Okay. Valentine’s Day continued.

We’d just finished the fly-iest walk of our young lives. We were hot. We were tired. We stopped at a little campground to make some chicken-veggie-and-tuna-fish-salad burritos for lunch, and we barely even cared that there were as many flies in the tuna as there were pieces of corn. I created a highly effective eating method that involved pulling my fly net up so it left my mouth exposed, holding my burrito with my left hand, then constantly fanning the burrito with my right hand. The fanning kept the flies away. If I ever let my guard down and stopped fanning for more than one full fan-beat, the flies would return. It was madness.

There was a pool at the campsite, and we all gratefully jumped in, only to find that the water was rather warmish due to its direct exposure to the sun. It still felt better than being on land, and the flies didn’t seem to want to enter the twelve inches of air space above the water.

Once we’d finished eating and washed our dishes, we piled back into the van to sleep again, and we stayed like that until we reached another potty break. There were little aviaries here, and one of the parrots really liked Jonathan. He even let him pet his head. The bird would clamp his beak onto a wire of his cage and then lean his head close to the opening. So cute.

Another hour later, we approached a salt lake and a lookout for Attila, or Mount Connor. This rock is also known as “Fooluru,” because people driving from the nearest city, Alice Springs, can easily mistake this lone rock for the Other Lone Rock they are actually looking for, Uluru. Then they’ll turn around and head home, only to find out they were about a hundred miles short of their destination. Attila is the Aboriginal name for the rock, but somehow, the mountain is privately owned, so the guy who owns it has named it Mount Connor. He provides private tours of it, but that is the only way to see the rock, so we don’t know much about the Aboriginal lore surrounding it.

We piled back into the van once again, and the next time we were awoken, I was rather displeased. The goal for this stop was to get some firewood. I hadn’t realized this meant to actually just go out into the desert and break up dead tree branches. So we did that for a while.

I got a pretty minor looking scrape on my left shin from breaking one branch off another, but I was surprised by how much it stung. Turns out, this kind of tree bark is rather poisonous to humans, and it helps speed up infection. Cute. (Don’t worry. It didn’t get infected. But it does still look pretty gnarly.)

Long after we thought we’d piled up enough branches, Ken finally let us call it, and we stacked the branches on top of the trailer. The next time the van slowed down, Ken hollered, “Aaahh, that’s a big guy!” I honestly don’t know what I expected to see when I looked out the front window, but I did not expect to see a camel standing in the middle of the road! He trotted along beside us for a little while before disappearing into the bush.

Crazy! And then a little while later, we saw a wild mustang! He seemed skinny….

Shortly after this, we rolled into camp for the night, hopped in the pool for a while (this one was shaded), and then we walked to a lookout to admire the sunset.

Somehow, Jonathan ended up being next to the stove right when Ken needed a hand, so he became the designated stirrer. Our group made a big fuss over this, and Carrie, one of the Canadian ladies, even asked me if he was a chef. Bahahahaha.

He asked if this counted as cooking for me on Valentine’s Day. My little romantic….

Dinner was chili with rice and fire-roasted veggies. I’m not sure why it tasted so good, but we very nearly finished it off, leaving hardly any leftovers for lunch.

After our meal, The Boy and I decided to venture back to the lookout, where a lone picnic table stood, so that we could admire the stars without the lights of camp. The Milky Way was shining proudly, and we each saw the Southern Cross for the first time! Orion was also dancing out in the sky.

We had brought a sleeping bag to lay on the table, and with the breeze running above and below us, it was cool for the first time in days. There were also no bugs, and it was just so relaxing. Before we knew it, we’d both nodded off. I woke around eleven and prodded The Boy awake. We had another 4:20am wake up call, and I didn’t trust the two of us to make it back to camp in time. I couldn’t imagine what the group would do if they loaded onto the bus and realized we were missing.

The trouble is, we didn’t want to give up the stars, so we put our swags out on the ground next to where the campfire had been.

