Red kangaroo and red centre

Although I'm writing this entry in the YHA in Perth (a quite grand ex St John's Ambulance HQ), it's the time in the centre that i want to continue with (or I'll forget). For now though, just let me say that sleeping horizontally tonight is something that i'm looking forward to a lot after two nights attempting to sleep on a "red kangaroo day-nighter seat" that must have been designed by an engineer with the bodily proportions of a mountain gorilla - too short in the leg and too long in the torso!

... back to Alice Springs.

We spent the afternoon exploring the town - mainly the centre (Todd Mall) and Anzac Hill. As the shoppers disappeared from the mall, aboriginals stayed behind and some began selling small pieces of art, or asking for money to buy food,
"Brother and sister, help me with 5 dollars for some food."
We handed over some money to the middle-aged couple sitting on the edge of the walkway. The man's speech was slurred, but the woman quickly took the cash and said, "That's good, that's 'nuff to buy flour and meat. I'm gonna get a kangaroo tail with that."
As the sun set we walked up Anzac Hill, the memorial to the Australian fallen in the 20th century wars. There's a good view from there; out over the twon to the MacDonells and the desert. The place is doubly poignant because the hill is also a significant site in the local Aboriginal dreaming stories. ust for completeness, the local Macdonalds now stands guard over the Dog Rock, on of the most sacred Aboriginal landmarks in the area.
We walked back along the Todd River bank to the hostel in the gathering darkness. All through the stands of gum trees small groups of Aboriginals were sitting around fires, or wandering between them. They were noisy, and called to each other aggressively, but we'd been told that this was nothing to be too worried about so we carried on. There was probably a lot of drinking going on (and petrol-sniffing is a problem, too), but we weren't close enough to find out. The voices and smoke in the darkness were evocative, though. No point of contact seemed to exist between us and them. The groups that noticed us ignored us; individuals walking past either did the same or veered away. A strange and unsettling experience, but, like Bill Bryson, we found that when we got back to our own concerns - in our case joining in the barbecue at the hostel - the Aboriginals faded away.

The following day we collected our campervan and headed out for the desert!

The plan: drive south to Curtin Springs and camp there overnight; next day go on to Kata Tjuta (the Olgas) and then camp at Yulara to visit Uluru (Ayers Rock) the next day; camp in the desert somewhere between Yulara and Erldunda; return to Alice Springs briefly before driving out to the East Macdonnells to camp at Trephina Gorge for a night; return the campervan.

Driving off southwards down the Stuart Highway, we soon left the township behind. Next stop would be to re-fuel at Erldunda, 225 km south, and then a right turn along the Lasseter Highway for Curtin Springs.