A push of the bedside button in my luxurious tent at Longitude 131° raises the blinds, revealing a truly splendid vista of one of the world’s natural wonders. Shrouded by desert darkness the previous evening when I gazed, hoping for a first glimpse, it wallows now in a sunrise glow. This is “the Rock” in all its glory.
Ayers Rock? You’ll seldom find it so named on the latest Australian-produced maps. Though 15 years have passed since the country’s iconic heritage site reverted to its traditional name (which means both “great pebble” and “meeting place” in a local Aboriginal tongue), the geological oddity was, until a few years ago, almost always referred to as Ayers Rock.
More recently, however, Australians have enthusiastically embraced the name Uluru (though they sometimes refer to the Rock). The Ayers Rock moniker endures mainly overseas.
Visitors usually combine Uluru with its near-neighbour Kata Tjuta, meaning “place of many heads”. It is a half-hour’s westward drive from Uluru and was formerly known as The Olgas. I decided to visit after overhearing a few visitors saying the 36 rocky domes of Kata Tjuta – spread across nearly 22sqkm – are even eerier than Uluru itself. Perhaps, but in my book Uluru wins.
Kata Tjuta is skirted by walking trails, but most people seem satisfied to gaze upon it from a handily positioned lookout. The highest point, Mount Olga, rises 546m above the terrain on which it is set, making it significantly taller than majestic Uluru.
But it is Uluru itself that is unquestionably the main attraction – for me and also for busloads of travellers determined to grab their share of its far-flung wow factor. At Longitude 131°, I find myself savouring the view and all but ignoring usual desires to immerse in luxury. This is one of those indulgent tented complexes that are more “glamping” – glamorous camping – than camping: a permanent base, luxurious bathroom with designer toiletries, CD player, in-room safe, turn-down service – typically five-star environs with plenty of space between you and the neighbours. Pictures hanging on fabric walls evoke daydreams of explorers past.
With eyes fixed on the Rock, I imagine a sheet of paper to represent the arid, ochre, flat landscape that stretches to the horizon in central Australia’s remote “red centre”. In my mind’s eye, a solitary stone is placed in the middle of the paper.
The stone draws attention, dominating the paper – and so it is with Uluru, which seems to scream its presence in its middle-of-nowhere surrounds. From an expanse resembling a tabletop, rises one of the world’s greatest monoliths – a 650-million-year-old single rock, in this case of sandstone. So many of the world’s great sights – the Taj Mahal and Angkor Wat, for instance – are consequences of human toil. The few natural exceptions include Africa’s Victoria Falls and Australia’s Uluru.
This World Heritage site sits 450km down a smooth highway from Alice Springs, largest town in the southern part of Australia’s Northern Territory. Darwin, the territorial capital, is tropically lush but Alice Springs is semi-desert. Alice Springs and Uluru appear deceptively close to each other on maps. Indeed, some tour companies – mainly catering to backpackers – run super-long day trips from Alice Springs. You leave before dawn and return late at night.
Nothing prepares me for the extraordinariness of Uluru-Kata Tjuta National Park. “This monolith is a behemoth,” whispers a visitor alongside me at Uluru. Despite its enormity, Uluru has a strange effect on people: they’re hushed.
I rent a car in Alice Springs. I could have flown directly to Uluru/Ayers Rock – which, like Alice Springs, has jet links to other parts of Australia and then rode the bus or joined a tour. But I decide to stop in Alice Springs, a modern low-rise city, which I reach by overnight train from Adelaide. Great Southern Rail’s The Ghan, one of Australia’s best-known trains, has a Platinum class with comfy beds rather than bunks.
Something about Alice always lures me back. I stroll to the edge of the Todd River. Not a drop of water flows. It’s a stormy day – but the storm is of reddish dust as I walk across the bone-dry riverbed. The river becomes a wild surge of water only briefly each year. Annually, the quirky Todd River Regatta has teams racing boats down a river of dust. The boats are bottomless, with feet poking out for what is actually a foot race.
Up Todd Mall, the main drag, a street market reveals Alice Springs’ increasing cosmopolitanism: a Sudanese mans a fabric stall; Thais and Vietnamese sell ethnic food. At one edge of Todd Mall is Mbantua Fine Art Gallery and Cultural Museum, a large establishment with Aboriginal dot paintings aplenty (price tags range between A$200/US$141 and A$5,000/US$3,525).
All of this is but a preamble to Uluru.
An afternoon’s drive takes me from “the Alice” to Longitude 131°, flagship of the down-under Voyages chain’s Uluru properties. Voyages – which runs a string of Great Barrier Reef island resorts – operates all the accommodation at Uluru, most at Yulara, a tourist village 20km from the Rock.
