The next day, we decide to hike the base route around Uluru. I am wearing sensible shoes and several layers of sunscreen, but am also wearing a vintage dress and necking water like there's no tomorrow. It's 10 kilometres round and about 40 degrees and the last 45 minutes or so are a killer. However, it's stunning to see this wonder of the world so close up.
Vicky wears sensible hiking clothing.
Not sunburn, just a fine layer of orange dust from the Red Centre of Australia.
We spend the evening barbecuing more wildlife and trying desperately to get us an Internet connection so we can get the hell out of here by plane and fail. So the following morning we ship out to the posh hotel's pool before getting the six hour coach to Alice Springs.
Alice is also a bit odd. We spend a bit of time wondering the backstreets, as neither of us can apparently read a map, before finding the main, slightly rough, centre of town. It's a Sunday night and the local sport seems to be getting drunk and shouting at each other in the street. We deal with this how any good Brit would, by finding a bar and necking gin and tonic. To be fair, the locals re friendly enough, but the town centre is deserted and a bit scary. We polish off a bottle of wine and get a taxi back to our hostel.
Now we're at Alice Springs airport wondering if we've arrived in a nation of alcoholics (there are several people in the cafe drinking rum and cokes at 11 30am), or whether being in the Northern Territories where there isn't much else to do is what makes them all determined to get wasted at every opportunity. We are very much looking forward to getting our flight to Adelaide and civilisation.
The Great Ocean Road awaits us.
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