Ayer's Rock, Australia: December,
1973
With a weekend to kill in Sydney, Australia
in December 1973, I thought it might be interesting
to visit Ayer's Rock. Little did I realize that
it was roughly equivalent to someone with a free
weekend in New York City deciding that he would
pay a brief visit to St. Louis. In fact, it was
worse: you can actually fly to St. Louis in one
fell swoop; we had to fly through Adelaide to
Alice Springs, spend the night, and then take
a single-engine plane across 300 miles of nothing
until we reached the landing strip. There were
a few other tourists, and a large clan of Aboriginal
residents, but the place was evident. Twenty
years later, we brought two of our children back
to see the strange sights that the photos below
only hint at ... and to our surprise, there was
a fancy new Marriott hotel, a bunch of Aussie
surfer-dude bellhops who spoke fluent Japanese,
and several bus-loads of Japanese tourists who
had decided to come gawk at the rock. We also
realized for the first time, on our 1993 return
trip, that there is such a thing as "fly
season" — but that's another story ...
No,
obviously this
is not Ayer's
Rock. But this
is where we started
from. Okay, we
didn't really
begin the trip
from the sailboat,
but you get the
idea ... |
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This
is the plane we
took from Alice
Springs to Ayer's
Rock. I don't
know who these
folks are, and
I can't even remember
whether they came
along for the
ride or not ... |
About
a hundred miles
out from Alice
Springs, we flew
over this bizarre
water formation.
Ayer's Rock is
another couple
hundred miles
straight out ahead
of us, not yet
visible from the
plane. |
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There
it is ... the
biggest rock in
the world, in
case you care
about such things.
To put things
in perspective,
the small mountainous
clump in the background
is about 80 miles
away. |
The
road circles the
rock; in the foreground,
you can see one
lone tour bus,
presumably with
a handful of people
who wanted to
see the rock up
close. When we
came back in 1993,
there were at
least a dozen
tour buses parked
side by side,
with several hundred
tourists milling
around, taking
pictures of one
another, the rock,
the busses, the
sky, the grass,
and anything else
that would stand
still for a photograph
... |
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A
view of the rock,
in the late afternoon
sun, from a distance
of a mile or two
... |
We
too took the tour
bus around the
rock and got to
see strange holes
and indentations,
presumably caused
by a combination
of wind and water
erosion over the
millennia ... |
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The
trees in the foreground
give you a rough
idea of the size
of the rock, but
don't really give
you a good sense
of how steep it
is ... |
I've
always been
intrigued by
the recursive
nature of a
photographer
taking a picture
of a photographer,
who is taking
a picture of
the photographer
who is taking
a picture of
the other photographer,
who in turn
is ... well,
you get the
idea.
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Okay,
so now we're actually
climbing the rock;
you can see our
bus down at the
bottom. The initial
ascent is steep
enough that some
kindly soul decided
that it would
help prevent some
accidental tourist
deaths if they
pounded some stakes
into the rock,
and provided a
chain that could
be used to pull
oneself up, hand
over hand ... |
You
would think it
would be fairly
simple to climb
one single rock,
stuck in the middle
of nowhere, and
find one's way
to the top. But
the terrain is
actually confusing
and misleading,
and the ever-helpful
tourist authorities
decided to paint
a white line to
indicate the recommended
path up to the
top. |
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We're
near the top now;
you can see the
path we've taken
behind us. Again,
the mountainous
clump in the background
(the "Olgas,"
I believe they're
called) are some
80 miles away,
which gives you
an idea of (a)
how isolated this
place is, stuck
in the middle
of a country the
size of the U.S.,
and (b) how clear
the air is. |
Another
view of the path
up to the top
... |
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The
stone cairn informs
us that we're
at the top of
the rock. The
guy in the foreground
definitely needs
a haircut; the
Australian couple
in the background
turned out to
be a combination
of practical jokers
and lifesavers.
At the beginning
of the long, hot
climb, they told
us that there
was a refreshment
stand at the top
of the rock; like
idiots, we actually
believed them.
However, like
many typical Australians,
they actually
carried a cooler
of cold beer with
them (one of which
is sitting on
the stone cairn),
and they graciously
shared their Foster's
Lager with two
parched, thirsty
Americans. |
On
the way back down,
following the
white line. I
was convinced,
at this point,
that I could just
lie down and start
rolling, and I
would eventually
reach the bottom
... |
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No,
the woman on the
right is not topless;
Australians are
friendly and informal,
but not that uninhibited
... |
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