The toe bone’s connected to the foot bone, the foot bone’s connected to the ankle bone, the ankle bone’s connected to the leg bone, the leg bone’s connected to the knee bone, the knee bone’s connected to the thigh bone, the thigh bone’s connected to the hip bone… And how do I know you might ask? Well because when I tried to arise to cancel the not so dulcet chimes of the alarm this morning, each and every one of those joints was stiffly reminding me that they desperately feared what today will bring.

Arising early as we did, we were met by a frigid cold that was only a few notches above freezing again, although the clear sky promised to bring about a beautiful day as soon as the sun was allowed to do its thing. Regardlessly, I donned several layers of clothing in an effort to maintain a measure of warmth in my aching muscles, while we cruised back into the national park to ensure we make the most of our three day pass, our aim today being to meat out a little more punishment to our bodies by taking a few short walks that veer off the main Uluru circuit walk that we were not energetic enough to cover the other day. For these we can park nearby and like well trained commandos, make sneaky sorties into the bush.

Our first port of call was again the main Mala carpark, which as well as being the starting point for the base walk and offshoot to Kantju Gorge, it is also from where you can commence the actual climb of ‘The Rock’. As we parked, I jokingly pointed out that had the climb not still been closed, I might have made an effort to clamber part way up the steep face of the rock, at least reaching the end of the chain. For those unfamiliar with the rock climb, there is a guide chain that you can use to drag yourself up or alternatively assist in impeding your downward progress. This chain however is only a feature of the lower ¼ of the climb, after which you are left to your own devices to follow the dotted white line that guides you through the easier section to the actual summit. Maybe next time I said, still jestingly.

We then struck out for the Gorge, partly along the track we had set out upon only a couple of days ago, before reaching the junction where we turned right and followed the shady, tree lined path to where we found a dried up waterhole nestled in the coarse sand against the base of the imposing precipice that soared above our heads. It was a relaxingly short walk of only 2KM. Like childs play compared to what we have conditioned our lithe bodies now to accept.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Heading back towards the carpark, Bec exclaimed excitedly that she could see the tiny ant like figures of people clambering up the side of ‘The Rock’. “They must have re-opened it.” she cooed. The implication was clear. I was going to be going climbing, especially she said, as that I had already reneged on one dare this trip in not going for a swim in Alice Springs.

Sure enough, upon returning to the carpark, the climb had indeed been reopened and pedestrian traffic up the side of the cliff was brisk. I looked up, to where I could vaguely see the termination of the chain guide rail. There was nothing else for it, I stripped off my layers, the sun finally making its power felt, leaving but a thin cotton t-shirt emblazoned with ‘ULURU’, as if I needed reminding, as I headed for the tumble of boulders that made up the foothills. Bec wisely decided to stay at ground level, offering to keep an eye on me and produce for me a photographic record of my venture.

Starting off strongly, I pretty much ran up the first few metres, to meet the beginning of the chain, where I continued my feisty assault on the mount, a feisty assault that lasted all of another few dozen metres, by which time I was feeling the burn. My breath was coming in ragged great gasps and my heart was beating an SOS message in double time against my rib cage. Slowing down, I decided that a steady pace might be a better idea, as I continued dragging myself up the steep side of the solid face of rock, looking back only every now and then to give Bec a better perspective to photograph than that of my ass straining tightly against the stretched fabric of my dacks.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sure enough, with no small amount of effort, I gained an altitude at which I ran out of chain, where I turned to give Bec a quick wave of acknowledgement, before turning around to tackle the descent. Going down was actually a much easier proposition that ascending, as I wrapped my hands loosely about the smooth worn links of cold steel, almost running down the rock face first in a practice that closely resembled forwards rappelling. 45 minutes after starting out, coated in a viscous sheen of perspiration, still sucking in great lungfuls of pure clean air, but riding on a wave of euphoria (or possibly just feeling a bit lightheaded from the exertion) I was back down to ground level, ready to continue on with the activities for which we had actually planned.

And what we had planned was to drive around the base of ‘The Rock’ mimicking what we had done on foot, stopping next at Kuniya Carpark, from where we could take the tranquil easygoing, even on my now jelly like lower limbs, 1KM amble into Mutitjulu Waterhole. True to its name, there was actually a little stagnant water left in the depths of this pool, owing to the folds of rock that keep it shaded and cool for the bulk of the day.

 

We had one final stop to make before heading out of the park for the final time. This break was at the sunrise viewing platform. Not being morning people by any stretch of the imagination, there was to be no suggestion that we would see Uluru at a time for which this lookout was named, but it made for a worthy stop even as the sun reached the zenith of its arc, providing an as yet unobserved aspect of the iconic monolith with the added bonus of having Kata Tjuta hazily visible, perched on the distant horizon.

Returning to the van, we had just enough time to pack up a few things in readiness for an early departure tomorrow morning, before getting ourselves ready for a night out on the town. We are heading off for the ‘Sounds Of Silence’ dinner, Yularas version of a theatre restaurant. Picked up by coach, we were driven out to a non-descript sand dune in enough time to witness the sun flailing through the final degrees of its daily sweep, all the while, the ever changing colours of Uluru acting out the first act of the show. With exotic canapés and glasses of effervescent, golden sparkling wine in hand, the show had begun, as couples and groups all shouldered and nudged each other, cameras being handed about with gleeful abandon to all and sundry in an effort to get that singularly perfect portrait against the background of ‘The Rock’. We got ours, amongst much giggling from Bec, who had found that 2 glasses of bubbles is maybe a little more than she can handle.

With the sun having set, we were led down to our alfresco dining room, nestled amongst the red sandy dunes, where tables clad in white table clothes and laid with linen napkins awaited us, surrounded by an ample number of invigorating gas furnaces. We were seated on a table with another couple of couples who I would like to say were our age, but I suspect were actually a bit younger. They were all good value and promised to be excellent company for the evening.

While drinks flowed freely, seeing Bec become even more giggly as she decided to quaff a couple of glasses of dry white wine that would usually see her sticking her nose up, entrée was served, followed by a buffet selection of curiously remarkable Aussie fare, in the form of kangaroo steaks, grilled Barramundi, Crocodile ceaser salad, along with more standard provisions such as chicken and lamb for mains. Main course was accompanied by act two of the theatre, with a rousing didgeridoo serenade being played live in the background, leading directly into the pre-dessert act three. With all of the lanterns dimmed, a stargazers paradise opened up for our perusal, the more common constellations being pointed out and explained. By this time, desert was at the forefront of our minds, and we weren’t to be disappointed, as a selection of delicious cakes, slices and puddings were laid on in the self service bain-maries.

Having had much more than our fill of both food and drink, we had just enough time to make our way down the dimly lit path to where a couple of telescopes had been set up to give us an even closer look at the sparkling jewels of the night sky. One was aimed at a cluster of stars, of which the naked eye was lucky to make out but a couple. The other had the planet of Saturn swimming in the viewfinder, the rings clearly visible, looking much like a childs drawing of the planet.

All that was left was the short bus ride back to the caravan park, accompanied by some more tittering from an ever so slightly over imbibed Bec.

PS: We will likely be out of touch again for a couple of days following tonights update. Please don’t worry, you will all be in for a blog marathon upon our return to techno-civilisation.

Until next time, have fun, stay safe and don’t forget to write.