ANZAC Day. Remembrance in the Red Centre

 

 

 

The horse hides were glistening in the last rays of sunshine. Fine dust kicked up by trampling hooves filtered through the air. Here beautiful!! I said softly. The brumby glided effortlessly towards the fence. Beep-Beep went the camera, now there is an unusual sound for a stockman’s horse. With her head turned, ears pricked up and her eye open wide - staring at me ever so alert. As a city slicker, I have never come in contact with horses that were this energetic and alive.



Notice how she is watching me

Two Indigenous, lean young lads strode over, both wearing wide brimmed cowboy hats. An avalanche of Aranda cut through the air as if a machine gun had gone off. Regretfully, the only thing I could make out were names of places.

 

Dwight, one of the young stockmen at Telegraph Station

"You know what the horses are doing here?" I asked in English. The boys explained in a few sentences, that they had rode the horses all the way from Hermannsburg to Telegraph Station and that they had been in the saddle for 5 days to cover the 130 kilometres.  

After a bit of research, I found out that the senior students of the N’taria school (otherwise known as Hermannsburg) had tamed the wild brumbies themselves over the last 12 months as part of agricultural studies. The students had forged great bonds with, and clearly loved working with the animals. They went on to tell me that the horses were brought down to Alice Springs to ride in the ANZAC Parade. 'This might just be an ANZAC day to remember', I thought.

Every clump of grass looked like a Kangaroo in the high beam as we drove towards Alice Springs in the pitch black, earliest of mornings that ANZAC day. ANZAC Hill towers above Alice Springs and would surely be quite a challenge to make the climb for some. By the looks of it plenty made it as it was shoulder to shoulder, standing room only during the ceremony.

 

Shoulder to shoulder at ANZAC Hill

The Catafalque party left a memorable impression. Hissing commands pierced the night sky. Four guards sprung into action. Watching these skilled soldiers, making their deliberate but deadly quiet strides as they were taking  guard around the monument, as a first-timer was an unforgettable spectacle.

 

Taking guard

We all paid our respects to soldiers never to be forgotten as the sun edged between the horizon and the cloud cover. The lights of Alice twinkling all around and below us. Both Australian and New Zeeland National Anthems were sung - speeches were given by well-spoken dignitaries – a group of policemen and women stood to attention towards my left – wreaths were laid – a child was comforted in her father’s arms towards my right – special mention was made of the Japanese attacks on the Northern Territory - the crowd stood silent - that damn bugle player, he had us all in tears as he played a poignant, almost quivering rendition of the Last Post.

 

"They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old; 
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn. 
At the going down of the sun and in the morning 
We will remember them."

Laurance Binyon

And the crowd repeated in solemn unison:, “We will remember them.”


Later that day, a parade commenced from the council building, where I had plenty of time to take walk up and down the line and get something on film before kick-off. A diverse variety of uniforms and agencies were about to march on a gloomy day back to ANZAC Hill.




Our Aussie soldiers marching on

Alice Springs is a small town, the parade understandably not long, but nevertheless welcomed by an enthusiastic large crowd boosted by grey nomads and tourists.

There was a small contingent of American soldiers in the parade paying their respects, representatives of the central MacDonnell's worse kept and often publicized secret base. 

Schools and community groups were well represented in the ranks, I spotted a father and two kids on a truck, very much advertising that they were from New Zealand. 

This young man looking to follow in his father's footsteps

And there, finally, came the highlight of the parade. The Hermannsburg contingent, all wearing fair dinkum uniforms donated by the Australian Light Horse Association. A vision of historical significance and pride, taking us right back to the Fourth Light Horse Brigade storming the Ottoman trenches at Beersheba. 
 



To quote a mate from Western Australia who used to live in the red centre, "ANZAC Hill has to be the best place in Australia to hold an ANZAC dawn service."

 Grey Bits

A special mention goes to all the volunteers that worked very hard to make ANZAC day a memorable occasion. The RSL club did some great work providing a free breakfast, coffee and tea (with a dash of whisky - if that tickled your tipple) for a hungry and thirsty crowd.

If you like to read more about the Indigenous students click on the following link:

http://mobile.abc.net.au/news/2015-04-22/aboriginal-students-130km-horse-ride-anzac-wwi-tribute/6413724

The battle of Beersheba is described in detail on this website.

https://www.awm.gov.au/blog/2007/10/30/the-charge-of-the-4th-light-horse-brigade-at-beersheba/

I took way too many photos of the parade. If you like to have a gander just keep on scrolling down.




The police escort with a sound message. Seatbelt, mate!!



 



The Aussiefixion of Mars 1: A Poppy on a Stick

Like a little seed that slowly sprouted and revealed its first tender strands of pristine white stem only to, unhurriedly, grow the first fresh inevitable tender leaves. The sweet rains empower the growth of the succulent and burly stalk shooting ever so strong roots in attempt to nourish the springing bud that is set to flower…….

