Uluru, the aboriginal name for Ayers Rock, is a place of dramatic contrasts. It’s one of the most sacred places to the Australia’s indigenous people (particularly the local Anangu) but also a renowned tourist attraction drawing a half-million yearly visitors.
It rises 350 meters above land that is otherwise flat for many miles around. The landscape is muted and severe: red soil dotted with spindly desert oaks, squat mulga trees (a low acacia), and spinifex, a coarse, tufty grass that reminds of me of a porcupine.
Yet the Anangu people create fabulous, story-telling artwork in vibrant colors. (The colors are a recent addition to their thousands-year old tradition of story-telling artwork.)
Uluru and the surrounding national park, Uluru-Kata Tjuta, are located in Australia’s Northern Territories many miles from anywhere – the nearest real town, Alice Springs, lies four hours away by car. (We flew here from Melbourne on a charter arranged by Tauck.)
To geologists, Uluru is a “monolith” – the remnant of an ancient mountain range that has eroded away over millions of years. Its vertical strata reflect eons of tectonic forces that turned the rock on edge; it’s estimated that the strata continue a mile or more underground. (The above-ground portion is five miles around and one and a half miles wide.)
To the Anangu, Uluru’s holes, crevices, and gouges evidence an ancient battle between Kuniya (Woma Python) and Liru, a poisonous snake. (There are competing stories, but this one seems most widespread.) They believe the land still is inhabited by the spirits of ancient creator beings, who set out the laws to govern the people’s lives – instructions called Tjukurpa.
Tjukurpa is “the basis of all our knowledge, law, religion, social structure, and moral values,” according to a sign at the site. Uluru’s sacred status stems from and is essential to Tjukurpa.
Australia has a rather shameful record of dealing with its First Nations people (join the club!), but Uluru appears to be a welcome exception, recently at least. After decades of being dispossessed by cattle stations (massive ranches), ownership of Uluru and the surrounding land was given back to the Anangu in 1985 and they returned to their traditional home. The transfer was conditioned on the Anangu leasing the land back to the Australian Parks Service and co-managing the site. Today, it is protected from development, and the Anangu have final say on access.
Uluru’s history and significance come to life in a nearby Cultural Center, whose exhibits detail the Anangu’s beliefs and way of life. The Center is built in the shape of a sacred snake. (Photography is prohibited.)
The evening of our arrival, we headed to a sunset viewing area to watch Uluru change hues as the sun descended. Being colorblind, I don’t think I experienced the full effect, but I was taken with the way the shadows dramatically deepened the grooves in Uluru’s face.
The following morning, we walked around part of Uluru’s base, where a guide pointed out carvings and drawings on the rock going back several thousand years.
Like all Aboriginal artwork, these depictions tell stories, often of where to find water and food.
The art is highly symbolic; for example, a U shape indicates a seated person. If there is a spear next to the person it’s a man; a digging stick indicates a woman.
Our hotel, “Sails in the Desert” (part of the Uluru-Ayers Rock Resort), was comfortable and blissfully air-conditioned, given the suffocating heat outside. It’s near a small market and perhaps ten minutes from Uluru.
Travel Tips:
- It’s extremely hot and there is no shade. Bring adequate sunscreen, wear a hat, drink plenty of water.
- Prepare to be besieged by small black flies whose persistence knows no bounds. The flies don’t bite, but they do their best to get in your eyes, nose, ears, and mouth. Tauck provided us with fly nets to cover our faces. They’re essential!
- Most important, marvel at the way the indigenous people, who’ve been in the area for anywhere from ten to sixty thousand years, have adapted to and even thrived in the harsh environment – at least until Europeans showed up.
Today’s Anangu must live with feet in both the indigenous and the white world. I feel privileged to have been able to experience something of their traditional ways, and I hope they can hold on to those traditions in the face of modern pressures.
As I write this, our charter is preparing to land in Cairns (“Cans”), from where we will head to the Daintree Rain Forest and the Great Barrier Reef. Stay tuned!
PuffinlessTravel 