Hogs at the Rock

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It really is true what they say of the Outback - it goes on forever. Flying from Cairns to Alice Springs, as soon as we pass over the coastal mountain ranges, the vastness of interior Australia hits you. About 2/3 of Australia's population is gathered in its urbanized coastal cities, primarily the east coast. The government categorizes the population ranging from Major Cities to Very Remote - in the Northern Territory where we are headed, which is 520,000 square miles, there are only 210,000 people, or less than 3 per square mile - that definitely qualifies as Very Remote.



We fly into the legendary Alice Springs but it appears that the legend has outlived the reality. What first catches our fancy however is the time change - just half an hour - apparently each state determines its own time zone and this one is what stuck here. The one thing that catches Steve's eye is the saloon with the iconic swinging doors - he says he has always dreamed of busting thru such doors - this gives me a whole new vision of him as "Sundance Steve". More interestingly is that it is home for much of the territory's indigenous Aborigine population, and examples of their art flood the local galleries on Todd Mall, a dusty, hot outdoor stretch of shops, restaurants, and galleries. Aboriginal peoples have a long and important history of art, but in a more ephemeral nature in caves and sand, and it was not until the 1970's that they were introduced to painting on canvas and wood. Today there is a thriving industry of aboriginal art, with a dreamlike, pointillistic feel to it. Great swirls of color woven into intricate patterns, repeated throughout each piece. The galleries have many unframed canvases, from small 6 x 6 inch squares lying in piles on dusty shelves to large 4 x 6 foot canvases swaying off hangers. I wonder how much of the tourist dollars that are spent in these galleries goes back to the artists. One of the galleries that looks more reputable has a small museum in the back with an interesting history of the aboriginal culture and Steve spends his time there.



The most interesting part of our hot afternoon in Alice, as the locals call it, was the tour of the Royal Flying Doctors Service museum, a nearly century old Australian institution. Started in the 1920's as the only way to provide emergency medical care to the far flung rural populations, it still thrives today with 61 planes, providing care to over 270,000 wounded or ill Aussie every year. The museum, in an attractive new building just opened last year, has a great film telling the story of the RFDS, and you can wander the few exhibits with their examples of early medicine kits and radios used for communications. A nice lazy, interesting hour.



Now off to Uluru, or as it used to be called Ayers Rock. You may have wondered why we bothered with a stop in Alice - well, if we came this far, I was determined to actually see some of the Outback so it's a 5 hour, 450 km bus ride for us today (plus we're adding to our transportation checklist). Given the legendary temperatures - and in this case legend meets reality - the bus leaves at 7 a.m. and we head out of town on the Stuart Highway, the 3,000 km two lane road ripped through the vast Outback from Adelaide to Darwin. There are small white poles that whiz by every kilometer or so - they used to mark the locations of the original telegraph repeater stations but today mark the location of the 3,000 km of fiber laid down the spine of the country, bringing broadband access to the most remote parts of the country. Communications are what help open up the Outback, and they remain its lifeblood today. This being a bus full of tourists, we have to make the obligatory stop at the camel farm, with its sad, moth eaten creatures waiting for the bloke willing to fork over $7 for a 5 minute ride - no takers here. Later, at another rest stop, one of the infamous road trains pulls in with a noisy truck hauling three trailers behind it - you don't want to fool with one of those roaring at you from the opposite direction on the two lane highway. Australia is expensive but this rest stop takes it to new heights - $7.00 for a large cup of coffee. We don't see many cars on either the Stuart Highway, or the Lassiter Highway when we turn west, and our bus driver assures us that if you're driving and you break down "No worries, someone will be along in 3 or 4 hours." The Outback is vast - we pass a million acre cattle station that runs only 14,000 head of cattle. It is wearying country, blast furnace like, spotted with dry stream beds and stunted trees and bushes trying to make their way in this harsh environment.



Suddenly, a large mountain appears in the distance but no, not the Rock, only Mt. Connor, bigger but less well known. Finally, we pull into Yulara, the site of the Ayers Rock Resort. Yulara is a totally man made town, created just for tourists to Uluru, and it houses four hotels and a campground, a small town centre with stores and services, and feels like something out of Oz...but wait we are in Oz. The Sails in the Desert hotel, where we are staying, is a lovely oasis of soaring sails, and indoor outdoor spaces. I've treated us to a terrace room, and it has a lovely terrace, with dining table and lounges and room to relax and enjoy the warm, dry weather. Interesting though, this must be a place conducive to wild amours as it is the first hotel we've stayed in this trip that provides a discreet package of condoms in the bedside table...hmm, makes you wonder what fun the daybed on the terrace has seen. At breakfast Steve discovers the crocodile sushi on the expansive buffet and makes that the mainstay of his morning meal. We're told that it is cool today - only going up to 37 degrees Celsius (98F) - and it reminds us of the summer days in Sacramento.



The history of Uluru seems to show the often difficult dynamic of careless European settlers and an indigenous culture caught up in change it doesn't seek or want. Uluru has been a sacred site to the aboriginal peoples for centuries, as evidenced by the phantasmagoric cave paintings and legends woven about it. The rush to settle the Outback brought that unwanted change to Uluru, including car parks at the base of the rock and hordes of climbers over its sacred surface. In the 1970's a determined group of aborigines brought suit in court, and after over a decade of fighting, won the right to have their ancestral lands returned to them. Today, Uluru is jointly managed by the government and its native owners, and is leased back on a 99 year lease to the National Parks. The depredations of earlier decades are slowly being erased and the message for all visitors is one of cultural sensitivity and rebirth.



