"The Track” is what the Stuart Hwy is called: a 3,000 km highway from Darwin to Adelaide. On Thursday I’d be setting out from Chris’ home headed south. He dropped me at the traffic light with all my gear and I wasn’t sure how far I’d make it. It’s really disheartening that I don’t have any sort of camera. My aim was to get south as quickly as possible since I’ve had enough of the heat. My first lift would be by a local going to Noonamah, or “Noonie” to locals. Today I opted to set out in the late afternoon so I wouldn’t be so hot. A short bit down the track I was picked up by a man headed about 10 km down the road. Making sure I’m well stocked on water I took the lift. At all times I’m sure to carry at least three litres of water. Later on I’ll share what makes hitchhiking in Australia different to hitchhiking in New Zealand. Two more lifts would get me to Katherine but I wouldn’t get there until late evening. Sitting down for a feed I got some fish & chips. As usual I was given too many chips so I gave the rest to some Indigenous locals. Katherine is very dodgy at night as I would later find out. I hoped I’d get further but from end to end Katherine is a very sizeable town. Road trains often won’t stop once they’re on the road and many people won’t drive at night due to kangaroos and other animals. At the south end of town I walked down a road. I learned the hard way last week about pitching my tent too close to the road. There was shouting and a commotion going on, and then I could hear a girl crying as she walked past me. She yelled out “what do you care, why don’t you go back to your flat?” when I asked if she was OK. At first I thought there was some type of party or gathering but two guys were clearly fighting. A girl in an SUV pulled up and said “I wouldn’t go up that way, there’s trouble brewing and I’m calling the police.” She said I should pitch my tent off the road a bit. As I went into a clearing I could hear the shouting getting louder and these guys yelling “I’m gonna get you, you mother fucker.” Scared for my life I ran, tripping over my own feet in the process. The same girl in the SUV yelled out “get in the car.” Quickly I grabbed my small backpack and dove into the car. I assumed my tent was being ripped up and my phone was gone. She said it was a bad idea to pitch my tent out here but she offered for me to pitch my tent on their property. Only later did I realize that it was my first time staying with an Indigenous Australian family. The police came and took a statement, and it turned out one guy was chasing the other and trying to stop him from hurting me. The Indigenous, even though they drink a lot, are typically nonaggressive as long as you stay out of their business. With the culprit locked up for the night I pitched my tent and was offered to have a rum and coke with them. An older lady named Carol pours tequila straight into a large glass and fills it half full. Strewn around the property are alcohol bottles, beer cans, Coke bottles, and dirty nappies. Samantha and her partner offered me a room with air-conditioning whilst they slept in their lounge.
The next morning I’d be off on the next leg of this long journey. I had a cuppa and a shower. The guy who ran after me last night was released from jail this morning and he had no recollection of attempting to hit me. Fresh and clean I thanked everyone for their hospitality and I walked off with my heavy gear into the scorching Australian sun. There would be little cloud cover today so I had to carry loads of water and take advantage of shade whenever possible. Foolishly I didn’t get on the road until 11 AM; last night I stayed up very late as well. A local in a ute would drop me at a truck weighing station up the road a bit. The sun was harsh so I slopped on the sunscreen. “Slip, slop, slap” is a popular saying in Australia. Slip on a shirt, slop on the sunscreen, and slap on a hat to avoid sunburn and skin cancer. The only hat I have is falling apart but courtesy of Chris I have some sunnies (sunglasses). It was already afternoon and I’d made almost no progress. A truckie named George would pick me up. He had a shaved head, a scruffy beard, and was a very heavy smoker. As I watched the red Outback pass me by he would drop me in Mataranka, 100 km south of Katherine. There are scores of Indigenous Australians and I was warned that Mataranka isn’t the place to be on Friday once the sun sets. I got some chips and had my water bottles filled up and waited patiently. Hopeful