The part of Australia so beautiful it defies explanation

There are two certainties in the digital age: the ready supply of information and the relentless urge to share it. So for a professionally curious human, someone saying, “I can’t tell you that”, triggers contradictory emotions.

The first is frustration. I’ve grown used to being able to look up almost anything I want to know; hitting an information roadblock feels oddly jarring. The second is relief. How wonderful it is to discover there are still some secrets left in the world – and still a culture that understands knowledge not as something to be consumed on demand, but something to be protected.

It’s dusk at our camp in the Palm Valley area of Finke Gorge National Park, 140 kilometres west of Alice Springs in the Northern Territory. Earlier, our group had been hiking the nearby Mpulungkinya Walk, scrambling over red sandstone walls that looked like the ruins of an ancient civilisation. One formation particularly captured my imagination. It didn’t take too much creative licence to see it as the face of some god-like being, a sentinel staring from a craggy bluff.

That night, Conrad Ratara, a traditional owner of this Country, joins our camp’s barbecue dinner and I ask him whether the rock holds a story. He pauses. “I can’t tell you that.” The tone is quiet, firm. Not scalding, but most certainly a full stop.

In Western Arrernte culture, some knowledge belongs to certain people, at certain times and for certain purposes. Not all stories connected to a place are meant for passing travellers, however curious they might be. But a sense of stewardship led Ratara to instigate the camp where we sit tonight. In his world, Country should be shared, even if its stories remain guarded.

The campsite forms part of an Indigenous-owned tourism venture operated through the Yalka Ratara Aboriginal Corporation. Intrepid Travel partners with the organisation to host small-group-tour stays as part of its Red Centre and Uluru Explorer itinerary. It’s this that brings me here.

The camp sits lightly on the land and comprises a cluster of glamping tents, a caretaker’s cottage, an undercover outdoor kitchen and a dining pergola. Each tent has air-conditioning, an en suite and its own private deck – smart, amenity-laden accommodation for somewhere so remote. But it’s the chance to sleep in such a special place that is the real luxury. That, and being amid the awe-inspiring landscapes that represent such a rich chapter in Australia’s artistic history. This is Namatjira country.

Born in the region in 1902, Western Arrernte artist Albert Namatjira painted some 2000 pictures of the West MacDonnell Ranges, signature impressions of ghost gums luminous against golden, ochre and purple cliffs, and endless skies stretching over muted green plains.

The images are quintessentially Australian. His tragic story – his rise to fame, being caught between two worlds as both celebrity and second-class citizen, his death at 57 shortly after release from a petty incarceration, and the loss of control over his copyright by his family after his death – is a stark reminder of how recently these injustices occurred.

We visit his home at Hermannsburg, a small whitewashed cottage on the outskirts of the historic Lutheran settlement (which the artist also painted), and it saddens me to see cracked windows and an empty shell of a place. It feels as if it should be more, yet the entire settlement is a strangely underutilised monument. The federal government spent millions restoring the Hermannsburg Historic Precinct, yet most of the immaculate buildings are closed to the public.

But the stories – of white missionaries and Indigenous history – swirl about, especially on the Sunday morning we visit, as Arrernte locals file into the Bethlehem Lutheran Church within the historic precinct.

I’m most moved by, of all things, the hose reel at Namatjira’s house. It’s the makeshift rusty car-wheel kind. It feels so ordinary and humble for such a prodigious talent. I imagine the artist tending to his garden, his family nearby.

Later, standing at Tyler’s Pass Lookout, elevation 813 metres, seeing what Namatjira saw, I watch the light move constantly across the escarpments, revealing new colours and shapes with every passing moment. The small Namatjira print on my desk at home suddenly takes on far greater meaning and I feel reverential to both artist and subject.

The West MacDonnell Ranges, known to the Western Arrernte people as Tjoritja, form the dramatic spine of Central Australia.

“These were once taller than the Rockies,” our guide says, referring to the Rocky Mountains in the US.

The ancient mountain system that rose about 300 million years ago, appears as eroded remains of endless ridges and gorges, the red quartzite cliffs carved into a procession of chasms, waterholes and escarpments. In the distance is Mount Zeil, at just over 1500 metres. (Colorado’s Mount Elbert, the highest of the Rockies, is 4400 metres.)

The views of Tnorala (Gosse Bluff Crater) – believed to have been created around 143 million years ago when a 600-metre-wide comet or asteroid struck the earth, blasting a crater roughly 20 kilometres in diameter – are extraordinary. I have to confess, I had no idea it was out here.

But we’re on the Red Centre Way, the 835-kilometre scenic driving route connecting Alice Springs, Uluru-Kata Tjuta National Park and Watarrka National Park (Kings Canyon), and it’s full of surprises – and secrets.

We began our Intrepid tour at Uluru, where the mysteries are equally compelling. Our Anangu guide gently advised us what we could and could not see, stories we could know and not know.

And I realise Namatjira’s work does the same. On first look, his paintings are direct and vivid. On reflection, they are mystical.

You can feel the images whisper of ancient connection to Country; you sense the enigmatic power of the landscapes. Namatjira was a shower, not a teller.

Travellers may recognise names such as Simpsons Gap, Ormiston Gorge and Ellery Creek Big Hole, while hikers from around the world come to tackle the 223-kilometre Larapinta Trail that threads along the range. Despite this, much of the region remains surprisingly quiet. Many visitors to the Red Centre never venture far beyond Uluru and that’s understandable – distances and conditions out here are challenging.

Coming to the Northern Territory with an outfit such as Intrepid allays any concerns. The vehicle is outback-tough, the guide who doubles as our driver likewise, handling long distances and changing conditions expertly.

Everything is carefully planned and executed. When you know you’re in capable hands, the vastness of the country is something to savour rather than navigate and the feeling allows me to relax into the experience. The gift this journey offers is not just access to a landscape many never reach, but a different way of observing it.

Namatjira’s art is now recognised as more than just beautiful imagery – it reflects his deep relationship with Country. Like Conrad Ratara leaving my questions unanswered, it invites feeling rather than explanation.

I come away from this experience understanding that this beautiful part of Australia isn’t a place to be explained. It’s a place to simply be present.

Sitting at the camp with Ratara under the desert sky, surveying the landscapes that inspired Namatjira, it becomes clear that this restraint, this refusal to turn culture into content, may be one of the most generous lessons a visitor can receive.

THE DETAILS

FLY
Qantas, Jetstar and Virgin fly to Alice Springs and Uluru.

TOUR
Intrepid’s Red Centre & Uluru Explorer is a six-day small-group tour that costs from $2995 a person depending on time of year. See intrepidtravel.com