Palm Valley

Palm Valley was my first destination when I left Alice in the campervan. I drove out westwards from Alice, practising driving through water on the floodways, seeing my first wild budgies, and stopping for apple strudel and Earl Grey tea (and a look at the buildings) in the historic precinct at Hermannsburg. The 4WD drive route to Palm Valley leaves the asphalt a few kilometers to the west of Hermannsburg, and heads south down the bed of the Finke River before turning off west up the valley of a tributary:


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[You can use the Google Map like you normally would – zooming in or out, moving it around, or switching to other views such as ‘Map’. Google maps didn’t have this as a car route, only a walking route, and I was amused by the warning I got: “Use Caution – this route may be missing sidewalks or pedestrian paths”]

I’d approached on the asphalt road to the east of Hermannsburg, from where you can see the line of hills through which the river cuts southwards.

At the start of the route, there was a modest sign indicating that it was a 4WD route, so I hopped out and turned the hubs of the front wheels to lock them, and used the second gearstick to engage 4WD.

The next sign was a bit fiercer, and didn’t altogether concur with the route descriptions that I’d seen, but I decided to carry on anyway, but be prepared to turn around if the route did get too challenging, or stop on the way if I was overtaken by nightfall.

In the event, the internet descriptions were right and, although the route was slow-going, it didn’t require any exceptional 4WD driving abilities. The 3 hour requirement was for a return trip with time to relax at the other end. However, the recent rain meant that there was more water in the river than normal, and I fairly quickly arrived at the first river crossing. Unless I was absolutely certain that there were no surprises, I walked the river crossings before driving the vehicle across: if anyone was watching, I preferred to be laughed at for over-cautiousness than have to wait for someone to come and tow me out.

The National Park campsite was in among the trees by the river (the photo was taken while I was on my evening walk).

It was a great spot, with a toilet and (hot-)shower block with solar-powered lighting, and a limited number of spacious shaded pitches,

and the river running just behind the sites.

About a kilometre before the campsite the southern wall of the valley was shaped into a natural amphitheatre (this panorama is almost a 180 degree view):

A short, but steep path led up to an outcrop in the centre of the amphitheatre, which provided a splendid viewpoint to admire the changing colours of the rocks in the evening light.

As I was rapidly learning, the ‘Green Centre’ was in full bloom and there were plenty of flowers to admire on the way up.

Back in the campsite the sun set over the valley …

… in time to see the moon and Venus dropping towards the horizon.

Without any light pollution, it was possible to see the darker part of the moon, unlit by direct sunlight, being lit by light reflected from the earth. Later there was a splendid display of stars and the milky way, but I put off taking photos for a later night, and missed my only chance.

In the morning I was up early to drive the last couple of kilometers to Palm Valley. There was more water to cross, and the track was slower going as it traversed rocky bulges. Eventually I reached a patch of water where I decided that discretion was the better part of valour.

The water was shallow, but there were places where the rocky bottom had vertical drops of 20 cm (8 inches) or so. If I’d had someone with me to walk in front of the campervan, we could have crossed easily, but the water was relatively wide, with no landmarks, and I would have had to walk and drive it in sections, and it wasn’t worth the bother. So I did a nifty three point turn in the water’s edge, parked off the track, and walked the rest of the way. It turned out that it was only 300-400 meters to the start of the path, anyway.

Palm Valley, and the narrower part of the valley leading to it – Cycad Gorge – are critically important to the survival of two tree species. It doesn’t take much to guess that they are a cycad (a primitive gymnosperm – gymnosperms include the modern-day conifers) called the MacDonnell Ranges Cycad:

and a palm (palms are among the earliest angiosperms, or flowering plants) called the Red-cabbage Palm (and no, they don't resemble red cabbages to me, either):

Both of the species are endemic to (ie occur only in) a small area of the Red Centre. Both are relict populations from a time when the climate was warm and humid: the cycad from the time of the breakup of Gondwanaland, the southern supercontinent, more than 100 million years ago, and the palms from a more recent period with a warm humid climate. And both have survived in Palm Valley because of its microclimate: the steep valley sides protect the trees from desiccation in the dry desert winds, and the valley is watered by seepage from the surrounding porous sandstone. Astoundingly, with the slow rate of movement of water through the rock, the ground water that the roots of the palms now tap fell as rain about 30,000 years ago.

The valley is a quiet secluded spot:

The path that I took followed the bottom of the valley, and then climbed the side, and returned at the higher level, with a view down into the valley:

There were plenty of flowers in bloom:

I’d arrived at 7.30 am, and got back to the start of the walk, just as three separate vehicles were arriving at 9. 00 am. I was glad to have had the valley to myself to enjoy the solitude and the early morning light.

One of my last memories, as I headed out towards the tarmac, was a beautiful almost-translucent flower growing by the track: