Southern Crossing

The UnPlain Nullarbor

Before driving alone across the huge expanse of almost completely unpopulated land that separates Southwest WA from the Eyre Peninsula in SA, a number of people warned me about how long and boring the trip would be.

“There’s nothin’ there mate.”

“Hope you stay awake.”

“Good luck.”

“You poor bastard.”

“Better bring lots of coffee, haha,”

Etc etc etc.

Well, I’ll have you know they’re all talking out of their sinkholes. The drive is totally amazing, the area is an incredibly vast expanse of the most stunning, unique country ever.

Yeah it’s a long road, including the longest stretch of straight road in Australia - 146.6km in fact, with no curves or bends. But despite its length, the road is varied, the country changes often, sometimes subtlety, sometimes dramatically.

The actual plain itself is called the Nullarbor (Latin for “no trees),” which is vegetated mainly by saltbush and bluebush. It is the world’s largest single exposure of limestone bedrock, and occupies an area of over 200,000 square kilometres. It is also the driest karst limestone area in the world, which has resulted in minimal water erosion of the top of the plain itself, leaving the upper surface almost completely flat.

But the thing is, for so much of the whole journey you either skirt the southern edge of the plain, or travel above it, or are west or east of it. So, guess what, there’s millions and millions of trees on those bits, they’re bloody everywhere. “Crossing the Nullarbor” is not all you’re doin on that road out there baby.

The Nullarbor plain contains huge underground cave formations, some of which have many kilometres of spacious passages to explore, with huge caverns and underground lakes.

In some places the limestone top has eroded to form blowholes that connect the surface with the huge caverns below. Air passes through these passages, either into, or from, the caves, allowing them to “breathe.” The speed of the airflow depends on air pressure differences between the outside and inside, as well as the size of the cavern and the passage entrance. Air flows at some blowholes have been measured at 72km/hr. That’s one hell of a fast breath.

Caiguna blowhole.

It may just look like a little hole in the ground, but it connects to a vast network of caves below.

Major bummer alert! I accidentally dropped my car keys down there! Shit!

I had to go looking for them:

Luckily I found them. I’d just put new batteries in my torch. This is actually a Nullarbor underwater cave, btw.

When the Eyre Highway hits the actual coast, the views are an incredible sight to behold. Long pristine beaches stretch far into the distance, protected by vast dune systems that eventually lead to the rocky limestone cliffs.

Desertified telegraph station

Flat out

Eventually the beaches end, and the magnificent cliffs of the Great Australian Bight appear, iconic sentinels that define this coastline. These 90m high cliffs are, for me, one of the most enduring images of the whole of Australia’s 34,000km coastline.

Whatever took a great bite out of Australia had very sharp irregular teeth

For some reason something made me think of Malaysia out there on the plain, and in particular, the island of Penang, off the NW coast of the Malaysian peninsular. The main city of Penang, Georgetown, is an amazingly diverse old-school place, so vibrant, with a beautiful mix of Malay, Indian and Chinese culture. The street food is unbelievable, and it’s everywhere, the town hasn’t been totally trashed with new development like many towns of that ilk.

South Indians serve their thali dishes on banana leaves, you can eat as much as you want. They come around to your table with rice and curries, dahls, veg dishes, chutneys, you just ask for more, if you can possibly still eat anything after the first lot. There’s a million varieties of laksa available in the street stalls, small diners or markets, there’s Malay food, Chinese delicacies, sweets - everything your culinary heart could ever wish for, it’s the best! I can’t wait to get back there.

But don’t ask me what made me think of Penang out here.

Oh

Eventually I got to Ceduna, they were playing Glen Campbell and Barry Manilow through speakers in the park, to discourage the riff raff from congregating there. It def worked on me.

The juvenile offenders

Ceduna pier

Kimba silo art

Once I got to Port Augusta I turned left to get off the main highway, and ended up in Melrose, a beautiful historic little town in the southern Flinders Ranges. I had a beer at the Mt Remarkable Hotel, which I remember from years ago.

The publican in those days, Des Grady, was famous in the area, because whenever he spoke to you he would use the phrase “hell’s bells and cockle shells.” In every single sentence. It was pretty trippy. So this time around I asked the new publican about him, he knew Des himself, but said he died in 1992. Hell’s bells and cockle shells I was so sad to hear that, I didn’t even know he was sick.

