Spectacular Sydney

Cities don’t come much better than Sydney. I learned that much during my first visit here and it still holds true six years later. It’s one of the planet’s true world-class cities, if not squarely at the top of the list. It’s perfect climate, superb setting, top flight attractions, thriving cultural and night life, and incredibly friendly populace make it tough to beat elsewhere in the world as a place to visit, as well live.

I’ve now spent nearly four combined months in Sydney during my two trips to Australia over the last six years and I could certainly spend another few years here and never tire of the city. Actually, that’s an idea worth more than just a passing thought and perhaps one day I‘ll see it through to fruition. But, for my last week in Sydney, I decided to settle for just a taste of life as a permanent resident by putting down the camera, backpack, and sightseeing agenda to try to experience life more as a local than a tourist.

The experiment bore more than enough fruit, helped in no small part to the guesthouse I found in the fairly quiet residential neighborhood of Kirribilli directly across the harbor from the Opera House. While just minutes via ferry or train from downtown Sydney, it feels like its eons away from the well-trodden tourist path (which isn’t necessarily a bad path to tread). In Kirribilli I found local restaurants to sample and mixed in with Sydneysiders enjoying a normal night out away from the frenzy of places like Darling Harbour or Circular Quay. I shopped in the local stores, sampled the very tasty and fresh wares from local bakeries and even found myself a deli market to shop from regularly as I might if I lived in the area. One of the daily highlights was riding the ferry to and from downtown Sydney as it left Kirribilli which passes in front of the Opera House, alongside the Harbour Bridge and docks on Circular Quay in downtown Sydney. If you live in Kirribilli and work in Sydney it has to be the world’s best commute.

But, I didn’t restrict my daily jaunts to just Kirribilli. I made my way into Sydney proper and made an effort to steer away from the places I’d been before to find new sections of the city such as Balmain, a yuppie-bohemian style area within shouting distance of downtown, but far enough for the locals to have it almost to themselves. There was also Paddington and Surrey Hills, both with a slew of local shops, restaurants and artist showcases that seem prime to be ‘discovered’ (and they have been to some extent), but quite content to be supported by the local denizens for the time being.

Despite my best efforts, I still couldn’t keep away from some of the typical tourist locations and ultimately I decided it was for good reason. Places like the Botanical Gardens, Harbour Bridge, Opera House and Darling Harbour aren‘t popular without good reason and they are as much a part of an experience in Sydney as the more secluded locals areas. But, my lack of agenda for the week let me just enjoy them as a local might - as a fantastic backdrop to an otherwise normal day living in one of the best cities in the world.

SYDNEY PHOTOS: http://picasaweb.google.com/gscottie/Sydney0607

Tennis Anyone?

On my last night in Sydney, I found myself in front of the Sydney Opera House along the harbor. But, I wasn’t there for one last nostalgic look at the beautifully designed Opera House, or even an opera. Instead, I came for a tennis match.

My last night on the continent happened to coincide with the men’s championship of the Australian Open. While the tournament takes place a thousand miles south in Melbourne, tournament sponsor American Express erected a Jumbotron in front of the Opera House steps to bring the tournament to life in Sydney. They also set up a two-story hospitality suite and VIP viewing section for card members.

Since I happen to be a card member, I thought I'd take advantage of the free hospitality suite. While it was nice to enjoy a hospitality suite without feeling ultimately responsible for it somehow (a.k.a. my former work life), I was drawn out of the suite almost as quickly as I found myself in it. As hospitality suites can often do, it isolated me from the raucous crowd outside of over a thousand people who’d gathered on the Opera House steps to take in the match on the big screen.

However, the crowd was more than just random passersby who randomly decided to catch part of the match. This crowd had gathered for a purpose. Rather, two purposes. Decked out in Swiss and Chilean flags and painted faces, with patriotic chants to accompany them, half were there to support their Swiss champion, Roger Federer, while the other half were there to emphatically cheer on their burgeoning Chilean star, Fernando Gonzalez.

