The Big Rock in the Middle

Before we split from Ozland, we made it to the middle to see Uluru, aka Ayer's Rock.  The tourist industry that's been built in the outback surrounding this giant hunk of earth is astounding. The “Ayers Rock Resort” is the only game in town, encompassing 5 or 6 hotels, car rental service, a jillion restaurants and as many ways to see/attack that rock as a room full of ad execs could've come up with in a brainstorming sesh. 

To wit, you may experience Uluru on foot either on your own or led by an Aboriginal guide. One can ride to it on camel or horse back, over it in a helicopter, around it on an ATV or in tour bus, or dine next to it as the sun sets. These folks are squeezing the figurative blood from the rock that tourists can't get enough of.

Alice Springs is the nearest outback town, about a 5 hour drive from the rock. We'd originally planned to fly there and rent a car but after seeing broadcasts about unrest in the aboriginal camps there and some low grade rioting on the street, we were rethinking.  After a German tourist was stabbed to death and a city wide curfew of 9 pm enstated, we crossed it off the list entirely.

Fortunately, our handy American Airlines miles (virtually useless in the US) allowed us to fly directly into the little airport (called Yuluru) that's been built to service the rock. As the plane bumped its way through and along the runway, I wondered allowed if this whole thing would be a disappointment. Before deplaning, I said to Ed: I think we should prepare ourselves that this could be underwhelming. I mean, its just a rock. Being on the road for this long and seeing top ten itinerary items on a near-daily basis, I thought it important to acknowledge our own jadedness. We're not so easily impressed these days. Mongolia was a long time ago.

After checking into the resort, we wandered about the complex and had a few cocktails at the various bars. We walked to one of the lookout points and had our first real look at the thing. The earlier rain was still streaming down it, making it appear bluish and multi-colored. It seemed almost to pulse on the horizon.  It was fucking huge.

The next morning we collected our little car and drove to the rock. When it came into view in the park, it nearly took my breath away. We pulled the car over about every 45 seconds to stare at it. Once we arrived, we parked and hiked around it. Seeing the huge caves and waterholes and rolling changes in its face up close was surprising, it looks smooth from far away. Every angle gave a new perspective and we giggled our way around it in the outback heat. In short, we fell in love with the rock.

We returned that evening to watch the sunset behind it, and the following morning to see it come back up in front of it. Ed took a ton of gorgeous photos, I've just included this one because you can see the rainbow that appeared during sunrise. Something about Uluru seems animated, or anamorphic. Dippy as it sounds, the hunk of dirt seems to have the personality of a wise and kind old soul. Its so inexplicably huge, and so surrounded by nothing, that its mesmerizing. It kept appearing in the side view mirror, or reflecting itself in Ed's sunglasses. Even when I wasn't looking at it, it seemed to follow me.

On a practical level, if anyone out there ever plans to go, don't book anything through the resort. The prices they quote, and their claims to be the only way are boolsheet. I booked our hotel and rental car online for less than half the price quoted to me by Voyages; apparently their talent for screwing people extends beyond the local tribes. 

We spent less than 48 hours near the rock, and that was probably about enough for us. The overpriced food and false cruise ship atmosphere of the resort felt strangely inappropriate. We could have stayed and stared at that thing for days, but having a limited time together meant appreciating it and filling our eyes with intensity.

Uluru was one of my favorite parts of our trip. I don't know what that thing is, but it is, most certainly, not just a rock.