Now, I’m not sure if it was because we were close to camp or if it was because we were closer to the ground, but all of a sudden, the flies were back. Not like during the day, but like you would encounter on a normal camping trip in the northwest. We even tucked into our sleeping bags, despite the stifling heat, to keep them off our bodies. They paid extra attention to our ears, though, so we both had our sleeping bags’ mummy hoods up over our heads. Gosh it was so hot, and I could still hear the flies when they zoomed past my ears. It was impossible to sleep. Every time I came close to nodding off, another fly would buzz in my ear and wake me straight up again.

The Boy managed to fall asleep, but after an hour and a half, I was still dizzyingly awake. And then, off some distance to the left of Jonathan, I head some quick footsteps followed by a few seconds of labored panting.

PANTING, guys. Like a dog.

Have you ever heard of a dingo???? They are wild dogs that roam the outback, and there were signs all over the campsite about keeping all food and clothing shut up so as not to entice them. Maybe you’ve heard of the famous line, “A dingo ate my baby!” There was incident in the eighties when an infant was stolen from a tent in the outback by a dingo, and the mother was wrongly imprisoned for the crime. Ken had just told us that this actually happened in Uluru, so I was freshly freaked out. And now I was a couple hundred kilometers away from there, and I was hearing panting in the middle of the night.

I told myself it was nothing, but then I heard a vicious, “Arghshelwshaar!!!” a quick scrapping occurring undeniably between two dogs. I grabbed Jonathan’s forearm suddenly and his eyes sprung open.

“Jonathan!” I whisper-shouted. “Did you hear that?!”

Eyes wide, he responded. “What? No. Was it crickets?”

“NO!” I said, exasperated and terrified. The dingus.

Right at that moment, the growl/fighting happened again. “Did you hear THAT?” I said.

“Yes,” he said, the terror in his eyes now less about my fright and more of his own understanding. Suddenly, a dingo went running right past our heads. RIGHT PAST OUR HEADS.

We sat bolt upright and I clung to him like I was about to be swooped up by a hurricane if I didn’t hold on tight enough. Then a second dingo went sprinting after the first, and they growled and scrapped at each other on the other side of us. Basically trying to scramble into Jonathan’s lap, I said, “JONATHAN I’M SO FRICKING SCARED,” barely managing to hold onto my wits.

“It’s okay. It’s okay, they’re just a nuisance,” he said in an attempt to soothe me. I thought to myself, ‘Do I believe him? No! No, I do not!’

We gathered our swags and rushed into the shed where our breakfast was locked up, and we lay our sleeping bags on the floor there after locking the doors. With the moon shining like a flashlight on my face and my heart pounding hard, I got about one hour of sleep that night. What a way to finish off what was already the wildest Valentine’s day I’ve ever had. Jonathan, next year, we’re going somewhere cold. That way we’ll also be indoors.

Not long after I finally shut my eyes, we were woken up by the loudest guitar entry to Here Comes the Sun I’ve ever heard at four in the morning. Ken was the first person we saw, and it turned out he had a dingo encounter, too. He woke up because one was chewing on his water bottle strap and then pawed at him in his swag. His response was to wake up and growl at the dingo, and the dingo supposedly scampered off in fear. Oh, Ken.

We scarfed down some breakfast and I regaled our cohort with our dingo story about five times, and then it was off for more adventuring as if nothing had ever happened.

Our main event for the day was the Kings Canyon Rim Walk, a six kilometers loop around and through Kings Canyon. We were told to carry three liters of water each (which is a crap ton of water), and we started as the sun lit up the sky.

The canyon was so beautiful, and the rock turned redder and redder as the sun rose quickly above the horizon.

There were these gorgeous white-barked trees sprinkled around, and lots of green thanks to the rain and permanent watering holes throughout the canyon.

Ken pointed out many fossils in the rock, and some cool markings that proved the existence of water and even rivers here long ago.

