Monday  23rd April 2007

   I need to get "back to work" after a day and a half holiday at Rawnsley Park. By 6.30 I was packed up and creeping out of the caravan park. I say "creeping" 'coz I was the only one around at this time. And the gravel road underfoot was making such a crunching noise I thought I would be "ssshhhh'd" at.

   Over at the restaurant, Ron was unpacking some goods from the boot of his car and I waddled over to say my goodbyes.

   "Why don't you come in for breakfast?" he asked.

   "I'll give you a hand with the unloading in exchange" I replied. But by the time I unpacked I only got to carry one box into the back of the kitchen. Not really a fair exchange for the big breakfast I was sat in front of. He must have told the staff to not hold back as no business could have made a profit with serves like that.

   Cleaning up with the swipe across my mouth with the purple napkin I thanked the staff and they wished me well on my walk. Ron followed me to my pack and we chatted till I was all hitched up and with first a handshake and then an awkward, short, blokey hug I turned and headed off. Farewells sure aint my strong point.

   Just a short flash-forward here. Bill met me at the end of the walk and we drove back the way I had walked up. Having heard about all that I was doing and seeing and the people I was meeting Bill wanted to see it all himself. One of the highlights of the return drive was catching up with Ron. He explained that the lease on the Woolshed Restaurant was at an end and he was moving on. He now has transposed his culinary and entertaining skills to Wilpena and that includes the Bel Canto "Bush Opera". It would have been a shame if he had to relocate to the big smoke or retire from the scene altogether and a great loss to the outback "way".

   Feeling like I could walk to the moon (and back) I attacked the short, 13km ATCF, next leg to Wilpena. I "invented" the acronym, ATCF for "as the crow flies", because I was emailing this distance to Bill via the clunky keyboard input on the sat phone. Every button press saved was one step back from tearing out hair (if I had enough for that response). By consulting my map and using my trusty Gecko 101 GPS I would plan the day ahead. But it only gave the distance "as the crow flies", that is the straight line distance. This is particularly important for this leg of the walk as the "road" distance turned out to be 23km. I powered on, aiming for perhaps a 15 to 18 kilometer walk (jog).

   The first "hurdle" was that I had to re-trace the one and a half kilometers from the settlement at Rawnsley Park back to the main road. This was purely a psychological barrier as I was keyed up enough not to notice the effort required for such a short distance. It was just that I had already walked along this section of dirt road. Still, the sound of a light Cessna aircraft taking off from the strip alongside the road distracted me enough to drop the negative thoughts. In the 15 minutes that it took me to get past the airstrip, another tourist flight had taken off. It was interesting for me to watch as the strip was on a flat section nestled into the surrounding rising terrain. The planes had to take off, establish a steady climb, then turn gracefully but fairy steeply away from the hills in front and back over the strip to gain enough height to fly their passengers over the Wilpena Pound ridges. St Mary peak and Point Bonney both rise to over 1,000 metres.

   And Point Bonney was to be my companion for the next 4 hours. The road, still bitumen to Wilpena, slowly curved around the outside of "The Pound" with first Rawnsley Bluff, then Point Bonney, Mt Karawarra, Binya Peak and finally Mt Ohlssen Bagge. All spectacular hitting their heights within 2 or 3 kms of the road. If I was driving, this would all have passed in a few minutes (well 5 or 10) but I had it (as a "companion") for 4 hours.

   The countryside, in the immediate vicinity, on both sides of the road, had been changing slowly to be now well populated with a type of tree that I can't remember ever having seen before. It was a "pine" tree for a broad category and I later found out from Athol, one of the volunteers at Wilpena, that it is the Northern or White Pine (Callitris glaucophylla) and provided the early pioneers with strong, hard, white ant resistant, building material for housing and fence posts. Some of these fence posts can still be seen, at unusual angles where the ground has let them down, over 100 years later.

   I had, by this time, officially entered The Flinders Ranges National Park. There was a roadside "monument" showing the changeover and a sign telling me that I was, basically, to be nice to the environment. And that park fees applied. A rather minor fee for those passing through and a higher one for those camping within the National Park. I had checked with the National Parks department in Port Augusta and they told me "not to worry" about paying the fees. This would be re-enforced whenever I inquired with park rangers that I met along the way. I noticed on the sign that dogs were highly discouraged as well as illegal. They didn't even want people sneaking "Poopsy" the poodle in, hidden in the caravan. Besides the danger to native animals, there was an active dingo baiting program continuously going on and if a pet dog had taken one of these baits it would have meant a swift, painful demise.

                 

   Slowly the road did a full turn to the west and south-west following Wilpena Creek and into the caravan park and resort area right in the middle of the gap through the "sort of" circular range. I always thought that Wilpena Pound was the remnant of an ancient volcano as it was a range of hills more or less in a circle around a depression. I was surprised to learn that the centre had been eroded away by rainfall and washed out through several gaps in the range, mainly Wilpena Creek. I apologise to all the people I have "expertly" told the "extinct volcano" story to.

   The Wilpena resort and caravan park is supplied with electricity generated primarily by the largest (in 1998) solar power installation in the southern hemisphere. It is owned and operated by AGL who also provide power to the nearby Flinders Ranges National Park Headquarters and to Telstra for their installations in the area. The output of the solar panels is 100 MWh and there are 1250 modules in the solar array, each with a capacity of 80 W.

