Sunday, 02 May 2004

The Rock. Eons ago, Ayers Rock (or "Uluru," as the Aboriginals call it) was the heart of a great mountain. Thousands of years later, wind and rain have eroded that original mountain down to a stub, and there haven't been any new mountains to take its place: Australia is all one big tectonic plate, and it's been millenia since it had anything to push against.

Uluru is a sacred place to the local Aboriginals, but it's also the only tourist concern (in fact, the only anything) for several hundred miles in any direction. The Aboriginals don't like people climbing on their rock (specifically, they don't like people falling to their deaths, which has happened about 35 times over the years), but they also don't want to shut down the one local attraction that brings in tourists. So, the brochures for Uluru take the unusual position of trying to guilt-trip people into not climbing the rock. "Please don't climb," they say. It's permitted, but discouraged. I suspect this was some sort of compromise between the Guardians of Culture and the local chamber of commerce. They also ask you not to photograph Uluru except for private use; I'm not sure where blogging falls on the tribal elders' "private" scale, but I figure no one is reading this anyway, so here goes.

Climbing Ayers Rock is not for the faint of heart: It's strenuous physical activity, and steep besides. You know those signs at Disneyland that say "you must be this tall to go on this ride?" There's a sign at Ayers Rock with my picture, that says "you must be slightly more physically fit than this man." Nothing says "you are carrying ten extra pounds" like an hour-long climb at a 45° angle.

The first part of the climb has an iron chain to help you up; unless you're some kind of mountain gazelle (and if you are, I don't want to know), you'll be using the chain to pull yourself. After stopping to pant like an old man about five times, I eventually made it to the end of the chain, about halfway up; after that the route is marked by a dotted line painted on the rock, and the going gets (slightly) easier.

The collection of rocks off in the distance at right is called "The Olgas," and looks like something you'd find in Utah or New Mexico. It's another old mountain, but this one has eroded into individual (large) boulders. You can see the dotted line off to the left, as it dips into valleys and slopes near the top.

At the top of the rock you will find this majestic trash-can shaped thingy, courtesy of the Australian National Survey. Here's a close-up of the thingy, which has a compass rose on top, and points out various geographical features nearby.

Turning around and walking back down again was much easier than the journey to the top, which was fortunate, because we drank all our water getting there. (Luckily some fellow travelers were willing to sport us a few mouthfuls. Take at least 1.5 liters per person. Also, the park rangers will close the climb if it's too windy or if the temperatures are too high, which usually means the climb is only open for a few hours after sunrise.) I can say with complete confidence that climbing Ayers Rock is one of those things I'm glad I did, but will never, ever, do again.

Later that evening (at sunset) the four of us went on a tour called "Sounds of Silence," which is an outdoor three-course meal delivered in the middle of the Outback. Once the sun went down and the flies went away, we sat down at tables that could easily have come from a fancy restaurant, dined on steak and kangaroo, and then just before the dessert course a local astronomer gave one of the more fascinating dinner speeches I've heard: Using a narrow-beam spotlight, he pointed out the constellations of the Southern Hemisphere, including those of the Zodiac that were visible at that time of the evening, and then brought out telescopes to look at the rings of Saturn and the bands of Jupiter. Very entertaining and educational, and a good meal besides.

All in all, it was an excellent way to spend five days in the middle of Australia. You can see my other photos from the trip here, if you like. After three years of living here, most of it working in Sydney or the Gold Coast, I finally feel like I've seen (part of) the country.

- Posted by Scott Forbes at 8:31 am. comments.