We hiked through Serpentine Gorge, making good time aided by a receding water-line and an eager anticipation to catch the gap at midday when the sun would shine on both walls casting a red glow on the rocks.
Dad stopped the Rover and then stepped out. ‘I think I saw something.’
MB leaned over the edge of the roof. ‘What’s he doing?’
I shrugged. ‘Beat’s me.’
Dad trundled down the patchy road.
My older cousin (C1) jumped down from the roof rack. ‘Oh, he’s got something in his hands.’
We charged along the unsealed highway with no break for lunch or snacks. Dad’s need to reach our destination of Kings Canyon before nightfall compelled him ever forward, resisting the temptation to rest.Read more "Famished"
We journeyed, with frequent photo stops, through more mulga woodland, the Peterman Ranges making a charming mauve background to the valley of inky limbs holding up the blue-green canopy of leaves. The mountains behind the mulga groves tempted us, the soft breeze whispering through the gullies calling, “Come to us, explore us, see what we have to offer.”Read more "Disappointment at Docker River"
Clear skies this morning, yet the temperature soared; the air thick with flies even at 9:00am. We moped around the campsite like slugs with heat-stroke. My brother sat on his inflatable mattress. He clapped, accumulating a mass-grave of fly corpses. At the other end of the campsite, as far away as possible from the serial fly mass-murderer, I ate my porridge. Every spoonful I took, he made a slap and a body count. What’s that? A raisin? Ugh! Flies congregated on my spoon. I can’t take this anymore.Read more "FLIES"
We dragged our weary bodies back to where we camped the previous night. After such a generous lunch, my legs ached, and lugging the heavy load of a back pack, all I wanted to do was sleep.Read more "OVERWORKED"