I guess everyone has heard of Wilpena Pound. It’s the headline act in the Flinders Ranges Show. The attraction is legendary. A giant meteor collides with the red earth, displacing a billion tons of rock and soil creating a crater 15klms long and 5klms wide. It’s irresistible – but is it true? You know the old adage, never let the facts get in the way of a good story. I’m believing it for now – I’ll do the research later.
The Flinders Ranges is essentially marginal sheep farming country. The stations are huge and most have cashed in on the tourist trade. Rawnsley Station commandeers the western approaches and seemed the logical choice to set up base for a few days. It’s a full-on caravan park situation and a view across to Rawnsley Bluff, the southern most escarpment of Wilpena Pound. If I knew I’d be climbing up there in two days time, I might have checked out early. But more of that later.
I given myself at least two weeks to see and do, so I was content to chill out for the rest of the day. The next morning, I drove into Wilpena Pound, which, as you would expect had all the resort bells and whistles. Oddly though, it was hard to get a handle on the fact that you were inside a crater. I couldn’t put it into perspective. Remember, the Flinders Ranges are several different mountain ranges in the same location. It wasn’t till I got back to Rawnsley, that one of the staff showed me an aerial view of Wilpena pound and where I actually was. Which of course led into that fateful conversation about how the best view was from the Wilpena Pound Lookout. Yeah, just climb this escarpment and take a left at the top. Four hours, tops. Rrrright…….
From the comfort of the camp chair, it looked impenetrable. Cliff face upon cliff face. I’m not sure why Picnic at Hanging Rock fell into my head. Maybe they ran a covert used van sales yard back at Hawker. The only thing I knew for sure was, I’d need to be on the trail by sunrise.
Everything was packed the night before. Five AM, and a shard of purple on the horizon. By the time I’ had driven to the car park entrance it was light enough to follow the trail. Thankfully, the escarpment walls threw a long shadow across the valley and the breeze was cool. Even the flies were sleeping in. As the trail moved ever closer to those cliffs, the possibility of some easy ascent vanished like a mirage. The shadow line was moving slowly and inexorably towards me, an unspoken reminder to keep moving. And then, the degree of difficulty went into medal contention. Clambering on all fours, twenty metres at a time. Big breathes for a minute, then on again. This was going to prove that diagnosis one way or the other.
Luckily, this world of pain was eased somewhat by the views that you had no choice but to enjoy while sitting wretched on some boulder, your lungs heaving themselves back from the brink of expiration. It was in reality, probably only a couple of hundred metres, but almost vertical, and no assistance from the terrain, except for the occasional tree limb that surely rescued many from multiple fractures and contusions.
And then, without warning or encouragement, it was over. Level ground appeared out of nowhere. No, it wasn’t some cruel trick. I was on the plateau making my way along the southern ridge, not so much loping, but at least walking upright. Just when I was starting to think I’d missed the turnoff, a wooden arrow turned me off the main trail and 400 metres later, I had arrived.
It was everything they say!! That climb of death now seemed a small price to pay. All I could do was stand there and drink it all in. Looking across, Wilpena Pound is more in the shape of a rugby ball peeled apart like a mandarin with the jutting peaks leaning against the sky.
It would be easy to be seduced by this magnificence and sort of float home content, but lowering the eyes brought it’s own rewards. It was only 8.30am and the reptiles were just starting to emerge from their hides to get some of that sun.
Doubling back to the turnoff, I turned left and headed for the bluff but I got to a point where I had seen enough. The climb back down was gnawing at me and the sun was well and truly on the up. I had been warned of the treachery and it was so. Gingerly best describes the descent. The loose shale could bring you undone in an instant (the woman ahead of me took a hell of a slide). Finally after 5 hours, back at the Jeep, looking over my shoulder at the escarpment and the hordes of pursuing flies I wondering how the hell I survived that. A quick dip back at the pool, a large cuppa and I’ll just put my head down for a minute and then I’ll…… zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz
