501 Places

Alice Springs in mid-summer gets pretty hot. The sun is directly overhead at midday and casts no shadow. It’s a busy town and an important strategic one, with no neighbours for hundreds of miles in any direction (and thousands in some).

My abiding memory of this little town remains the number of Aboriginal people we saw, lurking in the shadows as if living in a parallel world where no-one else could see them. I know nothing about their plight or the complex history of modern Australia that brought about the Aboriginals’ current situation, and I will not make any attempt to analyse the causes or consequences of the existance of this socially separated group. Rather I will stick to our own experiences and emotions during our day in Alice Springs.

Taking a walk into town in the morning, we first saw groups, men and women, young and old, sitting in the shadows of the shopping centre. Mostly without shoes and dressed in old tatty clothes, they kept themselves separate to the main activity of the town. They were not seen in shops or cafes, and this segregation, while seemingly not enforced in any way, appeared absolute. The white inhabitants of Alice Springs seemed to be like those of any other town: running errands, stopping to chat with friends and taking a break for a coffee and a gossip. They inhabited the same space as the Aborigine people, but it was rather like watching a film where a character can see dead people walking among us. I was acutely aware of both sets of people, yet each group lived with a total lack of acknowledgement of the other.

Later in the day, we ventured into the town again for dinner. We had a walk of around 1km, mostly along a quiet road by a dried out river bed. Well before reaching the town we could hear the shouting and screaming coming from the shade of the trees on the other side of the river. Groups of Aborigine men and women were sitting, standing, arguing, and it seemed almost all were drunk. Many swaggered with bottles of what looked like home-brew, and while a few shouted out to us, most ignored us as we passed hurriedly by. As we entered the town we made our way quickly to a restaurant, and later even made the rare step for us of getting a taxi back to the hotel; we did not want to venture out again along that street.

There are very few places in the world where I have felt uneasy about our safety, and I never expected to feel that way in Alice Springs. While I doubt we were in any physical danger, it was certainly not pleasant to be out after dark. We later talked to many Australians we met along the way and related our experiences to some of them. Most expressed sadness, frustration and were at a loss to offer a way forward in what has been a social blemish in Australia’s recent history.

Walking through Sydney some years ago, we came across this row of terraced houses in The Rocks. Sussanah Place, a row of four houses and a shop, is open to the public as an example of the earliest (European) houses in Australia. It is a great place to wander around learn more of the history of the early settlers. Built in 1844, the houses have been preserved and retain most of their original features. As you can see from the photo, the contrast of the modern backdrop is quite striking.

Yet exploring these houses, I couldn’t help remarking on how similar these were to my grandfather’s house in Nottingham. The layout, the structure and even the fixtures were a throw back to his house, and indeed many others I had visited in the UK when working in a home visit role as a clinician. Built in the early Victorian era, they were designed and built by people who may well have earlier worked on the large scale construction that was sweeping England at the time, due to the Industrial Revolution gaining pace.

What is fairly commonplace in many northern English cities is worthy of preservation and is a tourist attraction here in Australia. For us it brought a sense of nostalgia of our own younger years to wander through the hallways and bedrooms of these modest homes, rather than a sense of pioneering history. For Australians and Americans, and other visitors from the “New World”, these houses may evoke a different sentiment. Different emotions, yet probably pleasant ones for all who visit.

I really enjoyed reading and hearing the stories of those original inhabitants of Susannah Place. I also left appreciating again the wealth of history that surrounds us in the UK, with houses, castles, bridges and churches that date from hundreds to thousands of years ago. How well do we appreciate the wealth of history that surrounds us? And just as importantly, how well do we capture and preserve the stories of those who lived in those times. From our house within five minutes walk we have a beautiful abbey that dates back to the 12th century, a 15th century clock tower and many homes from the medieval period. I enjoy showing our friends and family around St Albans, and sharing a few of the stories I have picked up about the historical characters who made the city what it is today. What stories will future visitors hear about the current inhabitants? And what buildings from this era will be considered worthy of preservation?

(Dec 2000)

Meaning “many heads”, this outcrop of rocks not far from Ayers Rock (Uluru) is a favoured sunset visit while staying in this barren area. Named the Olgas by the Europeans (in honour of Queen Olga of Wurttemberg) it is less than an hour’s drive from the main accommodations around the Ayers Rock resort.

We took a drive out on our arrival at our hotel in Ayers Rock, and it was at least as spectacular a visit as the one next morning to its illustrious neighbour. The fading evening light really brought out the red earth perfectly, and we stood in admiration enjoying a little drink at the side of the road while watching the sun drop below the horizon and cast a multi-coloured spell across the desert landscape. It was fascinating to wonder around the base of these rocks too, which show off many more secrets on close inspection than from a distance (this is even more true at Ayers Rock).

You make a choice whether to climb up these rocks or respect the wishes of the Aborigine people and stay at ground level. We walked around the base of both sites and saw a very different side of Ayers Rock – small pools, waterfalls, sharp eroded fins of rock and a couple of hours of great stroytelling by an Aboriginal guide made our experience a memorable one.

It’s a long detour from anywhere to get to this place – a visit to Kings Canyon and Alice Springs makes it a three day stay, but if you visit in mid summer as we did you will welcome returning to the fresh breezes of the coast again.

(Dec 2000)

I have to admit to finding evening “Ghost Walks” a bit dull – whether it is in York, Edinburgh or London, the stories are pretty much the same, and they are typically from a time so long ago that it is difficult to picture the details of the story in my mind, let alone afford them credibility.

One ghost walk however stands out. Port Arthur, at the southern tip of Tasmania, which in turn is the much maligned southern outpost of Australia, housed a prison in the 19th century that was the site of the most barbaric atrocities imaginable. The worst Australian criminals (bear in mind that most had arrived in Australia as a result of their misdemeanours already) were sent to serve their time in this prison. Live dissections, experiments to rival Dr. Mengele and unspeakable executions have become part of the dark history of this beautiful island.

Over a century later, and now a designated historic site and tourist attraction, ghost walks are held nightly. Without spoling the stories for anyone about to visit, one thing stands out from other similar tours elsewhere. Whereas other walks feature accounts of goulish sightings and escapades from bygone centuries, at Port Arthur many of the stories of apparitions and unexplained activity are from the last few months. Many guides recall first hand accounts of sightings and encounters with spirits, and while a mild sceptic I found this tour was a very powerful challenge to unbelievers of other-wordly contact. Sadly our visit was not capped with an encounter. Port Arthur is still however a place to include in a visit to Tasmania, which in itself is a part of Australia that has so much to offer that it is well worth the effort to make a detour.

(Dec 2000) Link: Port Arthur Historic Site