Shooting Stars (The Ochre Pits and Inarlanga Pass, Northern Territory)

The morning began in the usual way, dear reader, with a 6:55am breakfast call. Today it was reminiscent of Pride Rock and the Lion King. Apparently, I was unaware. Amusing, if not musical. Everyone has settled into the routine and preparations for the day were well underway before Jonny’s cry scared the local wildlife. The night had been similar to the previous one. The wind continued to gust and shake the tents and rustle the trees but it remained dry.

Splendid Fairy Wren

It was about a 30-minute drive to the starting point of today’s walk. As we were milling around the carpark at the Ochre Pits, Janelle spotted a Splendid Fairy Wren and his harem. We don’t see such brilliant colours in the wrens in NSW and the sun shimmered as he hopped from twig to twig. A couple of Zebra finches came to join him but were no match for his show of colour.

The trail heads up to the ridge.

The ochre pits were striking in the soft early morning sun and begged to be photographed. We were coming back here in the afternoon but the light would be harsher by then. The group continued on the walk as I paused for photos. Frustratingly the camera would not work. Cold weather had destroyed the moment. The battery would need to be removed and warmed up before any photos could be taken.

Mt Sonder is always in the background.

My left knee had seized up as I sat around the campfire last evening. To participate in today’s walk I would need to use walking poles or have it strapped. I opted for the former. This provided its own level of difficulty. I am used to walking with my camera in hand to facilitate any perceived photo opportunity. Today the camera was on my shoulder.

Spinifex pigeons.

The use of walking poles requires another level of concentration. As useful as they may be, they are not made for this type of environment. The rocks and stones of the river bed and the trail side spinifex made planting the poles challenging at times. Aside from watching my feet, I now needed to be mindful of where the poles were going. Time and again, they glanced off rocks and smacked against my legs or the camera bounced from my shoulder into a pole.

Cycad palms were everywhere through the pass.

In another first, Dave removed the orthotics from his boots to see if that was contributing to his blisters. It turned out they were and, while the blisters would remain with him for the rest of the trip, the lack of orthotics meant they were not exacerbated further.

Can the sky get any bluer?

The trail gently undulated towards our turn around point. Beyond the ochre pits was the Aranda walk. It came with information boards provided by the local Aranda people who are sometimes known as the Arrernte. The well-spaced information sites covered animals and plants and their uses. We had a brief rest at the entrance to Inarlanga Pass where a pair of Spinifex Pigeons bobbed and danced for us.

Creek beds are not always easy walking.

Inarlanga means echidna in the local language although we didn’t see any. We walked through the pass to our end point where we could look back down the pass and also out to Counts Point, yesterday’s white-out destination. It is such magnificent country and there were views in every direction.

The ochre.

The Larapinta Trail is quite popular this time of the year and we came across many other walkers, solo and in groups. As we made our way back to our packs, we encountered a solo traveller. “Where are you heading?” Jonny enquired. “Counts Point.” came the American-accented reply, as she pointed off into the distance. An awkward silence descended on our group; we knew Counts Point was in the opposite direction. When Jonny informed her of this, she shrugged and said, “Well, I guess I’m going for a day walk.” and continued in the direction she had indicated.

More ochre.

We traced our way back down the pass to a sunny, protected place where Lucas had prepared our lunch. It was the usual wraps with fresh veggies. While we were enjoying the sunshine another solo walker appeared, a Melbourne local. As we had eaten our fill, Jonny offered him lunch. He was very grateful to join us. It was his 8th day on the trail and he hadn’t had fresh food since he commenced. The trail is an amazing experience but I’m not sure I’d want to do the full length, eating high protein dehydrated food.

No idea. Growing atop the ochre wall.

The walk back to ochre pits happened at our own pace and in silence to ensure we immersed ourselves in nature. Back at the pits, Jonny talked to us about the spiritual significance of the area for the local people and their relationship with the land. He mentioned the ochres from this site had been found in artworks 1000km away in South Australia, such was the significance of this space. 

The fire pit at our campsite.

Then it was back to camp and afternoon tea. Dinner that night was prepared by Declan. It was kangaroo loin, couscous and veggies baked in a pot covered in coals from the fire. The stars were out tonight and we decided to sleep outside in our swags.

Our swags outside for a night of stargazing.

Sleeping under the stars in our swags was a magic moment. We sat around the campfire waiting to see a shooting star before retiring. Hence the title, a Dragon classic from 1977. Thankfully the three of us searching the inky sky were rewarded by seeing the same sight, a shooting star with a long tail. Ok, so it’s probably space junk burning up on re-entering the earth’s atmosphere. Whatever. It was still beautiful.

One of Dave's photos.

And so to bed. "Just drag your swag onto the river bed in front of your tent," said Declan. On reaching our tent this proved to be a more complex task than imagined. The river bed in front was strewn with rocks. Too far to drag a swag in camp booties. However, there was a space a few metres away from our tent and so the tarps were laid down there and the swags placed on top.

One of Dave's friends from the pass.

While the night was clear, the wind remained, ensuring the temperature wouldn’t reach zero. Dave and I snuggled into our swags, while the others retired to their tents. The wind kept up, blowing sand onto my swag but thankfully not into it. I found it claustrophobic to zip the swag up completely, so whichever way I rolled I had a view of the sky as I moved. And every time I bothered to look skyward I was thrilled to see another shooting star. One was so massive it covered a third of the night sky. The only drawback was the gusting wind which occasionally threw the flap of the swag up and over my face.

Until next time.