commando

... and today I did my laundry. Obviously when on the road for so long and travelling light, this is important. All my clothes have been used at least twice (nice!) So I bunged everything apart from my kevlar biker jeans (remember, they're Hornee!) some unused running shorts, and the only t-shirt I had left without crusty armpits (nice again!) into the wash. Commando day. Hung it all out to dry, then realised the flaw in my plan too late when it started to rain - again. But I guessed there was always the tumble dry option, so I left it all sopping on the line and went out, wearing everything that wasn't wet.

First, I rode all around Uluru on my motorbike. It's about 14 kilometers on a looping road... and it is so majestic, from every angle. Again, I think the weather had put off the tourists, and I had the road virtually to myself the entire time. Then I moved on about 60 kilometers through the national park, to the other massive stone landmark here. Kata Tjatu is less well known, but no less impressive. Unlike Uluru, it looks from a distance like a mountain range. Lots of rounded dome-topped mountains. When you get closer, you see it is still basically one huge rock, but this one has been carved by the elements over the millenia. And unlike Uluru, here you can climb along quite a testing route into the heart of the range. It's SO worth the effort.

A seven kilometre, quite strenuous walk over rough terrain takes you into a verdant hidden valley, like something from a dinosaur B-movie. Again, amazingly lucky, I had the massive place virtually to myself. I probably saw a dozen people in all on my three hour walk through there. It was so tranquil, with the only sounds weird bird song, and insects chirruping. The sheer rock walls towered either side of me at times, making it quite eerie and enclosed, even though the scale was vast. That walk was known as the Valley of the Winds to the Aboriginal tribe here, because the breeze moans and whistles through the rocks.

There's a pretty amazing gorge here too, and by the time I arrived there, the tourists had come out to play. Bus after bus load of Germans and Japanese. All with a timetable and rushing around the 'highlights' rather than having time to stop and gaze. I felt sorry for them.

Back to campsite ... and despite it being a generally gloomy day, the washing was dry! I shall wear pants again! Tomorrow I'm off towards Kings Canyon, a place where meteorites have gouged out, well, a huge canyon. And from there to Alice Springs, the capital of the Northern Territory, and the place I've been warned about most often by white Australians. There's a difficult cultural clash there apparently, and the city is dogged by a reputation for being rough after dark. To my mind, if you keep a low profile, you're generally Ok anywhere, but it'll be interesting to see if the atmosphere there is better or different to what I experienced a few days ago at Coober Pedy. Here at Uluru, I'm in a bubble where the Aboriginal culture is at the heart of everything, and is cherished. It ain't the same elsewhere....