I might as well have bought a ticket to the match itself as my perch on the steps had all the elements of being live in Melbourne. Plus, the Jumbotron had a better view than any ticket I likely could’ve afforded. I found a place on the steps and watched the three set match amongst the throngs who cheered every ace, volley and point like it was happening on a court directly in front of them. Long rallies sent the crowd into frenzied cheers and applause, while questionable line calls for their respective players were met with disapproving boos, as though their disapproval might actually affect the call. The Chileans chanted Gonzalez’s name repeatedly and sang their national anthem with equal frequency while the Swiss cheered surprisingly loudly, they are Swiss afterall, for Federer though not quite matching the Chileans fervor.

But, both sides seemed to believe that their boisterous support from Sydney could somehow carry through the television and into Rod Laver Arena in Melbourne. I ultimately found myself enthralled with the match despite not having nearly the vested interest of the rest of the crowd. If anything, it was the crowd itself and the experience they created within which I had a vested interest. I also found myself with a new found interest to visit Chile as soon as possible.

When Federer ultimately prevailed at the end of the match, not a person moved as they waited even for the trophy presentation ceremony. Throughout both player's remarks, the crowd on the Opera House steps applauded in unison with those in down in Melbourne. When the telecast ended, the crowd dispersed, but chants from the Swiss and Chileans continued down Circular Quay, past the ferries and trains, and out into the city as they made their way home.

What started out as just taking advantage of some free hospitality, turned into one of my more memorable experiences in Sydney and Australia. While I’ll be lucky to remember who won, let alone who played, I’ll be hard pressed to forget my first visit to the Australian Open on the steps of the Sydney Opera House.

Hooked

From Sydney '06-'07

I stood in the chest-deep, frothy warm water off Bondi Beach and scouted the horizon behind me. As low tide began to give way to high tide, the waves were breaking unusually high and strong for Bondi. It was a struggle just to make it through the riptides and breaking waves to get to the sand bar I was semi-standing/floating on about 75 feet off the beach. My muscles screamed from the effort it took just to stay in one place so I could keep my eye on the breaking waves behind me.

Finally, I picked out a good looking wave, watched it break, and kept my eye trained on the rush of whitewater streaming toward me in the aftermath of the wave’s collapse. About 10ft before it hit, I turned toward the shore, laid down on my board and began to paddle my heart out. Turning my head back, I saw the bulge of water just about to hit my feet and paddled even harder. Suddenly, the wave picked up my board and me with it, sending us both flying toward the shore. I grabbed both sides of the board just to try to hang on and dismissed the thought of attempting to stand up. Then, I inexplicably decided to give it a go anyway. But, my clumsy attempt to climb on top of the board instead sent it flying in one direction and me in the other. It also sent about five gallons of salt water directly into my lungs, a taste that wouldn’t leave me for the rest of the day.

So began my first foray into surfing. I have no explanation for why I waited until my last full day of a two month stay in Australia to finally take a lesson. But, the wait was worth it as the perfect blue, cloudless sky and unusually big waves proved out. Of course, the excellent weekend weather also brought a bigger crowd to the beach than normal, which was a more than intimidating environment in which to try to surf for the first time. If my ill-fitting wet suit wasn’t a dead giveaway that I was a novice, then my steady stream of blooper-reel quality wipeouts gave the onlookers the best clue for who to watch for some free amusement. Adding fuel to the fire was the fact that while providing some initial training on the beach, my instructor had to repeatedly point out that there would be no sand to support the foot I kept placing on the beach when we were practicing standing up on the board ("You need to place your foot directly on the board," he said repeatedly).

But, once I was out in the water with the dozen others in my instructing class, the waves were the only focus of my attention. Obviously, we weren’t learning on the big breaking waves that experienced surfers ride. Instead, we waited until the waves broke then road the surge that continues after the waves collapse. In the high surf and strong waves, those were still sizable mounds of water with more than enough force to send me flying uncontrollably toward the shore each time. My goal was to stand up at least once in the two hour session. I’d managed to figure out how to catch the wave and ride it out, laying down of course. But, standing up was a completely different issue and I failed to come remotely close to standing atop the somewhat unwieldy piece of foam.

