Traveling in Ayers Rock, Australia: the Photo Edition

  

Australia is a big country.

I didn't really realize that until we'd started making plans to go there a few months ago. After all, it doesn't look that big on a map, does it?

So when we were first planning our trip, we thought we could just rent a car in Sydney and drive to wherever we wanted on the island of Australia. Which would be an okay plan if we were talking about the island of Oahu.

But the island of Australia is NOT like the island of Oahu, or even the big island of Hawaii. It's nearly as large as the whole United States actually.

So that rent-a-car-and-drive plan would be a good one if we wanted to spend our entire vacation in the car. Driving. ENDLESSLY.

End of story: We decided to fly where we wanted to go. And from Sydney we wanted to go to Ayers Rock.

This sort of lanscape was under the plane for a LONG time before we got there.

Ayers Rock is in the middle of nowhere. I mean, REALLY the middle of nowhere. There's an airport and a little resort there with a campground, hotels and a store, for the tourists to use. But then there's nothing else anywhere for miles and miles and miles.

Or kilometers and kilometers and kilometers, if you're Australian.

The metric system. Arrgh.

This is our first sight the monolith from the plane. It was an amazingly clear day.

Ayers Rock is called Uluru in the aboriginal language. Apparently it was officially named Ayers-Rock-slash-Uluru in 1993, and then redesignated Uluru-slash-Ayers-Rock in 2002.

Always nice to see entire groups of adults arguing over a name like a bunch of first-graders.

The giant rock itself is located in Uluru-Kata Tjutu National Park. The land was deeded back to the native Anangu people by the Australian goverment with the agreement that the national park would continue to lease the land for 99 years, so that it could remain open for tourists.

Toursits who pay $25 a head to enter the park, I might add.

Not a bad deal all around, it seems.

In any case, Uluru is an impressive sight.

We watched Uluru at sunset from the designated lookout point. Supposedly it changes colors at sunset and sunrise.

We stood and watched this thing for over an hour as the sun set behind us.

Well, I suppose if you call falling under a shadow "changing colors," then sure, it changes colors. So do I when you put me in the dark.

Sorry, I was a little grumpy from standing out in the desert heat for and hour and a half watching a huge rock.

Did I mention there were flies too? A LOT of flies. The kind that buzz incessantly around your head and keep trying to enter your nose, mouth, and ears for reasons known only in thier tiny fly brains.

We weren't the only ones there by any means. There was a long line of tourists standing around, holding cameras, slapping flies, and waiting for the prophesied color-changing.

The guy next to us was a German with a time-lapse camera. He spent most of the hour adjusting his camera and perusing an instruction manual the size of a King James Bible. I wonder what kind of results he got.

There was a beautiful sunset BEHIND us, by the way.

Earlier that day we had walked on a trail around the base of the monolith. It was over a hundred degrees and the sun was beating down on us, so we didn't walk all the way around it. There were some interesting little indentations at the base.

We also visited the aboriginal cultural center. I don't have any pictures of that, because you weren't allowed to take them.

It was very different from the Maori cultural center we visited in New Zealand, where there were friendly people who were interested in imparting information about their culture to visitors. The Anangu cultural center consisted of a few displays, basically devoted to letting us know that Uluru was a sacred place and they weren't able to reveal much information to those of us who were uninitiated into their ways.

Oh, and please visit the gift shop on your way out.

No, I exaggerate; it wasn't that bad. But it was very mysterious.

The main thing the Anangu wanted to impart to us was that they don't like people climbing up on Uluru. They are required by the conditions of their lease to allow it, but they really REALLY don't want you to do it.

Can you guess if this stopped my husband from climbing it?

He got up really early in order to make the climb; becuase it's so hot they close the entrance at 8:00 a.m.

He saw the sun rising over Uluru.

At that hour, the park was nearly deserted.

It was a steep climb, but he made it to the top.

There was a little lake on top, filled with water from the recent rain.

On the way back down, he saw a lot of people coming up the path who'd made it through the entrance just before the eight o'clock deadline.

I was still in bed asleep at this point, by the way. We were staying at the campground in a cabin that had air-conditioning but no bathroom.

At least we had our priorities straight, right?

From the top he could also see the other natural phenomenon in the national park: Kata Tjutu.

You can see the shadow of Uluru in the foreground and  Kata Tjutu in the distance.

Kata Tjutu is similar to Uluru except it's a set of giant rocks intsead of just one. It's actually taller and bigger than Uluru too; however, it's not nearly as famous.

I guess Uluru has a better publicist.

Anyways, later that day (after I woke up) we went over to Kata Tjutu and walked around it some. This walk was just as hot as the previous day's walk at Uluru, and involved just as many flies.

Here's a photo of my husband's back with the flies circled in blue.

I count 23. And that's just the stationary ones you can easily SEE in the picture.

Obviously we should have followed this lady's example and purchased the flynets they were selling in the campground shop for $15.

People all over the place were wearing them on their heads.

But since we hadn't bought the nets on Day One, it seemed ridiculous to purchase them when our visit was half-done.

Besides, I just kept wondering what would happen if a fly got INSIDE the net.

You know, in there with your FACE.

Ewwwww.

In any case, our faces were net-free and available for all flies to annoy at will as we walked the trail that went up between the giant rocks of Kata Tjutu.

But we still had our fifteen bucks apiece, didn't we?

When we reached the end of the trail there was a little lookout, and there was an amazing echo there.

It was 43 degrees Centigrade on the car's thermometer when we arrived back in it.

I did the math on this one: That's nearly 110 Fairenheit!

The Australian desert is beautiful, but I can't IMAGINE anyone wanting to live there.

The next day's sunrise over the desert was spectacular, of course.

But we were ready to leave it behind and head for the next adventure: The Great Barrier Reef!