A rock slid from under me and I scudded down the slope. Grabbing a gnarly stump, I dug my heels into the dirt. Then looked down. Beneath my feet, nothing.
Originally posted on leeannemarieblog:
More Adventures in the Lost City, Kings Canyon [Extract from Trekking With the T-Team: Central Australian Safari 1981] Rick’s Rockhole Sunday August 9, 1981 My bladder ached with cold. Unable to bear the urge any longer, I peeled off the layers of sleeping bag, pulled on my boots and braved the…
Then. Thump! Thump! Thump!
I bolted upright.
Dad scrambled out of his cocoon like a scalded cat. ‘What’s that?’
He waved a torch in every direction.
Clang! Clang! Clang! ‘Wake up! Wake up!’ Dad yelled.
I dragged myself out of the tangle of grey army blankets and shuffled to the door. The thin worn lino stung cold on my bare feet.
Dad marched past hammering a saucepan with a wooden spoon. ‘Get up! We have to get an early start!’
Mr. B stumbled to the bathroom and grumbled, ‘It’s too early, surely we could’ve had an hour’s more sleep.’
‘No, we must get going! We have a lot of ground to cover.’
In the front, Mr. B spread a detailed map over his knees and dashboard.
‘I say, ol’ chap,’ Mr. B cleared his throat, ‘where, exactly are you taking us?’
‘Mount Liebig bore,’ Dad replied.
‘Are you sure we can get there without our trusty guides?’
‘Eventually, we have the map.’
‘But, where’s the road?’
We continued our trek to Talipata Gorge where we planned to camp for a couple of days. On the way our two guides sat on the bonnet of the Land Rover and picked out the ancient track amongst the desert bushes and erosion.
One of our guides, H rapped his hand on the bonnet.
‘O-oh,’ Dad murmured, then eased the Rover to a stop.
‘You need time to appreciate these places,’ Dad explained.
‘Bit rough if we only have two weeks for school holidays.’ Mr. B’s voice sounded like the robot from Lost in Space.