About an hour and a half into the lesson, the stars (and waves) aligned. I found a broken wave with my name on it, jumped onto my surfboard and paddled furiously. The wave caught the board and pushed me swiftly toward the beach. I brought up my back foot, steadied myself and then brought my front foot forward managing to stay on the board. I pushed myself up and threw out my arms to balance myself as I stood awkwardly crouched on top of the board - but standing no less. For five seconds I got a taste of the exhilarating sensation of riding a wave, small as it might have been. Much like hitting that one good stroke in an otherwise miserable round of golf, it was all I needed to get hooked.

I didn’t manage to stand up again for the rest of the session despite my best efforts at a repeat. But, the one time was all I needed to leave the beach fully satisfied and hungry for more. As I trade Australia for Thailand, I’m more eager than ever to get back to the beach. I’ll no longer be satisfied to just stand on the sand and admire the crashing waves. Now, I’ve got a new obsession which will hopefully one day soon find me watching the beach again from atop a crashing wave as it heads toward shore.

Through The Fire

About ten days ago I had the pleasure of exploring the Kuring-Gai National Park about 20 miles north of Sydney. For being so close to Sydney, its an expansive and impressive national parkland encompassing dense, mountainous forests scattered with aboriginal rock paintings and surrounded by inlet waterways formed by the confluence of the Hawkesbury River and Pacific Ocean on the northern edge of the park. I made the trip on the way up to the Hunter Valley, spending just a couple quick hours driving through the park and promising to return for further exploration before I left Sydney for good.

A few days ago, I had the unfortunate experience to find myself back near Kuring-Gai National Park only to watch it being consumed by a raging bush fire.

My train from Brisbane was stopped about two hours shy of completing its fifteen hour journey back to Sydney. We were advised that three large bush fires had erupted during the day causing the complete closure of all train lines as well as the major highway running north from the city. The sudden fires had engulfed the area in smoke and fire rendering them impassable. I was ushered onto a bus with my fellow passengers to attempt to make the final leg of the journey to Sydney through country back roads around the fires. But, with the highway closed traffic soon came to a standstill on the tiny roads with thousands of automobiles attempting to take the same circuitous route. For more than two hours our bus moved no more than a kilometer an hour.

Four hours later, within just 30 miles of Sydney, the pitch black sky began to glow red in spots on the horizon indicating where the fires were burning as well as their near proximity to our route. As we traversed the peaks of the undulating roadway, we began to glimpse startling views of the fires just a few miles away. Even in the darkness, the outline of large plumes of smoke were obvious as they stretched across the sky. A little closer to Sydney, and much closer to Kuring-Gai, a dozen or so fellow passengers began fits of coughing as the distinct odor of burning timber began to filter into the bus's ventilation system.

As we reached the fringe of the city, I looked out my window to see a sign indicating the train station for Kuring-Gai National Park which was just a few hundred feet beyond. As we passed the station, the image of bright red flames stretched out in a circle for miles all the way to the horizon with the closest edge just a few hundred yards from the street on which we were traveling hit home. The direction of the wind helped weary firefighters keep the smoke and embers at bay allowing the the flow of traffic to pass safely towards the city. But, as we passed, I could see the flames engulfing the beautiful landscape I'd been fortunate to see just a few days prior.

Unfortunately, for the next few days the firefighters came out on the losing end of a battle to keep the flames at bay as they refused to extinguish despite an all-out effort. The highways and train lines remained closed for over 48 hours until just a few days ago when the fire crews finally gained control of the blazes. But, not before a significant portion of the Kuring-Gai had burned.