I camped in the Showgrounds, and in the morning climbed Wangyarra (Mt Remarkable), in Nukunu country.

More gold fields

Scree shot

The remains of a small plane that crashed into Mt Remarkable in 1980 in rough weather. All 3 people died.

Extremely tired trig point

Er sorry Teddy, it’s already got a name

The summit trail is part of the 1200km long Heysen Trail, which I’ve walked bits of. I’d like to walk the whole trail one day, if my legs still work by the time I get back there

After the hike I drove towards Adelaide, through the historic town of Burra, and through the Barossa Valley, a wine producing region.

Canola fields. They were really pretty, but I would’ve loved them even more if they were cannoli fields.

Wonky Burra building

It was so incredible! This chimney hadn’t been used since 1971, but as soon as it saw me it began to smoke!

Hmmm. That looks suspiciously like cloud.

In those days people were little and their needs were modest.

Burra old copper mine site

The miners used to drink and fight here

Sleepy

The Barossa lands have been graped and pillaged

Classy Gawler stonework

Adelaide Central Markets

This place is pumping, I love it! Sensory stimulation on all levels.

I’m at the Adelaide Central Markets, it’s Saturday morning, and the place is heaving. It’s one of my favourite places in Adelaide, and Saturday mornings it totally peaks out.

Of course my infatuation with the place has nothing to do with its culinary delights. Nah. There’s foods from everywhere on the planet in here, good quality fresh delectable delicacies L R & C.

They probably need jackets, it's freezing on that ice. Oh, they're dead. Shame.

Cannoli fields

Adelaide, like all Australian cities, is a multicultural melting pot, and this place is its hearth. It’s warm, friendly, and bustling. As I wait at my little café table for my decaf almond latte and Greek kourabiedes, I realise that I’m actually sitting smack bang in the middle of a thriving global village.

A Chinese woman and her three young daughters are pigging out on dumplings right in front of me. 2 Indian women are involved in a deep conversation behind them. One looks very bored. There’s a Slavic-looking crew to my left, and a bunch of Greeks to my right.

There’s a Pole at my own table, oh, it’s me. Well, to be more accurate, I’m actually half Polish, half German, and two thirds Aussie. Some things don’t seem to add up, but make total sense.

Everyone’s eating of course, because the food’s to die for. In fact when I die I wanna come to this particular heaven, and guts myself forever, with my belly never filling up due to ethereally infinitely hollow legs.

Or I guess I could stay alive and just do what the ancient Romans used to do - when they got full they’d make themselves throw up so they could eat more. I bet their hungry slaves loved cleaning up after them. What an exemplary cultural heritage we have.

The only trauma I’ve experienced this morning is that I can’t seem to find the Polish deli and pácki stall, which is not something I’d classify as minor. It may mean that I have to wait till I get to Poland to have more of those mouthwatering donutty thingies. Tragically, Poland is a bloody long way away on 2 wheels, about 5 million pedals at least.

But the upside was that in my search for them I had to scour the whole markets, which basically meant I could choose the very best things to eat. The prize went to a delicious slice of spanakopita from a continental bakery stall, it was like eating pure bliss in spinach form.

Gold medal winners

One corner’s looking a little gentrified these days

I collected some of this from the highway. There was lots of it.

Flying fish bits

Today I rode here from my sister Ursula’s place, about 15km away, along the beautiful and scenic Torrens Linear Park, which is decidedly non-linear. It follows the meandering Torrens River all the way to the city centre, and, on a Saturday morning, is very well endowed with dog owners, joggers, cyclists, walkers, talkers, stalkers, ducks, cormorants, swooping magpies, and kookaburras sitting in old gum trees.

The track is so great to cycle on. Compared to where I’ve been riding lately it’s like floating on a hover board, the complete antithesis to those skin chafing bone jarring brain melting tracks up north. What a bloody relief.

I used to love riding on the Popeye when I was a kid. Little did I know I’d get two of my own in later life, on my face.

These guys couldn’t sync, but didn’t sink

Megamanicured

It’s so good to be in Adelaide, and to be staying with my beautiful sisters Ursula and Mish, and my amazing niece Ruby. We’ve been having loads of fun here.

Yesterday we went to the Mt Lofty Botanic Gardens, which was a rather smart idea of Ruby’s, not only because the place is so beautiful, but also because it’s springtime, it’s been a wet winter, and so the gardens are at their absolute visual and fragrant best.

