INTERIOR TREK

This ‘pilgrimage’ around Central Australia by a group of eleven took place from 12-23 October 2004. It arose from casual conversation about the dichotomy in our national geography between crowded coast and desert centre and the parallel between frenetic daily life and personal centre. It was not a pilgrimage in the sense of set prayers at holy places, but an opportunity to contemplate the meeting point of the immanent and the transcendent God in places long held sacred. Nor was the desert encountered a sandy Saharan waste. There is generally some ground cover – Mulga, Desert Oak, Blue Mallee, Spinifex, wildflowers - and life that have sustained a people for tens of thousands of years. However, the clarity, space, silence and stark beauty have the ability to help focus in a way that the distractions of life at the fringe do not allow. So we set out to explore the effect of landscape on imagination and the spiritual journey, some with watercolours or cameras to capture the moment, none with excess baggage.

A good starting point was ‘Campfire in the Heart’ a retreat centre recently set up by David and Sue Woods just outside Heavitree Gap at the Eastern end of Alice Springs. Here we were welcomed and accommodation organised between the retreat house, a caravan and a cabin. The afternoon provided opportunity to visit the Alice Springs Cultural Precinct including the Araluen Galleries, hosting the ‘Desert Mob’ exhibition of recent works from Aboriginal art centres in Central Australia, and the Strehlow Research Centre. Dinner, a piano recital by one of the group, an exchange of expectations and examination of maps completed the day. The morning of our departure began with Eucharist in the prayer room featuring an interior glazed red sand garden. In due course our vehicle arrived, a sixteen seater 4WD International driven by Dave Burge who was to be as well cook and guide for the next ten days. All this had been organised through the operator ‘Emu Run’, based in Alice Springs.

The first stop was Santa Teresa Mission (Ltyentye Apurte Community) about eighty kilometres south-east of Alice Springs, only the first ten sealed. After the first Catholic priest was appointed to Alice Springs in 1929, a Mission for Aborigines was established behind Anzac Hill in 1937. In 1942, after the bombing of Darwin, military activity in Alice Springs necessitated the moving of the mission to Arltunga, 115 kilometres north-east of the town. Limited water supply required a further move in 1953 to the present site where it is home to about 500 Eastern Arrernte people. As some of the key contact people were in town we could not clarify the status of our permit or accommodation. Some of the volunteers invited us to take refuge in the quarters they were in and this was gladly accepted, given that the temperature in the shade was 43 Celsius. Later, a re-shuffle of mattresses meant we were able to stay in the same building for the night. After Mass the following morning in the church recently painted by local women with wonderful murals of creation we met with Agnes Palmer in the spirituality centre. Her story, revealing a rich blend of psychological insight and indigenous wisdom, showed change is possible. We were then individually smoked as a cleansing for the journey and a powerful reminder in her message to each to allow full life to our ‘spirit babies’ – alluding to one of the many paintings surrounding us. The experience was powerful and, taking more time than anticipated, was a reminder of Miriam-Rose Ungunmerr’s Dadirrri:

What I want to talk about is another special quality of my people. I believe it is the most important. It is our most unique gift.

It is perhaps the greatest gift we can give to our fellow Australians. In our language this quality is called dadirri.

Dadirri recognises the deep spring that is inside us. We call on it and it calls to us. This is the gift that Australia is thirsting for.

When I experience dadirri, I am made whole again. I can sit on the river bank or walk through the trees; even if someone close to me has passed away, I can find my peace in this silent awareness. There is no need of words. A big part of dadirri is listening. Through the years, we have listened to our stories. They are told and sung, over and over, as the seasons go by. Today we still gather around the campfires and together we hear the sacred stories.[1]

Our visit concluded with a stop at the Keringke Arts centre to see some of the work of the local artists.

Another 240 kilometres and we arrived towards evening at Old Andado Homestead, built in 1922 and preserved as a heritage listed example of life in remote regions. The owner, Molly Clark, is currently in Alice Springs for health reasons, but has lived on here since the death of her husband Mac in a plane accident in 1978. The nearby Mac Clark Conservation Reserve, site of one of three known stands of Acacia Peuce or waddy-wood, is named after him. Molly was instigator of the National Pioneer Women’s Hall of Fame in Alice Springs. Situated twenty kilometres into the Simpson Desert, the homestead sits between red sand dunes, defying the inhospitable terrain but giving a warm welcome to all who pass. In our case, as no water was available, it really did become a bush camp.

With morning light came the flies, a swag being no protection. We set off on the next 100 kilometres to Mount Dare over the South Australian border, crossing the bed of the Finke River, the oldest river in existence following its original 600 kilometre course for 350 million years. Since leaving Santa Teresa we had not seen another human being. Early afternoon brought us to Dalhousie Springs where we enjoyed the thermal waters and camped for the night. In the morning we stopped at the ruins of Dalhousie Homestead, a picturesque oasis of crumbling buildings. A surprise was a rather full billabong, Hughes’ Waterhole, and screeching cockatoos shattering the silence. Back over the border we made a detour to the Lambert Centre that marks the geographical centre of Australia at 25°36 South by 134°21 East. Eventually we got back to bitumen on the Stuart Highway and headed for Erldunda, our overnight stop. At this point the air conditioning and the starter motor on our vehicle had both failed and it was replaced with a forty-two seat Denning coach. It was perhaps this first part of the trip that most gave rise to reflection on the effect of landscape.

