Sunrise and Flies at the Rock
Trip Start Dec 03, 2004
85Trip End Nov 31, 2005
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As the sun rises, Uluru goes . . . more red. And there are more flies. And again, about five hundred people milling around, working the angles, looking for the best photo. I'm glad when we get back on the bus and are dropped off for our nine kilometre hike around the base.
Right out on the walk we run into an inquisitive dingo in the grass; maybe the same one that ate Lindy Chamberlain's baby
There's no rest for the wicked, though, and no food either, until we dash over to Kata Tjuta (previously known as the Olgas, a series of rounded red domes in the desert) and hike up the canyon between two of the domes. I'm overcome with tourist-sickness, the feeling that nothing is worth contemplating except a pool and a margarita. Everyone is crabby, angry about the flies, and by now ominously hungry. Firie whisks us back to the camp for chicken burgers and restores equilibrium, then drives us the couple hours up the road to the Kings Canyon Resort, where we are given time to cool off in---yes---the pool.
Our camp that night is in the bush, but a less lonely bush I could not imagine, as four other Adventure Tours Australia busses are gathered around the little cabins. We have a camp fire oven with the coals from our bonfire (wood gathered on a little side road where the bus almost ran down a herd of wild horses). The little tents and their tiny bunks are sweltering that night, and the younger Germans are up 'til all hours chattering and dancing about to inaudible music. I know the five o'clock wake up will be unbearable.