Across Australia by Volkswagen
An 8000-mile trek through the outback - by Victor G. C. Norwood
VW & Porsche, September/October 1982

The lonely desert, notorious, deceptive, mysterious - especially at
night when the temperature dropped drastically - revealed a strange
beauty as I drove, with caution, penetrating a bewildering landscape
dotted with coarse "mulga" scrub precariously rooted in red dirt and
sandstone. There was no defined roadway; my route and progress were
guesswork and experiment. Sometimes I followed old watercourses, parched
gullies where the harsh monotony was occasionally relieved by salmon-
gum trees, slender mallees, grotesque bottle trees, and other strange
growths, some with bark hanging down in elongated strips, forming dead
streamers spreading outward from the base of the trunk like radiating
spokes of a collapsed wagon wheel.

I was in Australia prospecting for gem minerals and collecting material
and photographs for a further book on travel (The Long Haul, R. Hale,
Ltd), and I had mistakenly driven into the desert through being mis-
directed after leaving Alice Springs. Gradually adjusting to the empty
vastness and solitude, I persevered steadily despite sundry errors of
judgement, reacting to the wild fascination of the bleak terrain with
a certain degree of serenity and contentment.

With sunset close and a chill already in the air, I watched bronzewing
pigeons rise from a shallow dry wash, and I camped where bird droppings
whitened a jumbled profusion of freakish boulders embedded in gritty
earth, thickly overgrown by masses of flowering desert-pea vines.
Grooves made by the scratching paws of dingos (wild bush dogs) indicated
the presence beneath the hard caked mud of "burrowing" frogs. A dead
bandicoot riddled with maggots lay stiffly besides a flaky stump of
gnarled mulga root, the stench from the decomposing carcass mingling
with the odors from scattered, fly-covered dung cakes deposited by
wild hogs.

I awoke, shivering, my uneasy rest disturbed by peculiar noises.
Investigation revealed a pair of enormous Penentie goannas (lizards)
engaged in desperate conflict, both standing erect on tremendously
thick hind legs and grappling with their stubby forelimbs, hissing and
blowing, powerful tails lashing - an alarming sight in the dawn mist.
The larger of the lizards, at least nine-feet overall, was inflicting
savage bits. He even hurled his smaller adversary to the ground,
striking him with clubbing tail. The victim promptly abandoned the
unequal contest and fled, head held high and tail raised off the ground,
running with incredible speed using the hind legs only, his short fore-
legs pumping briskly. Pursued by the other goanna he disappeared among
the sand dunes. It left me wondering if I had really seen them, or had
merely been subjected to some form of hallucination - a similar
sensation to the one I experienced when, in Victoria, I watched a
"kookaburra" bird struggling to haul an enormous earthworm from a sandy
patch, and realized, when at last the worm was revealed, that this
particular inverterbrate was of the fantastic Gyppsland variety, and
around TEN FEET in length ....

An hour after sunrise the desert was uncomfortably hot, the horizon
distorted by rising heat waves and every rock reflecting the fierce
rays, creating a brassy glare against which dark-tinted glasses afforded
inadequate protection. The nature of the terrain deteriorated, resulting
in tedious delays and unavoidable detours. Another blow-out entailed
energy-sapping repairs - I had fitted the only serviceable spare two
days previously, and the patch job was at best a temporary effort,
contrived in a temperature around one hundred and twelve degrees. Sweat
poured from me. Even breathing was hard work. But the puncture was only
the beginning of a whole string of misfortunes. The fan-belt broke, as
it had on numerous other occasions. The fuelpump developed a leak.

A more serious situation arose when the Volkswagen broke through the
crust concealing a deep fissure, and became bogged down in loose sand.
There were no trees or rocks in the vicinity, no scrub capable of
supporting the strain imposed by the use of block-and-tackle. Thick
poles cut from remote mulga scrub proved to be rotten and broke the
moment I attempted to employ them as levers. Left with no alternative,
I grabbed a shovel and proceeded to dig the vehicle out.

Long before the wheel hubs were exposed I was gasping for breath and
lathered insweat. After a brief rest I gathered brushwood and packed it
in front of the wheels. I started the engine, but when i engaged the
gears the subsequent horrible grating and vibration promoted an ominous
suspicion. Apprehensive inspection confirmed the disturbing fact that
the half-shaft was broken ...

