There are no kangaroos in Alsace

Wheat fields as far as the eye can see. The ears of wheat sway golden-yellow in a gentle breeze as the evening sun sets. The roads here are dead straight. If anyone thinks Australia is a land of scenic diversity and that there’s always something new to see, they’re right. Every two days, the scenery changes. And every two days, you come to an intersection where you can turn left, right, or go straight ahead.

Endless wheat fields, Australia

By the way, “Down Under” is called that because 90% of Australia lies below sea level. So a peak over 1,000 meters is quite an attraction. The Grampians are one such attraction. The Grampians National Park is located about 250 kilometers west of Melbourne and about 100 kilometers from Australia’s south coast. This part of the state of Victoria is sparsely populated. The Grampians have been inhabited by Indigenous Australians for at least 22,000 years. In their language, the area is called Gariwerd. We’ve reserved a campground in the heart of the national park, not far from Halls Gap. The reviews describe the place as basic but clean. Well, what some people call “clean” is probably just a matter of taste. The lack of drinking water isn’t really a problem at all, since we’re carrying our own. The outhouses—which are essentially pit toilets with no lighting whatsoever—who goes to the bathroom in the wilderness at night anyway? Except for Gaby!—ultimately tip the scales in favor of a hasty departure the next morning. The enormous number of flies made the decision even easier.

Silverband Falls in the Grampians, Australia

Despite being in a hurry, we still take a hike to Silverband Falls. Due to our rushed departure and a lack of cell phone service, it’s difficult to make a reservation at a campground. We finally find an open spot in St. Arnaud. Located in the heart of Australia’s breadbasket, this small town has seen better days. Its rise and fall are likely closely tied to the gold discoveries of the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Today, barely 2,500 people live in St. Arnaud, and most of the stores are closed. On the way to Swan Hill, toward the Murray River, we come across a few more of these dying towns and villages.

Artdecor Silo in the Granary of Australia

St. Arnaud, Australia

In Swan Hill, we experience another cold snap. The days before, temperatures had reached as high as 31°C, and at night they hadn’t dropped below 15°C. In Swan Hill, the thermometer doesn’t climb above 15°C, and at night it warms up to a mere 4°C. We head west again, hoping to find warmer weather.

Swan Hill on the Murray River, Australia

I look at the clouds and notice a faint pink tint on their undersides, but I don’t give it much thought. A sign announces Lake Tyrrell, and since we’re early and have plenty of time, we make a detour there. The clouds continue to take on color, and when we stand in front of the lake, we realize why. It’s a salt lake whose water is tinged pinkish-purple due to the high salt content it contains. This is why the clouds shimmer slightly pink even from a distance. Salt is still harvested here today, though on the northern shore of the lake.

Lake Tyrrell, Victoria, Australia

Now that we’ve been driving through wheat fields for four days, we come upon the first vineyards and Australia’s largest wine-growing region at Bonney Riverland Lake, not far from Loxton. But it will be another day before we reach the wine region around the Barossa Valley.

Wine growing in the Barossa Valley, Australia

The landscape has changed. The Western-style wooden houses have given way to homes made of natural stone. Tall eucalyptus trees line the streets, forming avenues with a green canopy. It feels like driving through a tunnel on these roads, which are extremely curved toward the outer edge and made of rough asphalt. To the left and right of these avenues are neatly laid-out vineyards. The landscape resembles that of Alsace in the 1970s, with its roads lined with tall poplars. We search in vain for kangaroos, even though yellow signs occasionally alert us to their presence. We settle in at Mount Pleasant. The hill, approximately 440 meters high, borders the Eden Valley—a parallel valley to the Barossa Valley—to the south. Both valleys have a vineyard area of about 12,000 hectares and are only half the size of Australia’s largest wine region, the Riverland on the Murray River. However, it is Australia’s best-known and most historic wine region. We drive through the Eden Valley and visit the Kaiserstuhl Conservation Park. To enter the park, you have to clean your shoes. I’ve experienced this before in New Zealand, too. Whether it actually helps, I can’t say.

Kaiserstuhl Conservation Park, Australia

And then, there they are after all. An hour later, as I’m walking across the park—nearly at the end of the tour—three kangaroos are standing right in front of me. I didn’t even see them at first—that’s how perfectly they blend into their natural surroundings. The largest one watches me while chewing and clearly isn’t happy that I’ve spotted him. After a while, the leader gets too uncomfortable and hops away on its hind legs in that familiar way. Its companions hesitate and clearly don’t agree with what the boss is saying. They’re probably not done eating yet, but they eventually bow to the will of the big kangaroo and hop after him. It looks like there might not be any kangaroos in Alsace, but there are definitely some on the opposite side of the Rhine, in the Kaiserstuhl region. I wish you always fair winds and keep a stiff upper lip.