For many, the Australian Outback conjures images of face-sized spiders, poisonous snakes and bugs, and an unforgivingly arid and barren landscape. So I thought it’d be a great idea for me to jump right into the thick of the Outback! I joined a 6 day/5 night trip through Australia’s Red Centre from Adelaide to Darwin last year and got to experience this unique environment first-hand.
Uluru, also known as Ayers Rock, is the most iconic symbol of the Outback and a sacred landmark to the Aboriginals. It’s also not easy to get to, and the textbook definition of “middle of nowhere.” In fact, it took us nearly 11 hours of straight driving with nothing in between except for a few stops and one un-manned petrol station.
We made it just on time for sunset the first night. Despite the tour buses with their kitschy wine and cheese packages, we found a quiet spot to gape at the magic show happening before our eyes. The mineral rich rock set fire by the departing sun left us speechless.
We spent the first night in the desert sleeping in what our tour guide lovingly called “body bags” – basically canvas sleeping bags that leave your head exposed to the elements and any other man-eating dingos that might be wandering around the camp. Though we got an uninterrupted view of the stars, it wasn’t long before temperatures dropped and I stuffed myself into the bag like a frozen burrito.
Promptly at 5am, we packed up for a sunrise walk around the base of Uluru.Since it was so early, we had most of the 10km trail to ourselves. Seeing the big rock up close was awe-inspiring, especially as the sun lit up the face of the monolith.
Before we get lost in the beauty, our tour guide also taught us the importance of Uluru in the Aboriginal culture. To them, Uluru is not just a pretty rock but a cathedral and a city all in one. It provided them with a place to teach, learn, live, and grow. After learning this, it was especially hard to see tourists climbing up the rock. There was a designated “climbing area” where a rope had been installed years ago before the claim to Uluru was handed back to its rightful owners. Today, there are huge signs in many languages that say:
“The climb is not prohibited but we ask you to respect our law and culture by not climbing Uluru. We have a responsibility to teach and safeguard visitors to our land. The climb can be dangerous. Too many people have died while attempting to climb Uluru.”
I saw many tourists ignore these signs and continue to climb anyway, leaving a trail faded by footprints up the face of the rock. Climbing Uluru is akin to defacing a church, and it was upsetting to see so many ignorant people continue to do so.
We watched the sunset again on the second night from a short hill near our campsite. Away from all the crowds, with the vast landscape pulled flat across the horizon and the strange living structure of Uluru rising inconceivably from the land, it’s easy to feel the spiritual pull of the desert and the rock.
Sometimes nature seems so sturdy, like a big rock in the middle of the desert will never change. But everything is changing, and what we can’t see with the naked eye is a collection of accidents already taking place. Hundreds of millions of years ago, there was a mountain range here as high as the Himalayas. Today there is a big red rock whose glow would put the sun to shame and holds the whispers of ancestors. In a hundred million years, there might be no rock and no people to witness what once was and what could still be.