According to my map, the nearest settlement was Glenormiston, some 30
miles to the east. I set off, burdened by a bulging rucksack and a full
canteen of water. Soon my feet hurt and my legs felt heavy as lead.
Cramps frequently knotted the muscles of my calves. Sometimes the spasms
were so savage my limgs were grotesquely contorted and it seemed as if
the very bones would snap under the agonizing tension.

Towards evening the drifting bank of rain clouds that had been gathering
for the past hour released a brief but heavy shower, welcome as the
breath of life. Head bared, I revelled in the refreshing downpour. Sun-
baked rocks exposed to this sudden deluge gave off hissing volumes of
steam. Large boulders cracked and split asunder, creating reverberating
sounds resembling gunshots.

The sheeting rain dwindled to a drizzle and finally ceased. Within
minutes every trace of moisture had been absorbed. I kept walking,
moving slowly, converving energy and continually compass-checking the
route. Grit worked into my boots and chafed skin from my heels and toes.
Squatting on a ridge overlooking fleshy parakeelya plants sprouting from
low sandhills fouled with muskrat droppings, i removed my worn boots and
shabby socks, and padded the blisters with cloth ripped from my shirt.

A wind was getting up, fluttering the withered foliage and swirling the
sand in stinging flurries against my legs. Strengthening gusts indicated
the approach of a real back-country "snorter." I put on protective
goggles, and with a blanket draped over my head and my back resting
against a sickly salmon-gum tree, ate beans from a can and allowed
myself a few swallows of water.

The turbulence increased, reached peak velocity and quickly passed over.
Screened by the blanket, I tried to sleep, but swarming bull-ants
disturbed my rest and eventually I resumed the weary slogging journey,
guided by brilliant moonlight. By sunrise I had covered a further twelve
gruelling miles, and as the early mist dispersed the terrain was
revealed as less barren. Green vegetation flourished along the banks of
numerous branching creeks, some of which contained shallow water and
supported stunted tree growth, but these streams were polluted by the
stinking carcasses of animals drowned during the flood rains, and cattle
poisoned through eating the leaves of the lethal pituri plants.

Further eastward the region was dominated by mounds thrown up by ancient
mud-springs, currently dormant but obviously subject to periodical
reactivation, a conclusion evidenced by the bleached bones from straying
livestock that had plunged through the treacherous crust into the pit of
soft ooze below, and there suffocated, the cadavers decompoising far
beneath the seemingly innocuous surface until spouting geysers of
boiling mud again belched forth, spewing the gristly remains over the
area.

A thick brownsnake undulated from a clump of cane-grass. Beyond the last
formation of sandy hills a winding track indicated the final approach to
Genormiston. An hour later I arrived at the settlement, and was
immediately the object of tremendous interest and speculation. As one
sun-dried, tobacco-chewing old-timer laconically remarked, the sight of
a "Pommie" in those parts was unusual enough without the damn fool
hoofing in from the desert.

Fair enough. But, all-in-all, it was a fascinating experience, and one
I shall long remember. An obliging garage proprietor drove back with me
to where I had left the Volkswagen, and between us we fitted a replace-
ment axle. It struck me as remarkable that even in so outlandish a
place, it was still possible to obtain VW spares without any difficulty.

Within a couple of days I was rested up and ready to resume the drive,
intending to make for Oplaton and the gemfields of Anakie, in North
Queensland.

Basically, apart from minor problems involving fan-belts, blow-outs,
and that one isolated major incident, the Volkswagen behaved admirably.
I covered more than eight thousand miles, and the VW was by no means a
new vehicle but one of the old Kombie type, equipped with a water-tank
and calor-gas cooking range, wardrobe and wash-basin, etc. The two main
seats when linked together formed a comfortable double-bed. It was easy
to drive, and economical on gasoline and oil. And being air-cooled, the
motor was ideal for desert and rough country travel, and powerful enough
to climb the steepest forest tracks, without straining.

Next year I hope to make a similar trip, but through the desert country
around Las Vegas, and perhaps Arizona, too. I covered 25,000 miles
through scenic USA by Volkswagen (a hired vehicle) prior to the
Australia run, and in my estimation the VW is tops in every respect.
-----------------

Questions about Mr. Norwood's book should be directed to the author:
Victor G. C. Norwood
194 West Common Lane
Westcliff, Scunthrope,
South Humberside  DN17 1PD
ENGLAND