This evening we are to get our first glimpse of Uluru at a sunset viewing and outdoor dinner under the stars called the Sounds of Silence dinner, which we had been told not to miss. The Ayers Rock Resort defines captive audience and knows how to price its privileges quite dearly. Unless you have a car, the only way out to Uluru is with some type of paid tour group and the options are endless, expensive and inventive. So we gamely board yet another bus with our new BFF and trundle out to the viewing area atop a sand dune, the sand being the deep red color of the Outback. Uluru is a spellbinding sight, and as with other iconic emblems, when you first see it it is sometimes difficult to disassociate the idea from the reality. The rock rises unbidden from the desert floor, its face riven by folds and facets and pocked with caves and overhangs. Happily grasping a glass of cheap champagne, and munching on kangaroo slices and crocodile sushi, we all rush to take our pictures standing in front of the rock. A very nice couple, who farm potatoes in Yorkshire, volunteer to do the honors for us with our camera and we end up enjoying the evening with them and learning lots about farming in the UK. As the sun sets behind us, the ruddy colors on the rock change in subliminal slowness, and soften the harsh outlines. Suddenly, the sun slips below the horizon and the rock retreats into a study in browns. We all set off for dinner which is set in a hollow in the sand dunes, with linen clad tables and free flowing wine for all. Our dinner table companions include our new UK farmer friends, the Italian honeymooners who seem to want Pinot Grigio over Sauvignon Blanc, and an American couple from Ohio, retirees like us, who introduce us to the term "SKI" trip, as in Spending our Kids Inheritance. After a decent dinner - after all this is the middle of the desert - and as the sky darkened, a stargazer entertains us with stories of the stars. With almost no ambient light, the heavens are brilliant with stars and you could sit there and gaze at them for hours.



The next morning we set out early in our rental SUV - no more buses for us - for the ranger tour at the base of Uluru. At 8 a.m. when the tour starts the sun has not yet peeked over the rock but you can already feel the presentiment of the heat to come. Dickie, our ranger, is a lanky young man, hair in blond-brown dreads tied at the back, with the requisite deep tan and leather wide brim hat. For the next 2 hours he leads us on the Mala walk, and educates us in the culture and legends of the aborigines who called this land home. Up close the rock simultaneously seems more massive and intimate. Massive as you stare up the rock face to see the sun creeping over the summit, and intimate in the color striations and fissures and crevices that cleave its surface. Dickie is a fount of knowledge, respectful of the history of this sacred place, and shares with us the stories of the young men's cave, the five stone old men, and the sacred women's area where no photographs are allowed. Squatting in the red sand in the shade of an overhang he draws in the sand the geologic history of this area, as natives once drew their stories in the sand. At the end of the walk is a dry water hole - there has been no rain here for 9 months - and you can see from the dark streaks on the rocks the jumping path that the waterfalls take when rain finally appears. It's getting hot by 10 a.m. so we retreat to our air-conditioned car and drive the base of the rock - the full base walk all around is nearly 10 km and you'd be crazy to start it this late in the morning. Dehydration is a real issue out here and there are strategically placed potable water spigots, as well as cool water for the asking at the cultural centre. In the bathrooms are large signs noting the color of your urine to tell if you're dehydrated, with a deep yellow not a good sign. The cultural center tells the story of the aboriginal way of life at Uluru, told with authentic art and storytelling in the indigenous manner. You sense there is still an unease in the relationship between the patriarchal government and the aboriginal peoples - as Dickie carefully commented " It seems like the government still wants to tell the people what to do rather than asking them what they want...and if I say more than that I'd have to rip these Park Service badges off my shirt." There is the same sad story of alcohol abuse - in Alice the hours that liquor can be sold to indigenous peoples is limited by law - and challenges with employment that we see with our Native Americans and the feelings seem to be split on how well the government is doing with its relationships with the aborigines.



But enough with all this serious stuff - time for fun! After a blissful afternoon for me of massage and pedicure at the spa at the hotel, and a lazy nap on the terrace for Steve, we're off to the races. Well, not quite the races, but a fun evening riding Harleys around the rock. Dave and Dwayne, our drivers, roll up to the hotel around 6 on their Softtail bikes and we swing on and off we go. It's a gorgeous night with a light breeze and the feeling of the wind blowing past as the rock gets closer is wonderful. It's a kick doing something touristy! After the obligatory photo op with us astride the bikes (do I hear Christmas card photo???) we circle the rock and then head into the viewing point for another sunset. The viewing point is filled with tourists piling off buses and as we roar in, you have a nice little interior smile thinking "This is the way to arrive!" Dwayne pulls a bottle of champagne and two glasses out of his saddle bag and we clink a toast to a great evening. If anything the sunset is even more glorious than last night, with the colors more deeply etched in the rock and the shadows falling carefully. A quick spin back to the hotel and we're sorry to see our fun excursion end - what a perfect way to say farewell to Uluru. Knowing how lovely and warm the evenings are we had ordered a light dinner from room service to be delivered when we returned and so we end the evening by candlelight on our terrace, nursing a nice Shiraz and quietly saying goodbye to a remarkable place.

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Photos

Sails in the Desert
The amorous terrace

Dickie, our informed and opinionated ranger
Could he get any more classic Aussie?

Mala cave at Uluru
Cave where young men were taught rites of manhood - hunting, tracking - drawings on walls told the story

Hogs at the Rock
Dave and Dwayne, our great drivers...you didn't think Steve and I drove these beasts, did you?

Comments

[john]

so many memories for your future - and our memories of the past
It is exactly 12 years since Margot and I shared some of these Aussie memories - sunrise at Uluru, GBR, Rain Forest, etc. Your blog makes it seem like yesterday for us but it will forever be a record for you in the future. And you're only just beginning. Thanks for the reminders and the fresh experiences; continue to enjoy. With our love, John and Margot