The Red Center-Uluṟu and Kata Tjuta
No morning beginning at 5am can be a good morning, but the day’s prospects made it bareable. The itinerary for today was to watch sunset at Kings Canyon, walk up and down and through the canyon, then off to Uluṟu for sunset.
I awoke to the rustling of sleeping bags and swags and immediately the light ribbing began. Apparently I had snored with immense volume and kept Conny up for a portion of the night. Kate and Roelof (who was in his shelter on the other side of the campsite) heard me snoring as well. I usually feel terrible for snoring and keeping people up, but this time I just decided to apologize, tell them to wake me up next time and move on.
I stumbled into the shelter for a quick breakfast: cereal, a few peices of toast and fruit. Apparently I was quite the sight at 5 in the morning, I kept getting laughs at my appearance and drunken-like behavior.
We wouldn’t be returning to the camp, so I gathered my things and got to the van as quickly as I could-which wasn’t quick enough. I was the last person again and felt like such an idiot rushing around with my bags and all; I hate holding people up.
We headed off back along the bumpy and rough road, serenaded by the Beatles singing “good day sunshine”. Before long we were at the base of Kings Canyon, though as it was still dark only a faint siloutte of the canyon walls could be made out.
The first part of the King’s Canyon walk was the most strenuous, a somewhat precarious and steep set of rock stairs that is commonly known as ‘Heart Attack Hill’. We rose probably 100 metres in two minutes. Conny, Jeanette and myself stayed with the group for the first bit, then broke away and took the climb at our own pace.
Brett and I on our way up Heart Attack Hill
We reached the top out of breath (I guess I should speak for myself) but were rewarded with a slight but vivid tinge of purplish-pink coloring the clouds.
As we lounged on the rim of King’s Canyon the purple clouds soon intensified as our surroundings became illuminated. The rest of the group caught up and we pushed on, hiking over the sandstone. At certain points Kate would stop to point out certain things of interest: geology, Aboriginal practices, animal behaviors and interesting plants.
It was absolutely amazing up there. After climbing a bit we came to ‘the flats’, a place where one could see the stone all laid out in front of oneself. It truly felt as though we were on Mars. Orangey-red rocks and sand surrounded us, it was all we could see. That and blue skies above.
We came to the edge of the canyon a few times, which gave us views for what felt like hundreds of miles. The walls of the canyon were sheer, dropping nearly 300 metres straight down. It reminded me of Angel’s Landing, a rock formation in Zion National Park in Utah, except much less intense.
Conny, Jeanette and I
There was one instance that I’ll never forget, and now looking back on it it seems as though it brought Conny, Jeanette, Brett, Roelof and myself together, gelled us, through somewhat crude humor. We were all standing together, taking in the beautiful sights before us. I had my hand on my camera, which was around my neck and resting low on my midriff. As I turned I accidentally hit the shutter button, taking a quick shot. “Oh!” I exclaimed, surprising myself. Conny looked at me and quipped, “That happens sometimes.” I looked at the two guys, then back at Conny and Jeanette with a slight smile on my face, and we all cracked up with howling laughter. Sustained laughter continued for nearly a minute, and when we tried to explain why we were in such a state it just rendered blank looks. It was a ‘you had to be there’ moment.
We continued on, only stopping to gaze at a pygmy koala in a tree overhead. Our path led us down a cascade of steps into the canyon, a place called the ‘Garden of Eden,’ a lush and green oasis where a permanent water hole resided, something quite special for a place as dry as outback Australia. It was a transition from desolate rock with a few scraggly ghost gums to a cool and shady sanctuary of thick trees and bushes, a few ducks, and the twittering of birds.
Following the path down through the canyon we came to the water hole, a large pool skirted on one side by rock, where thirty or so fellow tourists were lounging. Beyond the pool of water rose a sheer rock wall, the canyon’s edge, dark red rock with streaks of black. We found a place in the corner and rested for a few minutes, munching on biscuits that Kate had packed. It was incredibly peaceful even though we were anything but alone. Just the knowledge that we were in the middle of a desert, an arid desert, yet next to a lush natural garden and pond was profound; it was truly spectacular.
Retracing our footsteps out of the canyon, then up another cascade of stairs, we found ourselves on the othe side of the canyon. A few of us relieved ourselves, then we continued on our way. (Normally I wouldn’t bring up such crude details, but there’s something somewhat noteworthy about leaving ones mark on such a wonderful and spectacular land. It’s right up there with urinating in the Steens Mountains in Oregon!)