Staff who have seen the Rock in downpours tell me it takes on a blue-grey tinge as water cascades down its sides, much of it along blackened gullies deepened by the passage of time. Uluru is chameleon-like, seeming to change as light strikes it differently through the day. Just before sunset, a red glow accentuates its ochre hue to create a memorably stunning sight.
I sit at my window to watch the slow, almost imperceptible, change of colours. But the Rock works its magic and I am soon standing at its edge. Do I climb it? Or do I walk around the base?
Signs advise against climbing, out of respect for the customs of Aboriginal people on whose traditional land Uluru is. They regard the rock as sacred. Climbing it indicates lack of respect. Warnings from the local community pepper signboards: “Please don’t climb Uluru. Our traditional law teaches us the proper way to behave. We ask you to respect our law by not climbing Uluru.” Another sign, a message from a tribal elder, says: “Listen! If you get hurt or die, your mother, father and family will really cry – and we will be really sad, too. So think about that and stay on the ground.”
I’m told about half the 400,000-plus annual visitors don’t climb. The other 200,000 don’t care. Not climbing is only a request. There’s no ban.
A chain, to use as a
hand-grip, begins about 100m up on the 345m climb. Uluru is 9.4km around its base. An unknown portion lies below ground. Above ground,
it measures 3.6km long and 2km wide.
I loiter at the base of the climb, unable to decide whether to walk along the trail at the bottom – a morning’s leisurely amble – or to climb (since, requests notwithstanding, I figure I’m unlikely to be back this way for a while). Fortunately, my decision is made for me. A ranger yells that high winds at the top mean the steep climb will have to be closed.
I decide not climbing
is morally correct after wandering through a cultural centre and learning a
little about tribal culture. Afterwards, I take the circuit walk around the
base of Uluru – stopping often to gawp at some or other rocky protuberance that
emphasises the enormity of the Rock. I pause, too, at plaques honouring some of
40-odd people who have died climbing the rock in modern times. They succumbed
either to falls or heart attacks.
Just before sunset one
afternoon, I join a group from Longitude 131° for a short stroll along Kantju
Gorge which juts into one side of Uluru. Sheer cliffs rise on each side of us.
We sip cool cocktails and watch this natural wonder fade to black. If you’re
going to savour a World Heritage Site, why not do so
in style? n
Local advantage
• While Longitude 131° is the ultimate indulgence, budget-watching couples find Lost Camel of good value (modern, minimalist style). With kids, family-oriented Emu Walk Apartments makes a sensible choice.
• Guides can be hired, but signposting is excellent and lodgings have abundant background reading, rendering self-guided exploration easy.
• Tell hotel front-desk staff if you plan a walk along hiking trails as it’s possible to become lost. Take plenty of water, wear a wide-brimmed hat and slap on sunscreen.
• Aside from Uluru and Kata Tjuta, make time for other
desert activities – escorted camel rides across dunes or sightseeing helicopter
(or
fixed-wing) flights.
• Visit the cultural centre for an insight into the history and lifestyle of the local Aboriginal community and perhaps join a dot-painting class.
• Ayers Rock Resort’s Red Ochre Spa, within Sails In The Desert Hotel but open to non-guests, has cheery staff providing a wide range of massages and beauty treatments.
• Best dining is at Longitude 131°’s alfresco (and dune-top) Table 131° with modern-Australian cuisine (highlighting fresh produce, similar to Californian but with greater Asian-influenced spiciness) to which an indigenous touch is added through use of wattle seeds, bush limes and other desert ingredients. An extensive list of Australian wines is featured.
Fast Facts
GETTING THERE: Aircraft fly direct to Ayers Rock/Uluru but most travellers arrive from Alice Springs. It’s an interesting town, ideal for supplying “red centre” orientation.
WHERE TO STAY: Longitude 131°, the most opulent, set amid dunes outside the main accommodation complex (15 luxury tents, no under-12s). Ayers Rock Resort is a cluster of five hotels and a campsite: Sails In The Desert (five-star), Desert Gardens Hotel (four-and-a-half star), Emu Walk Apartments (four-star), Lost Camel (three-and-a-half star) and Outback Pioneer (ranging from two to three-and-a-half star), as well as Ayers Rock Campground (bring your own tent or rent an air-conditioned cabin). For more information, contact Australia’s Voyages chain at tel 61 2 8296 8010.
WEATHER: It is an all-year destination – dry with only 308mm of rain a year, mostly in summer. Winter (mid-year) highs average 22°C, while summer highs average 35°C. Pack a sweater or jacket in winter as evenings and early mornings can be chilly. Some summer days top 40°C.
VISA:
All visitors, except holders of Australian or New Zealand passports, need
visas. Fortunately, these are generally easily obtained. Most are the
Electronic Travel Authority variety – like visas but not stamped in passports.
Obtain online at www.eta.immi.gov.au (where there’s also a list of eligible
nationalities), through airlines and travel agents or at Australian diplomatic
missions.
Chris Pritchard
