The Temple Bar Termites

 


The red centre is a harsh, unforgiving place to be. Ask Sturt, Lasseter and Flynn. They will tell you it takes a special person to survive this barren land. You will need a place to shelter, water, a good sense of direction and people's companionship for sanity as the bare minimum to get by.

After you have made the wise decision to drive to Temple Bar (sorry not an actual drinking hole) you will be gob-smacked by the range that towers up on your left and in the far distance on your right. Smacking your gob even harder is the temple shaped red rock that seems to loom over head the closer you get (see photo above). I have driven on this road many times and the visual spectacle of these olden giants never fail to amaze me. The light changes continuously and the colours are different every time your gaze is drawn towards them. From dark orange in the morning, to golden edged brown at night and anything in-between.

At the foot of The Temple Bar lays a caravan park with that oasis feeling we savoured when we first drove through the dried up creek. It is a shady, leafy place with green lawn covering drive-through sites and quirky, but functional ablutions. A variety of caravan-attached dwellings are huddled together waiting for a big boulder from the temple above to ten-pin them over. People wave at you here in this place and crank out a 'G'DAY'!!!

There are massive gum trees, ghost gums and jacaranda trees lining the small streets. In and around them, birds are frolicking like pigs in a pen. It is 6am when the galahs start screeching as if possessed and the babbler family of eleven strong, come around and entertain us as if you are watching a warped episode of Benny Hill. At night, the lone call of the red-tailed cockatoo can be heard echoing off the Temple Bar wall.

 

This babbler is feeding a cricket to her young.

 

A galah is flat out drinking

The weather around these parts appears to be on steroids. Winter night temperatures have been known to drop to minus seven while in the summertime the temp will barely squeeze below 24 in the small hours of the morning. High 30s and scorching 40s are common place during the day without let off. This summer has been extremely humid with record rainfall.



Heavy summer rain clouds at dusk

To make this place taste even more like the outback there is a colony of black-footed wallabies that live half way up the rock. At dusk and dawn you can see joeys racing like mad around a large shaped boulder, that hasn’t quite made it far enough down the hill to kill anyone yet.  We are regularly visited by large muscly euros (kangaroos) that come to drink water left out by the tenants or just come out to graze and a good old eyeball.

 



These wallabies are having a play fight at Wallaby Rock



What yah looking at?

To say that we are surrounded by a tight knit community of outback characters is an understatement. There is an unknown recluse that is building the great wall of China around his hording shelter, an avid Collingwood supporter who’ s ear-splitting swearing  can be heard every time they play and an openly pronounced lesbian lady who proudly lives in a place called Normanby. There lives John Strehlow the author and playwright; Alan the cartoonist; and Chris, Russ and their dog Lexi. I am proud to count myself among them. These Northern Territorians finest gather anytime at impromptu drinking sessions - coffee as well as the hard stuff.  It proves that we are all mates in this place of dust and isolation.

Alan; the best cartoonist I've ever met

Take that time when the creek flooded. A month of intermittent heavy Darwinesque, tropical downpours pushed its sticky, humidity upon us Temple Bar Termites. Over here, with the rainfall in the wrong catchment areas, anything can happen.

With some warning from the Bureau of Meteorology we all parked our cars on the other side of the creek. You could see the water trickle down over the white, sandy creek bed towards us. It takes a while to saturate this dry country, but in the end Roe Creek was flowing freely. In order to get to work, all of us had to wade across the strong flowing stream, whether you were wearing your high- vis, stubbies and thongs or a long hoiked up flowing dress with painted nails.

 

Alison on the grader that blocked the access road

 

Michelle's feet enjoying the soothing feel of the water

Julie coming back from work and being helped across the water
by a gallant Rob

What a great excuse not to turn up for work. “Sorry boss. Can’t make it through the creek. Send me a helicopter!”  




Garth in the outback deck chair

Excitedly, we watched  the arrival of the water - we sat on our camping chairs in the stream – coldie in hand - Stevo was there with his fishing rod – Rob and Brett were paddling around pretending to drown - water level going up and up - beer and wise cracks flowing as hard as the river.




Dealing with the water. Rod the owner always working hard to improve the park

Brett cooling off in the river



Stevo the (de)grader

"You know you're a local when you see the creek flooded three times" said Stevo.

