Australia

• New Here? No Worries Mate - Beginners Guide
• Daydreamer Believer - Daydream Island, Great Barrier Reef
• Wonders of Wilderness Island - Fraser Island, Great Barrier Reef
• The Lizard of Oz - Lizard Island, Great Barrier Reef
• 700-mile hop on Kangeroo Highway - Melbourne to Sydney
• Bush Tucker... without the trial - Outback
• Primeval Pamering - Queensland
• Sydney is Supreme - Sydney
• It's simply the best, Mate! - Sydney
• Continent Please Carol - Top End
• Whirlybird Wine Tours - Victoria

LET'S BE HONEST, the closest most tourists visiting Australia get to Aboriginal life is a digeridoo they bought at the airport shop.

Sure, we also visit Uluru (formerly Ayers Rock) but there’s a scarcity of opportunities to encounter authentic Aboriginal culture. So where do you go for genuine interaction and a taste of real Aboriginal life?

An intriguing project called Gunya Titjikala seeks to fill a gaping hole in the market. Guests stay in a remote desert community at the first resort in Australia where tourists can meet Aborigines in their own environment.

And while I mean no disrespect to Carol Thatcher & Co, this was no I’m A Celebrity-type affair with its Bush Tucker Trials (although we did sample the dreaded witchetty grub, more of which later).

Your hosts are the 300 inhabitants of Titjikala, a far flung settlement in the Northern Territory, traditional land of the Arrente, Luritja and Pitjantjatjara tribes.

This remote outback resort is a joint venture between Aborigine locals and New South Wales-based Gunya Tourism, a business set up to promote indigenous experiences. Half of the profits go towards community health and education projects.

Tourists benefit too, absorbing Aboriginal traditions and culture at first-hand. This is responsible tourism at its finest because the local community actually benefits – and that’s not often true of resorts in deprived areas.

Overall, Gunya’s objectives are simple… cultural interaction and Aboriginal self-sufficiency.

Specialist bush tucker

‘In remote areas such as Titjikala, tourism offers the prospect of economic independence and eliminates a sole dependency on government welfare,’ said Mark Provost, Gunya Tourism’s managing director.

But our visit started rather ominously when project manager Ronan O’Hagan collected us from Alice Springs airport. ‘Normally, a local man would pick you up from the airport but it’s payday and he’ll be drinking,’ he announced.

I didn’t fully understand what he meant until we reached Titjikala itself, about 80 miles south of Alice Springs along red dusty tracks. Outside town, something was in the road ahead. It was an abandoned car with an Aborigine man lying motionless underneath.

Ronan told us not to worry. The man was simply ‘trashed’ and sleeping it off. Of more concern was a man staggering towards us, seriously the worse for wear. He approached our car and asked if we had any ‘grog’. Ronan told him No, but would send someone to collect them both instead.

Would our three days here all be like this? If so, I wanted to turn around immediately. To see drunken men pass out in the road I need only to walk down my High Street on a Friday night.

Fortunately, it was an isolated incident. Gunya Titjikala doesn’t shy away from reality. In fact, this rough edge rather suited the Gunya experience. Titjikala is a dry community, so tourists who want alcohol must bring their own.

Accommodation was in luxury safari tents, perched on timber platforms, just outside Titjikala. The bathroom, which includes an environmentally friendly flush toilet, is a corrugated-iron extension behind the tent.

There was plenty to do, including visits to rock art and fossil sites, dry lake beds and the old Ghan railway line. But we decided on specialist bush-tucker hunting tours for our first afternoon. Local elders instructed us on the gathering of grubs, wild fruit and plants.

A bit like chicken

Our guides were two women from the community, Loretta Kenny and June Wilynka. They were happy to pass on the land knowledge taught to them as children. They drove us into the bush in a 4x4. We’d just introduced ourselves when June spotted a wallaby. ‘Wallaby a bit too tough,’ she said ‘Kangaroo meat is better.’

June explained that gathering bush tucker was traditionally seen as women’s work; Aborigine men predominantly hunted kangaroo. Normally, we could have joined them but there were not many kangaroo about due to a long drought.

Instead, we dug for edible caterpillars that live in the roots of the witchetty tree. Using a crowbar, June hacked at the roots and teased out the grubs.

It soon became evident that we were in the middle of an Aboriginal grocery store. What looked like humble desert and trees to us whitefellas were aisles full of potential food.

Once June had a handful she placed them on a hastily made fire and brewed some tea in a billy can.

She saw me eyeing the grubs.

‘You eat it?’

‘I don’t think I can eat a whole one,’ I protested.

‘It taste like chicken!’

Yeah, right. I bet that she says that to everyone. But Aborigines have been on this planet far longer than us so they must be on to something.

The grub entered my mouth tentatively. I winced but I needn’t have worried because they were tasty – a bit like chicken with the texture of prawns.

This first afternoon was a fascinating introduction. Gunya Titjikala is ideal if you want to learn more about Aborigines, but it’s challenging. You’ll need sensitivity to your hosts and, with no electricity, you rely on battery-powered lamps. Mobile phone coverage or web access? Forget it.

If you usually lie around a pool reading the latest Dan Brown novel, this probably isn’t for you. But if you want the chance to ‘go bush’ with Australia’s indigenous people in the continent’s dusty heart, it can reap huge rewards.

The following morning, after a breakfast of damper, a traditional bread, and golden syrup, we met two more Aborigine guides, Margaret Campbell and Frida Shannon. They escorted us 25 miles on a 4x4 tour to Chambers Pillar, a 160ft sandstone monolith rising from the desert.

The stone was named in 1860 by explorer John McDouall Stuart after his financier friend, James Chambers. Just typical – bankers always get the credit.

As we headed home, Margaret and Frida scanned the tracks ahead for any desert fauna that could become bush tucker. Margaret slammed on the brakes when she spotted a perentie, the large desert goanna, a species of monitor lizard and Australia’s biggest. It was huge, a little scary and too quick for us.

Majestic star filled sky

Back in town, we saw artists at Titjikala’s art centre, transferring the desert’s vivid colours onto canvas. These would become artworks sold in galleries throughout the world. Elsewhere, dot paintings, copper-wire bush toys and clay kangaroos were being made.

Afterwards, our attention was hijacked by Aborigine children playing on red sandhills in the centre of town. The youngest had smiles that melted your heart. We watched them perform for our cameras and laughed as they took turns rolling down the dunes.

‘Sure, take photos,’ said Emma Salmon, another of Gunya’s project managers. ‘All we ask is you send some images to us. Community members love to see photographs of themselves.

‘If someone breaks their word then trust can be broken. Aborigines are just learning to trust the white man again.’

Back at my tent, we sat on the shaded veranda with a cool beer and watched the sun set across the Simpson Desert’s red sand. In the failing light, I lay in the tent’s bathtub, open to the sky, with mosquitos circling around.

No witchetty grubs were on the dinner menu. Chef Clayton McFarlane conjured up Western style gourmet meals infused with local ingredients. Members from the Titjikala community told us stories from the Dreaming, the Aboriginal concept of creation.

Later, tales were shared around a raging camp fire, with a majestic, star-filled sky above.

As I headed for my queen-size bed, the vastness of the desert resonated with the ancient traditions of a proud people.

The gaudy tourist traps of Surfer’s Paradise never felt so far away.