Uluru - to Climb or not to climb?
As we contemplated our journey to the Centre of Australia and to Uluru, we were aware of the request of the Anangu people not to climb the rock, as it was a sacred site for their people. Uluru is at the heart of the Tjurrka, the dreamtime which is the foundation for Aboriginal relationships – with the land, with its produce, its animals and with one another. Uluru holds a central place in the identity of the local tribes, and the summit the locale for an ancient ceremony. For non-aboriginal people, with little understanding of these ceremonies, to climb is to trample on sacred ground. I have a great respect for this.
And yet at the same time, Uluru is at the heart of the Australian continent. As an image and by its location, it is an icon of Australia, albeit in a different way than for the Indigenous peoples. White Australia regards it as a single entity, whereas for aboriginal people it reads more like a book – each aspect and facet telling a different story, some of which are accessible to non-aboriginal people by way of introduction. Yet this is not to deny the sacred place that Uluru holds in Australian hearts.
I had visited Uluru back in 1974, when it was known as Ayers Rock. I had camped at its base, climbed its summit, entered a number of the caves, and seen its beauty in sunshine and rain. It left an indelible imprint upon my young mind, the perspectives readily recalled and continually reflected upon. When we decided as a family to turn my Long Service Leave into an expedition around the remote parts of Central, North and Western Australia, it was to give our children an opportunity to reflect upon what it means for them to be Australian, and to gain a perspective outside of the urban settings in which we live. Uluru was to be such a significant part of that journey that we set aside five nights in the area to explore both Uluru and the Kata Tjuta. Remembering how awesome the experience of climbing Uluru had been for me and how formative it had become for me through the years, we decided to take the climb, meaning no disrespect for the Anangu people.
For those who have not undertaken the climb, it is a challenge on many fronts. The initial climb is incredibly steep, and not the only difficult part of the journey. One has to cross narrow ridges with steep falls on each side, some with significant slopes of their own. It is physically and emotionally demanding, and for those with an ear and sensitivity, spiritually challenging and enriching.
For our family climbing Uluru was a deeply sacramental moment. We encouraged our children to listen on the journey, not only to the sounds of the rock, but to the inner voices as they climbed. The need to confront fears, to meet challenges as they arose and to consider the voices and stories of people who had cared for and worked in harmony with Uluru for thousands of years. For each of us there were different challenges. Samuel, our youngest - legally blind - had to learn the journey of trust and the place of stillness when there was no-one to guide and reassure him. Caleb, our oldest child faced fears of heights as he confronted the steep descent. Rachel relished the freedom and the winds, loving the challenges and growing in confidence. Ev affirmed her own sense of growth in strength and fitness through previous years, and overcame her own uncertainties with the height and steepness of the pathways. I was able to explore a somewhat familiar journey with new eyes, appreciating the Aboriginal traditions passed from generation to generation. We paused for quite some time at the summit and imagined the peoples of history as they viewed this place and shared its wonder and its voices.
One cannot walk away from Uluru without recognising it as a living being with many faces, many stories and many hidden secrets. It has stood boldly in the middle of the continent, resisting the winds and sandstorms which have weathered other places more seriously. It has told its stories to generations of Indigenous peoples and now to newer Australians. I have learned of Ayers Rock and on this journey have now begun to understand Uluru. I am grateful to the Anangu people for their forebearance towards us in allowing our own traditions to develop alongside their own, and for an illuminating insight into part of their rich and vibrant heritage.
The relationship of Uluru to Indigenous Australians and others is still a burning question...
And yet at the same time, Uluru is at the heart of the Australian continent. As an image and by its location, it is an icon of Australia, albeit in a different way than for the Indigenous peoples. White Australia regards it as a single entity, whereas for aboriginal people it reads more like a book – each aspect and facet telling a different story, some of which are accessible to non-aboriginal people by way of introduction. Yet this is not to deny the sacred place that Uluru holds in Australian hearts.
I had visited Uluru back in 1974, when it was known as Ayers Rock. I had camped at its base, climbed its summit, entered a number of the caves, and seen its beauty in sunshine and rain. It left an indelible imprint upon my young mind, the perspectives readily recalled and continually reflected upon. When we decided as a family to turn my Long Service Leave into an expedition around the remote parts of Central, North and Western Australia, it was to give our children an opportunity to reflect upon what it means for them to be Australian, and to gain a perspective outside of the urban settings in which we live. Uluru was to be such a significant part of that journey that we set aside five nights in the area to explore both Uluru and the Kata Tjuta. Remembering how awesome the experience of climbing Uluru had been for me and how formative it had become for me through the years, we decided to take the climb, meaning no disrespect for the Anangu people.
For those who have not undertaken the climb, it is a challenge on many fronts. The initial climb is incredibly steep, and not the only difficult part of the journey. One has to cross narrow ridges with steep falls on each side, some with significant slopes of their own. It is physically and emotionally demanding, and for those with an ear and sensitivity, spiritually challenging and enriching.
For our family climbing Uluru was a deeply sacramental moment. We encouraged our children to listen on the journey, not only to the sounds of the rock, but to the inner voices as they climbed. The need to confront fears, to meet challenges as they arose and to consider the voices and stories of people who had cared for and worked in harmony with Uluru for thousands of years. For each of us there were different challenges. Samuel, our youngest - legally blind - had to learn the journey of trust and the place of stillness when there was no-one to guide and reassure him. Caleb, our oldest child faced fears of heights as he confronted the steep descent. Rachel relished the freedom and the winds, loving the challenges and growing in confidence. Ev affirmed her own sense of growth in strength and fitness through previous years, and overcame her own uncertainties with the height and steepness of the pathways. I was able to explore a somewhat familiar journey with new eyes, appreciating the Aboriginal traditions passed from generation to generation. We paused for quite some time at the summit and imagined the peoples of history as they viewed this place and shared its wonder and its voices.
One cannot walk away from Uluru without recognising it as a living being with many faces, many stories and many hidden secrets. It has stood boldly in the middle of the continent, resisting the winds and sandstorms which have weathered other places more seriously. It has told its stories to generations of Indigenous peoples and now to newer Australians. I have learned of Ayers Rock and on this journey have now begun to understand Uluru. I am grateful to the Anangu people for their forebearance towards us in allowing our own traditions to develop alongside their own, and for an illuminating insight into part of their rich and vibrant heritage.
The relationship of Uluru to Indigenous Australians and others is still a burning question...
posted by revheard at 11:04 pm
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