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After record breaking rain washed away the beaches and towns along the east coast I decided to find drier scenery. Cue a quick jaunt to the Red Center, the Bush, the Outback, the err Middle. The flight into Alice was civilised enough, though it should have been for the price of the ticket, and the YHA was very liveable.
Alice Springs is the largest town in these parts, with nothing but cattle stations for company, it boasts a couple of shopping malls, a Woolies, a Coles and a fun bar called Bojangles (more on that later). The town doesn't feel relaxed, the shops are the usual mix of clothing, gifts and tat, but the aboriginal art shops are staffed by white people, in fact the clothes shops are staffed by whites, as are the music, book, food and gift shops. Under the surface a tension boils and one can never feel really at ease while walking the streets. Locals advise using taxi's after dark but they do not elucidate as to why this is, but it doesn't take a Sherlock to guess why.
Guided bus tours abound this place like dingos round a carcass. Each picking off the choicest
Uluru Dawn
The Rock before breakfast. tourists and always fighting for the best position. Having booked my tour online, it was a simple matter of making myself known to the tour office and being in the right place the next morning for the pickup. The tour I booked was a 3 day 2 night affair from the lovely people at The Rock tours. I'll just add now that I cannot recommend them or thank Sasha (our guide) enough.
Though the weather outside was frightful our fires were quite delightful, we got loads of things to know, so let us go, let us go, let us go. In what is rapidly becoming par for the course, both Alice and the outback were cold and wet. The bus picked us up at the late time of 6 am and we wasted no time in getting out to Uluru.
This big old lump of rock is the largest single rock in the universe it is often described as the beating heart of this vast continent, the source of life on an otherwise barren island. It is one of the sacred places for the local tribes, most of the stories concerning these places cannot be known
Now Dougal
This rock is small, that rock is far away... to us children (what the Anangu call those who aren't initiated into their tribe). All I can tell you is that Uluru was created by 2 giant brothers. They used it as a mud slide to entertain themselves at the water hole. They built up a big mound of rock and mud then sifted the pile, throwing the rocks (36 of them) over their shoulders, these became Kata Tjuta and the sifted mud became Uluru. You can still see their arse marks in the rock where they slid down.
So we circled the rock, it is only a meagre 9.4km track that rings the monolith. Due to the weather the rock climb was closed. I don't think I would have wanted to climb it anyway since climbing the rock is to the Anangu as pissing in the church font is to Christians. In fact if the Aboriginal tribes had their way no photos would be allowed either (at least not for commercial use).
To watch the sun set on Uluru is a must see. I'm told it's beautiful. We arrived at the lookout point, several other tours had already arrived. All kinds of tours include this in their
Down at the foot of Uluru
The rock feels like it has a purpose. itinerary. There are the high budget luxury champagne sunset tours, there's the club pensioner buses and those who slum it. No matter your budget, the sun set is the same for all included, unfortunately there had been no sun to set as the overcast conditions forbade the sun to make an appearance. So the rock went dark and the buses started to leave. No dramatic vistas today. Of course every cloud has a silver lining, the early departure of the champagne sunsetters meant that there was still a bottle of champers left over. Now, due to the licensing laws the buses cannot carry open alcohol, this means any open bottle either had to be consumed or disposed of. Naturally we casually asked if we could help them out. Our charitable act landed us a whole bottle of sparkling wine and a platter of nibblies.
The night was spent in the finest Swag. For those not accustomed to the last word in outback sleeping apparatus. A Swag looks like a sleeping bag but it is a tent and a ground mat rolled into one. Simply unroll and unzip the sides, insert your sleeping bag, insert yourself and enjoy the good
Wait, what?
3,2,1 Jump! or 3,2 Jump! night that follows. These babies aren't quite water proof though, so with rain being a constant threat we slept with one eye to the sky ready to dive for cover if the heavens did open (which they did, once).
With breakfast eaten in full view of Uluru, the sun rise is meant to be as dramatic as the sunset. True to form it was overcast and unfortunately no one had been kind enough to leave behind any bottles of champers. Not disheartened we made our way to Kata Tjuta, otherwise known as the Olgas, the Anangu have more say of what goes on here. As such once inside the complex of 36 big rocks, no commercial photos can be taken. This includes putting them on facebook and blogs. The Olgas are bloody impressive, the walks are interesting and challenging the views and the history simply blow the mind.
It is a typical put down to say that Australia has no history, after all how much can a country that has only been in existence for 200 years have much gravitas? Well Australia does have so much more history, it is passed down from elders to sons by word
On set
Where they shot those scenes from The Lion King of mouth. The rocks are as old as the world watching peacefully over a land free from the political turmoils of more northern social groups. Silent and imposing the status quo of over 4000 years only broken by the arrival Europeans hell bent on imposing godly virtues and culture and history. Imposing civilisation on the natives whose connection to history is far more teneble and real than any history book or statue.
After a quick stop to gather firewood for the night we headed to the outback camp ground. Following in the steps of Prometheus, we stole fire from another group to start our own. Utilising the very british skill of barbecuing in the rain, I had the fire raging in half an hour. No mean feat with wet wood and slowly dying coals and the help given by the french. Adding damp grass to coals will not get the fire going, unless said grass is doused in petrol.
Eating and drinking the night away, fire on our faces and rain on our backs free flowing conversation, who could really ask for more from the night. Another Swag bound night under the cover of a tin roof ensured
Eh?
Just one of the oddities out here. a rain free night. The morning saw us break camp and head out to Kings Canyon and the path known as Hear Attack Hill. Consisting of a 20 minute climb up steep and uneven stairs, people have had cardiac arrests climbing. It was hard work in the cold so I can see how one might fall victim to a cardiac arrest during the height of summer.
Kings Canyon the place where they filmed The Lion King and home of the Pygmy Koala. Smaller than the Grand Canyon but larger than a fly, this site is truly fantastic. Treacherous and awe inspiring the canyons boast no safety rails, unstable cliffs and brilliant accoustics.
All too soon we walked down from the canyon, ate lunch in what would have been its shadow had the sun been out and departed for Alice Springs. Time loses meaning in such a vast space but somehow we managed to be behind schedule for the full 3 days. The combination of the unending roads, the tight schedule, the preparation and planning, keeping everyone happy and entertained, the tour guides have a mammoth job and thats before finding the keys for the bus or dragging dead
Another bit of rock
To the right of this photo is an area of rock that cannot be photographed roo's off the road. It takes undending energy and enthusiasm, flexibility and a devotion to the job that can only be found in the fanatical cells of Al Qaeda. So all that remains is to thank all the boys and girls on the Rock Tour bus and most importantly Sasha, our guide, for a thoroughly enojoyable 3 days.
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