Rainy Days on Australia’s Oodnadatta Track

Unexpected Rain and Mud in Australia’s Red Center

The Oodnadatta Track is one of Australia’s most iconic and famous outback tracks. Quirky name aside, the Oodnadatta is well known for being remote, scorching hot even in the winter months, and severely dusty. That last point bears repeating. This is the kind of Outback “bulldust” that is as fine as talcum powder that works its way past door seals and zips and leaves a fine coating on every surface inside and out.

Of course, the track has plenty of redeeming qualities, too. There are a smattering of natural hot springs, quirky outback towns and pubs, date palm plantations from the Middle East, and plenty of stunning views across the rugged desert.

While I thought I knew exactly what we had in store for the next week or so, I couldn’t have been more wrong.

Going Nowhere, Fast

Dropping down out of the Flinders Ranges, we were surprised to see evidence of recent flooding on the main North South highway but didn’t think much of it. We just had a couple of weeks of scorching hot sun and dust and had no idea there was any rain forecasted for the area. In the great Aussie tradition, we set up the swag for the night at the back of the Copley Hotel and Pub—the only watering hole for an hour in any direction. Sitting at the bar is a great way to hear all the local gossip, and later we move outside to sit around a bonfire and swap stories of Outback travel.

In the morning, we saw a few puddles and larger areas of standing water as we rolled into Marree, but we really were clueless about the situation we had just driven into. All across the continent, Australia has been experiencing record rainfall, resulting in widespread flooding across much of the Outback. The extremely dry and hard earth simply couldn’t absorb water, and so it quickly formed deep pools that remained until the scorching hot sun returned to evaporate it. We soon learned the flooding was so severe that the Oodnadatta was completely closed to all vehicles and people were stranded at various points along the track. The closure of Outback tracks was taken very seriously all across Australia, partly because rescue is virtually impossible and would endanger more people, and partly because the soft clay tracks would quickly be torn to shreds by just a few vehicles.

When light drizzle turned to rain and left us little choice, we settled in to wait, setting up camp out back of the Marree Pub on the only patch of dirt that hadn’t yet turned into a shallow, muddy lake. After asking around, we learned we were good and stuck.

To the northwest, the Oodnadatta was closed to all traffic, and with more rain in the forecast, didn’t seem likely to open anytime soon. To the northeast, the Birdsville Track was also closed, and we got a firsthand report of how bad it was from a severely exhausted and injured motorbike rider who was rescued earlier in the day after multiple nasty falls in the slick mud. Jim and his friends had set out two days earlier when the track was still open, but quickly found themselves struggling in the dicey conditions. Jim got off lightly with only a twisted ankle from one of his repeated falls, while both his friends were airlifted out with broken bones. He soon assured us the beer he was nursing at the pub was good for healing, and I saw  no reason to question that thinking.

The only road that was actually open was back the way we came and would require a detour of more than 600 miles to get us back on track to the center of Australia. We reasoned that it would be hasty to make such a big decision without due thought, and so we settled into the pub with Jim and the rest of the stranded adventurers to wait. Surely a couple of beers would help the thinking process.

The Oodnadatta Track

The barren Australian interior is a harsh and unforgiving place that claimed many naive souls in the early years of European exploration. In a rare display of intelligence, John Stuart knew he didn’t stand a chance going it alone, so he enlisted the help of the local Aboriginal people to lead the way along a traditional trading route that followed a line of natural springs feeding from the Great Artesian Basin. The springs are essential to survival as the only reliable permanent water sources in the outback, and famously the Aboriginal guides told the Stuart:  “This isn’t the straightest route, but it’s the only one if you want to survive.”

Flowing under nearly a fifth of the entire continent, the Great Artesian Basin is one of the world’s largest aquifers and stretches over 660,000 square miles. All along the Oodnadatta Track, the basin squeezes to the surface in the form of almost 5,000 natural springs that have been bubbling to the surface for at least a million years.

Stuart’s crossing of the interior in 1859 was so successful, the route along the Oodnadatta was chosen to build an Overland Telegraph Line, which was completed in 1872 to enable faster communication between southeastern Australia and Europe. Soon after, the route was also chosen for the steam-powered Ghan Railway. From 1878, the railway was built by Afghan laborers and their camels who knew the desert conditions well and were able to work better than any others at that time. Once complete, the railway allowed hundreds of people access through the relatively unknown part of the country, opening up the Northern Territory for white settlement. The camels used in the construction were later set loose, and now more than a million wild animals roam the interior and have decimated local ecosystems.

In 1980, the Ghan Railway was moved to a more direct north-south route, and soon thereafter virtually all the small towns along the original track were abandoned before being quickly forgotten in the endless desert.

The Track Opens

On our second day of waiting, we discovered the pub had a pool, and by day four we spent virtually every waking hour either in or around the refreshing water, meeting other stranded adventurers camping in the muddy parking lot that now resembled a refugee camp. A few other well-equipped vehicles were on very similar adventures around the continent as our own, and we were soon swapping stories and planning the road ahead. Twice daily we made the trek to the official sign at the edge of town indicating if the track was open or not—a real highlight of our days in Marree.

Soon after lunch on day four, word got around that the track has finally opened to four-wheel-drive traffic only, and the scramble was suddenly on. Just 3 minutes out of town, we startled  a couple of grader drivers completing the finishing touches—apparently nobody told them to expect vehicles. Their colorful language on the CB radio told us exactly how they felt.

