By Emma James*

As the sun set over the Stuart Highway in the middle of Australia ending the first day of a new decade, the western sky was illuminated with hues of orange, red and yellow. While the clouds were turning shades of violet, lilac and silver. The sky darkened and then the moon in its full glory rose up over the eastern horizon lighting up the sky and the desert landscape. The cloud wasn’t enough to dull the glow, the rays breaking through resembling the sun. Looking north up the highway, the intermittent flash of the bus blinkers caught the iridescent orange of the hazard triangles on the road – luminous indicators to motorists that our bus was, as our Germans put it, kaput.

In times of trouble we have two choices: laugh and think “this will make an interesting story” or cry about how unlucky we are.

Our group of thirteen international travellers and our bus driver, stuck on the side of the Stuart Highway without mobile phone reception, chose to laugh. We chose to pull up a stool, grab a drink and admire the beauty around us.
We had food, water and swags to sleep in, it would just be another night under the stars; Nothing new for us, we had camped the past two nights between Uluru and Kata Tjuta.

These two natural wonders are awe-inspiring. They take breath away and leave a feeling of insignificance.  Out of almost nowhere, Uluru as one entire rusty red rock pops out of the landscape like an iceberg; almost 85% of it lies underground.  Photos don‟t do justice to its grandiosity.  And seemingly not so far away (except everything in the desert is farther than it seems) lies Kata Tjuta.  The rock faces smooth, yet pocked with holes, they look like mounds of ice cream that somehow haven‟t melted in the intense Outback heat.

Watching the moon setting and the sun rising over these wonders is humbling and it was this sight that began our new year before our journey south down the Stuart Highway towards Coober Pedy.  Full of awe and good spirits, we hit trouble about 50kilometres inside South Australia.  The bus needed more oil.  That added, we moved on, but the clunking noise continued and we pulled over again.

Our mini-bus called “Binga” (after cricketer Brett Lee) was lagging.  After passing the message “We’re limping in at 60km/h, send help if we don’t make it” to the next town, we jumped back in, cranked the music and started crawling.

We made it about 20kilometres and as Bon Jovi screamed “shot through the heart”, part of the engine fell away and Binga was all out.  “How fitting” we all laughed as we piled out of the bus, grabbed our stools and our drinks and admired the view. The highway was quiet and as far as the eye could see, only red dirt and a few small trees. A few horse prints the only sign of life aside from the small handful of passing vehicles, one stopping to take the message on to the next town that we were stuffed.

We couldn’t have chosen a better spot to breakdown. The clear landscape meant a clear view of the sunset and the moon rise. Laugh or cry?  Definitely laugh and smile at the beauty of the world, something that many of us in or busy lives don‟t stop to appreciate.  And as if on cue, as the moon was making its final ascent into the night sky, the northern horizon was suddenly ablaze with another set of lights.  Slowing to a stop was a three trailer road train lit up like a Christmas tree.

Help had arrived in the form of Darren and his mate (also Darren) in the next truck.  Our knights in Stubbie shorts and singlet tops jumped from their cabs and within no time had our bus hooked up and on the move again.  Our tour driver at the wheel of the bus had a hairy ride ensuring the bus stayed on track behind the road train, as four us were up front in the cab of the truck with Darren laughing about our experience.  We pulled into the “blink and you’d miss it” service station town of Marla a while later we were met by scorpions and the welcome sight of a motel bed.

Breaking down in the middle of the desert is a thing of horror stories.  We could have cried about how unlucky we were, but stopping to look at the situation, we were actually incredibly lucky.

This wasn’t in the itinerary, but it became one of the highlights of our trip.

* Emma James is  freelance journalist and photographer.

Mike Jones and Susan Merrell welcome her as a colleague and friend of the Pig’s Arms.