Ruby brightening up the vegetation

Little big sis and big little sis

Ursula blossoming as she receives the light

I grew up in Adelaide, and lived in a tiny house with my parents and 8 siblings till I was 17.

My 3 sisters shared one bedroom.

I shared another with all of my 5 brothers.

Yeah, I know. You wouldn’t have wanted to go in there. It was definitely a physical and psychological health hazard. Maybe that’s why backpacking in noisy smelly messy crowded dorms with a bunch of friendly weirdos has always felt so natural to me.

But seriously, because my whole childhood was spent in a small house, with a million of us vying for the little we had, I was quite used to going without. I had few creature comforts, compared to all of my friends. At home we had to share everything, including our parents’ attention and guidance, so from a very early age I learnt to be independent, to sort myself out. My amazing older siblings obviously helped me a lot, but they were siblings, not parents. So these days I’m quite happy to be alone, sorting myself out. I don’t need a lot of comfort, or too many things.

It always feels good to come back to Adelaide for a visit, to keep up those family connections, to go to places I used to hang out when I was younger, and to watch the city evolve. It’s changed a lot, as have my family and friends.

We had a beautiful lunch together one afternoon, which dribbled into afternoon tea, gurgled  into dinner, and finally vomited into supper. I broke my own record for the longest amount of time grazing on delicious foods without stopping, it was about 12 hours, if I include my late morning snack attack at the markets, and the North Indian food we gorged on later in the night.

All of my surviving siblings were there, with their surviving partners, we’ve survived each other for a long time now. We all sit around and chat a lot, and try to outdo each other with our jokes. My brother Andrew always wins, he’s got the quickest brain of all of us, and is bloody hilarious.

My nephew Don agrees.

However, when it comes to super important environmental, political or social issues, Andrew and I don’t always see eye to popeye. That could have something to do with my double vision, or maybe it’s his singular one.

When we chat, many of my talking points come from the Guardian or the ABC, of course, and his sometimes sound like they’ve fallen out of the Sky News.

Andrew thinks the ABC is left-biased, and therefore shouldn’t be funded by the taxpayer. Or maybe that no media should be taxpayer funded. Fair enough, he works for the competition.

My own view is that the political right have moved so far to the right that what used to be regarded as smart, evidence-based, centrist thought is now regarded by them as radical left propaganda. And that’s not accidental, I might add, but a deliberate strategy to label and attack the messenger, and fuzz up the facts, so they can keep doin what they’re doin, even if it’s not in the best interests of the majority. And so, in my view, someone needs to balance that out.

The so called left-right divide is a completely deliberate construct these days. The culture wars and all this hoohah about political correctness is a complete and deliberate distraction from discussing policy.

Take, for example, the climate crisis. Greenies have been harping on about the problem for decades, urging governments and corporations to reduce emissions, because if they didn’t it would cause huge suffering and cost shitloads more money.

The fossil fuel companies, despite knowing the devastating impact of business-as-usual, spent hundreds of millions of dollars discrediting climate science, and Murdoch and other private media companies (unlike the ABC or the Guardian) widely reported as fact what were known to be very problematic and deliberately misleading studies. They also regularly attacked the ABC. The Libs and the Nationals, and Labor to some extent, were on board, proudly sponsored by Big Coal, Oil and Gas. And where the fuck did all that get us?

If we’d have reduced emissions decades ago we wouldn’t have to be spending tens of billions every year rebuilding after extreme weather events. We wouldn’t have to be spending so much more money madly rushing to transition to renewable energy, it could’ve been a gradual, cheaper, planned transition, with policy certainty for industry and workers.

And globally, millions of people could have avoided extreme suffering and the loss of their livelihoods. Many would have avoided death. This is not some fringe, unimportant issue. I know people who have lost everything they owned as a result of climate change-induced extreme weather events.

But despite the fact that on this critical issue the greenies were right, and the climate deniers were so obviously wrong, much of the private media still vilifies greenies as if they want to turn the country into some kind of Stalinist hell, when what they were saying was actually hugely helpful. And why is that?

As usual, just follow the money. Some green policies threaten the business models or the taxation position of the already very rich, or even the moderately rich, even though those policies are mostly in the best interests of the vast majority of the rest of us in the long term.

