Shape Shifting Evil Spirits

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Today we plan to take the 10 kilometre odd stroll around the base of the mighty monolith that is Uluṟu.

But first we must survive breakfast. I decide I must have dreamed I watched a spectacular Uluṟu sunset last night. We just can’t be out here in the back of beyond of our vast homeland; we’re clearly in some mass tourist resort hotel next to Disneyland - screaming kids, and foreign tourists of every colour and creed fighting over a buffet. As I said yesterday we hardly saw a single person on the hundreds of kilometres of road in here …. unless I dreamt that bit as well … and I know I’ve asked before, but where exactly did all these people come from and how did they get here? Anyway, nothing that a coffee won’t cure I’m sure.

We read that Uluṟu is made entirely of sandstone. It looked big enough from several kilometres away last night; it’s absolutely massive close up. It’s ridiculously spectacular. We read it rises a majestic 348 metres above the surrounding plain and apparently there’s a lot more of it underground than above. Uluru has now been formally adopted as its name in preference to the former Ayers Rock, and we‘re told this derives from the family name of the senior local traditional owners. It’s now been declared a UNSECO World Heritage Site.

Climbing Uluṟu was formally banned back in 2019 at the request of the traditional owners; they’d always discouraged climbing for cultural reasons … and by the sound of it to save idiot tourists from their own stupidity. We read that 37 deaths have been attributed to attempted climbs, predominantly from heat stroke, falls and medical episodes. We can see where the climb used to start. It’s precipitously steep, and must have been ridiculously dangerous. No surprise a chain was installed to make it even possible; it seems almost inconceivable that anyone could have dragged their way up a slope that steep without something to hold on to. The chain’s subsequently been removed. And if killing themselves and offending cultural sensibilities wasn’t enough, climber tourists were apparently also notorious for leaving their rubbish behind. Great … not. Good riddance to the whole climbing thing I say. The local indigenous tribes are thought to lived here for somewhere around 10,000 years, so if they say it shouldn’t be climbed, what right have us johnny come latelys, who only even saw it for the first time about 200 years ago, got to disagree. That’s probably enough ranting for today.

We’re not allowed to take photos in quite a few of the more culturally sensitive areas along the walk. Most of these either contain ancient rock art, or were used for cultural ceremonies. It’s explained that a lot of the cultural sites are gender sensitive, and the bans are to reduce the risk of photos inadvertently being viewed by indigenous folk of the opposite sex.

The monolith’s been progressively eroded away over the millenia leaving behind spectacular intricate patterns in shallow cave like formations in the surface, and narrow black stained ravines where water’s runoff during storms.

The tourist numbers thin out as we get further away from the car park. Pity the same can’t be said for the flies. There are so many people wearing nets that we begin to wonder whether it might be compulsory. I’ve decided to brave it; I hope I don’t get evicted. As we walk on we sense that all may not be well in paradise. We see an American gentleman striding towards us seemingly in earnest and slightly desperate conversation on his phone. We fear some horrible disaster’s befallen whoever’s on the other end of the line; it sounds distinctly like his loved ones are struggling to escape a fire. He’s screaming ”get out, get out” into the headset. Oh … hang on … it seems he’s not actually on the phone at all, rather struggling to get a couple of large flies out from inside his net. That’s a relief.

This evening we’ve signed up for the “Wintjiri Wiru Sunset Dinner”. We booked this a long time ago, and can’t quite remember what it’s all about, other than some vague recollections about lasers and drones. We watch another spectacular sunset over Uluru from a wooden platform on the top of a dune, accompanied by cocktails and canapés. Then it’s on down to a wooden amphitheatre where dinner’s served, and the light and sound show begins. We’re told an aboriginal story about the Mala people, whose menfolk were killed or chased off the land by a shape shifting evil sprit, leaving the women and children to fend for themselves … and they survived and thrived … their ancestors still live here today. The story’s accompanied by music, and a light show that would give anything on the planet a run for its money. Absolutely spectacular. And quite some technical feat too; we’re told it’s generated by six lasers and over a thousand drones. A real highlight.

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