Uluru Proper

We were woken by the BackStreet Boys at stupid o’clock. There’s one thing about an alarm like that – it makes you get up. I said upright, not awake. That happened about 15 min later when I chucked a hot cup a tea over myself. Don’t ask why, cos I haven’t a clue. War wound 3.

Back on the bus and I was sat in the front passenger seat to watch Uluru come into sight, a black shadow against the teal and crimson of the dawn just showing. Kodak moment.

When we got to the viewing site it was full with the same crowd as the night before (strangely some of the buses were taking people away). Dawn was at 6:11: we had about 25 min to wait in the cool. It was a cold grey light, gradually warming and you start to see shadows on the rock, then pools of light, then the orange rock and the shadows creep away. And you take yet another photo, hoping this will be THE one, or if you’re Japanese of your friwnds doing yet another strange gesture in front of the camera.


We started the walk around the base of the rock at about 7. The climb was open – a steady stream of emmets climbing a very steep shoulder. The Anangu don’t like you climbing, I suppose that at least by allowing one way up, it makes it marginally safer. But it’s not surprising that 35 people have fallen off in 10 year: were Uluru in a mountain range, not on the tourist trail you would not attempt it without gear. In fact, you’d probably walk around thinking “how the hell am I going to get up there?”. Anna and James got about halfway before being put off by a man scrambling down out of control.



So the rest of us walked around the bottom which is around 6miles. Sadly the most dramatic parts are sacred sites so photos are forbidden. They also seemed to all be on the side that was in shadow for longest – not stupid there. The rock is shades of red, ochre and orange with holes in it that look like honeycomb, or icing dripping down. The grass is green and yellow, the leaves on the mulga silvery-blue. You get closer to the rock after about halfway and the surface is surprisingly dirty, pitted and crazed like a jigsaw or scales. This side is the waterhole, so there are trees and flowers (although it is a long time since meaningful rain). There are great gashes where huge slabs of rock have fallen that look as though someone has slashed at the rok with a machete, and one of them is a mouth with lips and a tongue. (Imagine it speaking).

Further on round another shoulder and you think you must be nearly there, but there is another slope in front of you, then another, until finally you see the trail of people stupid enough to start the way up in the heat, pulling themseves up by the hand-rail and you’re back in the car park.




We did one final short walk before moving on, into a cave that looks like a breaking wave, frozen, and had an illustrated talk - with actions – on some of the creation stories. After that was the cultural centre which had more illustrations of the history and culture from the Anangu, but was mostly a chance to by tourist tat of varying prices.

There is an interesting quote from one of the owners that recurs, saying “The tourist comes here with the camera taking pictures all over. What has he got? Another photo to take home... ” which I think is an interesting illustration of a difference between the cultures. A photo is not just a picture, it’s an attempt to capture the feelings, emotions and experience of a place or event so that you have more than just the memory.

We then had a quick coach ride back to the camp for a lunch of chicken burgers (now I remember why I don’t buy them – but we are camping so it didn’t really matter), then back into the bus for another few hours. There were two stops – the first was for the viewing spot for Mt Conner (another table mountain) and Coach-Captain fag break, the second was because we needed wood for the fire to cook on. Actually I’m lying, because there was a stop for a quick (half-hour) to have a swim / shower before we got to the George Gill Hilton (beng in the George Gill Mtns). There was some gas to cook on, but we had a dinner of salmonella (or was it Listeria, I can’t remember) chicken cooked on the fire with damper, which is like scone.

We turned in late (11 o’clock) after sitting around the fire chatting, burning marshmallows and drinking beer. Most of us slept outside. The stars (at least until I take off my glasses) are incredible. Orion (upside down... is that a sword in your pocket...?) and the Southern cross (about all I know), with a finger-nail paring of a moon and space hardware rushing across the sky.