that I’d get out of Mataranka, I chatted to a young couple who were driving to Alice Springs but their car was small and too full. Tap water in the area isn’t drinkable due to high lime content. From there my fortunes changed a bit. A lady towing a caravan turned around and asked where I was going. She said “I’m driving to Brisbane, I can drop you at 3-Ways.” Her name is Jo-Anne and she’s nearly 60 and she’s travelling with her two small dogs. Picking me up would prove invaluable to her later. Jo-Anne (Jo) is a retired courier worker and she’s travelled a fair bit, candidly talking about her time in New Orleans and various other places. She has no children; her dogs are her children (in her words). It turned out that Jo lives near Melbourne and she drove all the way to Darwin to pick up the caravan for her sister. It was after 5 PM when Jo picked me up so she said “you can either camp in the caravan or you can carry on and attempt to get further” and I thought I’d just call it an early night tonight and camp with her. She offered to make me something to eat as well. From there it was directly south. Since Jo is towing the caravan she can’t go faster than 100 km. We eventually made camp at the Charles Todd Memorial, about 90 km north of Elliott. Todd was a meteorologist who conceived the idea of a transcontinental telegraph line between Darwin and Adelaide. The line is now long gone but two of the original poles stand at the memorial. The Todd River, which runs through the Alice is named after him and for you really observant readers, I stayed at a backpackers named Toddy’s back in 2007. Tonight is where my help would prove handy. First and foremost there are several large jerry cans of petrol in the campervan and I’d use my muscle to help fill the tank. Without it, Jo wouldn’t have enough petrol to reach Elliott. Petrol up close absolutely stinks; I don’t know how the Indigenous Australians (or anyone else) could sniff it! Jo has a generator and an air conditioner, so we could keep cool whilst she cooked and I showed off photos from Japan and Norfolk Island. She had left the door open with the lantern on inadvertently so we were playing kung fu with the bugs. Jo cooked up a mixture of rice, chicken and other stuff and it came out really tasty; although I don’t know if I felt that way simply because I was hungry. A few glasses of red wine would wash it down and add to the chatter. Even with the air conditioning it was very hot inside the caravan, though outside I’d gaze heavenly at the night sky. Starry nights in the Outback are simply unforgettable. Other than the odd road train roaring by it was a rather peaceful night in the middle of the Outback.
Day three of my Stuart Hwy journey! Jo and I both didn’t get much sleep last night. She wanted to set out at 5:30 AM but neither of us got moving until nearly 8 AM. Jo asked if I’d like some toast, in which I have some topped with avocado and peanut butter. There was a bit of work to do before we set out. We had to first pull the air conditioner and generator inside the caravan and then put all the jerry cans inside. We stopped for petrol in the town of Elliott. There I noticed a sign that should be illegal. At the water tap is a sign stating “our water isn’t free, drinking water is for sale inside.” In Australia there is a law where you’re legally required to share water if you have it, and most places have a water tap outside for use even when they’re closed. Water (or lack of it) can mean the difference between life and death in these conditions. Regardless of the sign I topped up my water bottles and nobody dared say a word to me. For a short bit I took a nap as the red sand of the Outback passed us by. A few weeks ago I met a girl who cycled from Melbourne to Darwin, but why in this heat? When I told Jo about how in Japan it’s hard to get people to understand to take me as far as they’re going, she told me she felt like she’d be abandoning me at Three-Ways. If I wasn’t going to Adelaide first I’d happily make the journey with her via Brisbane. After topping up the fuel tank in Elliott we covered nearly 200 km more until Jo had to drop me at Three-Ways. “That way is Darwin, that way is Adelaide, that way is Brisbane” Jo told me, pointing to why it’s called that. It’s not a town; there’s just a roadhouse. In the Outback, roadhouses are far more than just petrol stations. Jo helped me out with $20 and gave me a hug and her phone number, telling me to call her if I need any help in Melbourne. I got