We’re so glad we didn’t as the Finke Gorge 4x4 track must rate as the best bit of off road driving we’ve done in Australia.
We had to ford the Finke River 21 times in total as the track crisscrossed from one side to the other,
by the end of which we were dab hands at assessing the conditions and picking the best line.
Even better, we had the place to ourselves, not seeing another person or vehicle until we emerged at Hermannsburg and were flagged down on the bridge outside town by a group of Aboriginal kids. One wanted to come with us to Alice Springs, even though we were travelling in the opposite direction, and another said that the Land Rover was theirs; we think not. The ladder on the back proved too inviting, but a beep from a passing car, which looked as though it was being driven by their older twelve year old brother, had them running for home.
Only on the bitumen for about 5km, we were soon back alongside the Finke river heading to Palm Valley, which we discovered was where all the tourists were hiding out.
We avoided the crowds by doing the Mpaara loop walk about 4km down river of Palm Valley itself.
Having to seek shelter from passing showers under overhanging rocks on two occasions, at the viewpoint we were rewarded with a moody landscape stretching out in front of us.
Dark storm clouds vied with the sun for supremacy, rain swept in from the east towards the towering red and black cliffs off to our left and lush vegetation beneath combined to give the place a primeval feel. Attempts to catch the moment on camera failed to do the scene justice.
Palm Valley and the Mpulungkinya track will have to wait until tomorrow as we both fancied setting up early and having a bit of a relax at the nearby National Park campsite. Despite the intermittent rain today, the solar heated showers were still warm which was a nice bonus.
Screeches out of the darkness from around the campsite let us know that we weren’t the only ones being plagued by a swarm of huge grasshoppers of biblical proportions. During the day they had scattered every which way as we walked through the vegetation, but now they seem to be homing in on us. Anne joined in the screaming when they landed in her hair, on her back, on her legs, or in fact when they landed anywhere on her. I’m not convinced they have total control over their jumping and flight, with repeated hits on the underside of the table surely doing them no good at all. After one particularly unfortunate grasshopper landed head first in the candle on our table and then hopped off before we could out it put of its misery (a coating of wax over its head probably won’t help it that much in life - it was like something out of that cheesy horror film House of Wax), we decided an early ascent to the roof tent was necessary. We did find the required sanctuary after spending five minutes evicting them from the back of the Land Rover. Just when you think you have them all out, another one jumps in. SPOT
House of Wax is not cheesy. It is a work of pure cinematic genius.
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