Asian Journal - Chapter 1 - Time for a change. Feb 2000

When I first left England in October ’98 I had no intention of stay in Australia for long. It was purely a stepping stone between the cold harsh reality of the UK and the land I’d dreamt of, Nepal. The Australian High Commission had seen its way to granting me a 3-month work permit and that was exactly what I planned to do. Work. I needed to earn enough money to get me to Katmandu, then hop on the next jumbo out of there. But like all the best-laid plans mine soon got forgotten and before I knew it I was renting an apartment, buying the necessary city accessories and generally establishing life in a new town. Really I should consider myself lucky as if I had planned to have seen anymore of Australia than Sydney harbour I would have been sorely disappointed! Each day as I trundled over the harbour bridge on my way to work I’d wonder in awe at the beauty of it. And each evening following another laborious 9 hours in an office tower I’d beetle back over the water wondering just why I was still in Sydney. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed my time there. Great friends, great food, great shopping, but I couldn’t help feeling there was something else I should be doing, somewhere else.In an attempt to escape the city, and see a little more of the country I caught a small plane to Alice Springs two days before Christmas ’99 and joined a group of 12 travellers headed for the Red Centre, not realising this would awaken the backpacker within me.
After miles of driving through dust blown desert there it appeared before us. What we’d spent the last 6 hours waiting for, the round junction for Kata Juna! Yes that’s what outback driving is all about. From the air the desert rippled as the heat rose from the soil, and sparkled as if littered with diamonds. Down here the haze played havoc with the perspective and those diamonds showed themselves as discarded VB beer cans and the miles turned into hours. Christmas Eve and as we climbed the steep slopes of Kings Canyon the mercury climbed with us. 46c and the hot winds sucked the moisture from our skin and the size of this landscape stole our words. Everything in the outback is big- the distances, the temperatures, the flies. After huge expanses of nothingness this cathedral of stone was haunting. The extreme heat stopped us from exploring too much too high but in a shadowy corner we found respite. A billagong. Dark water, icy to the touch with no doubt sinister residents waiting in its depths. This didn’t stop us wallowing. We didn’t even bother getting undressed, we plunged in headfirst, splashed, kicked, screamed and then shrieked as our guide warned of watersnakes. I made it out of that water just as fast as I’d made it in, and within second my clothes were dry again. There was no respite from the heat, until the sun set.That evening we gathered firewood from the surrounding bush and laid our swags out by the fire for dinner. As the sun left us the desert changed. Its colours moved, the shadows evaporated and it gained a voice of its own. Geckos, spiders, scorpions, snakes, all drawn by the light and warmth of our fire gathered about and clicked, croaked and scuttled their evensong. Christmas Eve night and the enormity of the desert was dwarfed by the heavens as millions of stars blanketed the sky. The temperature plummeted and I slept, secretly hoping for snow on Christmas morning. There was no snow, but it certainly was cold when I woke. The fire was low but given fresh fuel and a poke with a strong stick it was woken and teased to make tea and toast. 4am and in two hours the sun would be back. Two hours to get to Uluru for the first light!I’d made the decision not to climb the rock. The Aborigines ask you not to, the guide’s say it’s not safe but theres something about the rock itself that exudes power. Something about its sheer size and colour that warns you not to mess with it. In darkness I set off to walk the perimeter of the stone and explore its base. The ground moved before me as the first rays of light broke the horizon and the desert animals hurried for shade. Within minutes I was shedding layers and taking photos simultaneously as I tried to stay cool and capture the changing light on the rock. Like a giant waking from a long sleep it seems to uncurl and stretch as it’s shadows move across it until it lies full-length, basking in the hot Southern sun. We spent the day with Uluru, hearing its stories, learning its secrets but it still scared me. I still felt totally overawed by its size, stature and power. The dry heat haze seems to make its surface pulse, and the dust at its base blows as it gently breathes in and out. As we drove away it loomed huge in our mirrors, reminding us just whose landscape this was.
The rain was pouring as I landed in Sydney. The spray from the tyres splashed the café windows as I recounted my trip to friends over frappees. It was reassuring to be back in familiar surroundings, to feel claustrophobic and trapped by the city but something else was screaming from inside me. That backpacker needed to get out!
The new millennium was celebrated in true style, overlooking the harbour, champagne in hand with friends around me but as I watched the bridge explode with light I knew this would be the last time I’d see it like this.Within 4 days of the new century I was back in the office, sat at my desk as if nothing had changed. Those around me asked questions, demanded deadlines and pondered problems as my journey before me downloaded. www...Lonelyplanet, yahoo weather, flightsite and vacinaction centre websites were hastily minimised as colleagues approached and as I journeyed back and forth across the harbour bridge, my sight never lifted from the landscapes laid out in the travel books before me. Just 8 weeks after my flight from Alice back to Sydney I was again at the airport, rucksack stuffed and head filled with fear, but my heart knew we were making the right move.