After an hour or so of hiking, we approached the crowning beauty of the canyon, the Garden of Eden. Rainwater is soaked up by the sandstone rock and trapped by shale below the surface, and then it funnels into this deep gully to create an oasis for relic plant life. We admired it from above first.

And then Ken sent us off to explore the Garden up close while he prepped some snacks. (Hallelujah!)

Just before we were out of earshot, Ken called, “Watch out for the little frogs!”

THE FROGS WERE SO CUTE. About the size of the tip of your finger and the color of dark mud. They were master fly catchers, and I wanted to stick some of my head so they could fend off the nasty things for me.

It was so peaceful down there, I didn’t want to leave.

But eventually, The Boy ditched me for snacks, so I lingered a little longer with Dr. Phil and the frogs, and then we made our way back as well.

Snack consisted of apples and biscuits. Did you know they call cookies “bickies,” here, short for biscuits? Adorable.

And then it was off to finish the loop. I really had to pee at this point, so my water intake slowed dramatically. In the end, The Boy and I consumed about 1.5 liters of our six. Oh, well. Better to have too much than too little.

The walk back was gorgeous, and we got to peek at the canyon and marvel at the dramatic layers of rock around us.

Soon, we came upon what is often called The Lost City, endless formations of rocky domes that look much like little huts.

The canyon was blooming with plentiful plant species. Over a dozen plant varieties have remained in this area since the time of the dinosaurs, when Australia had a wetter climate. One of these is the MacDonnell Ranges Cycad, a huge fern with a trunk. They grow extremely slowly to conserve energy, and this one is estimated to be eight hundred years old!

Another interesting plant almost looked like a sort of coral, and if you break off a stem, you’ll find a white milky substance inside. This liquid can act as an antibiotic and antiseptic as well as a glue, so it has a long tradition as a bush medicine for open cuts and wounds. However, it can also be used as a punishment. It is said that it would be rubbed in the eyes to render offenders blind for several days! How horrific!

I felt the need to touch all the plants, and as I reached out to one tall, bushy, grass-like plant, I was shocked that it stabbed me like a bunch of out-turned needles! It literally drew blood! Not at all the soft grass I was expecting. Gotta watch out for those desert plants. They know how to watch out for themselves.

Before we knew it, our beautiful walk was coming to a close, and we could spot our van in the distance.

Such a lovely way to spend a morning! I was blown away by the beauty we saw in this canyon. Makes me want to explore more of the national parks in the States.

To celebrate our accomplishment and to stave off hunger before lunch, Jonathan and I celebrated with a camel burger at our next potty break. It was actually so yummy! Super soft and juicy, and it was remarkably cheaper than the beef burger the shop had on offer.

When we stopped for actual lunch, I was so pooped out that I refused to leave the bus. Jonathan had to wake me and practically beg me to get up and get some food. I learned my lesson though – by the time I finally came out, nearly all the food was gone. I had a scant spoonful of leftover chili, some two-day old chicken, and lettuce for my burrito fillings. Sad. Didn’t stop me from going straight back to sleep when we loaded onto the bus again.

When we stopped again for fuel, I was delighted to find a woman selling her paintings, and she let me take a picture of her with the one I bought! I had seen some I liked in Uluru, but they were all out of my price range, so this was a really lovely find.

Also fun was the fact that there was an emu farm at this stop. We bought a bag of food pellets and were actually able to feed the emus! It was slightly terrifying. These guys are giant, and their beaks ain’t no joke. We were told to have a flat hand so they wouldn’t accidentally pinch any skin, but it was still super scary! They just pecked so suddenly and aggressively, though they did have impeccable aim.

Our last stop of the trip was actually optional – a camel farm. Ken told us if anybody was interested in riding a camel, we could stop by and see if they were saddled up. I requested that we do so because, uh, when’s the next time I might be able to ride a camel?! One girl wasn’t pleased, but the German girl and the Brazilians also wanted to ride, so off we went!

