The Return Of The Red Dust

And the flies, oh my god the flies...

As neither of us are sure we'll be coming down this way again, we thought we'd better see Ayers Rock before we left Australia. Back in September, we had toyed with the idea of driving up to the Red Centre in the van, from the Nullarbor highway between Perth and Adelaide. But at that time, having spent over two months covered in dust, the cities of the south east were far more appealing than yet more desert and deserted highways.

So an organised trip from Sydney it was to be, and we'd had one particular tour (Wayoutback, in case you're going) recommended to us by several very reliable sources. This one involves three days exploring Ayers Rock (or should I say Uluru, to be politically correct), the Olgas (Kata Tjuta) and Kings Canyon (erm, Watarrka or something), and what makes this tour different, sleeping under the stars in swag bags having eaten around a camp fire. We knew from experience of outback Australia that even if, like me, you're not that interested in the constellations, the sheer number of stars in the night sky can't help but leave an impression.

Unfortunately, stupidly you might say, I sprained my ankle three days before going on the trip. I was starting to think that wave sports (surfing, bodyboarding) were not for me anyway. So I thought I'd try skimming, which you see lots of kids in Australia doing. It involves running along in the millimetre or so of water left when a wave pulls back from the beach, throwing down a thin wooden board, and jumping on it, sliding impressively far in a surfing stance. However I tried this with my 30-year-old, currently very well-fed frame and a thick foam bodyboard. It didn't work; my foot got stuck in the sand, and I went over on my ankle. Good thing it was in millimetre-deep water.

Still, it wasn't too bad - with some decent strapping and my hiking boots I was confident I could get round short walks. Luckily on the first day, around Uluru, there was the choice of a 4km and an 8km walk. And by the end of the third day it was pretty sore but I hadn't made it any worse, so I guess I was lucky.

Obligatory shot of Uluru. It definitely looks better from a bit of a distance, and with the sun on it. It was a bit cloudy at sunset so we didn't see it go bright red. Ah well.

As always Faye was impeccably prepared. The fly nets may have looked stupid but these flies are evil. They target every crevice on your face in crack teams of three or four at a time. Those after me had to settle for the sweat on my back. Mwa ha ha ha...

The camps were probably the best thing about the trip. This is the first chilled beer on the second night, and everyone knows how good a cold beer tastes after a day of walking in the sun.

Our guide was a pretty knowledgeable outback survival type, and he managed to find us this delicious witchetty grub in the roots of a (witchetty) tree. We weren't hardcore enough to try it raw...

But even so, four of us trusted the guide's claim that barbecued, they taste like nutty scrambled eggs. And boringly, he was right. It really wasn't that bad - although we each only had a pea-sized chunk.

Kings Canyon was possibly the most beautiful of the three areas we saw. Here's Faye alone in a waterhole, before loads of wrinkly Americans joined her.

The aforementioned canyon.

I'd definitely recommend Wayoutback myself - it was well-paced, the group was nicely varied (not just crusties or pisshead teenage backpackers), the guide was knowledgeable and friendly, and best of all, sleeping under the outback sky at night in just a glorified sleeping bag is superb. Ta for the tip Mum and Liz!