Australias Outback: Kings Canyon

I have booked a three-day tour into the outback. We set off before dawn in a medium-sized bus at 5am. The passengers: 18 women, 6 men and a good guide. Luckily it’s not as hot as yesterday. Still. On the first day alone, we have 800 kilometres to cover. I’m too big, or the bus is too small. No sleep.

There are a few short stops on the journey. An outback roadhouse. Patting a dingo lady. I order a camel burger and eat it with relish in front of his brother. The fellow travellers are quite nice, but after last night I only really warm up because of the steadily increasing heat. With every petrol station, the fuel gets more expensive, rising to 150% of the Australian average.

We arrive at Kings Canyon at lunchtime in the worst of the heat. Even before my foot touches the ground, I’m soaking wet. Guide Luke recommends drinking at least one litre of water per hour. A hundred thousand flies descend on us. Luckily, a woman from Rosenheim lent me a fly net at the hostel. I would have gone mad without it. Hundreds of flies are buzzing around on my sweaty shirt.

The Kings Canyon Rim Walk first climbs a steep 300 metres to the edge of the canyon. Up to 45 degrees turn even an 8km walk into an expedition. The rocks glow red in the sun, just like my skull under the fly net. Luke explains a few things about their formation, but I can’t remember anything in the heat. Dead trees in front of red rocks against a blue sky: all I can remember.

At the back, we descend into the Garden of Eden, a narrow green part of Kings Canyon. A waterhole for a swim. Then back up the other side and back to the bus within an hour. The colours always blow me away. The bus is briefly converted into a biogas plant. Until everyone is asleep and the noses are dead.

The sunset in the desert is one of the most beautiful I have ever seen. Rays of sunlight penetrate the clouds and illuminate individual patches of desert in the distance. A lake? Or a hallucination?

My last stop of the day is a beer bar. I stroke an emu and look around for a shower. Freshly stocked up, we drive into the pampas, to a cattle farm the size of Belgium. The camp is as it should be: rudimentary. No water, bush toilet. A campfire is easy to light and the wood literally explodes within 20 seconds. Luke cooks pasta with chilli con camel.

We sleep outdoors on red earth in an outback sleeping bag. The stars seem infinitely bright. Crickets chirp. Dingoes howl. A few kilometres further on, cattle scream the news of their imminent death into the night.