Posts tagged ayers rock
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.
