Things I have to include:
- Uluru
- The trip home
- The contract
- The gestation
- Progress in the fellowship
- Thinking about the move home
The return from the Whitsundays was merely a layover in the trip from Airlie Beach to Uluru. Since there was no direct flight, we either had to go through Brisbane or Sydney. Since one of them had no hotel bills...
Home late one night. Back to the airport early the next morning. Unfortunately, it still takes most of the day to get to the geographic center of nowhere, but we made it well before sundown, checked into the hotel, and still had time to go to the Sounds of Silence dinner. If you ever make it there, the trip would not be nearly as fulfilling without this event. Great food and bottomless wine glasses followed champagne-- all out in the sands away from the largest thing resembling a town, namely the hotel village. Mind you it costs a good deal, but to get good cooking with quality foods in an area so remote that it took until about a quarter-century ago to form any settlement there, I would think that it would cost a fair bit of investment. But to sit under heaters, talking with folks from all over the
world while watching the sun go down and the stars emerge, then hearing brief talks about the history and constellations made for a fantastic evening. I think all four of us found it very enjoyable.After milling about on the hilltop about ten minutes outside of the hotel village, sipping champagne and nibbling on hors d'oeuvres, we were escorted down to tables of ten or twelve settings each. We sat at a table with two other parties, one from Melbourne, as I recall, the other group from Italy. We chatted and snapped plenty of photos of Uluru and the Olgas while the sunset made them more and more picturesque. The nearby campfire helped with the
warmth, and all three of us began stacking on the layers of clothes we had been advised to bring as the thermometer plummeted. We were anticipating incredible views of countless stars but had not taken into account the perfectly full moon, one of the really bright ones that casts shadows. It bleached out most of the stars but left us with the major constellations. We learned several of them from the storyteller and lecturer, most importantly the Southern Cross, the symbol on both the Kiwi and Aussie flags. A couple of large telescopes were provided for us to check out the stars and the moon. We could easily make out one of Jupiter's moons, as well, but our moon through the telescope initially was blinding!
It was a wonderful evening, and the spirits provided some great quotes, the topper of which was from Amenia to acquaintances she talked with during the bus ride back. As they were left off at their hotel, she bid them goodnight with, "Have fun being a cop!" The quizzical looks on their faces, or rather, Amenia's jovial and sincere face surrounded by our quizzical ones, was priceless.
The next morning, I got up early and headed out to the rock. With the City to Surf race only a
couple of days away and of the same distance, more or less, as the circumference of Ayers Rock, I thought it a great way to get some exercise and a feel for the sacred rock. I pulled into the first parking lot that I came to, the headlights pointing at the base of the gargantuan single piece of stone. I had about twenty minutes before the sun began to come up, so I took my time and stretched in the chilly air. A rare bus toodled past, carrying passengers to the east side of the rock, about ninety degrees from where I was, but I was alone in this area. I headed off down the natural cinder path as light was emerging on the horizon. It was silent except for the rhythmic crunching of cinder under my shoes. Amazing, I thought, that such a world landmark could still afford such solitude. I felt it was just me and the rock.I could not have left at a better time. The sun came up as I rounded the northeastern bend and struck the rock with brilliant colors. The shadows in the crooks of stone at that angle made it even better. It turns out that the red color is due to oxidized iron on the surface-- rusting rock. And while deviating from the topic, I will give you another tidbit, mainly because it is the only one that I picked up from one of the park rangers: geologists have figured out that this monolith is actually tipped on its side. While standing more than 11oo feet tall, it extends about 5 times as deep. As one of the Australian websites sites states:
Uluru is not a giant isolated boulder, partly-buried in the desert sand. Instead, it's part of a huge mostly-underground rock formation, that's 100-or-so kilometres wide, and perhaps 5 kilometres thick. The only three parts visible above the ground are Uluru, the magnificent domes of Kata Tjuta (formerly known as the Olgas) and the forgotten mountain, Mount Connor.
Fantastic.
As I ran, I paused now and again to snap a photo. I am so glad I did; it turned out to be one of my more memorable runs.