What a place to call home.

 

 Grey Bits

 

Steve has just been told there are no fish to be caught in these rivers. He has put away his special lures and is now using his fishing rod as a flag post.

 

Julie recommends keeping socks on when crossing a creek.
Pink ones preferably

 

This is the Temple Bar Facebook page.

https://www.facebook.com/pages/Temple-Bar-Caravan-Park-Ilparpa-Rd-Alice-Springs/355496267829816

 

Come and say g'day some time.

 

Dinner with Strehlow

 

 

Yes I am guilty, guilty of Googling my own name. Aren’t we all? When I typed the five letters of my name in that rectangular box many years ago, I can remember being disappointed. Nothing much appeared in regards to myself but there was an artist with my name, a famous soccer player and a really old photo of a couple of dudes with stern looking, bearded faces. It seemed like nothing important to me at the time.

 

I was wrong!



The stern looking dudes I first saw on the net.
Photo taken in the Alice Springs Library

Our first outing away from Alice Springs was to go camping at the truly spectacular Palm Valley (how did those palm trees end up in the desert?) and visited a place called Hermannsburg, about 120 km west of Alice Springs. We paid our entrance fee at the kiosk and explored  the dusty grounds of the old mission, to the tiny, old church and had a coffee at the café. We strolled into a large shed that served as a museum with the history laid out on large panels that were leaning against the walls. To my ultimate surprise - now blow me down - displayed and enlarged, was the same serious features of the photo I accidentally came across while I vainly Googled my own importance. 

‘Kempe’ It said.
 

Pastor Kempe on the info board at Hermannsburg

Kempe the most unusual name in the series of Kemp. Not the famous soccer star (Mario)Kempes or the Kemp without thrills (from Dean Kemp If you are an elderly, tragic West Coast Eagles fan) or the more common Kemper but a rare, Kempe with the E on the end.

A story right up my alley. Kempe Street in Alice Springs

It was 1877 when Adolf Hermann Kempe (born in Deuben, Saxony), a German Lutheran missionary, travelled up from Germany, Hermannsburg to start the first mission in the Northern Territory at the Finke River. It was not surprisingly named  Hermannsburg, although I would have preferred Kempe town.

Kempe house, one of the first buildings at Hemannsburg

It turns out Hermann was the protector of many of the Arrente Indigenous population when it was common practise to shoot Aboriginal men. He wrote a letter to the government complaining about the mistreatment of the Indigenous population. The Pastor is also known to have begun the first recording of the Arrente language to paper and he translated the bible into Aranda.  

The cross now reeling on top of Kempe's building 

Hermannsburg went through many peaks and troughs as life was tough at the mission with supplies taking three months to travel up by camel where drought and disease took its toll on the residents. The whole Kempe family suffered from, in those days, incurable typhoid and both Mrs Dorothee Kempe and six-year old son Ludwig, died of this horrible disease. After loosing his wife at Hermannsburg, where she is laid to rest with her son, Hermann left with his daughter to live in South Australia. What a terrible, hard life this must have been.

Enough for anyone to question their faith.



A concrete slab and a rusty cross - no flowers

In 1894, Carl Strehlow and his wife Frieda took on the Hermannsburg mission. He continued on with the missionary work of Kempe and built the church and other buildings whilst maintaining close relationships with the Arrente. Carl Strehlow became severely ill and was transported by horse and cart from Hermannsburg to the nearest available medical help, but tragically died on the way at horseshoe bend.

Carl’s son Theo or Ted as he liked to be known, wrote a riveting recount of this trip in a book called 'Journey to Horseshoe Bend'. It is an in-depth look at Indigenous connections to the land, a historical insight at our pastoral past and a direct reliving of the final days of his father's life.



This photo was taken around Boggy Hole and is on route to Horseshoe Bend

Ted became an anthropologist, came back to the region and with the help of his fluent Arrenda  created the hugely controversial collection of sacred Aboriginal artifacts and recordings of elders speaking and singing about their secret men's business. 700 artifacts and 14 kilometres of film to be exact. They are now stored, but in the main, but not exhibited in the Strehlow Research Centre at the Museum of Central Australia in Alice Springs. This collection is now the property of the Arrente people.

