Kuniya woz 'ere
To climb or not to climb?
The sun sets on my Australian adventureSeeing the sun rise at Uluru was one of my 20 gap year challenges and the one I regarded as the most spiritual. Even more so than visiting a Buddhist temple. When I added it to the list it was with a vague notion of experiencing some kind of primeval transformation. That as the sun rose over this ancient monument it would bring with it the dawn of a new understanding in my life. I might even become a nomad myself and decide to end my days wandering the earth, much like Kwai Chang Caine in the 1970’s TV series, Kung Fu.
As Sophie, Noona, Ronald and I set out on our 7 mile walk around the base of Uluru the light grew brighter and as the sun peeked above the horizon I braced myself for a life changing burst of inner illumination.
Nothing. Perhaps if I’d sat down for a quiet meditation it might have helped, but I don’t think the others would have been amused. And besides, it’s hard to free your mind when sat cross legged and eyes closed in an environment that harbours so many things that can kill you.
Not that my trek around this iconic feature of Australia was a failure. I may not have experienced a useful shortcut in my search for enlightenment, but the walk did allow me to gain an insight into the true significance of this 500 million year old rock.
I’m not sure if the TV series, QI, has ever considered it, but I can imagine the all-knowing Stephen Fry posing the question: ‘What colour is Uluru?’ This will be followed by Alan Davies blurting out: ‘Red!’ and the inevitable sound of the siren to indicate a huge blunder.
The true answer is ‘Grey’. What gives the rock its red colour is a coating of dust and sand from the surrounding landscape, which, being rich in iron ore, oxidises when it rains. In other words, Uluru is rusty.
This is one of the many things I learned from Sophie. Up close, the rock has many features that are not seen in the usual photographs. Our enthusiastic guide explained the significance of the various formations and overhangs as we went along:
‘The aborigine people believe in the dreamtime, when the earth was created. Before this time everything was featureless. The ancient ancestors, often in animal form, left their marks upon the earth and these are the features of the land that we see today.
‘Uluru is of particular spiritual importance. Not only was it formed by the ancestors but it is a sacred place where their spirits still roam.
‘Legend has it that one tribe of ancestors invited another tribe to a feast. But the guests were distracted by the Sleepy Lizard Women and never made it to the party. The hosts, angry at being snubbed, created a huge dingo from mud to attack the other tribe. A big battle followed and the earth itself rose up in grief, becoming Uluru.’
As we continued our early morning tour, Sophie pointed out the various rock features – hidden faces of the ancestors, curving rock formations created by the giant python, Kuniya and the round boulders that are her eggs. And several caves bearing ancient drawings such as large snakes and witchetty grubs, inscribed by the aborigines.
Sophie also told us that the name, Uluru, actually refers to a waterhole in the top of the rock. And here, for me, was the true revelation about Uluru. I had expected to see a sterile, sun baked rock, but in reality Uluru is a giver of life. It harbours a wide array of fauna – lizards, snakes, birds of prey and mammals such as possums, bats and dingoes. The various rock pools helping to sustain an abundance of life.
Sophie led us to the well hidden path that would take us to Maggie’s Spring. Shaded by trees on both sides, the walk along the path was cool and quiet. At the end there was an unexpected expanse of fresh water, a good 60 feet across. It is an area where the aborigines come to meditate and I could see, or even feel, the attraction. Here at last was my spiritual moment with Uluru. A few stolen moments of peace within its strong embrace.
Maggie’s Spring, or Mutujulu Springs to give it it’s native title, was named by William Grosse, an adventurer who was the first white man to set foot on the rock in July 1873. In true bum licking fashion, Grosse named his discovery after Sir Henry Ayers, the then Chief Secretary of South Australia. Grosse had a thing for one of Ayer’s daughters, Maggie, and duly named the spring after her in the confident hope that this would secure her hand in marriage. It didn’t. By the time Bill returned from his adventures to claim the one he loved she had found someone else.
Uluru not only sustains wildlife but humans too. It is amazing just how much greenery there is to be found around the rock and among the various bushes and trees there is much ‘bush tucker’ to be found for those in need of food. Uluru may have a massive spiritual and cultural significance for the aborigines, but it also has a far more practical one too. It is, in effect, nature’s larder. A place of last resort where life-saving food and water can be found.
Fortunately for me I was spared a diet of witchetty grubs, honey ants and berries as the resourceful Sophie had provided a very pleasant breakfast for us. Never before have I eaten cereal and yoghurt in such splendid surroundings.