Mate! No need to wax lyrical about how you started thinking about Australian citizenship. The idea of becoming naturalized did grow over the years until a poppy on a stick burst the already thinning dam of resistance. This is what I wrote after a memorable afternoon on the Kokoda Track at Brigade Hill. Excuse me for quoting myself.

When it was my turn I walked in deep reflection. The many days on this hike had stripped me bare of all my protective layers - I could almost feel  the forest breathe - my imagination leaped back seventy four years - violent images ran through my mind in this silent jungle. I walked on, out of the jungle and into the sunny,  grass-covered clearing - blue sky overhead. With a sudden jolt, I realized what the neatly placed rows of wooden stakes represented that were stuck into the ground.

The stakes representing the fallen soldiers on top of Brigade Hill

 

 

I briefly managed to hide behind my camera and took many shots using the brown and white (sepia tone) setting - the picture in the view finder aligning itself with my mood. I knelt down to take a close up but that was it. I had no choice other than to let my emotions run free - sadness engulfing me without restraint - this grown man was blubbering his heart out like a baby.

'Torn Apart' written by Marcel Kempe

Call me a softy, but I still feel the affected twinge sometimes, even shed a tear when I read and think about that day in the jungle. With all that raw emotion it simply became clear it was time to attempt to become an Australian citizen. My journey to morph into a fair dinkum Aussie had began.



Walking towards Brigade Hill

What followed was a paperwork battle which took me one year in total. First of all, how do you procure a Dutch birth certificate? ……??? Neither did I. Google rescued my lily-white hiney, not for the first time, and a letter was sent to my place of birth in a small, obscure city in Holland. It was a more than a pleasant surprise when the record of my mother’s sweat and toil arrived after four and a half months – unannounced -  without acknowledgement of any sort  – no check if I was really me. 

I must stress that filling out forms is not my strong suit and by the time I had completed, signed, sent off for verification, sent some more forms for verification as I had missed a couple of pages, paid all hefty but well worth the money associated bills, photocopied through a pack of laser paper and half checked a mistake-riddled, thumbed-through manuscript, I was happy to send this naughty baby back to its parents. The Australian Department of Immigration.

I had resigned myself for another long wait when only two weeks later emails from the Strayan government started tying up the loose ends and inviting me to sit a test. It was at that moment that I realised something I worked hard for, but always felt depressing, paralyzing doubts whether it would ever happen. The release came in the form of excitement, disbelieve and more excitement. In two and a half hours I cannoned through the accompanied information and,  immediately after, took 10 minutes to mock test myself.

Okay. Honesty required here, nineteen out of twenty is not bad, right? The question I got wrong pertained to the Australian Senate and how it works. Yeah, what are they actually doing there?  I asked that same question that evening at a spontaneous coffee catch-up meeting with a cluster of Dinky Dye Aussie’s (Australian Citizens that is) and none of them knew the answer either. In fact, I found out that most would have failed the mock test much to the overall hilarity of the surrounding true blues.

 

Again, in a surprisingly fast time, I was booked in to sit the real, official test. I remember being slightly disappointed that the test venue was in the same building as Medicare and Centrelink. Where did I want it to be? On top of Uluru?
 

Ok, I just wanted to show off this photo

The lady behind the desk revealed that she loved this part of the job as only happy people came through her door on citizenship test day. So was I. Given three quarters and with plenty of cheery adrenaline feeding the brain cells, I scored a bragging-right earning twenty out of twenty after only 10 minutes. The lady was happy enough to announce that I passed.

As I floated through the dole office, leaping cartwheels in my mind, the thought came to me that this was the best place in Australia to sit a citizenship test. Isn’t it in this office that gallant Australians look after their own and take it up for the sick and temporarily unemployed? What’s more, isn’t Alice Springs the red heart of Australia? A wonderful, multicultural melting pot where kangaroo tails are a delicacy, the land is stained with colonial sweat and blood and is of a beauty rich and rare. Please nail me to this cross, anytime!

 

Of beauty rich and rare!

 

Australians believe in peace, respect, freedom and equality. An important part of being Australian is respecting other people’s differences and choices, even if you don’t agree with those choices. It is about treating people fairly and giving all Australians equal opportunities and freedoms, no matter where they come from, what their traditions are, or whether they are male or female.

A quote from "Our Common Bond". Citizenship application booklet 

I hopped in my car and drove through the Gap to my desert home feeling a hundred percent Australian.

Mate!!

To be continued......
 

 Grey Bits

Thanks to Mel for verifying my paperwork.

Thanks to the Australian Government for their fast and efficient work.

Thanks to you all for allowing me to share this wonderful country with you.

