Welcome to 'The Rock'

If you said "Australia" to most people, I'm confident that the two main things that would grace their minds would be "Ayers Rock" and the Sydney Opera House. For many years, it has been these dignitaries that epitomized, in my mind, the extremes of what I would encounter “down-under”, from the dusty red outback to a modern city. In 1993, Ayers Rock & The Olgars shed their European names and regressed to the traditional titles, "Uluru" & "Kata Tjuta”. I feel this should be mentioned to avoid any confusion over my use of the traditional names.


Since I was a little boy, I regarded “Uluru” as the unofficial ambassador of Australia, thanks to countless views of it in books and television. Now actually there, I hoped to discover a deeper insight into the culture that has surrounded it for the past 50 thousand years - to hear the legends and feel a new level of closeness available only through presence and understanding. Unfortunately for us, this information was not as readily accessible as we’d hoped for. The majority of the aboriginal legends are passed down from the old to the young, & some are kept strictly within specific families. This makes it very hard to learn much or appreciate why the area is so sacred. It also did little to dissuade us from climbing “Uluru” on our first day.


However, after 3 frustrating days of learning very little, one random question to the minibus driver set of a landslide of information that both gripped and surprised us. He’d lived in the area of over 10 years now, & has many aborigine friends. Over the years, they have felt more and more comfortable with him, shared some of their stories, and thankfully for us, he has chosen to pass them onto anyone who asks. The essence of what he said, was that although the “Anangu” (the preferred nomenclature for the natives of this area) are keen to share their culture, they will only relinquish a minimal amount to those that are only passing through. They do not believe they should give up such valued information to those that fly in on a plane, when their people have always had to walk hundreds of miles through the desert to get here. Ignoring this seemingly jealousness of innovations in aviation, the journey to Uluru has always been seen as a pilgrimage that has now become possible for anyone with a credit card. For this reason, photography is banned at 6 sacred sites around the base of Uluru and very little is shared to the general public outside of the cultural centre. The rock itself isn’t sacred, but is the setting for a number of significant zones. 6 are made known to the non-aboriginals, but 1 is kept secret. Much like, the city of London is not sacred but contains many sacred sites within it.

He told us a couple of legends and then went on to explain why the “Anangu” are against people climbing “Uluru”. The first (and most easily dismissible) is that Uluru is a giant marsupial mole and it is the animal’s back you are climbing on – of course it is. The 2nd is that the steep path from the base to the top (348m above sea level) is the traditional route taken by the ‘Mala’ – ancient & respected small kangaroo like creatures of old. However, the “Anangu” realize that we care for their beliefs on these matters, about as much as they do for ours. They also appreciate that it is a part of our culture to climb, to strive, to achieve, but it is not something they can comprehend. Life is hard enough without risking an abrupt end by climbing for the sake of climbing. A total of 38 people have died attempting the climb and each death has been met with great sadness by the “Anangu”. They believe they are responsible for us whilst on their land and as such any death will be met with the demise of one of their own.

So, why not just ban people from climbing? The driver stated that the “Anangu” know that “Uluru” is a billion dollar business. Half a million people come here every year and 60% of those, climb. If they banned the climb, the number of people visiting the area would decrease and local businesses that rely on this custom would suffer. A media frenzy would then ensue and the “Anangu” would be held accountable. Therefore, they are trying to combat the numbers on ‘the rock’ by signs and information. 10 years ago, virtually 100% of people coming here, climbed it. Roughly 60% do at the moment, and they hope this downward pattern will continue until climbing is a vague thing of the past.

Ignoring all the myths and legends, the most important reason why they don’t like people climbing is that the vast majority of people don’t respect the land. They urinate on it, drop champagne corks, and leave litter. These inadvertently contaminate the water holes surrounding the base and scare off the local animals. If the animals don’t come, the aborigines lose a food source, and are forced to accept government hand-outs to buy from supermarkets. People then look down on them and state they should get jobs like everyone else. But why should they? Why should they adapt to our way of life when we have no right to impinge it upon them? Because we feel they would be better off? Because we feel our society has more to offer them? 50 thousand years ago the aborigines of Australia were some of the most advanced people on the planet, but due to the effects of geographical constraints, they never progressed further. They are now faced with a monumental jump to take on a new way of life or be pushed further and further into the most inhospitable places in Australia.

It is said that anyone who removes a piece of Uluru will suffer terrible luck until it is returned. This is confirmed weekly by letters received by park wardens from people sending rocks back after suffering a string of unfortunate events. Similar misfortunes have been experienced by those who have taken pictures of the 6 sacred sites.

I am not a religious person but would say I am of the spiritual persuasion. I don’t hold much belief in the legends of the aborigines, or other religions for that matter, but it doesn’t mean I don’t believe in more than what is seen or heard. There is undoubtedly something special about “Uluru” & “Kata Tjuta” that has been drawing people to the area for thousands of years, and continues to do so. Like everyone else, we must have taken a hundred photos each of these rocks. We joked about taking each new photo because they are all essentially of the same thing (just another look at a red rock), but we continued to do it anyway. Sure, you can put an element of this flippant regard for photography down to the easy manageability of digital technology, but I believe it is largely due to something else - something that cannot be explained by science and can only be measured in degrees of faith.


The range of colours displayed by “Uluru” at sunrise and sunset was breathtaking on every occasion. Any slight variation in cloud cover or weather created freshness to the vision & an image different enough to warrant even more photos. And yet it is just a large rock (or monolith for the geologically inclined). Leaving this area, I realize that I still know very little about its true spiritual significance but perhaps that is one of the reasons why it remains so enchanting - a mystery for curiosity - to know about the unknown. Or perhaps, it truly has a power that is felt by the soul.

The strange thing about our little chat with the minibus driver was that it wasn’t anything about “Uluru” that was the most interesting, and even stranger considering what the point was. Despite there only being a small amount of information provided about “Uluru”, it is an infinite wealth of knowledge compared to what has been spoken about a more sacred site in the national park. “Kata Tjuta” is so important to their people that the women & children will not even look at it. There is nothing in the cultural centre, nothing on signs, and nothing in the brochures.

The rock structures of both “Uluru” and “Kata Tjuta” extend down to 6 miles below the surface, so it is actually only the slightest amount that is visible to people. This is very apt considering the amount of information known by white men about their cultural history.