   The first thing I noticed as I approached the, very modern, central part of the "village" or "resort" was a roadside sign boldly stating that Rawnsley Park was "that way" and 23km. Another look at the map and sure enough, the road curved far enough around the outside of "The Pound" that, if I had been able to take a short cut through the middle, I would have saved 10km. But it would have taken twice as long going up and over the rim of the "crater". The Heysen walking trail does go through the middle of The Pound, and pass through Wilpena Resort, but does not go near enough to Rawnsley Park for me to have taken it, although I considered it as a "diversion" from the bitumen.

                

   First impressions on arrival at the "resort" was that it is indeed a resort. A lot of caravan parks call themselves a "resort" after putting in a few transportable cabins. But this was different. A large, bitumenised car park with several bays for tourist buses, two fuel bowsers and a large office and general store. There was a tourist information area outside on the covered verandah with volunteer staff. It was Athol here that identified the Northern Cyprus tree for me. They had a map inside showing the areas covered by UHF radio repeaters located throughout the national park for use by the rangers and public. This gave me additional safety backup as I carried a hand held UHF two way radio in my pack.

   The reception area was crowded with two staff working continuously at their computer terminals and phones booking everyone in. When my turn came I inquired if I was booked in but they did not know about me. I paid up and headed off to the shop. Again the people were everywhere. It was at least as big as the general store back in Hawker who boast a fixed population over 300 and also support the surrounding stations and the tourists traveling through on the way to Wilpena.

   It eventually struck me that this is the end of the line. That is, for the "fair weather" traveler from the southern part of South Australia including the capital Adelaide and all the small to medium regional towns. Wilpena is under 400 kms from Adelaide and with bitumen all the way (but no further), this is where the family goes for the weekend. With the natural wonder of "The Pound" to enjoy and explore, it is no wonder that a quality resort was eventually established here.

                

   At the shop I considered the idea that a "tin", displaying the DeafBlind cause, permanently on the counter while I walked on, could generate more donations than I could wandering around asking. I inquired at the counter and told that I would have to get permission from the office. I pointed, with a look back out through the front door, towards the caravan park reception checking if that was "the office".

   "No. The administration building is round at the motel."

  What? There's more. A motel.

   I got "directions" to follow the road round the back of the shop and through the trees and I couldn't miss it. The road was bitumen all the way, about 700 metres, with side roads and walking trails heading off to the right with good signage. I was to find out that the resort covered more than 100 hectares and the motel alone had 60 rooms of which 34 are motel style and 26 are deluxe suites. I walked up onto the verandah of the "office" and as I took off my pack to go into the office, a respectably dressed bloke approached .

   "G'day. I saw you walking along the road from Hawker. You raising money for charity?"

   "Sure," I said, pointing to the DeafBlind logo on my 'T'-shirt. "I'm just going into the office, I'll be back in a minute or two."

   "Oh. I'd like to give you a donation but we're off for a drive now."

   "No probs. I'll just dig out the receipt book."

   We sat down at a table and 4 chairs while I wrote a receipt for B. Kinchington for the sum of $10. Before I had finished one of his mates came up and figured out what was happening and pulled out his wallet. J. Gifford $10. In quick succession these were followed by T. Salmon, I. Armstrong, A. Lambeth and B. Holmes. With a "goodonyamate" they headed off for their drive. It was not just the generosity that got me, but the spontaneity of each of them as they came out of their rooms to gather for their outing. It sure strengthened my faith in my fellow "man".

   In the office I got a quick reply in the positive to my request to put a donation tin on the counter of the store to stay there until I returned at the end of August. I hightailed it back to the store to buy the 2 litre billy that triggered the thought in the first place. I paid for it and talked to the guy behind the counter about it being there later. Back at the motel office, I asked the if I could get Janne to email them a photograph of me taking my "first step" at Port Augusta. They agreed, offering me their phone, and said that they would prepare an A4 page, including the photo to stick on the tin. We worked out the details of the wording and I left it with them. I felt that this was such a good idea, I would ask at each place I stayed along the way. Janne would email me a copy of the final Word document and it became a "standard" on collection tins and as a general flyer.

   At last I headed over to the camping ground of the caravan park and found a pretty good spot near the ablution block where I set up the tent and the radio antenna. I also found a power point in the laundry where I plugged in the charger for the sat phone to make sure it was fully charged. It lasts just a bit over 24 hours on a charge and although I can recharge it from my 12V pack, it seems to be a waste as I am not taking or making many calls.

   I generated quite a bit of interest setting up the antenna mainly with some boys playing nearby. They asked a million questions and hung around while I talked to Bill and Roger, filling them in on what I had been up to all day. There were a few other radio amateurs now following my progress and they would say hello each time they heard me of an evening. And this night, there were a few new ones, who heard the interview I had with Graham for the Wireless Institute of Australia (WIA). The WIA broadcasts amateur "news" each Sunday morning and VHK3KC, VK4AAT and VK3FTHS, who heard the broadcast, were added to my contacts log book.

   After a long day walkin' and workin' I finally turned in around 9 o'clock. 

      
   Tomorrow, will it or won't it (rain that is)