Some weeks after our discovery of my Kempe name-sake, I was speaking to the owner of the Temple Bar Caravan Park - a grand old lady named Mona, who gets around the park in a golf buggy whilst cracking jokes. You know that Mona is around by the sound of a squeezy horn she uses to let you know the mail has arrived. The horn sounds like a donkey that has just started puberty. In one of the conversations with Mona the Owner, she opened up about the work she had done at the Hermannsburg mission when she was 16. “Do you know Carl Strehlow's grandson, John, is staying here in our park?” she said.





The bell at the old Hermannsburg church

My hair was standing up straight on goose-pimpled skin. John Strehlow, grandson of Carl Strehlow, son of Ted lives here - only a few doors down?

At the first possible opportunity I invited John over for dinner. It turns out that John (see opening photo) is the most fascinating gentlemen in his own right and brimming with information about this region and his family. He has written a historical biography about his grandmother Frieda Keysser, who married and accompanied Carl Strehlow to Hermannsburg. A new book is being written only a hundred metres from where I sit and write this blog.

 

Dear reader, can you see that there are some questions that need to be asked  right here?

What are the forces that brought the modern-day, living Strehlow and Kempe together? Is this one of those dismissible coincidences that just appear to happen in life or is this a more mysterious, unexplained chain of events that add to the magic of the red centre?

As a self-indulgent Googler, I would love to know  where I fit in amongst all these regional identities and tough first settlers of the Northern Territory. Have I inadvertently  tripped over a distant relative and followed that man almost subconsciously to the centre of Australia, as far away from Germany and Holland (my country of origin) as you can get?

Am I related to the German missionary Hermann Kempe?

I think I just felt my brain explode.

Grey Bits

This is a rich vein of local history and a bloggers paradise that I have stumbled upon.  Anyone who knows the history of Strehlow's family knows that I have only started with the tip of the termite hill and have done their story little justice.

John Strehlow's book is called ‘The Tale of Frieda Keysser’ and can be purchased from Amazon.

A great read

Just like John Strehlow, both Carl Strehlow and Ted Strehlow (John's father) are accomplished authors. I used a fair bit of information from their books.





The old version of Ted's book I borrowed from Mona.

I have read a short but very interesting translation of the diary of A H Kempe and drawn some information from it to help me describe Kempe’s achievements. It was called 'From Joiners Bench to Pulpit'.

Thanks to the library staff for helping me out with the archives and for making me feel like a celebrity after my name was recognised. Shame though - they didn't ask me for an autograph!


A huge 'thank you' to John Strehlow for inspiring me no end, for his generosity and the direct window into the past.

 

Desert Park: Night Stalkers

It was a steaming hot night, still 35degrees at 7pm, with lightning-filled clouds hanging over the MacDonnell Range far in the distance. Six of theTemple Bar Termites (a name we have given the caravan park inhabitants) were walking up the bitumen track in a heatwave of expectation. “We are going through the second fence now” said our guide. “Please be careful when you go through the gate. Make sure none of them get out while you are getting in”.

As soon as we walked through the small gate, we were surrounded  by lots of Mala hopping around our feet. We all took great care not to step on one of these delicate looking miniature Kangaroos - the size of a four-cup teapot. Maybe not as rotund!
 

The Marla around our feet

 

Mala show a special mode of breeding called embryonic diapause. This allows the female Mala to hold a fertilized egg in suspension until a previous joey has exited the pouch or conditions are more favourable.

(Information taken from the Desert Park fact sheet, NT Government)

In true, here is one I prepared earlier, style the embryo replaces the joey in the pouch. The Mala's catering skills for the young are exceptional as she is able to create two kinds of milk, one kind for the joey and another for the embryo. You want the kids to be happy?

This joey is just about ready to vacate the pouch.
Seeing this cute pair was worth the entry fee alone

We strolled around the huge enclosure on a gravelly, at times, washed away trail. With our red light torches, we were lucky enough to spot all the eight species that inhabit this enclosure. Red light is  the only light allowed around these tranquil surrounds so as not to disturb the little moonlighting critters.