We continued on along the canyon, admiring the incredible day we had been blessed with. About 65º with overcast skies: incredibly comfortable for hiking, and superb photographic conditions. Along the way Kate pointed out ripples in the rock, which she explained were actually from the ocean 300 million years ago. Apparently this was all at one time the ocean floor. That put things into perspective! She also showed us a shell fossil in the the rock-pretty incredible.
The shell fossil
The rock formations were extraordinary. Smooth and rolling rock, humps of rock, jagged edges-the only unifying characteristic was the deep, Martian red. Contrasted against the blue skies with swirling clouds: breathless.
On this Kings Canyon sightseeing tour I began to hang out and speak more with Jeanette. I had spoken pretty much exclusively with Conny before this, but for some reason felt attracted to Jeanette and began to initiate more conversations with her. I had developed a pretty strong, obvious, yet unfortunate crush. I say unfortunate because I would have a little over 24 hours remaining with her. I say obvious because after dropping me off at the airport in Ayers Rock, the remaining crew headed back to Alice Springs where they went out drinking. Apparently they spoke of how obvious and cute my crush on Jeanette was. Guess I don’t do anything quietly…
We arrived back at the van at a little after ten and decided to postpone lunch, instead pushing on to Yulara, the tourist/resort town on the outskirts of Uluṟu – Kata Tjuṯa National Park. It was a drive of a little over two hours, with most of us electing to sleep. I actually missed a dingo sighting because I was asleep, then failed to see the wild kangaroo Brett had spotted. I still think he was making things up…
As a surprise to us all, it began to rain. It was quite comforting to me, actually, and wasn’t that surprising. But with the knowledge of where we were, it was pretty crazy. Through the mist and fog we made out a faint landmark in the distance, a body of land we mistook as Uluṟu-turns out it was Mt. Connor. It looked like a mountain with the head chopped off, quite an interesting sight.
We finally arrived in the town of Yulara with Kate remarking how ‘funny’ it was that we couldn’t see Uluṟu due to the rain and clouds. The rest of us didn’t really find it funny. After check-in we made it to our temporary residence, another permanent campsite, much in the same fashion as the previous night’s. I had been incredibly angsty ever since I had seen the rain, fearing that we would miss Uluṟu. Kate assured me that we would see it as paths go right up to the rock. Blue sky also began to melt away the clouds, and my excitement began to skyrocket.
After lunch we settled in to the campsite a bit. Kate was alerted by a fellow ranger that there was possibly a waterfall at the Mutitjula Water Hole, so we all piled in the van and set off. She was very eager and excited, remarking to us that she had only seen waterfalls on Uluṟu once before. This was significant, as Kate had been giving tours for about eight months.
We zoomed along the road towards the great rock, and gradually it began to appear. It was quite the ominous sight. It’s girth was incredibly massive, three and a half football fields across. Clouds leeched onto the top of Uluṟu, creating the illusion that it rose forever. We kept on driving closer and closer, getting to the point where it took up the entire view of the window.
First sight of Uluru
Hopping out of the van, we were greeted with a damp, fresh air. The sky was still gray, and Uluṟu stood in front of us like an ancient monolith. The spirituality of the rock was palpable; it gave one a hushed and reflective feeling, an air of seriousness and profundity. And, as I remarked before, the veiling of the clouds made it all the more mysterious, even daunting to explore. These feelings cannot be reproduced, it’s like nothing I have ever felt before. I only feel slight whisps of it looking at certain photographs and video. It was truly stunning.
Giddiness enveloped me as we began to saunter down the path towards the sight of the prospective waterfall. Since my first year of high school I had learned of the majesty of this place, and I was finally here! It was difficult to comprehend, and still is.
We made our way along the path, then onto a boardwalk and to the final viewing area at the Mutitjula Water Hole at the end of the Kuniya walk. There was an immense amount of people in a small area, and it was quite obvious that water was flowing down Uluṟu. In front of us was a large pool of fresh, newly-stirred water contained in part by a backdrop of Uluṟu. From the top a good amount of water was flowing down, collecting in one area, then bubbling over and continuing on to the pool below. It was a profound sight, such beauty due to water in a usually bone-dry climate. We were told that it only rains a few times a year at Uluṟu, and we were lucky enough to be there for one of them.