some chips and then got my butt on the roadside since I wanted to take advantage of the abundant cloud cover. For more than an hour I waited until a group of guys dropped me at Tennant Creek 25 km away. Like Mataranka, Tennant Creek isn’t a place to be stuck in the dark on a Friday or Saturday evening. The BP station on the north end of town is where the road trains stop, and also where they make the tastiest beef curry pie. My stinky self even got to have a shower. Some backpackers in a van picked up me and they were driving to the Alice. For a few seconds I was thinking “cool, I’ve finally gotten a good lift.” However, there were two people up front and two on a mattress in the back, and decided it’d be a bad idea. They were going to drop me at the side of the road right there but I asked them if they could take me back to the BP station. Damn! I thought I was in luck. From there I just waited, waited, and waited some more. Other than road trains, Aussies don’t like driving at night. A truckie said he was staying the night in Tennant Creek but if he saw me the next morning he’d drive me to the Alice. I felt a bit better since I’d had a shower and something to eat but I waited several hours until a local lady drove me to the south end of town. It turned out to be a big mistake because the petrol station on that end closes at 8 PM and the BP is open 24 hours. These two guys were trying to hitchhike to Adelaide as well since they’re vehicle gave out in Elliott. I asked to ask a couple with their daughter if they could drop me back at the BP. Getting some hot water and making my own tea I was hoping I’d get a bit further but it got darker and darker, and my chances were slimmer and slimmer. Suddenly, a gorgeous lady named Debbie would pick me up. She’s a very young-looking 48 and is a nurse in an Indigenous community. She describes herself as “churchy” and played music speaking of the gospel. My feelings are still very mixed regarding all that. An hour south of Tennant Creek are the Devil’s Marbles. In the dead of darkness and late at night, Debbie would drop me at Wycliffe Well, 100 km south of Tennant Creek. Wycliffe Well brands itself as Australia’s UFO capital, though I’d later find out that it’s a gimmick. The petrol station is the only one in the Northern Territory with fully aromatic petrol, and that Indigenous locals sniff it and act like aliens (as I’ve been told). It was after midnight and I wanted to get further south but in the end I pitched my tent off the road a bit and decided to call it an evening. At the rate I’m going it could take me eight or nine days to reach Adelaide, and I only travelled about 330 km today! There’s still a long way to go. It is pitch dark, and perhaps I’ll see a UFO or two.
Whilst I didn’t see any UFO’s last night I finally made some excellent progress on the fourth day of my Outback hitchhiking adventure. Up I was at 5:30 AM and I packed everything quickly because I wanted to make a move. I was out of water so I went to the “UFO roadhouse” to top up. “Humans also welcome” is a humourous sign outside as are statues of two aliens. Wycliffe Well isn’t exactly Roswell, but close enough. Traffic was few and the sun rose slowly into the sky. I wanted a lift and I wanted a lift quickly. A man in a ute stopped. He was driving to the Alice but decided his ute was too full when he saw how much stuff I have. That’s two lifts to the Alice where I’ve almost had a lift. I told myself that if I could get to the Alice reasonably early I have a good chance of getting much further. At around 8 AM my fortunes would change. A man named Roy would pick me up. He’s originally from India and works in the various Indigenous communities. His speedometer was stock still at 160 kph so we were flying. Parts of the Stuart Hwy have no speed limit, and Roy says when he’s driving his sedan he droves at 220 kph! A nap was what I needed so I had a brief snooze before we had a short break in Ti Tree (I wondered if that’s where tea tree oil comes from but it’s pronounced like “tie tree”). I got a couple of Indigenous art postcards since I promised Melissa (a friend and fellow traveller) I’d send her one. 30 km outside of the Alice we stopped briefly at the Tropic of Capricorn. This is the furthest south the sun’s vertical rays reach. It would end up being my only photo on the Stuart Hwy. When I visited the Alice back in 2007 I thought of cycling out to the Tropic of Capricorn but it’s nearly 30 km out of town and it was very hot. In Indonesia