The Northern territory, primal red center of Australia, home to Uluru, Crocodile Dundee, didgeridoos and Barramundi. From Sydney we took the plane to Alice Springs, a short flight over a landscape of vibrant red scorched earth and saltbush. We landed, the planes air conditioned luxury rudely violated with the opening of the doors. It felt like walking into a blast furnace.

A blast furnace populated by flies. It took seconds before I too was doing the outback wave as what seemed like millions of homing flies made a direct line for the moisture of my eyes, nose and mouth. I got shitty immediately and fled in terror shrieking into the air conned terminal.

A campervan was hired, a Britz converted Hiace, which was pretty cosy, little bed in the back, stove, everything linked cleverly into place like some advanced for of micro home tetris and we drove into Alice Springs, the hub of central Australia.

We left this town, armed with camping supplies and took to the road, beginning the 600km drive to Uluru, spiritual heart of the red centre. The roads are long, and straight, as if the guy at the bulldozer fell asleep at the wheel, then suddenly jolting awake went ?shit, I?d better put a corner here?. Luckily they put up warning signs before each corner (they are few and far between) to prevent zoning out drivers ploughing off the road and into outback oblivion.

There?s plenty of wildlife to be seen? mostly kangaroos, unfortunately spread across the road after having an argument with a thundering 4 trailer road train. These juggernauts thunder past, the wake from them sending the little Hiace into massive shudders of fear. Im sure it lost a litre of fuel every time one passed, a vehicular equivalent of shitting oneself. It definitely brings about a burst of adrenaline, makes the steering wheel get a white knuckle grip and a grim determination of ?I will stay on the road?.

We didn?t make it to Uluru that first night and stayed enroute, partaking in one of the great joys of road trips? service station burgers. Its funny travelling with an American, one is the look of horror as they open up an Australian burger and grab this vibrant purple slice like it?s a contagious organism and go? ?what is this?? ahh the joys of beetroot. Its also great fun to baffle and confuse them with Australian lingo? ?I?m just going to chuck a u-ie and grab a sanga at the servo? (I?m going to do a u turn and get a sandwich at the gas station), its like a foreign language, one that almost makes you want to say ?crikey..?

I only have one regret about camping in that little Hiace? and that?s not getting a fan for it. It was a sweat drenched nightmare bus, with what little shreds of breeze that were present during the day running into hiding at night, leaving me there covered in sweat and gasping miserably. These were not going to be top 10 sleeps.

At least the flies go to bed at night as well.

A classic BLT breakfast and we made it to Uluru, on approach getting very excited as we spied it, only to read in the guidebook that many first time visitors get confused by thinking Mt Connor is Uluru. Dammit. We arrived, paid our $25 entry fee and parked. It was a brutal 36 degrees. We armed ourselves with litres of water ? its funny, the aborginals lived out here for thousands of years, sucking morning dew of plants, and my pansy white ass needs at least five litres a day to stay hydrated.

We did a lap of the rock. It looks amazing from afar, it has what can only be described at presence, but from upclose it becomes even more surreal. It has an incredible texture, the nature of the rock is almost alien, and the shapes that you see as you walk around boggle and stupend. It is easy to see why this place has such significant and spiritual meaning to the locals. It is truly amazing.

Except for those bloody flies. I was covered in millions of them, how they fly at the speeds they do, and consistently manage to land up my nose amazes me. Im sure if you scaled it up, it would be the equivalent of a human screaming along at the speed of a jet fighter, and managing to stop in a car parking spot. What the g forces must do to your insides defies imagination.

Sweat drenched, sunburnt and exhausted it was time to call it a day ? watching sunset change the hue of the rock to violent reds and then to campsite. I have been drinking 5 litres of water a day, and it still constipates me, my body absorbing moisture from every possible place it can. It?s a condition that appears to affect the local wildlife as well, with them dropping tiny little dry and compact shits all over the place. The Euro Kangaroo drops Cube shaded dry and hard shits, no wonder the little buggers are always hopping around? ?just get out, just get out? But by far the worst aspect of all of this is the toilet seats? the heat here makes them all feel warm? that nasty warm feeling you feel when you sit on a toilet just after someone else has been.. I never got used to that.

