I am nomad. Hear me roar.


Wednesday, 6 April 2011

Happy Wandering Woman-niversary!

Today marks the end of my ninth full month of being a nomad. It has been irritatingly been interrupted by intermittent Internet but I've been having a fantastic time in Sydney catching up with friends and family.

Also there was the small matter of my trip to Uluru.


Rainbow Rock

Life in the Desert

Views from Above

Raining on the Rock

The cloud cover had really rolled in last night, which meant that despite my proximity to Uluru, it was completely invisible. There was absolutely no point in booking a tour for yesterday afternoon as the weather was growing steadily worse.

By the evening the rain was impressively torrential, as Forrest Gump would say, it was 'big ol' fat rain'. Not really feeling like getting completely drenched, I settled into the Outback Pioneer Hotel for the night. According to the driver of the airport shuttle it's the best place to be situated if you are after a nightlife, or common room or any of those travelling alone necessities. I decided to be social, and spent a rather jovial evening chatting to my fellow travellers, cooking my own crocodile kebabs, and dancing around like a twit to the one man cover band playing in the bar.

I wasn't the only one.


The Captain lied.

Well, maybe not lied, I don't suppose it is very fair for me to hold him accountable for the weather. It's not like any mere man, even an airline pilot can be control that, regardless he did say that we would have a good view of Uluru out the left hand side of the plane as we came into Ayers Rock Resort Airport. I was sitting on in the window seat on the left hand side and we saw no such thing. All I saw were clouds, and the mist of rain settling on the pane.

It appears that I will have to wait for my sunrise heli-tour tomorrow.

Over Eyre

I am flying over the most amazing landscape right now.

A beautiful flat expanse of winding rivulets and deltas, the dust down there is becoming redder and redder the further west the flight takes me.

I woke early this morning, dumped the essentials in the Mini-turtle, and caught a cab to the airport. Take-off was to the east over the ocean, after which my plane curled out in a great arc around my city. The wings leveled out shortly and the plane strove on to the west. We flew over the chessboard of rural New South Wales, and past it to empty lands. The horizon is invisible, the land bleeds straight into the sky. I am now passing over what must be Lake Eyre, our Captain had promised that we would see it. It is so much larger than I would have imagined, and it swirls in pink and blue like handmade natural cake soap. It is the biggest salt lake in Australia and earns its title easily.

The Captain has also promised we will pass over the Rock, I should have my first glimpse shortly.

Lorikeet Love

Just any other day on Little Street

Old Boys Old Bikes

Off to Grandfather's House

It is a strange place sometimes, where you are taught on a daily basis how to open the refrigerator door not using the handle, where Kinder chocolate is a usual for breakfast topping for microwaved Weet-Bix, and where all the clocks chime at different times, none on the hour.

When I arrived I did the same thing I always do, my little 'I'm staying at Forster' routine, I walked into the girls' room, bashed my head playfully on the wind chime that hangs from the top of the door frame sending it into tinkling peals of laughter, took the clock off the wall and placed it in the cupboard because it ticks too loud, rolled down the bedspread, placing it on the back of a nearby chair, and flopped down on the tiny wooden bed that was once my mother's.