Yuluru
'Yuluru' means meeting place in the local aboriginal language, there are hundreds. It is deemed sacred by them.The Protestant hymn 'Rock of Ages' comes to mind.
It can be spotted on the horizon from about 31 ks out and is resplendent in a purplely red hue with deep violet shadows. The sheer size becomes apparent on closer inspection especially set against the dead flat bush. In fact it is not one rock but a peak of an underground mountain range that runs for 1500 ks. The smoothness of it's exterior is a feature as, of course, is it's colour which is in fact rust, iron oxide. It is quite tightly controlled by the Parks Authority in conjunction with the Aboriginal owners of the land. A viewing position is designated and photography denied in many areas. We felt a bit like battery tourists but What the Hey as the Americanos say. Mostly Japanese tourists here rather than the transatlantic types.
We cicumnavigated the rock, 7 ks, and then settled into the sunset viewing station to let Perkins get a good view. He was positioned in a prickly bush and only when his owner started to be stung al lover his arm did I realise that Perks was covered in ants. Bush Tucker for the brave, and Salavador Dali apparently.
We stayed the night at the only designated stopover, Yaluru. This is a government built high-end tourist resort which is now run by a private monopoly. We booked into the second cheapest accomodation which turned out to be about 25o euro for one night. The whole complex looked like a science fiction vision of an emcampment on the moon in the sixties. It is apparently riddled with bush mice and we were warned to report them to management if spotted. We saw nothing more than a gekko, on Georgie's side of the bed luckily, lovely as they are.
In the morning we visited the nearby Aboriginal Cultural Centre a much more ' organic' wooden building that rambled in a curvilinear shnake like pattern in the bush. Here we read a bit about the bush culture, saw a video of several large bare breasted and painted middle aged ladies dancing rather embarrasedly in a small circle in the tundra and visited the shop where they sold local paintings. Here we saw an aboriginal painter working on a dot painting with the ever present bottle of coke and choccie beside her.
Thank God for air conditioning. My admiration for the indiginous people who lived for c.50,000 in these conditions is boundless. Not to mention their diet of live grubs, giving a whole new meaning to 'grubs up'.
It can be spotted on the horizon from about 31 ks out and is resplendent in a purplely red hue with deep violet shadows. The sheer size becomes apparent on closer inspection especially set against the dead flat bush. In fact it is not one rock but a peak of an underground mountain range that runs for 1500 ks. The smoothness of it's exterior is a feature as, of course, is it's colour which is in fact rust, iron oxide. It is quite tightly controlled by the Parks Authority in conjunction with the Aboriginal owners of the land. A viewing position is designated and photography denied in many areas. We felt a bit like battery tourists but What the Hey as the Americanos say. Mostly Japanese tourists here rather than the transatlantic types.
We cicumnavigated the rock, 7 ks, and then settled into the sunset viewing station to let Perkins get a good view. He was positioned in a prickly bush and only when his owner started to be stung al lover his arm did I realise that Perks was covered in ants. Bush Tucker for the brave, and Salavador Dali apparently.
We stayed the night at the only designated stopover, Yaluru. This is a government built high-end tourist resort which is now run by a private monopoly. We booked into the second cheapest accomodation which turned out to be about 25o euro for one night. The whole complex looked like a science fiction vision of an emcampment on the moon in the sixties. It is apparently riddled with bush mice and we were warned to report them to management if spotted. We saw nothing more than a gekko, on Georgie's side of the bed luckily, lovely as they are.
In the morning we visited the nearby Aboriginal Cultural Centre a much more ' organic' wooden building that rambled in a curvilinear shnake like pattern in the bush. Here we read a bit about the bush culture, saw a video of several large bare breasted and painted middle aged ladies dancing rather embarrasedly in a small circle in the tundra and visited the shop where they sold local paintings. Here we saw an aboriginal painter working on a dot painting with the ever present bottle of coke and choccie beside her.
Thank God for air conditioning. My admiration for the indiginous people who lived for c.50,000 in these conditions is boundless. Not to mention their diet of live grubs, giving a whole new meaning to 'grubs up'.
posted by Tim Goulding at Monday, February 14, 2005
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