Posts tagged outback
Morning Ponderings at Kata Tjuta
My favorite time of day is without a doubt the pre-dawn hour. Observing a blackened sky that slowly rotates toward the sun gives me the feeling that I can watch the Earth move. And the colors of light in the pure atmosphere, refracting off lush mist, bring to mind Monet paintings, along with others who understood the power and beauty of the pastel.
Unfortunately, my body finds the early morning repulsive and demands rest when the world is waking. However, give this lifeless corpse of mine an activity amidst natural wonder, and I become alive with the spirit of the dawn.
My feet scrambled up the rocky paths to Kata Tjuta. The sun’s first peek set the massive rocks on fire. This was my time of day, my type of setting, and my ideal way to spend my hours on this Earth: hiking among natural wonders.
A short geological explanation (the details of which I can’t seem to recall, sadly) of why these 36 rock domes occur in the middle of a flat desert plain made me briefly contemplate the ground I stand on. How can the World be so old that over the course of its existence, all this land we see was underwater, slathered and molded by the tides, squeezed and pushed by other tectonic plates, and still continues to move and shift before our very eyes (ever-so slowly, of course)? We gotta stop complaining about being too old to stay up late or remember what we did yesterday. We’re babies on this planet, babies I tell ya!
And so, as we wandered in between these massive monoliths, the breeze whistling through each hump and affirming the name Valley of the Winds, I gazed as the rising winter sun of the Australian Outback, looking through layers of atmosphere, mist, and space. Along with my extreme awareness of each [potentially] ankle-rolling step, I felt incredibly connected to the home planet. And with our sighting of a wild camel pack moments later, I felt even more like a primordial animal wandering for purpose and necessities across the crust.
The Outback: it’s trippy.
Hiking Ayers Rock
I made it about halfway up Uluru, aka Ayers Rock, when I stopped, had a drink of water, and sat down on the steep rock.
For the really steep bits there’s a chain you can hold onto and white stripes mark the “path.” I like to climb things as much as the next guy, but I’m no rock climber. I looked up. The lonely chain slumped against the red rock as it led up to the uninterrupted blue sky. I was already pretty high up. Good solid exercise, certainly good enough for one day, I thought.
“Ay, g’day” A 70-ish guy said as he hiked right by me. He muttered “pansy” as he passed. I was half-way around the world, sitting on one of the world’s most famous natural formations and some Australian geriatric was calling me out. I wasn’t having it.
I hiked on and caught up with him at the next false-peak. He glanced at me and brushed aside his sweaty white hair, “American?” “Yeah” What’s it to you, gramps? “I’m from New Zealand. Thought I was gunna have to hike her meself. My name’s Greg.”
“Chris.”
That’s how I met Greg, halfway up Ayer’s Rock.
We hiked up together. Greg was some sort of ninja Kiwi, jumping up the rock, smiling the whole time. We made it to the top, took pictures of each other at the little marker and explored the peak. I asked him what brought him here.
“I hiked this when I was twenty.”
“And you wanted to try to do it again?”
“Ay, I don’t believe in ‘once-in-a-life-time’ experiences, I always wanted to do it again. That and me wife said I couldn’t.”
I like Greg. He’s traveling around with the “old lady” now, redoing all the things that sparked a love for traveling in him when he was young.
“I’m just travelin’, y’know, knockin’ the buggahs off one by one again.”
Rock on, Greg, you old Kiwi ninja.
Dancing With Ayers Rock
After coming off a trip all about connections with people, I will admit I found it hard to enthusiastically jump on board a tour of rocks.
What used to be one of the most remote locations on planet Earth, Alice Springs in Australia, was an easy plane ride for us into the dry interior. And the luxury overland vehicle we traveled in took every harsh aspect of the impossible terrain out of our minds. It was understandably easy to – at first – under-appreciate the wonders and experiences that were soon to be ours.
Australia’s Outback is probably the hardest place for anyone or anything to survive, and to completely comprehend the age of this place is virtually impossible for the human mind. You know Pangaea? Yeah, this place is older than our former single continent. And to realize how small and insignificant your presence at these multi-million-year-old natural wonders is could surely cause some severe existential issues.
Humbling. But that’s not why I like coming to these places.
When it comes to connecting with a location – an environment – something inanimate, here’s what I do: I coexist with it. I make an experience never able to be recreated, invite that thing into the moment with myself.
Does it sound like I’m talking a lotta crap? Ney.
At Ayers Rock, I decided to wander her periphery and experience the awe and grandeur from below. I popped in my earbuds and started dancing around the place like no one could see me. Every new song brought me to a new part of the rock that looked dramatically different than the last and I snapped my shutter like a photo-crazed fool. What resulted was an experience no one else was having.
For that one moment in her long, LONG life, Ayer’s Rock and I were dancing partners.
The Truth about the Australian Outback
The only dingo I’ve seen was chained to a stake, and it wasn’t even eating a baby. Not only that but there are bushes and vegetation everywhere. And if that wasn’t enough, its frickin’ freezing here. Winter in the Australian outback, the Western Desert to be more precise, is NOTHING like I thought it’d be.
There are camel herds here. Did you know that? Wild camels, wondering around in packs like they own the place. I had no idea. I looked pretty stupid after being surprised by the lack of dingoes, the bushes and whatnot, the freezing nighttime temperatures, and the wild camels, that I thought I would impress our guide, Miguel, by saying I knew how to play the didgeridoo.
“They don’t play those ‘round here, mate, just on the coasts. Folks here, the aboriginals, just as soon chuck ‘em in the fire, got no use in the desert.”
You gotta be kiddin’ me. I thought “outback” meant barren desert hotter than Kobe’s jump-shot (I’m a Lakers fan, deal with it) and I thought the aboriginals would only be carrying two things, a spear and a didgeridoo.
My ignorant stupidity aside, this place is incredible. The rocks glow red and I haven’t seen a cloud since I got here. Seemingly out of nowhere, the massive natural formations of Uluru, Kata Tjuta, and King’s Canyon rise up and lord over miles upon miles of flat desert. Over the past few days, I’ve sat by a campfire looking up at a totally new night’s sky, discovered the oldest culture on earth, and hiked amongst the most spectacular natural beauty I could have ever imagined.
I’m still waiting on my first wild dingo and koala, but Australia is full of surprises, so I think I got a better chance seeing a kangaroo in a canoe, playing a blue didgeridoo.