The room has no alarm and I have no watch but my inner clock wakes me 15 minutes before our wake up call. We packed our gear last night and are quickly showered and dressed and waiting outside at 5:45 A.M. It is still dark with a lean bearded man, wearing a typical outback Aussie hat arrives to pick us up. I am delighted that our guide fits my stereotypical image. His face is weathered and his very long beard fades from brown to grey. He loads our one suitcase in a trailer towed behind a Toyota land cruiser and we hop onboard; John in the front seat beside Tony and I in the back seat beside David and Elizabeth; the only others on our tour. They are from Newcastle and have been “partners” for some years but just got married in Alice Springs. He is a doctor and she is a nurse and they prove to be congenial and interesting travel companions.
It is not yet dawn and we have over 500 kilometers to drive to Ayres Rock. David, Elizabeth and I chat and John naps. Our first stop is about 100 kilometers into our drive, at a camel station where we drink bad coffee and eat breakfast sandwiches. A cold dawn is just breaking and we are the first tourists to arrive at this station. Until today, I didn’t know that camels were a part of Australia’s history and are still a necessity within the Australian outback. There are literally hundreds of thousands of camels in the outback and many feral herds. Beautiful, doe eyed camels, stretch their necks through the steel paddock rails and John has his first camel experience. He too is charmed by their soft muzzles and huge inquisitive eyes and tells me that he thought that all camels were nasty tempered and spit? There are several colts in the paddock and we pat and nuzzle their soft necks and heads. Unlike the battle scarred camels in Egypt, these camels are well tended and with gentle demeanors. For $6.00 one can ride a camel and I buy two tickets and John and I circle the ring atop a camel. The camel has a double seated saddle with metal grips both front and back and we mount and are thrust forcefully forward and jerked back as our camel rises. I am delighted that John is delighted with his first camel encounter.
Our second stop is at the Mt. Ebenezer Roadhouse where we stretch our legs, drink instant coffee and use the toilet. It is obvious that Tony is a heavy smoker by his nicotine stained teeth and fingers and he takes these opportunities to smoke. We are 300 kilometers into our trip and he talks about the country as we drive. He is anxious to please and well informed about history and the environment, although his thick Aussie accent makes him difficult to understand. A hundred kilometers further on we stop at another cattle station and Tony encourages us to buy wine or beer for our two nights camping in the bush. It will be our only opportunity and he recommends the “F__ing Good Port” and purchases two bottles for himself. I buy one bottle of red wine and one of white wine from the minimal selection behind the counter, regretting that I did not purchase wine in town, certain that the prices are higher at this remote station.
Our next foray is to gather firewood for tonight’s campfire and Tony veers off the paved road and we bump along in 4 wheel drive through scrubby landscape until we come to an area with Mulga trees. John is our ”gatherer” and happily rises to the challenge, running full speed at the scraggly trees, karate kicking and uprooting them and jumping on the downed branches and breaking them into manageable sizes. Tony loads the wood atop the trailer, wrapping it securely in a canvass with one hand, while smoking a cigarette in the other.
We admire Mt. Atila from our moving vehicle, a mesa table land and the first significant rock formation of our trip. Unfortunately, the day is overcast and cold and although the rocks glow a deep red, I know that our visual experience is not as stunning as it might be if it were sunny. We enter Uluru-Kata Tjuta National Park at noon and have a picnic lunch within the campground. Our trailer has two fold up sides and our food is stored in bins and coolers within. We team together to cut tomatoes and cucumbers and spread bread with butter and mustard, layering pastrami in between. Tony opens a can of pickled beets and we add them to our sandwich. Not my usual fare, but quite delicious.