There sat a spectacled Hare-Wallaby, chomping on some food; an Echidna foraging for termites in a tree hollow and a Burrowing Bettong that was checking us out just as much as were checking it out.

 

The BB up close

The Burrowing Bettong is the only member of the Kangaroo family that regularly lives in burrows. These burrows are usually very extensive, with numerous entrances and tunnels that create complex warrens.

(Information taken from the Desert Park fact sheet, NT Government)

Coober Pedy style living for Marsupial's

And suddenly there it was….the rarest of sightings ever; A Bilby flashed by quickly as if extinction was never an issue for its species. My camera tried hard to capture this extraordinary event, but Mr Bilby never stopped for a pose. Photography was definitely challenging in the dark with the shutter having to stay open for so long.

 

One day I will take a good shot of a Bilby

 

Grace, the biologist on duty and our Scottish guide Jerry, were both brimming with knowledge about the cute mammals surrounding us. They talked about the food that each different animal eats and how they procreate. They told us that the enclosure offers protection from cats and foxes; and  a habitat safe from the destructive hooves of cows and sheep.

 

WARNING:

 

A PERSONAL OPINION COMING YOUR WAY!!!

The days where we gawk at animals in small zoo cages should become a thing of the past. We need to create sanctuaries like the nocturnal enclosure at Desert Park where we can be up close to the animals, but above all can protect our native Australian species from extinction - even regenerate them.  Isn't this the kind of experience that we want our kids and their kids to be able to experience in the future?





A Greater Stick-Nest rat can now only be found on Franklin Island.
There are approximately 1500 left

Grey Bits

Thanks to Jerry and Grace for this incredible experience and for the important job they are doing.

Alongside the eight species of Desert Park, we stumbled upon many other animals that live in the area like butterflies, praying mantis, frogs and spiders.



A bonus frog

Desert Park has a great website with all the information you need. Check it out!! www.alicespringsdesertpark.com.au



And a bonus butterfly appeared before it got dark

Stevo the Devo



 

Someone that introduces themselves as Stevo the Devo cannot be overlooked in the world of plain Jane’s and average Bruce’s. Steve has been our friendly neighbour for some time now, together with his long-suffering, but beautiful wife Ali.

The first thing that strikes you about Stevo is the warm, dulcet Irish/Scottish accent, with occasional Ozzie twang chucked in. You will learn from him that he was born in Scotland and lived for many years in Northern Ireland. His warm, giving personality attracts many people to come and have a chat. I will guarantee you will be entertained by some funny one-liners whilst cracking open a few tinnies of the Vietnamese brew “Hammer and Tongs”.  

Steve likes to express himself in characterful colloquialisms -(language warning applies). To describe a situation of his own bad luck, Steve stated “If I was thrown into a barrel of t*ts, I would come out sucking my thumb.” Another one of Steve's crackers; "If yerr looking for sympathy, look in the dictionary between Sh*t and Syphilis." 



That sentence you hear bandied about “he will do anything for you” definitely applies to Steve. Being a diesel mechanic by trade, he is incredibly handy and highly-skilled at just about anything that needs done. After a hard days work, you will often find him mowing somebody else's lawn, giving a neighbour's car a service or hanging a huge flat screen TV. That sort of community spirit is admirable.


Stevo reckons he doesn’t have any hang-ups about his time serving in the Northern Ireland Police Force (RUC), the only thing he catches himself doing is walking as far away from the gardens, even avoiding the sidewalk. Apparently,  people's front gardens were where the IRA bombs were hidden and Steve, many years later, still has the inclination to walk on the road.




Brother Douglas (left) of the Royal Air Force and Steve

 

The photo underneath is the reinforced front of the Anderson Town police station in West Belfast where Steve used to work. The IRA drove a car full of explosives up to the front door and blasted a big hole in the building.

 

When Steve immigrated to Australia to look for a better life, he held down a variety of odd jobs like driving a concrete truck - he even sold and installed fire systems. With some years to go until he becomes a full-blown grey nomad, would there still be time to chase his ultimate dream? Alice Springs is known to be the epicentre of the land of opportunity. You see, Stevo the Devo is one of the biggest Aerosexuals around. It may sound a bit saucy, but the man simply loves❤airplanes.