Larapinta 8. A barrel full of exhaustion

 

 

One wonders why cricketers stand out in the sun when it is 40 degrees in the shade, and why hikers do so in freezing conditions. It is simply because it is the thing that keeps them alive, vibrant and looking forward to life.

Peter Bowler

 

One of the reasons why you could have a shocker of a sleep is if the toilet is built too close to the hut. The door clanks open and shut and noises from within the toilet echo throughout the night. It was so still out there you could hear toilet paper scrunch or fold from one hundred metres away. It was busy that night around the hut where I was attempting to sleep. I missed the cosy, calming confines of my tent.

Ron and Geoff had warned me they were leaving at three in the morning to train for the World Cup. They explained that the early morning hours of rogaining competitions are the most energy-sapping and concentration levels usually drop. Did I want to come with them? I don’t think so!!

Monday 18 July 2016

Section 7: Serpentine Gorge to Ellery Creek

Section 7 is a 13.8km section. 

 

Uneven, definitely not flat

 

The sharp rocks on the first part of the trail can be hard on tender feet, but the rocks show the long geological history of the West MacDonnell Ranges. 

 





Geological treasures - like walking on an ancient Australian spine



There is an abundance of birds, including the hard to find spinifex bird.

 

Information from the government website

 

The Spinifex Bird or Megaluridae WAS hard to find.
I had to look it up on fatbirder.com



 

 

After a couple of restless hours I just decided to get up before dawn, pack and leave as early as I could. I was excited to have my rest day with Julie at Ellery creek. Sleep some other time. The track, even though only 13 km and according to the map, on flat terrain, went up and down like a yoyo over jaggered diagonal edges of ancient geographic treasures. Frustratingly, the track bounced up every molehill on the plain, ignoring the perfect flat ground only a hundred metres away. My feet did what was prescribed by the government website and turned to mush.


 

Looking back from Trig Point

 

 

My tired eyes dismissed the first sighting of Trig Point as "a mirage". Coming closer there was no denying the fact that there was a barrel hoisted high in the air by a pole and anchored down by wires. 'What does a barrel on a stick do in the middle of the wilderness?' This rusty barrel, according to the information provided, is a trigonomic station used as a reference point to build roads, bridges etc. If you are a surveyor, this bucket on a pole may well be an exciting thingymebob. I liked the aesthetics of it, cutting into the sky like a make-do relic of a past civilisation in an even more ancient landscape.

 

Barrel on a stick?

 

 

Give me any other day of my life to walk that section and my mouth would have been open from amazement. This Monday all I could feel was frustration and anxiety that the end of the day's walk was still so far away. My brain going through some 'what the hell am I doing here' time. As I exhaustedly cantered into the car park of Ellery Creek, Ron and Geoff had long gone, I again resorted to jabbing holes in the sky from happiness. Julie's timing was spot on as the familiar car rocked up at the day use area immediately, trailing a fine cloud of red dust behind her.

I had to sit down for half an hour before I could help set up the roof top tent. I had a memorable shower in the change tent, exquisite lunch and dinner, a lovely afternoon kip and clean clothes. Oh!! how I appreciated those small things after eight days on the track.
 

Reflections in still water at Ellery Creek

 
It was a romantic evening sitting around the fire looking at stars, listening to the wildlife and slept like baby bear after a big bowl of porridge.

Tuesday 19 July 2016

 

 

We chatted to Roz and John over a coffee. It was Rozz's first major hike and she compared her experiences with the expensive retreats she attended in far away places where they practised being silent and looking inward to check in on emotional and mental wellbeing. “You should try it some day Mars” I was told in a bout of banter. This to me is an interesting comparison. I always come away feeling reenergised and full of ideas after a hike like this. The look inward is certainly a factor out here in the vast open wilderness. 

If we allow ourselves to be truly vulnerable we will find out who we are. 

 

The wire that anchors the Trig Point 

I hope everyone, some day, has the opportunity to walk tough.
 

That afternoon I set up my tent in the creek bed. I am now more confident I am no longer going to be swallowed up by a raging torrent of muddy water in the middle of the night. As it happens, there was no rain anywhere in the area and the day temperatures had warmed up to mid-twenties; perfect for hiking.

 

 

We packed up the car and Julie, sadly, left for Alice Springs.

 

Grey Bits

 
If you like my blog, please, feel free to share it with others.

Do you want to become a guest blogger, write your own story and publish on my blog? I would love to hear from you. Email me at storiesfrommars@gmail.com



 

 

Ellery Creek, the half way mark

Larapinta 3. How to Freeze a Family

 

 

As I was writing about the howling, lone dingo last night my pen ran out of ink. A slight inconvenience in the life of a small-time writer. The Latvian lady came to the rescue and she gave me hers. She was leaving the track in a couple of hours anyway and I was just about to set off. I thanked her and told her that giving was good Karma. She told me how grateful she felt when a stranger made her a coffee at Ormiston Gorge. Some people are just really nice.