The farther I got around the rock, the more frequently I came across other people, the deposits of the aforementioned buses. Initially only one or two, or a group of four taking pictures of each other with the wonderful backdrop. For as ideal a setting as it was, I was surprised that I came across no other runners until the very end of the run, three of them heading out as I finished at the parking lot.
As I got back around to the west side, more than half an hour later, I re-entered the shade, and the path again reapproximated the rock, as it had worked it way to a distance of a couple hundred yards from the edge at other points. In the distance I could now see Kata Tjuta (the Olgas), a rock collection about 30 km away. This side was much less accessible as the roads veered away toward the main roads through here, so I was again relatively alone. Wonderful solace.
Next thing I know I see a couple of people up on the rock, about 100 feet up, standing as silhouettes with the sun shining more toward me. I continued around to where they were to see a throng--a large throng, as groups in the middle of nowhere go-- of people milling about a car park, snapping countless photos of more people up on the rock. Some just went up twenty or thirty yards to pose, others were working their way up a linear path straight up the side of this large rock. With their numbers, and the relative size of the rock, the image of ants seemed very similar. They climbers were following only a set of posts with a chain running about two feet off the ground. I couldn't help but imagine a scene of confusion caused by removal of a single section of chain, just as ants would do if you removed a leaf they had all been climbing over.
I looked around to see a parking lot FULL of cars, scarcely a spot left. A majority of them white Mitsubishis and Toyotas, not unlike our rental. In fact, wondering how much farther I had to run, and not wanting to repeat my loop, I hit the door lock on the keychain remote, and sure enough one of the cars blinked its parking lights at me! My lonely parking lot from an hour earlier was now quite the popular scene! I had unknowingly parked right in front of the climbing route in the predawn. In recollection, I had seen a ranger vehicle drive over to perimeter fencing in the dark, but I only then realized that he had been opening the gate to the ascent.
And so ended one of my favorite runs.
Later that morning we drove back to the mighty rock with intentions of climbing it, only to find a posting at the park entrance stating that the climb was closed due to high winds at the summit. With a quick shift to plan B, we headed over to Kata Tjuta and hiked into a crevasse between two of the half-dozen or so rocks. For all being members of a giant sheet, as mentioned on that website I quoted, they are a very different formation, looking more like dribble castles of
sand than the single layered sheet that is Uluru. Within the gap of these rocks was a space of ground that remained well shaded much of the day and had become a little oasis. In spots the trees and brush grew thick, and populations of birds and other fauna flourished, quite a contrast to the harsh desert beyond the rocks' edges. There were a couple of pools of water that looked like they held water more often than not.But we saved time in the afternoon to climb Uluru should it be reopened. Our timing was great, as it had only recently been reopened. We parked in the same lot, craning our necks to see the steepness through the windshield. After significant debate regarding our courage, the possible need versus the burden of toting water, and the arguable sacredness of the climb,
Amenia, Hud, and I set off. Joey opted to remain at the bottom.Again our timing was good, as we had enough time to get to the peak and back without a rush. But the steepness and the lack of safeguards put the fear in us big-time. It would only take a misstep to tumble all the way to the bottom. If you stopped it would be due to the friction of the harsh rock surface against your skin, but that would only be after you tumbled off of the narrow path worn smooth by the many footsteps, which only made it easier to slip. You see the cycle of thoughts that raced through my head.
And as we got farther up, the winds picked up and the cars below got smaller. And the distance we could fall increased. I began to ponder the guilt I would have either of my companions fell, a twelve year-old and my good friend from high school, two of the people you would rather not lose. But heck, we had already begun and had set this as an achievement.
We had to take frequent breaks, every minute or so, due to the steepness and in order to stick together. We white-knuckled the chain, only to be shocked by its termination. Well before the peak! In someone's mind, the worst of the climb was behind us. I assure you that was not the case. Chains had been replaced by the safety of stripes of white paint. Marvelous. The sections that were ahead did include sections where you could stand upright, even walk at a near normal pace, but other points, as we crossed the ridged of rock layers now turned on edge, were steep rollercoasters of uphills and downhills of about ten or fifteen altitude. Now I wondered how difficult a quarter mile of elevation would be over rock with a twisted ankle or bleeding cuts.
