off and collected this shingleback lizard. The interesting thing about this creature is that its tail look a lot like the head, meant to confuse predators. And no, Cam didn't offer to cook this one up for us! Neither Carolyn, nor Becky Williams, seem keen on getting too close.

So it was chicken for us that night ("tastes like shingleback lizard"), while Dave consults Vince on whether tomato sauce is anything like ketchup. After dinner, we sat round in a big circle for "Eclipse Reflections 1976-2001", and swapped stories of eclipses past. Meanwhile, lightning could be seen off to the northeast, and the wind began to pick up. Apparently, the same storm had blown through Ceduna earlier in the day, and blown over one of their marquees.

Tuesday 3 December

The wind blew strong that night, and it really felt a couple of times like our tent might be carried away with it! There were also a few spots of rain during the night, but remarkably Tim and Cam opted to sleep out under the stars the whole time (that's their swag to the left of my tent). Those Northern Territory blokes are tough as nails. After breakfast, we headed back into town to plunder the local Visitors Centre of any remaining eclipse brochures and eclipse fridge magnets (the only other Leigh Creek fridge magnets all feature dump trucks).

We then headed a short distance up the highway to the one-pub town of Copley. The locals sure are trusting. And they do the best quandong pies.

They did however point us in the direction of a good fossicking spot. We'd been told to look out for malachite, azurite, quartz, and native copper. Since this was an old mine tailings site, our chances were pretty good.

This was my haul. The greenish rocks are the malachite, the blue ones are azurite.

Of course, that's not a mine. THIS is a mine. This big hole in the ground is Lobe B of the Leigh Creek coalfields. People come from miles around to see it.

Or they come to see the Mother of all Dump Trucks, which can carry 240 tonnes in one load (and leap Kombi vans in a single bound).

For something a bit more down to earth, we headed a little bit south of Leigh Creek to see Aroona Dam. With temperatures now pushing 40^oC, we looked enviously upon the turtles swimming in the dam (right). Back in Leigh Creek, the Visitors Centre staff kindly checked the latest Bureau of Meteorology state forecast for us. The omens were good: fine, mostly sunny, and 26^oC in Leigh Creek for tomorrow; but partly cloudy in Ceduna. I began to think we may yet pull this off.

Although Leigh Creek lay just outside the band of totality, they held their own Eclipse Festival the night before, with food stalls, a DJ, parachute jumps at sunset, etc. There was even a Fiat Bambina Rally. As judged from the number of Porta-loos set up in the town centre, I think they were expecting a lot more visitors than just us. Still, the atmosphere was good, and everyone seemed to be looking forward to the big event with some excitement (or at least bewilderment).

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