Rock On, Softly.

• Posted on April 14, 2009 at 12:49 PM
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Uluru glowing in the outback sunset

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Darkness surrounds us. Silence embraces us. Foreign constellations shine above. Our feet shuffle down a pitch-black trail below. “Where is it?” Heather asks. She is answered almost immediately when a bolt of lightning streaks across the desert’s early morning sky. The flash momentarily illuminates the massive stone directly in front of us. Then, as quickly as it appeared, it’s swallowed again by the darkness. We pause by the side of the trail and share a picnic breakfast. To our East, the sky slowly glows with the sunrise. In front, the mystical rock of Uluru starts to reveal itself in an equally rosy glow.

We’ve traveled for days to get here. We’ve fought crowds at the airport and insomnia on the plane. We rode a rocking overnight train and rented a car to finally arrive. Now, alone in the Australian Outback, we find ourselves ironically seeking companionship. Our feelings are not unique though, archaeological findings indicate that Aboriginal people have gathered here for 10, 000 years. Back then, this place was known as Uluru. In 1873, a British surveying crew renamed it Ayres Rock. Recent efforts to return the area to its original owners, resulted in the sacred stone being renamed Uluru.

In the shade of the visitor’s centre we meet Jen and Dalia, Canadian school friends, and Otto, a South African they met in neighbouring Alice Springs. Together, we form a plan to summit Uluru via the steep 800-metre trail that ascends the rock. That is, until we read the signs from the local tribe asking visitors specifically not to climb their monument. The sign explains that the Aboriginal people do not climb on the sacred rock themselves. It further appeals to visitor safety by pointing out that over thirty people have died while climbing Uluru. Aboriginal people feel a responsibility for all who visit their land and they feel a great sadness when their monument brings injury or death.

Our dilemma burns as hot as the morning sun. We share turns defending each side. The debate swings from respecting local traditions to international summit determination. Less than five minutes into the discussion however, three tour busses arrive. Now hundreds of tourists are streaming up the lowest part of the trail like ants up a giant anthill. More vehicles begin to arrive at the parking lot and the next parties begin the mount. Geographic opportunity and group mentality overtake us. We join the upward flow. Heather has saved for this Australian trip by guiding rock climbing adventures. She calmly assures us that she will be our caretaker on this ascent.

The trail leads us up a ramped peninsula of rock extending from Uluru. It then sharply steepens. Hand over hand, we grip the fixed chain handrail, installed for climber’s safety on the steepest pitch. Its links and posts are polished smooth by clenched hands. A few flat ledges offer tiny rest stops. Climbers nestle into them like pigeons collecting on the windowsills of a skyscraper. At the top of the chain section the climb flattens dramatically. White blazes and a worn path lead us along Uluru’s domed top to its official summit. Winds and rains have carved wavy valleys into Uluru’s roof. We follow the trail over these red rock dunes. Against a bluebird sky, we see the silhouette of the summit top rock cairn.
Upon closer inspection, a bronzed compass face decorates its top. Its degrees though, are filled not with numbers but with the names of fellow mountain peaks.

Our summit crew celebrates wrapped in a Canadian flag thoughtfully packed by Jen. A quick collection of coloured pens, a highlighter and a page from Dalia’s journal help Otto construct a makeshift South African flag for our summit photos.

Occasionally I’ll see that photo of the five of us on the summit. It feels like it was just yesterday. Truth is, that was years ago. Heather has a growing family in Ontario now. My wife and I have differed mortgage payments in favour of annual purchases of new skis and bikes living in Whistler. It turns out my time at Uluru was as brief as that lightning’s flash. In retrospect, I’m satisfied with our decision to experience the place to the fullest. And to this day, each time I summit a new peak my internal compass re- orientates. And to the South, it reliably points towards Uluru.