So of course wealthy media owners’ networks are gonna discredit greenies as radical socialists, so they don’t have to actually analyse the efficacies of their policy positions. It’s not rocket science. (Well, the greens community gardens policy uses a bit of rocket science).

I’m also very aware of the fact that I’m a complete hypocrite, in the sense that I’m talking about reducing emissions at the same times as I’m circumnavigating Australia in a little car. Driving instead of flying was deliberate, but it’s still a major conundrum for me. I do know that once I get back to the north coast I’ll try to use buses and trains for any long trips, am gonna sell my car, and will continue to fly as little as possible.

Anyway, back to Andrew, I’m definitely not aligning him with any of the views I’ve just mentioned, because I don’t actually know what his views are on many things. But the good thing is that we can agree to disagree about issues, and it won’t affect our friendship. We care about each other, even if I’m a greenie lunatic and he’s a nazi radical. He’s a warm and generous man, sometimes we just have different views about how to make this world a better place.

I’ve stayed with Mish and Ruby many times over the years, as well as with Andrew, often with my daughters, and it’s always fun. And since Mish and Ruby have moved in with Ursula, I’ve been spending more time with her too lately. Ted and Theresa are always so hospitable and generous, as is Elisabeth, the oldest sibling, our matriarch. They’re all amazingly warm and caring people.

A bunch of us hung out at Henley Beach on Sunday afternoon, it’s the closest beach to the city, and it was seriously pumping.

Chocolate shit storm

I was sad to leave Adelaide. I always feel so nurtured and cared for there. You see the thing is, I may not be back for years, because I only have a one way ticket to Asia, and there’s a million things I wanna do over there. I’ve got quite the itinerary (for an itinerant).

You really should meet my Adelaide family sometime. They’re great.

And if you think for one moment that my sense of humour’s weird, wait till you hang out with those sickos.

Mungo National Park

I’ve always wanted to visit this famous national park, situated a couple of hours north of Wentworth in NSW, near Mildura. The landscape is amazing, but that’s not really what it’s most famous for.

The park, in Paakantji, Ngiyampaa and Muthi Muthi country, is so well-known because it contains the oldest known human remains in Australia, known as “Mungo Man and Mungo Lady,” who were buried close to each other around 42,000 years ago. They are the planet’s oldest known cases of ritual burials, and represent the early emergence of human spiritual beliefs on earth.

The area contains some of the earliest evidence of Homo sapiens sapiens outside of Africa, and provides evidence of up to 65,000 years of continuous human occupation. That’s one helluva lineage, if you ask me.

To get there I drove through the riverland region of SA, a major citrus and grape producing region. As usual, when I got to the fruit quarantine checkpoint I got stuck eating about 60 pieces of fruit at once, as I couldn’t bring myself to ditch them. It’s happened to me so many times on this trip, you’d think I’d’ve learnt that one by now.

The Murray near Waikerie

The Murray River is Australia’s longest, stretching for 2500 km, from its source in the NSW high country all the way down to its mouth at Goolwa in SA. It’s connected to the massive Darling River system, and the two rivers meet at Wentworth. Water flows here all the way from the southern Queensland rainy season, from massive cyclone dumps to localised flooding anywhere along the way. And right now the river levels are super high, and on their way up. There’s been so much rain in the past few weeks.

I overheard two local guys at the supermarket discussing how high the water is on their respective properties. It didn’t sound good, as they were evaluating various evacuation strategies.

Generally people around these parts get a few days or even a week or two to plan these things, as the water travels from so far away, and they get an idea of when it’s gonna flood. But lately the rain’s been coming hard and fast, and it’s local, and there’s little time to prepare.

The Willandra Lakes system, which Mungo National Park is a part of, is a massive expanse of relic lakes and floodplains, that hasn’t existed as a lake ecosystem for around 18,500 years.

The sandy and clay plains provide a perfect environment for fossils, including those of very large mammals, such as these:

After my first afternoon and night there I woke at sunrise, to the sound of rain on my tent. Shit. That’s really great for the land, but not great for me, as I got to the park on roads like this:

I saw hundreds of wild goats, correction, thousands

I had no option but to cut my losses and skedaddle out of there asap, or I’d get stuck for days. The forecast was for heavy rain today, and as I raced along the sandy tracks to get out it began to rain more heavily. I made it to the bitumen, and the rain has been following me for most of the day. Flooding is forecast. Again.

