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If I had to choose one word to describe Uluru (Ayers Rock), I think it would have to be incongruous. Especially when the view doesn't include the ground around the base of the rock, it looks as though it's been photoshopped into the landscape:



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:

(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:

(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):

Lastly, this flower is, I think, my favourite in the Green Centre:

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.

King's Canyon

The campsite at King's Canyon Resort was an ideal spot to stay as I could easily get to King's Canyon early in the morning and walk around the canyon before the day became too hot. In the event it stayed overcast and spat rain occasionally, but this at least meant that I could dawdle and not have to hurry to avoid the heat of the day. King's Canyon is a scimitar shaped gash cut back into the edge of a plateau topped by a layer of hard sandstone laid down about 400 million years ago.


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The walls of the canyon rise vertically for up to 100 meters (300 feet), and the 6 kilometer clockwise circular walk from the car park (the loops at the end of the road) follows the rim of the canyon for much of the way. The walk starts with a steep haul up 'Heart Attack Hill' - undoubtedly a good way of discouraging those who aren't fit enough from attempting the whole walk:

In places, the path takes you to the edge of the canyon with spectacular views ...

... but also wends through some facinating and fantastic (in the literal sense) landscape on the plateau, where the hard sandstone cap is weathered into 'beehive' shape domes:

A closer look reveals the origins of the rocks: the 'cross-bedding' of the sandstone shows that they formed from wind-blown sand dunes ...

... interspersed with shallow lakes whose ripple-marked sand subsequently fossilised:

Like everywhere else in the 'Green Centre' there are plenty of wild flowers. I'm beginning to recognise certain types of flowers, but for the majority have no idea what plant groups they actually belong to ...

... although I'm fairly sure these last two are hibiscuses:

At the eastern (upper) end, the canyon narrows to a gorge, with staircases taking you down one side (and up the other):

The valley bottom is sheltered and has a permanent water hole, so is a perfect spot for plants including the MacDonnell Ranges Cycad:

The walk back along the southern rim of the canyon gives a wonderful view of the beehives on the northern side:

... and of the steep northern wall of the canyon:

The Mereenie Loop

My second bit of 4WD driving was the Mereenie Loop. Palm Valley was a slow drive over a short distance to get me to a beautiful camping spot. The Mereenie loop completed a circular route that avoided me being restricted to a there-and-back slog on tarmac to Uluru, but also gave me a taste of driving a reasonably long distance on unsurfaced outback roads. Strictly speaking, the Mereenie Loop is a 93 kilometer stretch of road, but from Hermannsburg, where I was starting, to King's Canyon Resort (F) is just shy of 200 kilometers, with only the last 10 or so kilometers tarmacked.


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When I reached the main road on my return from Palm Valley, a left turn would have started me on my route, but I first had to backtrack a couple of kilometers to Hermannsburg. My destination there was the garage - not to buy diesel, as I'd scarcely used any going to Palm Valley, but to get a permit. The Mereenie Loop passes through aboriginal lands, and the aboriginal community charge a few dollars to use the road. There were three bikers buying permits ahead of me in the garage.

The first part of the route is across flat country, but it wasn't long before what appears to be an isolated ridge hove into view. This is Gosse Bluff and is thought to be the eroded remains of an impact crater created by an asteroid or comet more than 140 million yeras ago. The crater is now a mere 5 kilometers in diameter and 150 meters (about 500 feet) high, but is reckoned to be the central uplift of a crater that was originally about 22 kilometers in diameter:

A few kilometers later I reached the only road junction on my route and a road sign shortly afterwards gave me details of my destination for the day. 150 kilometers doesn't seem that big a distance, but there is nothing along the route - just the road and, almost at the far end, a 'viewpoint' - a small bulldozed area where you can get off the road and stop.

On the whole, the road surface wasn't too bad, but there were long sections with 'corrugations' - regularly spaced parallel ridges running across the road. At slow speeds, the vehicle shakes violently ('vibrates' is far too gentle an expression), but if you have the courage to accelerate, you eventually reach a speed - about 80 kph (50 mph) in the Land Cruiser - where you are skimming across the tops of the ridges and have a smoother ride. With so little contact with the road, it's a bit like driving on ice: sudden braking or steering are best avoided, so driving requires a fair amount of concentration.

I hadn't got far into the first stretch of corrugations when I caught up wth the motor cyclists: first, the guy by himself on a bike, riding slowly up the wrong side of the road, trying to find a smooth strip of surface. About five minutes later, I passed the couple who were stopped and in the process of reattaching their baggage to the bike. I wonder whether they made it through the Mereenie Loop, or gave up and went back.

After the first section across flat open country, the route passes through the Katapata Gap, and then skirts along parallel to ridges:

Like the rest of the Red Centre, I had expected the drive to be through a desert landscape, but here too the vegetation was flourishing, with some spectacular wildflower displays:

and verdant countryside:



Although first impressions were sometimes misleading. The green vegetation in the foreground ...

... was sparser than it looked from a distance:

These brumbies looked as though they were enjoying the plentiful food:

This is what looks like the latest incarnation of possibly one of the best known road signs in Australia ...

... and its companion a little further along:



Towards the end of my journey the clouds started building ...



... and by the time I reached the lookout point and could look back along the last part of my journey the sky was almost completely covered:

It took me about three and a half hours to cover the approximately 200 kilometers. Traffic was thin, but I passed 17 vehicles coming the other way. By my calculations that means there would be about 5 vehicles an hour passing any spot on the route in one or other direction, so it wouldn't have been a long wait if I had broken down.

The campsite that I stayed in was a bit of a come-down from the one in Palm Valley. However, it did have the advantage of launderette facilities ...

... and some rather classy pigeons that were patrolling the campsite pitches in search of pickings. Their name? The crested pigeon, of course.