The country around Uluru and Kata Tjuta takes your breath away.
It’s russet red, sandy, scrubby, unexpectedly hilly in parts and full of life.
If you walk 50 paces beyond your campsite into the sandy dunes, you realise there’s been a party going on while you were sleeping – there are that many animal tracks sketched into the sand.
Suddenly, all those days spent in the car and nights spent in forgettable roadhouses have been worth it.
I couldn’t help but be impressed by the magnitude of Uluru – what with it being about 4 km long and 400 odd metres high – it’s a giant. But then you put it in perspective by plonking it in the middle of flattish land for miles around, and it seems gargantuan.
According to the geologists, the part of Uluru that pokes out of the ground is only a fraction of the part that is underground – so it’s kind of like your dessert iceberg, with the bulk of it still living under the earth’s surface.
I visited Uluru over a couple of days, admiring its rusty surface and curious dents and gouges, oggling at its cliffs from below and learning about its creation stories and its significance to the Anangu. I chose not to climb it, as they request, but also thought it looked like a curious kind of death wish. There’s not a lot between you, the pegs and the ground.
The cultural centre located near the base of Uluru was a treasure trove of information, history and art all wrapped in one. I managed to drop a small fortune of cash in exchange for some artwork and in between pangs of tightwad guilt, am looking forward to them gracing our living room wallls one day. At the moment, they’re unceremoniously stashed in the campervan’s larder.
One morning before it got too hot, we strode off to walk the beautiful Valley of the Winds track at Kata Tjuta (The Olgas), where we ambled through (such is our pace!) scrubby acacias, out into open sandy patches, and then onto outerworldly scree slopes. Eventually, we found ourselves up higher and face to face with the big, bold domed hills. From there you can see back out to the scrubby acacia plains as well as down into the valleys and pockets in between the domes.
As you can imagine, our 3km walk stretched over many hours, so that rocks could be rearranged, animal tracks could be carved into the sandy paths, photos and videos could be recorded and ablutions could be catered for. In addition to that there were many many rousing calls “Come on Dawdlepants!”, our our catch-cry to Oscar who often escapes into his own world dawdling far behind the rest of us.
Even though we began with a headstart, we were eclipsed by the huffing and puffing hoards who descended from their busses, bustled through, took photos and bustled out. The 24 hour walking tours that zoom out from Alice Springs seem to be overwhelmingly popular!
As well as the rocks to savour, there was a lot of infotainment on offer at the resort’s town square. Dean and I brushed our pride aside one afternoon to learn some Aboriginal dance moves which had us acting like emus (ladies only) and kangaroos (fellas only). Though it sounds superficial and a little tacky, it worked wonders to bridge the cultural divide between the whitefella audience and the blackfella dancers. Dean’s impression of a kangaroo was obviously memorable because a fellow camper recognised him at another campground some days later and said, “Hi, I recognise you!. We danced together at Uluru!” Who knew? Dean, the closet kangaroo impersonator.
Mt Conner - the pretend Uluru. It's on the way to Ulura about 100 or so km further east, and apart from its shape being wrong, it really does a great job of fooling the uniniated into thinking they've reached Uluru earlier than expected.
Ruby guiding us to the Mutitjulu waterhole on the souther side of Uluru, where you can see the features of the rock that belong to the creation stories of the woma python - kuniya.
Ivy and Oscar looking down into the algae-filled water of the Mutitjulu waterhole.
Some of the big vertical gouges on the northern face - Anangu creation stories attribute these to the claw marks of the fierce attacking dog.
Also on the northern face are scatterings of deep holes - attributed to the desert mole who burrowed up and down into the ground to escape the nasty dog from the north.
The rusty surface up close.
Rock undulations on the northern face - you can see the dark vertical lines where the water runs down.
Back at camp the kids spent a lot of time painting black and white handouts kindly offered by the information office.
Ivy doing her "dot painting".
On our way to walk around the domes of Kata Tjuta one frosty morning.
Oscar takes a while to warm up to the walk - and is still nursing a playground bruise from the day before.
Along the Valley of the Winds walk where you can see the scrubby acacias to the side and the rubbly scree afoot.
Ivy gets a lift.
Oscar takes in the view... or not.
Sitting down for dinner at the campground. Oscar says no to more photos while he is eating.
Dean (far right) hopping like a kangaroo.
The kids and I watching the professionals dance their creation stories.