Before taking a base walk or climbing the rock of Uluru, we are expected to visit the Aboriginal Cultural Center. My expectations are low, but I am very impressed with the sensitive presentation of cultural information. The center is architecturally striking, and we spiral through chambers of terracotta walls with a wooden roof; an open gap between roof and walls. Continuous word and picture graphs scroll along the top of the wall and recorded indigenous chants resonate throughout. The various creation stories are depicted along the way. We spend over an hour here but I grow anxious, wanting to walk around the rock and not just read about it. The Aborigines discourage tourists from climbing Uluru, but John wants very much to make the climb. David, Elizabeth and I want to walk the base. At 3:15 P.M. We drop John at the base of the climb and watch a steady stream of tourists ascending the immense, 875 meter high rock. I am justifiably worried, but know that John must do this. Tony tells us that soon the rock will be closed to all climbing and although Tony also discourages climbing, he understands John’s desire to do so. The first several hundred meters are without a chain grip and John sprints up this section, supplied with a large bottle of water and our last remaining nutrition bar stuffed in his backpack. We watch and I take photos from afar as John ascends the rock, sillouetted against the grey sky, just one in a stream of ants making this climb. Several hundred meters from the base, a chain grip rail is secured along the route to assist the climbers in their ascent. David, Elizabeth, Tony and I take a base walk partially around this immense rock. There are sections of the rock that have spiritual significance to the Aborigines and the path skirts widely out from these areas and photography is forbidden. The enormity of the rock is impressive and I take many photos, but each photo is a mere pixel of the vast scene. There are several cordoned off sections protecting Aboriginal rock paintings but the highlight of the hike is when we enter a gap between the rocks and come to a natural spring. A gully cuts down from cliff above and the rocks are stained with minerals deposited from eons of rainfall. We spend a serene few minutes in this magical spot.
Two hours later, we drive back around to the parking area below the climb and I am relieved to spot John trotting towards us. He got back down just a few minutes earlier and is excited to tell us about it. He sprinted up to the top, walked along the crest and rested for 30 minutes, reflecting on the vistas and talking to another young man his age. The descent was the hardest and when the two boys reached the base and the other teen goes to meet up with his father, the father is wearing a Tucson Gem and Mineral shirt; their conversations evolves from there.
We drive to a vista platform where all tours, large and small, go to watch the sunset over Uluru. There are several huge busloads, many with barbeques raging and all with glasses of champagne. These are the single day tours out of Alice Springs; 1000 kilometers round trip, returning to Alice Springs after midnight. The 5 of us walk up to the far view point; Tony opens the champagne and we stand and wait for the sunset; which is sadly disappointing on this overcast evening.
We drive to our first camp site and Tony drives around the campground giving us a lay of the site and pointing out toilets and showers. Surrounding these permanent facilities are many permanent tent campsites, all with each tour companies name on its designated area. I am disappointed until Tony drives off a ways into the bush. I have paid extra to NOT have a tent and to not be a part of a large group. Out of sight and ear shot from the permanent tent camps is the Way Out Back Safari’s campsite. It consists of a modest but permanent covered eating area, two tables and small outdoor kitchen with running water. The night is extremely cold and the first item on the agenda is to light the campfire. Tony and John soon have it blazing and Tony hauls out our swags for our bedding. They are tightly rolled canvass swags and we sit on them as we gather around the fire. We need coals to cook our dinner and as the fire burns, Tony chops root vegetables, putting them in a cast iron pot and nestling the pot in the glowing coals of the campfire. He is well into his bottle of port, but this seems to make him function more efficiently and he soon has water boiling in another pot and kangaroo meat sauce simmering. We enjoy a marvelous kangaroo pasta dinner accompanied by the most delicious roasted vegetables that I have ever eaten.
After dinner Tony demonstrates how to make up our swag beds. A swag is a heavy canvass covering protecting a modest foam mattress. We unroll our swags and slip freshly laundered sheets over the mattress. We are each provided with a sleeping bag, smelling sweetly of laundry detergent and we place these inside our canvass swags. We have enjoyed a full day and a lovely dinner and the fire is burning low. We crawl into our sleeping bags, zip our swags tightly around us and fall asleep beside fire. I wake several hours later and gaze up at a full moon and a star filled sky.