As our journey progressed and the sun and temperature rose, we came to the most controversial feature of Uluru. The climb.
It was never my intention to climb Uluru. Apart from the controversy, the summit is 1,142 feet high. In the late morning heat it was hard enough to walk on the flat earth without straining up a rock slope that has a 45 degree incline in places. To make the climb easier a local businessman and his mates concreted steel poles into the solid rock back in 1962. The poles are linked by a sturdy chain to allow the adventurous and foolhardy to haul themselves up. From the bottom it doesn’t look difficult but by the time of our visit there had been 39 deaths on the rock, mostly caused by heart attacks. Why is it that people will drive to shops and park as close to the door as they can but give them a steep slope to climb and the promise of a nice view and off they go?
The day we visited the climb was closed anyway, as it often is. The winds making it even more dangerous. When Uluru was given back to the Anangu in 1985 one of the conditions was that people would still be able to climb the rock. The number doing so is in decline owing to the growing awareness of Aborigine culture and the significance of the climb to the indigenous population. There is a very polite sign at the foot of Uluru that reads:
As Sophie, Noona, Ronald and I set out on our 7 mile walk around the base of Uluru the light grew brighter and as the sun peeked above the horizon I braced myself for a life changing burst of inner illumination.
Nothing. Perhaps if I’d sat down for a quiet meditation it might have helped, but I don’t think the others would have been amused. And besides, it’s hard to free your mind when sat cross legged and eyes closed in an environment that harbours so many things that can kill you.
Not that my trek around this iconic feature of Australia was a failure. I may not have experienced a useful shortcut in my search for enlightenment, but the walk did allow me to gain an insight into the true significance of this 500 million year old rock.
I’m not sure if the TV series, QI, has ever considered it, but I can imagine the all-knowing Stephen Fry posing the question: ‘What colour is Uluru?’ This will be followed by Alan Davies blurting out: ‘Red!’ and the inevitable sound of the siren to indicate a huge blunder.
The true answer is ‘Grey’. What gives the rock its red colour is a coating of dust and sand from the surrounding landscape, which, being rich in iron ore, oxidises when it rains. In other words, Uluru is rusty.
This is one of the many things I learned from Sophie. Up close, the rock has many features that are not seen in the usual photographs. Our enthusiastic guide explained the significance of the various formations and overhangs as we went along:
‘The aborigine people believe in the dreamtime, when the earth was created. Before this time everything was featureless. The ancient ancestors, often in animal form, left their marks upon the earth and these are the features of the land that we see today.
‘Uluru is of particular spiritual importance. Not only was it formed by the ancestors but it is a sacred place where their spirits still roam.
‘Legend has it that one tribe of ancestors invited another tribe to a feast. But the guests were distracted by the Sleepy Lizard Women and never made it to the party. The hosts, angry at being snubbed, created a huge dingo from mud to attack the other tribe. A big battle followed and the earth itself rose up in grief, becoming Uluru.’
As we continued our early morning tour, Sophie pointed out the various rock features – hidden faces of the ancestors, curving rock formations created by the giant python, Kuniya and the round boulders that are her eggs. And several caves bearing ancient drawings such as large snakes and witchetty grubs, inscribed by the aborigines.
Sophie also told us that the name, Uluru, actually refers to a waterhole in the top of the rock. And here, for me, was the true revelation about Uluru. I had expected to see a sterile, sun baked rock, but in reality Uluru is a giver of life. It harbours a wide array of fauna – lizards, snakes, birds of prey and mammals such as possums, bats and dingoes. The various rock pools helping to sustain an abundance of life.
Sophie led us to the well hidden path that would take us to Maggie’s Spring. Shaded by trees on both sides, the walk along the path was cool and quiet. At the end there was an unexpected expanse of fresh water, a good 60 feet across. It is an area where the aborigines come to meditate and I could see, or even feel, the attraction. Here at last was my spiritual moment with Uluru. A few stolen moments of peace within its strong embrace.
Maggie’s Spring, or Mutujulu Springs to give it it’s native title, was named by William Grosse, an adventurer who was the first white man to set foot on the rock in July 1873. In true bum licking fashion, Grosse named his discovery after Sir Henry Ayers, the then Chief Secretary of South Australia. Grosse had a thing for one of Ayer’s daughters, Maggie, and duly named the spring after her in the confident hope that this would secure her hand in marriage. It didn’t. By the time Bill returned from his adventures to claim the one he loved she had found someone else.