 



One of the many creeks I crossed

 

Tuesday 12 July 2016

 

Section 11: Finke River to Redbank Gorge

 

Section 11 is a 26km section of the trail. You will need to camp overnight to finish the section. The first part of the trail goes across spinifex-covered hills with the spectacular backdrop of Mt Sonder, then crosses the Davenport River and climbs to a hilltop lookout.

 

It descends to shady and peaceful Rocky Bar Gap at the base of Mt Sonder. It passes through this gap and travels along the southern side of Mt Sonder to Redbank Creek.  

 

Information from the NT Government website

 

 

 

I never took my jacket off that day. Mount Sonder looked gloomy and, wait for it, sombre, under an overcast sky. The track, mainly flat and gravelly ,alternating with flat, red dusty area. This land is surprisingly dry with only the toughest scrubs and trees surviving here even in the midst of winter. I crossed many waterless creek beds and spinifex was growing plentiful along the track in places similar to arranged manicured gardens.

 

 

The spinifex garden

 

Despite the arid atmosphere, I could not believe the multitude of flowers growing in the bush. I stopped many times to take photos. This task has become way more arduous with a heavy backpack.

 

Pack off - get camera - take a breath - shoot - put away camera - lift pack on (swear!).

 

 

Gloomy skies overhead

 

 

I had a huge lunch/morning tea at the Rocky Bar Gap Campsite.  Any thought I entertained to stay overnight was blown away by the intrusive 24 hour surveillance camera mounted on a pole overlooking the water tanks. Why have a camera in this desolate place? Who would have been out here to abuse this pristine spot? Isn’t it funny,  I have been recorded millions of times by CCTV cameras in many places of our fast moving world - yet this one made me feel uncomfortable.  I battled the urge to drop my dacks and moon whoever is watching the screen on the other side.

 

 

A Desert Rose

 

I filled every spare bottle I possessed with water and cussed under my breath when I hoiked the beast over my shoulders. After walking carefully through the dry creek bed aptly named Rocky Gap and traversed over a relatively flat area I came to a hill - a big hill - with the most obvious yet uninspiring name, Big Hill.

 

 

Flowers growing at the foot of Big Hill

 

It took me a while to get to the top as it was BIG. Underway I heard somebody yell out a cooooie!!! from the top which I answered. I also found some flowers that were picked on the ground. There must be kids here somewhere I thought.

 

At the top I decided to stay and tried to find a place to camp with a little shelter from the piercing wind. A glorious brief snooze was in order after which I ventured out of my tent wearing all my clothes, including thermal underwear and a beanie. Six post meridiem and it was bitter. 

 

I met the only other adventurers that were crazy enough to stay up here. Unbelievably, a family of six were braving the icy conditions. Mum and Dad (John and Lara) were passionate hikers and have always taken their kids hiking from an early age. The family including the kids Hannah, Sancha, Finn and little Eddie were spread out in three tents across the top of Big Hill.




Rugged up for dinner

The enthusiastic and definitely driving force behind it all, John, told me he carried his six year old daughter most of the way up only to have to return to his massive pack to haul it to where he had left the six year old Edie - pronounced Ee dee. He said he got to know Edie very well as she chatted to him the whoooooole day long.



Edie not scared of a chat

A cheeky Edie appeared to take a bit of a shine to me and accidently slapped my arm on many occasions as she happened to walk past. I was included in sharing some of the families chocolate and John loaned me his phone to call Julie to arrange our meeting in two days time. I was on the good side of Karma up there.

 

 

Sisters in front of Mount Sonder

 

The view from Big Hill was great, but the cloud cover was smothering the sunset. Just before the sun was about to disappear behind the horizon it peaked through an ever so slight opening lighting up the veil hanging over sombre Sonder. We gathered at the edge of Big Hill and stood there for quite some time. “Will you look at that” said John several times.

 

“This has made it all worth it”.
 



'It was'



 

 

Grey Bits

 
Do you want to become a guest blogger, write your own story and publish on my blog? I would love to hear from you. Email me at storiesfrommars@gmail.com

Expect cold weather when hiking the Larapinta in winter. Day time temperatures on the day I walked to Big Hill barely went over ten degrees, but average out to around 20 degrees for the months of May to August. Night time temperatures during these months average around 5 degrees but I was told they can wildly fluctuate. Read more about the current conditions on the Larapinta at https://nt.gov.au/leisure/recreation/bushwalking-hiking/larapinta-trail/larapinta-trail-current-conditions

There is barely any phone reception on the whole of the Larapinta trail. In certain high spots and closer to Alice Springs people who are with Telstra are able to get some bars.

I say lose the phone!!!