All of his life he has been wanting to fly or tinker with planes. Before you have registered that the sound of an engine overhead is an airplane, Steve would have told you the make, engine details and where it is flying to. This is a Cessna 402 or the Royal Flying Doctor etc. He has never-ending conversations with other plane fanatics from model airplane clubs and anyone who will listen.
 

Steve's model airplane

When the mechanical engineer, who lives two doors down, stopped by for a chat he soon was invited to apply for an apprenticeship with Australian Apprenticeships NT and become a mechanical engineer.  At 56 years of age, he is now working his butt off as the oldest apprentice that I have ever come across and living out his lifelong dream of working in the aviation industry.



A photo taken by Steve during the test flight of one of the airplanes he repaired

  

Stevo you are an inspiration to us all. Cheers Mate!!!



Grey Bits

It appears that there are massive opportunities in the Northern Territory for employment, studying and apprenticeships. One of the government agencies is Australian Apprenticeships NT. Find out more details here www.australianapprenticeshipsnt.com.au




The Devo on the job

Walkies, please?

 

 

Walking is my favourite thing to do in the whole, wide world. I get very excited when it is time to get going. I sprint around, in and out of the door, jump on a chair and stand on my hind legs. This is when I wave my front paws in the air calling out -

“Hello!! I am here! I am reeeaaaady!!”

Throughout my doggy years it was always mum and dad who took me for walks. Lately though my beautiful mum has been slowing down a bit and my dad goes off to work with some strange creatures with large humps and massive flat feet. Humans call them camels. "Boy!!! chasing them would be fun."

One day mum and I met a tall man with a bit of a limp. He completely ignored me at first, but after some of my best signature moves, like wagging my tail and looking up at him with my dark brown eyes, while my head perfectly tilted, he slowly came around. I got him covered!
 

Willow

For starters, I showed Mr Limpy around the caravan park a few times and visited me mate Wilson, but soon lead him to the most exciting place of all. Go on Mr Limpy say it, say it .......

The clay-pans!!!

The clay-pans are a large, wild piece of Australian bush surrounded by massive hills and it is just across the road from where I live. It is a doggy paridise I tell you. Imagine a place you can walk as far as a dog wants to go. The grass is long and after the rains it creates the most amazing swimming facilities. I run through the muddy, brown water until my legs cannot touch the ground any longer and only a strong swim will get me out.

 

The rain falling at the clay pans

Over and over I have shown the tall fellah how to swim through these mud flats and I cannot for the life of me understand why he hasn’t joined me. It is perfect and perfect for a good solid shake after. Why he always laughs and proceeds to wipe his legs is a mystery to me.

Strange human behaviour.

 

At the clay-pans, I release my inner lynx into the wild. I sniff out a big lizard or a grasshopper by jamming my nose into the grass so hard it makes me sneeze. When any of those yummy critters flee, watch out,  I am ready to pounce.

 

Here lizzy, lizzy

I tell you, I don’t like those big, smelly cows much. I growl like an overheated chainsaw and lean into my lead with all I have got. "That moo is going to cop it some day."

 



Was that a cow?



One day mum and I visited the tall guy at his house. He was wearing several black leads and had grown two extra legs. It is unbelievable how slow he was hobbling along. I looked at him sadly. "Is this the end of the walkies?"

 

Are you alright mate?

Anyway, I am taking mum and dad on a holiday. I am showing them how exciting it is to live in a house on wheels and travel the highways, while hanging my head out of the window. When I get back, I would like to take Mr Limpy back to those claypans. Hopefully he isn't missing me too much.



See you soon my four-legged friend

DOGGY BITS

The above story is told by guest-blogger Lexi.  I have taken to walking Lexi a couple of times a week and, as you can tell, been having the best time.




I must admit, I do like a scratch too!

If you like my free blog, please, 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

Larapinta 16: Walking to the Beginning of Time

 

 

Use this gadget in case of an emergency; help is only four months away

 

The campsite exploded in a flurry of activity at 5:30am. Torches flickered around in tents; the sound of zippers and the rustling of canvas filled the pitch-black, chilly air. In record time we were all packed and ready to go, drawn to the ultimate prize of the day, the Larapinta finish line.