The spiritual, sacred feeling was very strong at this place, the Mutitjula Water Hole. Recollections of the feeling bring a warm and contented feeling to my soul. (It’s hard not to sound melodramatic explaining the spirituality of a place…these are my true feelings.) This was another permanent water pool, yet at this time full to the brim. We snapped a few pictures, (well, I snapped like 200 or so…) then returned for the bus.
Before reaching the bus we made a detour at an area along the walk. Kate led us into a cave, and when our eyes adjusted we were met with what first seemed like elementary scribbles on the rock, but which turned out to be symbolic Aboriginal rock art. How astounding! She explained the different symbols, how they made their ‘ink’, and the different stories the drawings told. They were unprotected, just there. What a window to the past!
Our next stop was the culture center, where we learned of the religious and cultural significance of Uluṟu. It also explained their wishes against tourists, or anyone for that matter, climbing Uluṟu. During my first lessons on Uluṟu in the sixth grade I was told that it wasn’t right to climb Uluṟu, but my Aussie friends had made it seem like it wasn’t that big of a deal, as most had climbed it. The cultural center helped to solidify my desire to refrain from climbing.
The Anangu people, the Aboriginal tribe that resides at Uluṟu, says that they don’t judge those who climb it. They say it is each person’s decision, and they respect that. I, however, do judge. I think it’s deeply disrespectful and completely misses the point of what Uluṟu is all about. You don’t climb the Wailing Wall. You don’t wear a baseball cap into the Sistine Chapel. There are just certain things you don’t do.
None of us in the group wanted to climb it, except for Terry. Kate explained that usually Asians are the majority of those who climb Uluṟu. It’s not due to disrespect, but more of a lack of understanding. Apparently tour groups in Asia promote Uluṟu as a rock you climb, it’s just a thing they expect to do. Also, in their defense, the explanation that solidified my resolve to refrain from climbing the rock wasn’t translated into Korean, or Japanese, or Mandarin. It’s just a misunderstanding. And anyways, due to the wind and the water climbing was shut down-Terry didn’t get the option.
At this point the clouds had completely receded from Uluṟu, taking up their usual posts in the night sky. Our van headed towards a popular tourist area for the nightly Uluṟu tradition of sipping champagne (sparkling wine) and watching the sun set, painting the rock in all different shades of orangey-yellow.
We found our own little space away from all the crowds and Kate poured us glasses of wine while I set up my tripod. As the sun drifted behind the rock it was as if Uluṟu was lit from the inside. It glowed dark orange, which turned into a brilliant yellow, then back to an orange-gold hue. For those of you who scoff at the notion that the rock ‘changes colors’, it’s hard to explain without sounding mystical and spiritual. Just know that it truly glows vibrant shades of orange and yellow. Amazing.
Jeanette, Conny and I
The group
I got a few stunning shots of the rock, I was quite proud. After many a group photo the show was over. We were all energized and excited from such a magnificent experience, and ‘partied’ all the way back to the camp site.
These Adventure Tours are usually planned for group sizes in their twenties. Our group was made up of ten people including the tour guide-but the amount of supplies stayed constant. Which means we had many a bottle of wine. I had two or three glasses during sunset, then two at dinner and one at the campfire.
The night turned into a laughing fest as a few others in the group were a bit drunk as well. We were told that one of the managers of Adventure Tours would visit us and tell an Aboriginal dreamtime story. We were all pretty excited about it, but as it turned out it wasn’t much more than a man mumbling and drawing in the dirt with a stick. We were all giggling and cracking jokes just out of earshot of him-it was like we were in grade school again. I sat there numb, happy, giggly and warm, sharing the moment with good friends and a few others who joined us from another campsite.
I didn’t realize how drunk I was until I got up to go to the bathroom, and walked through a bench, knocking it over. (In my defense it was dark.) I walked in a zig-zag to the bathroom, my head in a haze, then crawled in my sleeping bag. I was so wonderfully warm, calm, and relaxed. I drifted off to sleep quickly, smoothly…
–ζ——δ——ζ–
Morning came once again too quickly, however this time I was immediately bitten by the frigid air of the desert morning. We all scrambled around in the dark to pack our things and get breakfast, then hopped on the bus to catch the sunrise. I was tired and my hair all greasy and mussed, but felt no effects from the previous night’s indulgences.
