The same could be said of its colour when I arrived, but a little later the sun had come out and it had returned to its more usual colour:
However, the skies clouded over again, so that when I joined the scores of other tourists at the viewing site at sunset, the rock only glimmered faintly orange ...
... before going out, ...
... although those who turned their camera the other way were treated to a subtle display of pink and blue after the sun had set:
The same was true in the morning ...
... when the waiting crowds were greeted by overcast skies ...
... but again some compensations in the other direction:
Uluru always looks to me as though it is a long oval shape, and if I was being irreverent I would say that it was a naked mole rate dreaming:
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| (c) Someone else |
But in fact the Rock is roughly triangular:
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The Rock is made of sandstone formed 550 million years ago - when the first multi-cellular organisms were evolving - as a range of granite mountains to the west eroded and the sand formed an alluvial fan on the plain. About 400 million years ago the rocks were subjected to massive forces, and the layers of rock were tilted almost 90 degrees, so that Uluru is the edge of a slab that is stood on its ear and continues for several kilometers down into the ground. The ground around the base of the Rock is about 550 meters above sea level, and the summit of the Rock stands about 330 meters (1,000 feet) above that. It's a little over 3 kilometers in length, and the walk around the base is getting on for 10 kilometers.
After my abortive sunrise photography, I headed to the carpark at the north-east corner of Uluru to start the walk around the base. This is also where the route up the Rock starts - a hair-raising climb up the crest of a steep ridge clinging to a chain on metal poles:
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| (Photo taken previous afternoon) |
The climb up the rock is contentious: Uluru is a sacred place in aboriginal culture, and only aborigine men ever climb the rock, and only on special occasions. They would prefer that visitors don't climb the rock, and ask them not to do so:
The whole situation is complicated - not least because the land has now been returned to its aboriginal owners, who gain income from it by leasing it back to the government. Tour operators believe, rightly or wrongly, that tourists would be less interested in visiting if they weren't allowed to climb the Rock, with the unsatisfactory consequence that foreign tour operators often present climbing the Rock as a highlight of the tour, and don't mention that the aboriginal owners would prefer that tourists don't do this. This also leads to disappointment when the climb is closed for safety reasons - as it was when I was there. I have to say that I wasn't disappointed.
The climb closed or not, there were cars in the car park, and Australian ravens laying claim to their pitch ...
... and entertaining anyone who happened to be watching:
The walk around the base of the Rock offers some magnificient rockscapes ...
... including permanent waterholes that are fed by water cascading off the rock when it rains:
Many of the rock features around the base of the rock are sacred aboriginal sites - to the extent that tourists are asked not to photograph specific places - because they represent tales from the dreamtime. One of the stories involves Kuniya, a python, and a group of Liru (poisonous snakes). Kuniya's nephew had enraged a group of Liru, who followed him and exacted revenge by spearing him to death. Kuniya in turn struck one of the Liru twice with her digging stick, killing him. The traces of the two blows can be seen in the rockface ...
... and Kuniya guards the spot, her head resting on her coiled body:
The shelters around the base of the rock contain aboriginal paintings, but these are unlike the ones on Kakadu, being much more symbolic representations. For example, the concentric circles represent campsites:
Of course, there were plenty of signs of the unusually wet weather, including this fungus pushing its way up through the hard ground:
and this striking red seeding grass:
and a yellow flower beginning to go to seed:
There was also a mauve flowering pea:
and another hibsicus (or maybe the same species as at King's Canyon):
Who could resist its architectural elegance?
I guess most people visiting Uluru go to see the Rock glowing orange in the low sunrays of sunrise or sunset (if not to climb the Rock). In that respect, my visit was a complete grey-out, but the unusual weather also meant that I saw things that I wouldn't have seen in a typically hot dry year, and that my experience was more personal. There are many reasons that I would like to visit the Red Centre again, but seeing Uluru in its iconic colours isn't chief among them.
"it looks as though it's been photoshopped into the landscape"
ReplyDeleteSo that's how you did it!
It is the most spectacular place. To have visited must have been almost an honour. If you understand me.
I'm glad to read that it is now rightly back in the hands of its owners, but oh why do Tourist Agencies still say that you can climb all over it? Grr. Though at the same time I can understand why someone would *want* to stand on the top.
You may not have caught it with that unique colour but the photos you did take are still superb. Plus your story and other photos would have been different. We may never have seen that fungus pushing it's way up, which is just magic.
Though I can understand why you'd want to go back to get that photo of a lifetime. :O)
Some beautiful flowers, your favourite reminds me of candy floss. I like the one that resembles a sweet pea and the one similar to a buttercup.
chp.
Apparently there are some interesting splits in who does and doesn't climb the rock (when it's 'open'): Europeans are mostly happy not to climb; Japanese are sold the climb as an important part of their Australian tour, and by the time they arrive it's too late to change their minds; Australians of European descent feel 'entitled' to climb, because it's their country as much as the aborigines. I can kind of sympathize with that: in several places I visited the white Australians are beginning to recognise the work done by the early settlers that 'created' the country for them.
ReplyDeleteI'd love to climb it, but at the same time I'd feel some kind of obligation to respect the Aborigines as well. A difficult one.
ReplyDeleteSadly the Japanese are sold all sorts of things. Even their wedding photos in front of the Eiffel Tower. Though it is a lovely back drop. :O)
I think for me, while it would be fun to climb it, it's not so fun looking at it being climbed by other people. It somehow detracts from the sacredness of the place.
ReplyDeleteDefinitely on both counts.
ReplyDeleteTo me, it's a no-brainer. If someone visiting Westminster Abbey wanted to climb all over the high-altar, I'd have no hesitation in telling them it wasn't permitted. Would anyone seriously disagree? I don't really see the difference - Uluru is every bit as sacred as one of "my" holy places.
ReplyDeleteEven more fantastic pics, Kate. A lovely reminder of a wonderful day I had earlier in the year. It seems like half a world away now. Oh hang on...
Agree with you about being a no-brainer, but it's complicated, too. The National Park is a major source of income for the aborigines, and I suspect that they think they'd get much less income if people couldn't climb. There's a big split between Europeans who are happy not to climb and white Australians who feel it's their country too. I got the impression that the white Australians have recently become much more interested in preserving/celebrating their heritage in Australia.
ReplyDeleteIt seems like yonks since I was in Australia - getting harder to fill in the missing bits of blog, although I'm more than halfway now. Makes your one week behind look lightweight :-)
It was a couple of white Australians (one of whom, to be fair, has only been Australian for about a year!) who left me in no doubt that I'd be seeking alternative lodgings when I got back to Melbourne if I climbed the rock.
ReplyDeleteI was amazed quite how quickly I forgot things that seemed unforgettable at the time. I bought myself a cheap jotter to make notes on while I was visiting things to try to help preserve my age-befuddled memory.
My small sample of peopel that I chatted to split very neatly into European/white Australian wouldn't/would climb if they had the chance, but as you say, there are white Australians who wouldn't (and I'm equally sure, Europeans who would).
ReplyDeleteI kept a small diary, but it's mostly birds I saw, and that kind of thing. I wrote a couple of blog entries at the time (eg Crocs Crossing and the Wet Centre), which I now realise is unlike anything that I normally write. Not exactly deathless prose, but they remind me of different things than the diary and photos. I'm still not good of taking 'ordinary' shots of things to remember what they were like (but getting a bit better).
I live in Australia. But I've never even seen these sights. Now in 2021, you are no longer allowed to climb Uluru.
ReplyDelete