Kings Canyon

Although it is winter down under, central Australia still gets very warm during the day. The nights are a different story, when the temperature drops so low that this area goes from being the hottest place in the country to the coldest in just a few hours.

I think you can imagine what it was like waiting around at 5.15am in Alice Springs for my tour bus on Tuesday morning. And how thoroughly pissed off I was when it arrived 45 minutes late.

It was such a pleasure to leave Alice Springs, however, that any anger I felt soon subsided when the bus warmed up a bit. I did wonder to myself what the early explorers who risked their lives to navigate the centre of this country would think if they knew that today the most appealing attribute of the area's principal town was a Blockbuster video store. I don't know about you, but I'd wonder whether it had been worth all the bother.

Anyway, I was all aboard this bus for a two-day tour taking in the Red Centre of Australia, which would include a trip to the King's Canyon before ending up at Uluru.

The drive to Kings Canyon took four long hours, during which I felt so tired my eyes were almost weeping. It was, however, worth every single minute of it.

Kings Canyon was without doubt one of the most stunning 'things' I have ever come across in my life. Although I nearly suffered a heart attack climbing the side of it (note to self - rejoin gym when back in London), the three hour walk around it in glorious sunshine was a fantastically relaxing way to spend the afternoon. It isn't somewhere that is particularly rich in historical detail, but in a way that came as something of a relief. Stopping every two minutes on a tour for a lecture on what happened here according to myth 45 trillion years ago can, after a while, become a bit tiring. This walk was nice for how uninterrupted it was. I did discover, however, that two of the most festive symbols - holly and mistletoe - are actually thriving in the central Australian desert. Did you know that? Well, you do now.

After the walk we began another long drive to our camp at Uluru. By the time we arrived at around 8pm, we had covered some 800km over the course of the day. To put that in context, it was the equivalent of driving from London to Madrid.

I guess I should explain who I mean by 'we'. There were around 25 people on this trip, none of whom I knew prior to boarding the bus. I am always a bit wary of booking more than a two day tour through fear of finding myself in the company of unspeakable shits and having no means of escape. The need for everyone to get along was illustrated when we got to our camp site. We were all given tasks associated with getting the camp ready and preparing dinner, which we would then all eat together around a fire.

Bad blood would definitely spoil this kind of situation. Fortunately, there wasn't any at our camp - but it was certainly not an ideal group of people. There were a few couples who made absolutely no effort whatsoever to be even vaguely sociable with anyone else, which on communal tours like this really makes we wonder why they fucking bothered coming at all. Then there was a very odd family of two parents and three teenage kids - aged probably 15-18 - who didn't even speak to each other, let alone anyone else.

Fortunately there was a fantastically friendly family who were Indian, grew up in Leicester and had now emigrated to Australia. Not only did their life stories make such interesting conversation, but they never tired of asking other people about their experiences and generally being nice. Then there were the solo travellers who didn't have a partner to be anti-social with - myself, a Finnish student, a Korean artist, a German student and an American lobbyist. I generally got on really well with all the above, apart from a few interesting encounters with the German girl.

My 'task' at the camp site was to assist one of the guides who was cooking the barbecue. What this actually entailed was just chatting to him and drinking copious amounts of beer while he did all the work. As far as jobs go, it's fair to say I've had worse.

At one point the guide had to go and run an errand, leaving the culinary genius that is my good self in charge of the food. All sorts of things ran through my head. Would I end up burning everything or food poisoning the family that didn't speak? While I was throwing various things on the barbecue hoping that I knew what I was doing, the German girl came over. She then started to behave in a particularly German way, questioning everything I did with a series of stern enquiries. 'Should you be cooking the spring rolls already'? 'Have you wiped the oil you used for cooking the sausages away from the vegetarian food'? 'What is that you are sprinkling on the potatoes'? And so it went on. I answered all of her questions with one word and concentrated on the food, which I hoped she would correctly interpret as an invitation to fuck off. Eventually the guide returned and I was relieved of my cooking responsibilities.

I chatted away with my fellow travellers, exchanging tales and enjoying the absolutely incredible surroundings - the red sands of the central Australian desert under the glorious moonlit sky where you could see millions of stars. I felt unbelievably happy and lucky to be where I was.

At around midnight and with the temperature plummeting, I went to sleep in a swag. This is an Aussie outback invention and is basically a body bag with a mattress in that you climb inside with a sleeping bag. It was surprisingly comfortable and warm. After a long day, I fell asleep easily.