It was a bummer because I didn’t spend as long in the park as I wanted to, but I was happy to at least see the place at last. It’s beautiful.

Broken Heel

Broken Hill is a large town way out on the western edge of NSW, and hundreds of km from any other decent sized town. It’s a mining town, and, like Kalgoorlie and many other large Australian mining towns, the town was built around the mine, not the other way round. So, the defining feature of the town centre is a huge grey ugly mined hill very close to the main street.

But way more interesting than that is that these days the town has re-invented itself as an arts haven, especially with its extravagant Broken Heel Festival, an amazing dragfest full of showgirls, drag queens and drag kings, music, comedy, and art. Not exactly what you’d expect in a macho redneck testosterozone like Broken Hill.

Strapped up and stilettoed

Priscilla finery

BHP have erected a sort of mining memorial up there on the slag heap, commemorating all the great things they’ve done in the town, and the more than 800 workers who’ve died and the thousands who’ve been temporarily or permanently injured at their silver, zinc and lead mines since they first opened. That wasn’t a typo. 800 deaths!! The last death was in 2007.

Actually many of the deaths occurred in the pre-union early years, when the conditions were intolerable. Miner safety was considered their own personal responsibility, and the company abdicated its own role in this area.

Many deaths were the result of lead poisoning and miners’ psthisis, which is a respiratory disease caused by breathing in dust and toxic fumes. Nothing was ever done about it because no one knew how to pronounce the word. The unions’ successful fights for better working conditions eventually reduced the number of deaths and injury, but only very gradually.

Broken (families) Hill

Randy Redneck

This trip I only stopped in the town long enough to have a bit of a rest from driving, and to get a slice of stale cake and a hot drink, but it’s a super interesting place, as is its historic neighbour Silverton, which is where Mad Max II and Mission Impossible II were filmed.

Madmaxmobile

Silverton pub

Back to the Beginning

And so the rain chased me and chased me, and eventually caught me. I was camped near one of those rest stops, somewhere near Cobar, off in the bush on a red sandy track, and the drops began to fall late in the night. The rain didn’t stop, it got heavier and heavier, and when I woke early the next morning my tent was sitting in red mush in a mini creek.

I was pretty dry inside there though.

That is until I got up and packed up in a super messy muddy hurry.

I was really lucky to get out of there, my car would hardly move forward, and slid all over the place, I felt like I was in the Dakar Rally, Snail Division.

Back on the bitumen I raced through towns all morning, over fords and through floodplains, and over rivers that were rising all over the place. The whole region was impassable by mid afternoon, but I’d made it out by then. I’m so smart.

And then, late in the night, I finally made it back to my precious homeland, the northern NSW coast, and to the lush green saturated hills behind my dearest Mullumbimby.

Circumnavigated

I actually made it!! I went all the way around Australia!!

What can I say?

You gotta do it someday!

This land is absolutely unbelievably amazing. It’s so huge, so vast, there are so many incredible natural wonders, people, cultures, towns. I’ve only just scratched the surface, and my appetite has been completely whetted, as has all of my stuff after all that bloody rain.

The roads are so long, so varied, so desolate, unpopulated, teeming with wildlife in many parts, and totally degraded and barren in others. I can still see and feel them, vividly.

I’ve had beautiful and enlightening encounters with so many amazing people. I’ve learnt loads from them. I’ve made new friends, strangers have confided in me, revealed their deepest secrets, troubles and sorrows. It’s been the deepest, most enriching experience ever.

And now I’m back where I started.

But I’m not the same.

Not the same body, soul, heart or mind.

More alive.

The Second Round

I started this blog as I was beginning the second part of my magical mystery tour of Australia, which saw me slip up the east coast to far North Queensland, west across to the Gulf of Carpentaria, the NT, and then to the Kimberley and Hamersley Ranges, then all the way down the west coast of WA, across the Nullarbor to Adelaide, and back across to northern NSW.

But I really really wanna tell you guys about the first part of the magical mystery tour as well, Round 1, because it was so bloody amazing, and so much happened!

So next up on this blogfest we’ll be heading south, to Melbourne, to Tassie, WOMAD, and then up to the magnificent red centre, the powerful pulsating heartsoul of this land.

Wonders actually never cease. It’s a known fact❤️