As the height of summer begins in Australia, the risk of similar fires is unfortunately far from over. That danger is more critical this year than ever as the country suffers from the worst drought in the nation's history making conditions ripe to go ablaze with the slightest spark. Massive bush fires have already burned out a major swath of land and homes just north of Melbourne, searing hundreds of miles along the way. Now, it seems the area around Sydney may be ripe for suffering the same fate and its already taken it's first victim in one of the area's best natural attractions.

The Pendulum Swings

Last week I spent six days at an idyllic beach about eight hours north of Sydney with a mile of silky sand nearly all my own. I then spent two days in the city of Brisbane and its the latter that I'm going to write about because I enjoyed it the most. Seems that just a few weeks ago, I struggled to chronicle my exploration of any city, more comfortable writing about places further afield. My, how the pendulum swings.

From Coff's Harbou...

From Brisbane '07

Actually, it hasn't swung quite that far. I’m still far more inclined to find my way outside of most cities (save Sydney) and explore the countryside, but the small town of Coff’s Harbor lacked much else worth chronicling other than it’s excellent beaches. A few paragraphs about the quality of the sand or the shape of the crashing waves would undoubtedly make for dull reading. Thus, the unexpectedly exceptional city of Brisbane will get the focus of this post, and not undeservedly so.

Brisbane is billed as Australia's most liveable city, and after just two days of exploring I’d be hard pressed to disagree, although I could definitely make the case for Sydney. It’s as if Brisbane took notes on its larger sister cities to the south and then patterned itself after just their best parts. The end result is a beautiful city with a sleek skyline, great neighborhoods, and a fantastic waterfront area all in a place that’s remarkably easy to get around despite not feeling all that small. Brisbane’s almost two million inhabitants are nestled midway between the fabled Gold Coast to the south and the equally fabled Sunshine Coast to the north. As such, there are far worse fates than to find yourself living in Brisbane.



The city is centered about eight miles inland from the ocean, along the shores of the Brisbane River which leads out to the Pacific. Brisbane makes great use of it’s river shoreline with it’s downtown on the river’s edge and superb parks, museums and neighborhoods stretched out along the length of the twisting waters. A terrific walking/bike path stretches for miles up and down the river also making for a great way to take in some of the city’s best sights.





I opted for the walking path for most of my two days of exploration, but I also found that one of the best ways to see the city is via the inexpensive river cat ferry. The speedy ferry plies the waters up and down the river going to the far edges of the metro area providinhg a great tour of the million dollar homes that tastefully line the riverfront as well as the many attractive bridges that span the shores. The ride up or down the river also gives a greater understanding of the city's expanse and its many pleasant neighborhoods.







Downtown Brisbane is as pleasant an urban center as you could hope to find. It's clean, well laid out and remarkably scenic with wide, airy streets and sleek modern buildings. The central point is the Queen Street pedestrian mall with its requisite shops and restaurants, but there is plenty more to see on the surrounding streets with a mix of historic buildings, monuments, museums and botanical gardens infiltrating the shopping and business zones.









Just outside of the central business district, lie a number of welcoming neighborhoods that accent each other well. It's remarkably easy to get from one neighborhood to the other on foot, making Brisbane a city where you can easily sample its many tastes in just a day or two. One morning I began my day in the funky bohemian enclave of Fortitude Valley with thrift shops and flea markets standing next to chic designer storefronts. A short walk later, I found myself in stylish Spring Hill neighborhood, home to welcoming cafes and tree lined streets.



By mid-afternoon, I followed a bridge across the river to Southbank, a neighborhood nestled along the river's edge directly across from downtown. If there's ever a case for urban development done right, Southbank is probably it. The half-mile long area along the riverfront is lined with big, leafy trees and dense gardens that nearly obscure the buildings across the water. In the middle of the parkland is a construction of sand and pools (supposedly the only riverside beach in Australia) that looks far from it's man-made origins and a long way from any similar water park construction. A few blocks inland, I found Southbank's strip of enticing, open air restaurants capped by a row of first-class museums.