Kate dropped us off at the base of Uluṟu under the darkness of night, a few rays of fire marking the horizon, the beginning of the sunrise. Instead of watching the sunrise from a viewing point, Kate told us that the most stunning views would be seen during the base walk. It was still frigid and a biting wind had started up, but it would not deter us from the special moment.
The route
As Uluṟu is incredibly sacred, there were many sites and areas around the base that were cordoned off, forbidding anyone from entering the area or even to take pictures (enforced by a hefty fine-entering the site can put you back $5000 AUD). Reasoning behind this is that many of these areas are either men’s sacred sites or women’s sacred sites. The Anangu are afraid that if pictures are taken then the opposite sex may accidentally view them, a violation of their code.
I was messing with Jeanette about filming a sacred site, (which I wasn’t), and she attempted to grab the camera…haha.
The rock turned from a dark silhouette into a dark orange, then a bright yellow. The walk took us nearly around the entire rock, lasting two hours and about 7 kilometers. It took us through a high-desert-like environment to just plain desert, then through to a wooden meadow area, sprinkled with ghost gums that seemed like a wetland. The diversity was mindblowing, how a single rock could create such a plethora of environments.
After the walk, which took us past the smoothness, jaggedness, caves and sheer walls of Uluru, it was time to leave this special place and explore Kata Tjuta (Kata Joota).
Last views of Uluru
Kata Tjuta is one of the most spiritually significant places in all of Indigenous Australian culture, more significant than Uluru. (NOTE-Aborigines from here on will be referred to as Indigenous Australians, as this is the more politically-correct terminology.) It is a men’s sacred site, meaning that no Indigenous Australian women have ever visited it. It is made up of 36 domes, with the tallest 546 meters (1791 ft.), over 200 meters higher than Uluru. The white man’s name for Kata Tjuta is The Olgas.
The ride was about a half-hour, and before long the domes poked up over the scraggly brush. We neglected to stop at a viewing area (and a little bit of me died…), but we pushed on to a parking lot at the base of two of the domes. The plan was to hike in the valley between the domes. The hike was pretty easy, up a rocky path, but it was incredibly windy and threatened to steal my bush hat more than once.
This is not my picture...
From pictures the domes may seem small, but they are anything but. As we entered the valley we were dwarfed by the sheer sides of the domes. They were dark orangey-red, like most things in the red center, with a few holes and imperfections.
The trail led us through what seemed like a rocky wasteland into a lush, green oasis; a place with damp air and a sense of great fertility, and a small stream trickling through.
I asked Kate about the ‘Tie me kangaroo down sport’ song, and she commented that it was blatantly racist, with the lines:
Let me abos go loose
They’re of no further use, Lew
So let me abos go loose’.
After a quick lunch at the campsite we packed up all our things and headed to the airport. First we dropped off Yung and Terry at a hostel in Yularra, then Helen and I were dropped off at the Ayers Rock airport. Saying goodbye to the group was incredibly difficult, as I didn’t know if I would see any of them ever again. I shook hands with Roelof and Brett, hugged Conny and Jeanette and said goodbye to Kate and Simona. I got a sore throat, the beginnings of choking up, but pressed through. I waved goodbye to the van and headed in to the airport, just making the plane.
While I sat there, gazing at Uluru from the sky, I thought about the intense and profound relationships we all had cultivated within the past 60 hours or so. I genuinely love those folks on the tour; I’ve chatted quite a bit with Kate and Jeanette over the internet and am planning on having dinner with Roelof and Brett when I visit Melbourne next week. The trip was absolutely amazing, truly one of the highlights of my time here down under. I will never forget those people, or the amazing sights and feelings we all experienced together.
–ζ——δ——ζ–
The Changing Colors of Uluṟu
Photos by the author
Shrouded by clouds
Sunset
Sunset
Sunset
Sunset
Sunrise
Sunrise
Red Center Vids
During our tour of the Red Center one of our mates, Roelof from Melbourne, periodically took pictures and video. Last week I received a DVD in the mail, an incredible gift that brings back the feelings and emotions of that wonderful time. Here are those videos below, hope you enjoy!
Sunrise at Kings Canyon
Sunrise at Kings Canyon
Originally uploaded by PeterJosef
Sunrise at Kings Canyon
Sunrise at Kings Canyon
Originally uploaded by PeterJosef