Soon we started to encounter water crossings of unknown depths, and while we discovered the water was no more than a foot and a half deep, the bottom consisted of extremely sloppy mud, which provided no guarantee of forward progress. We tried to find the delicate balance of enough momentum without hitting the water with so much speed as to be dangerous.

After the first five crossings, we settled into the routine, slowly winding on the miles while avoiding the worst of the sticky clay. It’s obvious the water wasn’t much deeper just a day or two ago, and in many places we were able to simply drive on the wrong side of the road to avoid the worst of the track damage and standing water.

Ever present to the north of the track is mighty Lake Eyre, the largest salt lake on the continent. The myth of a giant inland lake or ocean on the Australian continent persisted for many decades until European explorers were able to prove conclusively it simply didn’t exist. Once or twice in a lifetime, however, Lake Eyre actually delivers on the myth and provides a stunning contrast to the barren desert, especially as we arrived right at sunset.

Thirty minutes further, the campsite and date palms at Coward Springs were a welcomed sight, and it didn’t take long before I jumped in the hot spring to wash away the caked-on mud. Soon we were sitting around the campfire with our friends from Marree, swapping stories of flying mud and engines revving, happy to have made forward progress. Near midnight, the light drizzle turned to solid rain, and we all scattered into bed, wondering about the track ahead.

Endless Rain

In the morning we awoke to soggy swags and muddy boots. After a great wake-up dip in the hot spring, we wandered through the constant rain to buy scones and fresh dates from the owners of Coward Springs. Scott and Barb had recently bought the entire property and were excited to rejuvenate the site while staying true to its unique history. I must say, I was more than a little jealous that they own their very own hot spring out in the wild, though the commute was a bit far—even for me. The towering date palms were planted by the original Afghan laborers who built the track and Ghan railway. With the help of bottomless water from the spring, they thrive in the desert conditions 150 years later.

Scott downloaded the weather report over a patchy new radio link, which showed nothing but increasing rain for the next few days. The track was still listed as open to four-wheel-drive traffic, though he thought it was only a matter of time before it closed again. Not wanting to get stranded, we packed camp in record time and hit the track, now slicker and greasier than ever. As a final warning, Scott mentioned that a convoy of vehicles a few days ago had a very rough go of it, getting badly stuck in the mud on the side of the track and spending a night there before help could arrive from William Creek.

Through the morning rain, Katie and I explored some of the nearby sights including Bubbler and Blanche Cup hot springs, both of which are stunning natural outcroppings where hot water rising to the surface leaves rich mineral deposits. Wandering through the ruins of Strangeways Springs Station was eerie on a cold and rainy morning, and we tried  to wrap our heads around how people lived all the way out here year round. The arrival of the train must have been quite the event, and the town had no chance of survival without it. Nearby we explored a short loop and discovered multiple springs bubbling and seeping to the surface, though sadly all were just warm, and not enticing for a soak in the rain.

Back on the track, conditions continued to deteriorate, and soon I found myself driving on a huge slick clay pan, which reminded me strongly of snowy drives in the Canadian Rockies. When the track pitched downhill on the long descent into William Creek things got dicey, staying off the brake pedal meant I managed to keep the rear axle from overtaking us. Deep tire ruts and huge sections of damaged road made it clear this is where the convoy of people had trouble a few days prior, evidently stuck deep in the mud for a long time.

At William Creek, the rain came down in sheets, and we were drenched to the bone after dashing from the Jeep into the pub. Once inside we were warm and dry, and a hot meat pie for lunch was simply too tempting to resist. As we pushed further into the track, the rain slowly eased and the track dried. Late in the afternoon just before reaching the town of Oodnadatta, we explored the enormous railway bridge over the Neales River—a genuine feat of engineering, especially out here in the middle of nowhere.

The following morning, the sun finally shined bright, and within a couple of hours we kicked up dust and crossed multiple hard and dry clay pans, which felt much more appropriate. After all the miles, I finally got my dust.

Rain in the Desert

Setting out on adventures, I usually have a pretty good idea of what I’ll be getting myself into. Be it soft beach sand, remote desert travel, or slick jungle mud, I not only prepare my equipment for the conditions I expect to encounter, but I also prepare myself mentally.

I may just have a small dose of PTSD from years of living in horrific dust all across Africa, and so I actually wasn’t too excited about the conditions I expected to encounter on the Oodnadatta. I find scorching hot sun also gets old quickly, and I often find myself hunkering in the shade trying to avoid making my sunburn worse. Truth be told, I had entertained the idea of skipping the track entirely to avoid the scorching sun and dust I was certain we would have to endure.

As it turned out, those expectations were completely wrong.

The Oodnadatta was a great reminder not to get complacent, and not to venture into the unknown without quality gear that can handle a variety of weather conditions. I should consider myself lucky as Lake Eyre typically only contains water once or twice a lifetime, and few people have ever seen the Oodnadatta so thoroughly soaked.

At the end of the track, we arrived at Dalhousie Hot Springs for a couple of days of rest and recuperation. With a 5 billion star view and literally endless hot water streaming out of the earth into an enormous hot lake, it was hard to think of anywhere better to cap off a crazy week of mud and rain in the desert.

BIO

Join adventurer Dan Grec on his expeditions around the world on YouTube and Instagram @TheRoadChoseMe