last month I crossed the Equator for the first time but I was on an overnight bus and didn’t speak enough Bahasa to ask the driver if we could stop for a photo. Roy was picking up a worker from the airport, which is slightly south of the Alice so I didn’t have to worry about being stuck in the middle of town. The Alice is a very interesting down and I really enjoyed my time here back in 2007. Anzac Hill and the Royal Flying Doctor Service Museum are two of the highlights. I really like how it’s built all around these large rocks. Roy dropped me at the turnoff toward Adelaide. People could slow down and there’s a large tree on the corner for shade. Straight away I was picked up by a girl named Kelly. With her short hair and multitude of tattoos I thought she belonged in San Francisco. She’s originally from Tasmania and is moving to the King’s Canyon area to work at the resort. I was amazed at the number of jigsaw puzzles she’s carrying; I thought she was a teacher at first but she really enjoys puzzles and books. She would drop me at Erldunda. After two really good rides it was time to sit for a break and get some beer-battered chips and a shepherd’s pie. I had already travelled nearly double what I had gone yesterday. After eating I put some red sand in a bottle. Years ago my red sand was confiscated by customs upon returning to the US. After waiting for about 20 minutes I was picked up by a French couple who said they were driving all the way to Adelaide. As the red sand passed us by we entered South Australia about a half hour later. I only have Victoria and Tasmania to visit, and then I’ve been to every Australian state (and I shouldn’t forget the ACT as well). Visiting all six Australian states is a lot easier than visiting all 50 US states (which I’m still a long way from accomplishing). It turned out the French couple would overnight in Marla, about two hours south of the border so they dropped me there. There is a store, a restaurant, a pub, and parking for road trains. Traffic was few and far between and I glanced at some bloodwood trees to possibly pitch my tent beneath tonight. In two hours, only one car passed! That car had Sam and the Polish family, whom I met at Chris’ house. Their car was too full for me to fit in. As the sun dipped toward the horizon slowly I went back into the pub, searching around for a truckie who would possibly be heading to Adelaide. A truckie with a road train full of camels offered to drive me overnight to Port Augusta (“Port Gutter” is its colloquial name). As I feasted on some chips with a glass of Yellow Tail sauve blanc I chatted to a couple also on a journey. The man had an a Kunnanurra cap and we chatted for a few, telling me about a time he pressed “format card” on his digital camera whilst in New Zealand, and all 800 or so of his photos were deleted. Ouch, that hurts! Dean, the truckie was ready to leave after a shower (I sure need one!). This would be my first and only overnight ride on this journey. Even better is that there’s a bed in the cab so I got to sleep for a bit. Every couple of hours he had to stop and check the camels. Whilst he did that I got to gaze heavenly at the Milky Way and a blanket of more than a million stars! The Australian Outback is one of the world’s great spectacles when it comes to starry nights.
Overnight we passed through Coober Pedy and when I woke up we were in Port Augusta. It would only be another ride or two away from Adelaide, and the air is finally cool enough that I can relax! Guy, my CS host, doesn’t live in Adelaide but in Playford, about 20 minutes north. After two more lifts I was dropped in front of Guy’s house. He wasn’t home and my phone was dead so I couldn’t call him. I hid my stuff behind a bush and then went for a walk, noticing that people don’t seem to care about their front lawns here (they’re all brown and overgrown). Going for a short walk, I went back and then fell asleep on Guy’s front veranda. After a long nap, it was cold enough that we made a fire in the fireplace. It was a total of 3½ days on “the Track” and my longest hitchhiking journey so far. When I think about it I made great timing; I went from Wycliffe Well to Adelaide in only about 26 hours. It was a raw and uncut journey! Camping on the side of the road, nearly getting my head bashed in, being invited in by Indigenous Australians, meeting a very hospitable lady, and traversing the red sands of the Outback. What a journey it is, to say the least! 3½ days and 3,000 “K’s” of bliss!