Uluru not only sustains wildlife but humans too. It is amazing just how much greenery there is to be found around the rock and among the various bushes and trees there is much ‘bush tucker’ to be found for those in need of food. Uluru may have a massive spiritual and cultural significance for the aborigines, but it also has a far more practical one too. It is, in effect, nature’s larder. A place of last resort where life-saving food and water can be found.
Fortunately for me I was spared a diet of witchetty grubs, honey ants and berries as the resourceful Sophie had provided a very pleasant breakfast for us. Never before have I eaten cereal and yoghurt in such splendid surroundings.
As our journey progressed and the sun and temperature rose, we came to the most controversial feature of Uluru. The climb.
It was never my intention to climb Uluru. Apart from the controversy, the summit is 1,142 feet high. In the late morning heat it was hard enough to walk on the flat earth without straining up a rock slope that has a 45 degree incline in places. To make the climb easier a local businessman and his mates concreted steel poles into the solid rock back in 1962. The poles are linked by a sturdy chain to allow the adventurous and foolhardy to haul themselves up. From the bottom it doesn’t look difficult but by the time of our visit there had been 39 deaths on the rock, mostly caused by heart attacks. Why is it that people will drive to shops and park as close to the door as they can but give them a steep slope to climb and the promise of a nice view and off they go?
The day we visited the climb was closed anyway, as it often is. The winds making it even more dangerous. When Uluru was given back to the Anangu in 1985 one of the conditions was that people would still be able to climb the rock. The number doing so is in decline owing to the growing awareness of Aborigine culture and the significance of the climb to the indigenous population. There is a very polite sign at the foot of Uluru that reads:
‘Our traditional Law teaches us the proper way to behave. We ask you to respect our Law by not climbing Uluru.
‘What visitors call 'the climb' is the traditional route taken by ancestral Mala man upon their arrival at Uluru in the creation time. It has great spiritual significance. We have a responsibility to teach and safeguard visitors to our land. 'The climb' is dangerous and too many people have died while attempting to climb Uluru.
‘Many others have been injured while climbing. We feel great sadness when a person dies or is hurt on our land.’
Despite this it is estimated that about a third of visitors to Uluru still choose to climb up it.
Sophie, who was very passionate about the rights and traditions of the Anangu, told me that sometimes she has guests who protest about all the fuss made over climbing Uluru.
‘The rock was there long before the bloody aborigines’, was a typical comment made by one young man on one of her tours. To her amusement the others in the group turned on the youth and staked him out naked in the burning sun. Or perhaps they just tore into him verbally, but that was what she was wishing they had done.
With my reporter’s nose for a good story I asked Sophie about some of the unfortunate fates that had befallen those climbing the rock.
‘A young couple decided they didn’t want to come down from there the normal way and decided to make their own way down. Inevitably they got stuck and had to be rescued by helicopter. They were eternally grateful to the ranger who saved them until he fined them 4,600 dollars for breaching the national park law.
‘Then there was the guy who camped out for the night on the top of Uluru. He would have been ok had his torch light not been spotted by the rangers. Next day he got a hefty fine too.
‘But my favourite is the guy who decided to climb up there wearing Crocs, those light shoes made of rubber? He got so far before the rubber began to melt and stick to the rock. So he took off the Crocs. But then his feet began to burn on the rock. So he sat down. Of course his bum then began to burn too. In desperation he took off his shirt to sit on and then managed to get 2nd degree burns on his chest and shoulders.’
I can’t help but notice a look of what seemed to be glee on Sophie’s face as she told me this.
By midday we had completed our circumambulation of Uluru and I was relieved to step into the air conditioned comfort of the Land Rover. I was very pleased to have made the acquaintance of Uluru and we both promised to keep in touch, but I knew that this was just holiday talk. It hadn’t been the spiritually uplifting experience that I had expected. Thanks to Sophie though I had learned a lot about this famous Australian icon and I was glad that I had taken the time to walk all the way around it and witness its many hidden secrets instead of just taking a quick picture from the view point as so many tourists seemed to do. I was also glad that I had made Uluru the goal of my Australian adventure. From the manmade wonders of Sydney Harbour Bridge and Opera House to the natural wonder of Uluru, it had been a fantastic journey. Time though to move on to an entirely different world and one where I was guaranteed a comfortable bed every night even if I did have to share the room with a man known for snoring.
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