There were three camels tied together. It was supposed to be a 5-10 minute ride, so I was expecting a slow moving pony walk around the paddock at the speed I’ve seen camels move in movies as they trek across the desert. These camels weren’t laden with pounds and pounds of baggage, though, and they hadn’t been walking for miles and miles. They were antsy to get moving.

Line (pronounced “lee-nuh”) was to ride the camel in the back, whose name was Sparky. Sparky was a bit… spunky, though, and the camel man said, “Sparky, STAND!” about two dozen times in the fifteen minutes we were with him. I think Sparky just wanted to be in the front, and the other two camels, Hallie and Murky, were in no mood to slow-walk either. It ended up being a pretty bumpy (and fun) ride!

I felt like I was about to tumble off the front, so I asked the camel man whether the saddles could fall off. His response was, “No, they’re not going anywhere. There’s a hump in the middle.” Touché, camel man.

Camels also have super long necks, so about halfway through the ride, Jonathan and I looked over and realized Sparky’s head was right next to us! I pet him for the remainder of the walk, and we got to feed them carrots when we got off. So cute.

There was even an adorable little baby camel off in the paddocks that we said hi to. Cannot handle.

I grabbed some passion fruit cheesecake from the shop, and we were off again, stopping only for a quick photo-op with the Alice Springs sign signifying that we had finally made it to the capital of the outback.

We were dropped off at our respective hostels and hotels to freshen up, but we agreed to reconvene for dinner as a last hurrah. The Boy and I basically spent the full of our free time in our hostel’s pool before showering and rushing to meet our gang. Of the seventeen group members, only two didn’t show. Those darn Canadians.

Ken also saved my skin by bringing some sandals I’d left on the bus, along with a bag containing all my souvenirs and my purse with my passport in it, the latter of which I hadn’t even realized I was missing! Phew! Close one.

We tried a kangaroo steak for dinner. (It was fine – pretty soft, kind of chewy, but doused in gravy sauce, so hard to speak to flavor at all.) And then Karina, the Danish girl, convinced us all to move to the dance floor and share a round of shots. It’s always those crazy Danes.

Jonathan then proceeded to horrify me with his dance moves. I hid behind Kiko while the rest of the group cheered him on, and then a security guard asked him to put his shoes back on. Bahahahaha. Oh, deer.

We said farewell to most of the group (such a fun gang!) and were sad to realize we didn’t get any contact information for a single person. How strange this travel life can be sometimes, to bond with people you may never see again. In the morning, we boarded the bus with a new driver, Brooke, and six others from our group – the Germans, the Irish, and the Brazilians, along with a bunch of the next tour group, and we began the long drive back to Uluru.

We stopped at the oldest river in the world to pee, which is comically dry most of the year, and later stopped at the Actual Center of Australia for breakfast.

Funnily enough, we chatted more on this six hour drive than we had during any other. There was a Swiss boy and a German couple, and Jonathan and I were spread on different seats, as were our Germans and the Irish girls, so we all just grabbed the whole way. It was a lot of fun, and Teresa and I lamented that we didn’t chat more with our group. I think it was because we were always just so hot and tired. We were mostly sleeping when we were in the car, or else it seemed like everybody already had somebody to talk to. That’s why I befriended Phil and Kiko – they were two of the only 3 people who weren’t with a travel buddy.

Before we knew it, though, we were back at the Ayers Rock airport. All eight of us were on the same flight to Sydney.

The airport security guy who examined my bag asked where home was, and it turned out he was from Queen Anne in Seattle! I asked what he was doing here, and he said, “My wife’s Australian and I knew not to argue.” Bahahahaha. What a small world. Somehow, on this trip, all the Americans we met were either from the Northwest or were very familiar with it. Made for some fun conversations.

We waved goodbye to the famous rocks, and then we had two hours of red desert to look at (including an aerial view of Mount Connor!) before it was back to the city. *sigh… What a wild ride.

Venlig hilsen/ cheers,
-Lizzy-wa