 

Telegraph Station

 

 

The first building in Alice Springs

The Telegraph Station is worth having an extended look at, since it is the place that marks the first white settlement in the red centre.

The Alice Springs Telegraph line was midway along the Overland Telegraph line from Darwin to Adelaide. Opened in 1872, the line suddenly reduced the isolation of Australians from the rest of the world.

I was surprised to see my lawyer swallow the hill in the distance in one gulp before I could strap my pack on. The Hilton was calling.

On top of Euro Ridge I was greeted by the rising sun, shrouded in a faint morning haze. The left of the ridge was a spinifex covered, rounded hill and to the right was a sudden dangerous drop, with far reaching views. Our splintered group of hikers took the trail teetering right on the edge of this dramatic plunge. While I unpacked my camera I could see them all disappear, one by one,  over the hill in the distance. My word!!! I could not believe what I saw through the viewfinder of my camera. I lost a piece of my soul up there on that ridge.

 



The steep rock-face in the morning

 

I have always attempted to share the finish-line euphoria with friends, family and the people I love. Five kilometres from the end, I texted those people, announcing my imminent, hard fought achievement. My phone did not stop with the congratulatory responses all day.

My small moment in the winter sun!

 

My lawyer who managed to stay out in front of me this whole morning came into view only four km's from the end. Now so much stronger and faster than ever. We walked together for a while; it was a joyous highlight-recalling session. At the last kilometre mark we decided to walk alone.

Somehow the trail gifted us a flatter area and passed a tiny graveyard. There lay people that died way before their generally accepted due dates even in those tough colonial days. Maybe a warning for when you start the Larapinta Trail, maybe when you are finishing the trail, the headstones in the cemetery queue you to thank the millions of lucky Larapinta stars that you’ve made it; safe and alive.

 

 

 

Ernie died of tuberculosis and was the brother of the station master T A Bradshaw. Imagine being terminally ill in a place thousands of kilometres away from civilization. The first building has only just been built and it isn't a hospital. Imagine having to stand by your brother helplessly and watch him die.

 

I felt more than alive walking the last couple of hundred metres. My thoughts and emotions were mixed like an expensive cocktail - happiness – feeling reenergised – dying for a good coffee – chest swelling pride for finishing  – sadness it  was all over – absolute awe of the natural beauty I had witnessed - feeling strong and fit - overcoming the physical and mental hardship.

Good things happen in the presence of beauty

 

The many days of limping in solitude were finally over. A little gazebo appeared in the distance with a large sign announcing the trailhead of the Larapinta Trail. I crossed the finish line with the biggest dingo howl and fist-pump imaginable. Grant was waiting for me there and after a serious handshake and some back-slapping, he offered to take a photo or two.

 



Mars is done!

 

For me, all that was left to do was wait for the man of the law to finish his long journey of survival and nail it down in kilobytes.  As he rounded the corner, a large smile rolled across his face and his arms reached up into the sky in triumph.

 



The trial finished

 

Grey Bits

Thanks to all the amazing people I have met on the Larapinta Trail. I hope our paths will cross again soon.

Grant - in a good place

The coffee tasted great at the Trailhead Café. We celebrated our hike for a couple of hours out on the terrace. Find more information on the Café and the Telegraph Station at this link alicespringstelegraphstation.com.au




Packs down

 

Please don't forget to read the government website before you take on the Larapinta Trail.
nt.gov.au/leisure/recreation/bushwalking-hiking/larapinta-trail

Thanks to the Government and Parks and Wildlife for the funding and upkeep of this world class hiking trail.




Follow the trail of the Yeperenye. It is in your hands

Last but not least, a warm thanks and a big hug goes out to my partner Jules for supporting me all the way along the track, putting up with my crazy antics and editing every thingymebob of mine into palatable English.

 

Thanks to you too mate

 

I often wonder what this place would have been like in the days of the first settlers.  The fact still remains - this is one of the most isolated, magical places in the world and in my opinion well worth visiting.

A long time ago came a man on a track

walking thirty miles with a pack on his back

and he put down his load where he thought it was the best

made a home in the wilderness.....

 

Telegraph Road written and performed by Dire Straits
 



The wires that connected Alice Springs to the rest of the world