By the time daylight was winding down, I took the river cat ferry to the eastern edge of town to visit the New Farm neighborhood. New Farm seemed like a quiet neighborhood that's recently been 'discovered' and had all the new construction and shiny new eateries to show for it. New Farm's location on a bend in the river provides it with the distinction of having two of its borders surrounded by the river. I made the beeline between the two shores and then followed the walking path along the river back to downtown just as Brisbane's skyscrapers were lighting up for the night and as the setting sun illuminated them from behind.





Due to my short stay, I didn’t get a chance to explore the Gold or Sunshine Coasts to the north or south of Brisbane which is a shame because it’s said to be some of the finest shoreline in all of Australia. But, exploring Brisbane was well worth visiting on its own for two brief days. It whet my appetite to return one day and make sure that I carve out some time to explore those outlying shorelines as well.


BRISBANE PHOTOS: http://picasaweb.google.com/gscottie/Brisbane07
COFF'S HARBOUR PHOTOS: http://picasaweb.google.com/gscottie/CoffSHarbour07

The Hunter

I've spent the last six weeks traveling around Australia mostly via train. While a great way to see the varied landscape on the eastern half of the country, a couple of non-stop twelve hour hauls can make you long for the freedom of exploring by car. So, with the Hunter Valley just two hours drive from Sydney and not easily reachable by train, I opted for a rare indulgence in a rental car and the opportunity to give my lead foot an overdue workout while exploring one of Australia’s wine regions.

As seems to be the case with any wine country that I’ve been to, the ride out was scenic enough on its own to make the trip worthwhile. The route to the Hunter Valley wound through scenic river valleys and the northeastern fringe of the Blue Mountains along a few twisting back country roads that provided a much needed horsepower fix. After reaching the Hunter Valley, I took a drive around to scout out wineries for the next days' sampling and was surprised to find that the region was fairly compact. Dozens of wineries were lined up all within no more than 30 minutes drive in any direction of my guesthouse.

From The Hunter Va...

The next morning I awoke to begin exploring the dozen wineries I’d selected for sampling. Within a few moments of stepping out of the guesthouse, I discovered a unique characteristic of the Hunter Valley that I hadn’t experienced in other wine regions. The Hunter Valley gets hot - very hot. The temperature was easily 85F by mid morning and hovered around 90F most of the day.

As I learned during my tasting tour, the climate plays a big role in which grapes can be grown in the area, thus dictating which wines are produced by the Hunter region. Chardonnay and another white, Semilion, which I hadn’t tried before, are the area’s main product. While not a usual white drinker, the majority I sampled tasted very good. Merlot and Shiraz also thrive in the warm conditions, although I found most of those to be a bit lacking compared to what I was used to drinking in that style. The Margaret River Valley in South Australia, a more heralded wine region of Australia, seems to produce the best reds, but it was still interesting to try Hunter’s versions for comparison since Merlot and Shiraz are two of my standard wine choices.

The wineries themselves provided even more variety than the wine styles. Few opted for the standard wine estate look, instead most had a feeling of a ranches whose crop just happened to be grapes and wine instead of other produce or cattle and the ranch houses serving as tasting rooms. Each had its own character and style and the staff were more than willing to provide information and background on the wines and the area which I found immensely helpful to better enjoy the experience. A few embraced a more chic style with ultra modern design that seemed a little out of place in the laid back area but didn‘t seem to affect their popularity. Very few, if any, seemed like they were out to conquer the world with most seemingly happy with whatever level of business they currently enjoyed.









At most wineries I usually found just one wine that I liked, white or red. But at my favorite winery, Tulloch, I enjoyed all the wines sampled as they seemed to match my taste buds well. Unfortunately, as I found to be the case with most of the wineries in the Hunter Valley, Tulloch doesn’t export to the US so I had to settle for a few extra swishes around my cheeks before depositing the sample in the nearest spittoon. Toting a couple bottles in my bag for the next few months didn’t seem to be a viable option.