Not only does the desert journey offer a peculiarly Australian version of the Romantic quest for self-discovery but the perceived monotony of the terrain through which it occurs, the very absence of varied external features, drives the attention inwards to focus on the interior landscape. Such few external objects as there are assume enhanced significance as projections of, or pointers to, the traveller’s interior world. Thus the apparent emptiness of the desert invites continuity between geographical and psychological isolation. The mirage provides an especially important connection here, symbolising the failure of reason to empower us with explanations of the universe and parodying our dream experiences of inhabiting a place that is familiar, yet strange, realistic but fantastic. Similarly, the commonly recorded sense of entrapment by the fears and contingencies of the desert mirrors the imprisonment of the personality by internal fears and psychological determinants.

The desert journey also provides an obvious metaphor for spiritual pilgrimage, suggested in part by the tradition of seeking enlightenment in the wilderness, but greatly enhance by the nature of the desert, its vastness and sense of antiquity combining to suggest the closeness of the infinite and the eternal.[2]

A simple Sunday Eucharist was celebrated at a quiet spot Dave found for us on a sandhill overlooking Uluru, some twenty-five kilometres away. Reaching Yulara we were appreciative of the pool in the camping ground before setting off for a sunset viewing of the monolith. This proved abortive as a bushfire cut the road, so we returned for a barbecue, joined by two other Emu Run groups, one rather late as it had been caught behind the fire.

The next morning we headed to Kata Tjuta, a formation of 36 domes rising 500 metres above the plain. In 1872 Ernest Giles named the largest dome Mount Olga. We took the Walpa Gorge walk which gave us a good view of the surroundings and contrasts of colour and rock formation. After a stop at the Visitors’ Centre and lunch we returned to Uluru, named Ayers Rock by William Gosse in 1873, for the Liru Walk and the Mala Walk to Kantju Gorge followed by a successful sunset viewing. This, the largest monolith in the world, thrusts from the plain like an iceberg in stone, and it is only the tip, for there is an estimated six kilometres of it buried under the ground. Perhaps it is this that unconsciously gives a sense of spiritual power, deepened by exploring the texture of the surface, the clefts, caves, pools and sacred places bearing the stories of its traditional custodians. The relationship between the local people, Anangu (predominantly Pitjantjatjara) and Uluru is summed up in Tjukurpa, the complex system of beliefs harking back to creation and establishing relationships between all living things and the land. In 1985 Uluru-Kata Tjuta National Park was handed back to the Traditional Owners and a 99 year lease entered into with National Parks so that it is run by a joint Board of Management, to ensure appropriate care of this icon with its wonder of time, touch and colour.

Uluru is the articulate heart of Australia. It speaks to all of us. Its sure and solid foundation makes it a rock of refuge, a sacred place of worship, of struggle between good and evil and a resort for the hot, the weary, the thirsty… There is life around the Rock. The desert is arid but not barren. Bird-life, animals, desert trees and shrubs and, after rain, grasses and flowers foundation… Uluru invites Australians to centre themselves, to reflect, to be aware of a presence in our land which transcends ourselves, which is godly. In the desert, the longings of the Australian heart can surface, be expressed and find some hope and reassurance.[3]

The next attraction was Kings Canyon in Watarrka National Park. Hardier members took on the three hour rim walk for stunning views of the sheer southern face reddened with iron oxide contrasting with the cream of the long north wall. Another attraction is the dome shaped formations known as the Lost City. The remainder of the group took a quiet walk up the floor of the canyon and enjoyed ice cream from a portable vendor.

Another day and we were off the bitumen again, travelling the Mereenie Loop Road past Gosse Bluff, site of a comet strike 130 million years ago, and on to Glen Helen (Yapulpa) where the Finke has cut a 30 metre deep waterhole with icy water, wild horses and stunning rock formations. That night some reported a stray bull peering into their tents and a dingo upended a container of rubbish inadvertently left out. Here we changed vehicles back to the sixteen seater, the Denning having in the meantime lost its clutch.

The Western MacDonnells revealed gems like Ormiston Gorge (Kwartetweme) with pristine sand and shady trees, the Ochre Pits and Ellery Creek Big Hole.

The last 80 kilometres on bitumen took maybe an hour, the next twenty into Palm Valley (Mpulungkinya) took just as long, crawling over the dry bed of the Finke. The final morning spent in the valley was well worth the jolting ride to get there. Pale Cycads, brilliant Red Cabbage Palms (Livistona mariae), found nowhere else in the world, reflected red light from the valley walls, Ghost Gums and deep shadows combine to give an almost surreal atmosphere. Rock formations, especially in the “Amphitheatre” as seen from Kalarranga Lookout are outstanding.

A final stop was at Hermannsburg, a Lutheran Mission from 1877 till 1982. The buildings are preserved and are associated with several prominent names. One was Pastor C. Strehlow who translated the New Testament into Western Arrernte. His son, T.G.H. Strehlow, famous for collecting the songs of the Arrerente people, published a revised edition of his father’s work in 1956. Albert Namatjira, perhaps the best known Australian indigenous artist, was encouraged by Pastor Albrecht of Hermannsburg and Rex Battarbee, who introduced him to watercolour painting. Back at ‘Campfire in the Heart’ our evening meal was enriched by a birthday celebration and the experiences we had shared.

In discussion around the campfires we tried to look at ways of continuing to provide a desert experience. Several of the group belong to the Australian Christian Meditation Community and there seemed a particular association between ‘seeking the centre’ geographically and spiritually. Three options emerged:

- establishing a permanent place where meditators and interested others could stay;

- leasing a place for a limited time with someone in residence and helpers and visitors staying for short periods;

For a more detailed expression of these see the account by Judi Taylor Interior Trek

[1] Miriam-Rose Ungunmerr-Baumann, ‘Dadirri’, Compass 22(1988): 9.

[2] Rosslyn Haynes, Seeking the Centre: the Australian desert in literature, art and film (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1998), 227.

[3] Peter Malone, ‘The Heart of Australia’, Compass 22(1988): 28

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