Then there was the thirst. Mind you, we had opted against the water. Heck it was the middle of winter and the warmest part of the day was behind us. As it turns out, a dome-shaped rock hides most of its altitude beyond your line of sight when you are at its base. It's also the bloody desert, that dry heat. So we were panting and not even half-way up. We were extremely grateful to a descending climber--who looked all to fresh-- when he gave us the remainder of his second large bottle of water.
Thirst resolved and cooled by the wind gusts that attempted to make us the 37th-39th deaths on the rock, we reached the metal disc that identified the distant points on the horizon and the fact that we had reached the peak. The obligatory group photos were well earned. And after a good break and taking it all in, trying to memorize the scale by which the cars below had shrunk, we set off along the undulating stripes of paint, proud of our achievement of cheating death, realizing there was no option but to accept double-or-nothing in order to reach the bottom.
My expression of fear is no exaggeration, but it was apparently not unanimous. The fact that only 36 people have died, only about one every three years or so, is astounding. When you consider the number of yahoos in the world-- a fair proportion, it seems-- then add it non-gravitational causes of death, namely myocardial infarct, it does seem a low figure. I also have to add that we were passed by a nine year-old on the way up. Shortly followed by his seven year-old brother. And on the way down we were passed by a few Aussie mates who clearly had made the climb several times before and seemed to be doing it again simply because there seemed to be nothing on the tele. They strolled down the slope a couple of strides lateral to the chain (i.e., well out of arms reach) with the absolute calm you might see as they walked down a boatramp. The image was solidified by their shorts and flip-flops! This only made me feel that my death, which I was no less convinced was still coming for me, was also going to be embarrassing and underappreciated.
There were several other great moments in the trip, including the camel ride at dawn the next
day, and the blitz to reach the plane on time. Again with the timing, and in the rush I am sure that the teamwork was not fully witnessed by any of us, we pulled off a feat that could not have been done in an airport any larger or more stringent on rules. Imagine, if you will in slow-motion, the blasting open of all four doors of a sedan as it comes to an abrupt halt in the gravel parking lot-- all four rows of it. The woman bee-lines for the entrance while the three guys grasp for bags in the trunk. Plumes of dust are kicked up by the furiously spinning little 
wheels on the suitcases. Inside we split up as I take the keys to the rental desk and the other two convince joined said woman at the check-in to take our bags.This is where Amenia's brilliance shined. Mind you, it is not a great distance from car rental desk past baggage carrousel (singular) to the baggage check-in, but in the time it took me to join them, Amenia had charmed her way to the front of the line with amazing dispatch. Our fame must have preceded us, as the folks at the desk seemed to already know who we were. She spoke into her walkie-talkie, "Hold the door, those last four are here."
It turned out to be not such a big deal. We didn't hold up the plane a bit. In fact we joined the back of the line before the last of them had started climbing the stairs
off the tarmac onto the plane. We were seated before my sweat had had time to dry (no small feat in the desert air), and off we went for Sydney.The Munns still had several days to spend in Sydney with me, though I had to head back to work the next day. We had a great time, eating out at great places each night. Hats off to Hudson for being so willing to try new foods and take in the multiculturalism that is Sydney. But I think for all of us the best was the bridge climb. What amazing views and dusk, as the downtown city lights emerge and
sailboats pass beneath. And the heights? I don't think we even batted an eye.And after all that, I go back to my checklist.
- Uluru
- The trip home
- The contract
- The gestation
- Progress in the fellowship
- Thinking about the move home
Photos:
- Dinner time at Sounds of Silence
- Sunset first night
- Joey by the campfire with Kata Tjuta in background
- U.S. missile target
- Some of Uluru during morning jog
- Uluru (aka Ayers Rock)
- Ants
- Kata Tjuta (fka the Olgas)
- An oasis in the Olgas
- Death grip
- View from the summit of Uluru, 1141 feet up.
- Kata Tjuta from camelback at dawn
- Uluru from camelback
- ...please.
- The galah, of the famed expression, "that bloody galah", meaning fool, idiot.
- Bridge climb
