You see it. Then you feel it. Such is the scale and the power of Uluru.
Subscribe now for unlimited access.
$0/
(min cost $0)
or signup to continue reading
Although I'd spotted it in the distance as we drove in from Alice Springs, it's not until sunrise the next day that I first get a good look at it. Waking early, I watch the fiery red glow creeping over the horizon silhouette the rock as a black outline, the iconic shape immediately recognisable and already stirring something within me. Driving to the other side, at the official sunrise viewing area known as Talinguru Nyakunytjaku, the first rays of the morning hit the rock straight on, illuminating it in a purple desert radiance that turns to orange and yellow as day breaks.
The main viewing platform here is busy but short trails lead to other spots for more peaceful moments. Watching the sunrise in silence, I see not just the transition of morning colours, but also the emergence of lines running down to the ground. They are the marks of the rock's creation, sand upon sand, until the whole formation was eventually shifted onto its side. And, as the light changes, so the shadows begin to appear on the rock face. These dark markings form shapes and the shapes tell stories. From this distance, it's only the large contours I can spot, but soon I'll get to the base to see the details and the more complex textures.
We may often refer to it as "the rock", but that makes it sound like a single homogenous entity, whereas coming here reveals the layers of Uluru.
One afternoon, next to a grassy lawn at the shops of the Ayers Rock Resort, I join a dot-painting workshop run by Maruku Arts, a collective owned and operated by the local Anangu people. Artist Sarah Dalby sits on the ground and draws in the sand with her hand. She forms animal tracks that create images in my mind of goannas and kangaroos moving amongst us. She draws the u-shaped symbol that denotes a human, the wavy lines that represent running water, and the concentric circles that show a meeting place, like where we are at the moment. Before I pick up a brush to try to create something myself, I'm reminded that "all dot paintings tell a story, yours is just one of many".
My artwork turns out to be no masterpiece - perhaps because I've tried to paint the story of my visit to Uluru, even though it's not yet over. It's not even until the next day that I get to the base of the rock and see it up close, put my hand on it, feel the spiritual energy that so many people sense when they come here. How could I have tried to capture my visit in art before doing this?
Up close, you not only notice the textures and colour variances of the sandstone, you see the caves and the rockfalls, the stains from water cascading down, and the holes from wind chiselling bits away. It's these perfect imperfections that the Anangu have used for thousands of years to pass on their cultural concept of Tjukurpa to the next generations, a form of scripture written across the face of Uluru that can be read, with guidance, while sitting here at the base of the monolith.
In fact, it's at the base where you learn so much about Uluru because it's here that you find lush verdant trees and waterholes full of birds or butterflies, and where you'll discover peaceful shady groves, dramatic caverns and colourful wildflowers. The desert can seem harsh from distant viewpoints but, look closer, and you'll see life blooms with the rock's energy. A free ranger-guided tour runs every morning at the base and is a good introduction to all of this.
The Base Walk around Uluru is one of the best ways to see all the details but try to start the 10.6-kilometre loop early in the day before it gets too hot. When the sun is higher in the sky, shorter trails like the Mala Walk and Kuniya Walk will give you similar perspectives without needing to go too far. You can also join tour operators to see the rock on a bike, a Segway, a camel - or even from a helicopter, which will often also take you over Kata Tjuta.
Visitors often overlook Kata Tjuta, the national park's other main rock formation about 50 kilometres from Uluru, thinking it's just the same. Spiritually, it's very different and is considered a sacred men's site by the Anangu. Geologically, it's made from another type of rock that fractured to create the valleys and golden domes of this unique landscape. And, for a visitor, it's a new experience to walk through the formations, not around them, embraced by the long arms of the canyons and greeted by the "many heads", which is what Kata Tjuta means in the Pitjantjatjara language.
After a couple of nights here, it's time for me to continue my road trip to Kings Canyon, through the West Macdonnell Ranges, and back to Alice Springs - a drive along the Red Centre Way that leads to so many of Central Australia's treasures. But, before I do, I spend an evening at the Field of Light, wandering amongst the enormous art installation by Bruce Munro. Fifty thousand glowing bulbs grow from the spinifex and illuminate the night, the hues capturing the colours that Uluru has seen and been throughout the day. It's hard not to be inspired by the rock - by its vibrancy and by its energy - and you leave it feeling a little more connected to our country than when you arrived.
Michael Turtle was supported by Tourism Northern Territory. You can see more things to do at Uluru on his Travel Australia Today website.