I made ample use of the spittoon during my day driving myself around sampling wines. But, I was glad to have booked a second night at my guesthouse to sleep away any possible effects the couple sips of wine that found their way down my throat could’ve had. It also gave me the opportunity to take a detour through the Blue Mountains on a long, twisty and scenic back country road on my way back to Sydney the next day. One last workout to satiate my lead foot for the next few months.


HUNTER VALLEY & BLUE MOUNTAINS PHOTOS: http://picasaweb.google.com/gscottie/TheHunterValleyTheBlueMountains07

The Olympic Village Goes Condo

From Sydney Olympi...

While Sydney returned to post-New Year's normalcy, I decided to take a trip down memory lane. I actually knew better than to try to relive the experiences from my two months spent in Sydney during the 2000 Olympic Games. But, I was curious to see what had become of the place, after billions of dollars were spent constructing it, now that the attentions of the world had long since focused elsewhere.

Exiting the train station, as I'd done a few hundreds times before, I was happy to find the Olympic Park similar to the way I've recalled it over the last six years. Unlike perhaps any other host city, Sydney chose to build the majority of it's sporting facilities for the games in one massive complex. The impressive facility boasts no less than a dozen world class facilities including the Olympic stadium, a full tennis complex, two indoor arenas, a baseball stadium and an aquatic complex. That's not including the equally massive athlete village next door complete with its own athlete only shopping center and cafeteria.

The facilities continue to be used heavily for international and national events which seems to bode well for the complex as the many facilities continue to live up to their Olympic pedigree. Likewise, the grounds have maintained their immaculate landscaping which continues to enhance the venue. Anyone visiting the Olympic Park today can still get a sense of what it was like to attend the games there. That's helped by a few new installations found around the complex that attempt to recreate portions of the Olympic experience. Although I did find one of those installations a bit ironic. The former Olympic cauldron that held the Olympic flame high above the stadium has been removed from it's lofty perch and converted into, of all things, a water fountain in a park across from the stadium.

Otherwise, I was pleased to find that my memory had not failed me over the years and many of the details were as I remembered them. Although, that doesn't mean I remembered everything. Walking through the tennis center, I suddenly realized that I'd watched Monica Seles cruise through a quarter final match on her way to a bronze medal, something I'd long since forgotten. I'd also forgotten just how large the area is despite the tightly packed facilities. It took me nearly half an hour just to walk from one end to the other despite the opposite end looking like it was just a few minutes walk the entire time.

But, my visit to the athlete village provided the most interesting discovery. It seems the Olympic Village has gone condo. The village was made up of hundreds of small homes and apartments spread out like a subdivision. Each house, as I found out through personal inspection, sheltered about ten athletes in two or three rooms making for pleasant although slightly cramped quarters. The individual apartments were provided to the top tier athletes to provide a little more space and privacy. I was under the impression that the village was going to be converted to low income housing post-games. But, it's gone in the decidedly opposite direction.

The apartments are now condos with security gates, manicured parks and designer furniture. The homes now house upper middle class families of four with a couple new cars in each drive way and a brand new paint job on every house. While I was there in 2000, IBM hosted an internet Surf Shack for the athlete's in the village, which I staffed from time to time (my main assignment was at a city facility downtown). But, my search for the former surf shack location ended in the produce section of the supermarket that now occupies that space, next to a Blockbuster and Krispy Kreme.

While I was pleased to find that the site of the 'best games ever' hasn't lost much of it's Olympic glory, it was lacking one thing. It was a few million people short of recreating the energy that pulsated throughout the area and the city over a half decade ago. For that, I'll just have to rely on my memories.

OLYMPIC PARK PHOTOS: http://picasaweb.google.com/gscottie/SydneyOlympicPark07

The Red Center

“It’s just a big rock in the middle of nowhere.” I heard that notion from a number of people who’d visited Uluru (Ayer’s Rock) before I came down to Australia. But, I arrived with an open mind only to find that those people weren’t too far off. Uluru is pretty much all by itself in the middle of the outback and just a little west and south of being the center of the country. Outside of one other rock formation, Kata Tjuta, 30 miles away, Uluru is the only aberration for hundreds of miles in the flat, desolate outback. But, it is a unique natural wonder that’s as formidable looking from a few miles away as it is a few feet away.

