Up early and on our way to the Simpson Desert, a region notable for having no human habitation. On the way out of town, we passed the overflow pipe for the town’s Artesian bore. While it does rain here on occasion, the only regular water is from underground—and this is where it comes out. The water is hot, almost boiling, and smells of sulfur, but it is pumped into tanks to cool and lose the sulfur smell.
Continuing on, we drove about 20 miles west of Birdsville. Our objective: the red sand mountain known as Big Red, which marks the edge of the Simpson Desert. Also known as Nappanerica, Big Red is notable even in a desert where the primary feature is big dunes. The towering dune stands about 130 feet tall. On the far side of the dune, the desert, which covers roughly 55,000 square miles, stretches out in evenly spaced, parallel, red sand ridges that range from 70 to 120 feet in height. But what seems even more remarkable to me is that all the more than 1,100 dunes stand 1,500 feet apart.
The red sand of the dunes is not quite as red as the sand in the Red Centre, but it is red enough. The dunes are dotted (sparsely) with short plants. The land between the dunes is golden beige sand and brown rocks dotted with widely space gum trees.
The road heads straight for the giant dune, and one of the rites of passage for visitors is trying to make it to the top, which is not easy even with 4WD. In our case, it was made impossible by the popping of one of the patched tires. Richard told Nikki and me to tackle it on foot, but we didn’t want to abandon him. Lovely Swiss couple to the rescue. They stopped to help Richard change the tire (again), and Nikki and I headed for the dune. Sand dunes are never easy to climb, but we made it to the top and had a grand view of the desert sprawling into the distance. And then we headed back down and rejoined Richard (who has seen it multiple times and therefore didn’t feel too left out).
Then it was back to Birdsville. First stop was to get the flat tire patched, not wanting to head into the wilderness without a spare. So, one tire patched and one tire new, then a bit of shopping for supplies and pick up the camping trailer, which we’d left at the camp ground. Then onto the legendary Birdsville Track, 321 miles of rugged emptiness. Tonight, we’ll be bush camping again.
A few minutes down the road, we crossed from Queensland back into South Australia.
Ooops. Unbelievably, we have another flat tire. Patch just wasn’t strong enough for this road. So back to Birdsville for another new tire. Bummer. (Richard assures me, however, that there is insurance for people who do this kind of travel.) Meat pie and iced coffee while the tire is being fixed. Soon, we’ll be off again, back to the Track. Since there is no other way home, this is actually our only option— and this is, in fact, a little better road than some we’ve been on. Plus difficulty is kind of the point on the Birdsville Track. But clearly, this is not an adventure to be taken by the inexperienced or unprepared.