On our third and final day, we woke up slightly later than the day before, had a quick breakfast of what was left over from the first day, packed up camp, and headed out to our final stop, King’s Canyon. We had to get out there early in order to climb the steepest part in the cool of the morning. As we’re heading out, our guide thoughtfully lets us know that this section of the trail is called heart attack hill. Awesome.
We drive out, park, and meet to have a pre-brief before beginning the ascent. As our guide is talking, other tour buses pull up and it starts looking as though this will be the busiest of all of the places we have been. Everyone checks their shoelaces, grabs their water, and we head up.
View from the top
The climb is broken up into three sections. I imagine that if one had worked out or been fit and climbed stairs or did active things, it would be easy-ish. Several people gazelled on up with no problem. I, however, being a person who spends a good ten hours a day behind a computer and often uses the excuse of being too tired to workout everyday (though my new year’s resolution will change that mentality, surely), had a bit of difficulty. I mimicked an obscene phone caller’s inhalation and exhalation and turned all red. 50 year olds were flying past me. I learned humility that day.
But once we got to the top, it was smooth sailing. The rocks were gorgeous and red and the rim of the canyon precipitous and scary. The rim was made of sandstone and our guide made certain to tell us that the edge could break off so don’t walk close to it or stand close to it for photos.
Listening to the guide
We quickly ran into a couple of other tour groups at one very picturesque site and saw many people from these other tour groups standing very close to the edge for outstanding photos. As members from my group are poo-pooing them and saying oh how terrible, those people are stupid, we see a few familiar faces going over to the same area in order to take shots. Our guide was livid and instructed all parties not to do that again. They didn’t seem to take kindly to his mini-lecture.
Which frankly, that kind of thing annoys the crap out of me. When you hear you shouldn’t do something, you do it anyway, then you get annoyed when the person who asked you not to gets annoyed with you. As though there is something wrong with them that they are angry. If you know the rules and you break them (usually it isn’t for any good or noble reason) and you get caught, you should just suck it up and apologize or acknowledge what you did and move on. But don’t get mad or defensive or whatever. You knew what could happen, you did whatever anyway, deal with the consequences. Bah.
We’re walking through the stunning scenery and I happen to overhear the guide tell one of the brazilians to drink her water, that he didn’t carry it for her to not drink it.
oh WHAT?!? You carried her damn water? If you are hiking, you should be able to carry your own stuff, especially important things like water.
Heading along through minor ups and downs with views down into the canyon below, we see some water. There’s a path to head down to a pool where we can swim if we like. I had put on my swimsuit as a just in case measure. I’m still weighing if I want to swim or not as we’re hiking down when we are met at the bottom by a ranger. The ranger politely informs us that while swimming in the pool isn’t illegal, we should keep in mind that this is the only water hole for the local animals and that if all of the visitors to the park were to swim in the water with their bug spray and sunscreen coming off in the water, it would have a serious environmental impact.
That’s enough for me. Not going to swim. A few people from our group decided to still swim so they got ready. Keely asked me if I was and I said I had been thinking about it before, but that the ranger made a good point so I wasn’t going to. She looked torn but ultimately decided against it. As more groups came down, the ranger gave the same talk but a fair amount of them decided to swim anyway. The Belgian was quite excited about all of the beautiful women in the other groups, which he vocalized later. Our guide very kindly stood up for the women in our own group, but the Belgian remained in full favor of the ladies that he saw in bikinis in the water as opposed to the ladies he saw puffing up hills. I couldn’t necessarily blame him for that.
Beautiful pool
We finally finished our hike in the dead heat of the day and loaded up into the tank to start the journey home. We stopped at the cattle station for lunch and managed to eat practically everything. Throughout the entire trip, the majority of people were really good about helping to clean up, get food ready, etc. It was really nice that there weren’t any people who just flat out sucked and wouldnt’ do anything.
The drive home was in the main uneventful. We did stop to see Dinky the Singing Dingo which was incredible. He was taken in by this family at 8 weeks old and grew up hearing the daughters in the family play the piano. He would sing along when they would play. Eventually, they grew up and left the house and so he started climbing up on the piano to have accompaniment while he sang. The owner didn’t have to encourage him at all, Dinky kept trying to climb up on the piano and sing. He really seemed to enjoy it.
We also learned that our guide has sharp eyes because as we were driving down the highway, he spotted a small horned lizard in the middle of the road and swung around to pick him up. After showing us this tiny creature, he set him off far away from the highway so he wouldn’t get squashed.
After spending two and a half days with each other, you’d think we’d have had enough. But nope! We all met up for dinner and drinks at a local bar later that night. Michaela and I shared a mixed grill of bush meat and the only bits we liked were the camel and the kangaroo. We passed off the rest of the food to Clive and Jerome. Then everyone sat around talking and taking photos and having beers until pretty much everyone had left but me and Jerome. We stayed until closing just chatting about different things. The bar wasn’t exactly conducive to conversation due to the music and loudness of the clientele, so we were basically screaming in each other’s ears for a fair portion.
At 1am the bar closed and we each headed our separate ways. I was walking through the mall when I was stopped by a security guard in a car. He asked where I was heading so I told him where my hostel was located. He then said, oh you should be careful. I know this is a small town but there are many murderers and rapists here. I don’t let my wife or daughters walk around by themselves at night. Feeling alarmed, and knowing that I’ll have to be walking through a park-ish area that is a bit quiet and dark, I ask if I should perhaps go back and get a taxi. He says, oh no you’ll be fine. I just came from that area and no one is around. And I’ll drive by to check on you.
Um, thanks?
So he drives off and I’m thinking I could try to get a taxi, but I’m also halfway to my hostel. Then I think, he should have offered me a ride or not freaked me out. Then I think, I should have made Jerome walk me to my hostel before he headed to his. Then I think, screw it, I’m just delaying it. So I start walking but now have various headlines running through my mind, all of which end with me either in a ditch or never being found. Not the way I want to start my Australia vacation.
So I slip off my flip flops for better traction and less likelihood of performing the ever popular but deadly fall at an inopportune time, and I run. I run through the park, down the street, and all the way to my hostel door. I felt a bit cowardly but better a foolish girl barefootedly running down the street than a lifetime television for women movie being based on true accounts from Australia.
The next morning I wake up to the dulcet sounds of my hostel owners fighting over some thing or person or money, pack up my gear and head for the airport. On to Melbourne!
Tags: Outback, scary security guards