The Olgas were next on the agenda, another freakish rock formation popping out of an otherwise flat desert. These too possess about them a profound presence, and a lot of the area is not available to the public since it is sacred land. I started to get the zen of flies here, they didn?t seem to irritate me as much when they went up my nose? though every now and then Id inadvertently breath one in and explode in a coughing fit, blasting out a high velocity mucous fly comet.

More sleeping in the little Hiace furnace and then lots more driving. There is something hideous that happens when you get into a Britz campervan? every other Britz campervan driver waves at you? the issue is.. you wave back. Suddenly I feel like some foreign tourist snapping pictures and waving stupidly, and trying to get my picture taken under one of the ?kangaroo next 5km? signs. Shudder.

There?s a lot of driving, a lot, and a lot of road side diners. Which means a lot of burgers, sausage rolls and meat pies.. those tasty packages of pastry and mystery meat. I am worried I am going to develop bed sores from being on my arse so long, and my diet is surely leading me down the path of getting a muffin top?

So we head north, through Kings Canyon and past ancient meteorite craters. The red center has a very primeval vibe, every part of it feels like a footstep in Jurassic park I half expected a velociraptor to come bounding out and take off one of my arms, or at least some Japanese tourist on a point and click bus tour. It?s a brutal place to live, it seems to have three distinct seasons ? flood, drought and fire. Things are built tough here.

The transition from red desert to wetland starts to take place around a little sleepy town called Elliot. The transition became noticeable as when the flies went to bed at night, mosquitoes arrived. Evil little bastards. Not much more to say about Elliot.

On through the beautiful Katherine gorge, and kayaking through it, stopping in one of the few croc free waterholes for a very welcome swim. Onwards and into Kakadu, one of the great natural wonders of Australia? only marred by the billion angry mosiquitoes that managed to bite me through thick denim pants. My time in Kakadu was miserable. Kakadu besides the mosquito misery is amazing. The rock art, and aboriginal history and dreaming stories take yhou back to an amazing time and place. Art from the Mimi ? or spirit people adorn places where no human could paint) great rock outcrops where people would gather, shelter cook and talk abound, each with their own paintings of food, activities, spirits and stories. Dreaming places abound.

My favourite is Namarkkon, the lightning god, portrayed with stone axes on his knees and elbows, throws them down to make the thunder. Interestingly Kakadu gets more lightning strikes then anywhere else in the world, and some spots in Kakadu more then others? he lives in a little place called lightning dreaming, and only the initiated may visit, if the uninitiated visit terrible things like cyclones happen?.

Its hot, and humid. I drink water like its going out of fashion, the toilet seats are still warm, and whats more you sit, then look down and see a trail of bull ants (1 inch angry big mandibled buggers) under your feet and sniffing around my toes. Squealing I lift up my legs and somehow balance with legs in the air, and bum on the seat, and trying to swat the buzzing mosquitioes. How the aboriginals took 60000 years of this? well respect.

The wetlands are amazing, the birdlife diverse and scenery stunning. Crocs peek there eyes out above the water. I was also very taken by the termite mounds, huge (up to 6 meters high) mounds of dirt built my millions of 2mm blind termites. Its incredible, if it were to be scaled up, it would be the equivalent of humans building a skyscraper two odd kilometres high, all built by blind architects, blind builders and blind flamboyant property developers. Beautiful waterfalls seen from the Nam? like charms of a doorless chopper completed the Kakadu experience.

So onwards to Darwin, via the Adelaide river home to more then 2000 saltwater crocs and site of the famous ?jumping croc tours?. Its meat on a string, dangled over the side of a boat, and the crocs leap up to grab it. The tour started small, with the feeding of a baby croc. Then in the distance a wake from an advancing croc could be seen.. this one was a could 3 metres long, Jurassic, mean, pure predator. He ducked beneath the water (its muddy and they can stay under for up to 2 hours) before leaping out of the water to the screams of scared tourists and took the meat. We continued up the river until we found the croc they call Hannibal? He?s a 5.4 meter one tonne behemoth. He doesn?t jump, unless you had a full cow on a string. We did get him to crawl on to the mud banks. He was massive, the sort of croc that would consider a full grown steer ? a snack. You don?t want to swim in these parts.

So finally to Darwin. I really liked the aviation museum with its B52 bomber, and the aborginal art galleries. Other then that you drink to ignore the heat. Four days is long here. Very long.