From Uluru (Ayer's...

A close up inspection is required to really appreciate Uluru. It’s really a small mountain that’s about 2.5 miles around with more of that distance being width versus depth. From a distance it looks a bit like a giant closed fist placed on the ground, but close up it reveals a more complex design with a surface that undulates vertically as well as horizontally. The standard postcard view hides a number of side canyons, eroded pock-marked caves and small water holes spaced around the landmass. The surface is unexpectedly smooth which Uluru owes to its composition from layers of sand compressed beneath the surface for millions of years until it was pushed above ground (about 80% of it remains below ground) to let thousands of years of rain and wind continue the shaping and polishing. In fact, you can sometimes see the lines delineating each layer as they run vertically (Uluru shifted on it’s side when pushed above ground) up the rock face. You can also see a few darkened streaks of rock marking where rainwater funnels down creases in the surface, on the rare occasions when it does rain, to form waterholes at the base. Some of those waterholes remain viable throughout the year providing needed hydration to the surprising number of thriving trees that hide in the side canyons near the water sources.

Uluru is also one of the most sacred spots on earth to Aborigines. As such, sections of Uluru are off limits to the public in terms of treading on or in them, but most are usually still viewable from a reasonable distance. Oddly, there is a climbing trail that leads up the mountain (seemingly difficult given the rocks smoothness eliminating natural areas for grip) which you can climb if you choose. But, just about every tour, signpost or piece of literature for Uluru pleads for visitors to respect Aboriginal wishes and not climb it. It would seem more cost-effective to save the cost spent on discouragement and forbid climbing altogether. At Uluru’s base, however, there are aboriginal paintings and carvings that you are encouraged to experience. I found one along the southern edge in a side canyon at a waterhole that’s considered an important site in Aboriginal lore. The rock paintings and carvings depict a regular pilgrimage to Uluru to pay tribute to a sacred serpent that lives in the waterhole and plays a role in the cycle of life and death.

But, I wasn’t up for such a pilgrimage, not one for tempting the cycle of life and death in the middle of a desert with the temperature hovering around 100F. So, I made a shorter journey back to my air conditioned shuttle bus which took me to the sunset viewing point where I’d be in prime position to observe Uluru light up in its classic red hues by the setting sun. Unfortunately, clouds rolled in and spoiled the party so the light show never materialized. Thus, I was left to enjoy Uluru in all its solemn brownness.

Unfortunately, once you’ve seen Uluru, there’s not much else to do. That can make life doubly tedious when you’ve chosen to camp out in one of the most inhospitable climates on the planet…in the middle of summer. The choice to camp out seemed reasonable enough from the cooler confines of Sydney, especially when I found that the cheapest room for hundreds of miles around Uluru was going for $150/night which was a long way from my budget parameters. Around 2pm each afternoon the temperature soared above 105F and my tent became a convection oven. Suddenly parting with $150/night seemed a much less difficult proposition. Luckily, my campground was part of a larger resort complex and I managed to find refuge in the nearby air-conditioned hotel lobbies, although I had to endure the questioning glare of front desk staff wondering who the big, sweaty guy was lounging on the lobby sofa and whether they should call security. Luckily, the temperature dropped about 20F at night making sleep reasonably tolerable. For a guy who hasn’t camped out in decades, I ended up managing just fine. If nothing else, I got a taste of life in the outback - one that will satiate any desire for a similar experience for some time to come.

Although it’s somewhat true that Uluru is a big rock in the middle of nowhere, I found my trip to Uluru worthwhile if for no other reason than to explore an interesting piece of geology and get a taste of the outback. But, one visit to the Red Center seems to be enough and I can now cross it off my ‘gotta see it’ list and focus my attention on getting to some of the other natural marvels elsewhere in the world.

ULURU PHOTOS: http://picasaweb.google.com/gscottie/UluruAyerSRock06