Another early morning with a 5:30 am shower and a 6:30 am bus ride to the airport. The entire check-in and security process is so streamlined in Australia that I was sitting at the gate within 10 minutes of the door opening on the bus.
The 8:45am flight was entirely uneventful, with the exception of a trip down the aisle to the bathroom. Waiting for availability, I stood in line with a teenage Aboriginal boy. I felt remarkably uncomfortable. The prejudice and history of British massacres and small pox poisonings of the early 20th century are still fresh wounds to this ancient people. I looked at the floor. Then feeling stupid for a cultural injury that had nothing to do with me, I raised my gaze and met his eyes. It was a race for who could look away first. I think I won. Awkward. Venturing to bridge the gap, I asked if he lived in Melbourne or Alice Springs (obvious, dumb question). The one word response was “Alice”. The sliding clap of the bathroom latch was a welcome diversion and he was off but the unfounded guilt lingered.
How does one deal with stereotyped and disassociate guilt. I couldn’t be farther from having had a correlating impact on Aboriginal atrocities than I could have been responsible for the sinking of the Titanic. Yet, purely by indirect association of common appearance to the offense inflictors of the past I am uncomfortable in my own skin standing in line for the bathroom on an airplane.
The heat of Alice Springs wasn’t the “Florida Wall” of humidity but a gradual roasting. The first impact after de-boarding the plane is radiant relief from the chill of high altitude travel. Then the two hundred meter stroll to the terminal thaws the skin level chill and core temperature rises. The wild thing is that the dry heating process actually draws “goose bumps” to the skin’s surface and then they’re gone.
Climbing into my rental car, for which I accepted every possible insurance, the steering wheel was so hot my hand reflexively shot back from the searing rubber. This was going to be an extremely hot trip. No worries, there’s air conditioning in the car. A logical assumption would be that the compressor would aptly chill the compartment, but when the temperature is approaching 110F the AC efforts are more directional in terms of climate control than definitive.
With a full tank of gas, a quick Mc-y D’s run, and sun glasses in place I headed for Uluru National Park which should take between four and five hours. The first surprise was that in the Outback the two lane freeways contain “Road Trains”, which are Semi-Trucks hauling up to five full size trailers in tow. You can imagine my surprise and reflexive reaction to the air turbulence generated by the first of these surprising behemoths to blow in the opposite direction. The sheer wind wall nearly swept my compact rental car off the simmering blacktop into the waiting red sand dessert.
Second, was that the cab temperature was so elevated that the sweat was flowing freely. Any expose skin was tangibly cooking in this mobile solar oven. Permeating heat combined with a late night and early start were a recipe for falling asleep at the wheel. Fortunately, Stuart’s Well watering hole appeared as a perfectly timed mirage.
The station was real and so was the hospitality. (The camels could have been a figment of my imagination... haaa.) The Melbourne Cup was due to start in less than half an hour, so I bought a bottle of water and an ice cream. The handful of desert faring locals thought it was great fun to give “the Yank” grief for total Australian horse racing ignorance. I didn’t mind the good natured drubbing as the mutual laughs were energizing, which is what was needed most. After the race, I promised a return visit on my way back from Uluru.
The rest of the trip was hot, energized by diet coke and an undisturbed (doors locked) roadside half-hour nap, resulting in an uneventful arrival. There is a single location in which to stay outside the Uluru National Park. This resort is full service, providing every level of accommodation from campsites to 5 Star suites. With the sweat of a four and a half hour drive still fresh and an increase in the heat index, I opted for the air conditioned 48 bed dorm accommodation. This really wasn’t that bad, because the bunk beds are divided into groups of four, then separated by an eight-foot cement block semi-wall.
After “checking in” it was already time to head to the true Uluru location and the great red sandstone rock for sunset. The rock and sunset sky were both extremely impressive, far over-delivering against any preconceptions. This was exceptionally one of “those moments” where I viscerally longed to share the experience in “real time” with someone else.
