A controversial decision

It is no longer ‘the done thing’ to climb Uluru. But you still can. There are PLENTY of resources and signs giving reasons why one should NOT climb, and very little concrete information on the hike, should you choose not to listen to the pleas. I was VERY reluctant to do it. I had climbed ‘Ayer’s Rock’ as a kid, had rather clear memories of it, and didn’t feel the need to do it again. I was amazed with the wonder and the awe inspired by the rock itself and felt no need to climb it. Unfortunately the children and Dunc ALL disagreed with me. Even after reading the info and visiting the Cultural Centre, the response from them all was “Yeah. I get it. I still want to climb it though.” No guilt. No second thoughts. All very keen. Not me. I was AGONISING over the decision. At first it was easy, as the climb was closed. No need to fuss and more time to convince them otherwise. Well that didn’t work. They were still determined to climb it, if at all possible.

Having such clear memories of my climb about a million years ago, I knew how difficult and dangerous it was. And ALL of the reasons stated for not climbing it stress the danger. So I was INCREDIBLY reluctant to let Dunc go up with 2 children to supervise on his own. We had one chance left to climb and I had finally made up my mind – if they were going up, I would go too. Ironically, everything I read about the reasons for NOT climbing it seemed to convince me otherwise. We would be well prepared and our children are very well behaved – I believed our risks were minimal. I had heard from people who should know, that one of the reasons people were encouraged not to climb was because of the costs of rescue and public liability insurance. One of my most vivid memories as a child was starting the climb and seeing a helicopter fly by after rescuing someone from the top. “At least I know I can always take the easy way down!” said my Dad. And everything we read seemed to confirm this. The sacred parts of Uluru all seem to be on the other side of the rock from where you climb. And at the cultural centre, the video of interviews with local communities even quotes elders as saying “We are used to white man climbing the rock now. Its ok.”

And so we came to our last day at Uluru and our last chance to climb. We got going early, with the back-up plan of walking to the right and then joining the 10am guided walk to the left along the bottom if it was too windy. We had shorts and t-shirts and camelbacks and hats and snacks, all prepared for an exhausting climb. We were in our hiking boots. And we got there and it was closed. Too windy at the summit. Everyone else was devastated. Lexie even cried. I was secretly quite relieved, though I didn’t say anything out loud, knowing how disappointed everyone else was. We decided to do our back-up walks and Dunc and Angus went off to the loo first. We didn’t realize just how far away those toilets were! By the time they got back, Lexie and I were frozen stiff and I INSISTED that we go home to change into warmer clothes – if we were not climbing the rock, we did not need to be dressed in t-shirts and shorts.

It was a 24km drive back to Bertha, so almost a 50km round trip. I was so cold my nose was running so there was no argument – home we went. We had a quick change in order to be back by 10am for the guided hike, and Dunc changed out of his hiking boots to his workboots for comfort.

And then when we got back to the carpark, something entirely unexpected happened… There was a crowd at the base of the rock, which we assumed was the tour. And then we saw a surge and a trickle of people heading UP the climb! They had opened it! Cue shrieks of happiness from the family and gut-wrenching guilt from me. With a little bit of happiness for the rest of them, as Lexie had been sooooo disappointed and was now so happy.

And so we got to do the climb afterall. In the one 4 hour window when it was permitted in the entire time we were there, as they closed the climb again right as we got back down to the bottom! How lucky we were.

The climb was incredibly full-on. It starts with a scramble up the rock to the bottom of the chain that runs most of the way up the side. We found out later, that they call rock at the top of the first part of the climb ‘chicken rock’, as that’s where people tend to chicken out. There is quite a distance to cover between the safety of the rock ledge and the first pole of the chain. Angus asked earlier what would happen if he changed his mind halfway up. I told him in no uncertain terms that the decision was entirely cultural. They either did or didn’t want to climb. And if they did, then they bloody well WOULD climb. Changing his mind was not an option.

It was quite a hard slog up that chain. We pulled our way up. And up and up. The children kept one hand on the chain or within easy reach. I saw so many other children doing silly things and being out of reach. There were 2 hats lost by people who didn’t wear sensible chin straps like we did. There was a water bottle that came bouncing down the rock and got caught by someone below us. Thankfully our family didn’t lose a thing! We made sure to stop and think about the traditional owners at places that looked like they might be significant, too.

Almost at the top, there was a great space to stop and rest. There was one more stretch of chain, and at the top of that I had my next strongest memory – that of my mother seeing the chain finish but the white dashed line leading waaaaaay off into the distance and swearing profusely. They say you turn into your parents, and I can confirm that I have!

The trip across the top took quite some time and was rather dangerous. There are parts where you are walking on a path only 70cm wide with big dips on either side. I was so glad I chose to do this with everyone. Eventually we made it to the cairn on the top, which no longer has a register to sign. Instead, they have a ‘did not climb’ register in the Cultural Centre. We were happy with photos and phone calls instead. Dad was quite concerned about our descent as he remembered our last trip too, and was very happy to get another call when we were safely back down.

The trip down was just as slow as our trip up. We had made friends with a number of other groups, as you pass each other in turns up and down. We were travelling at the same pace as 2 lovely women who kept us amused and were super impressed with the kids. Angus got a little distressed right at the last stretch. He was just exhausted and the gradient was really steep, which was far more obvious on the downward journey. He was happier with Duncan right behind him, I think more for the psychological reassurance.

We were amazed to see that the climb was closed again – how fortunate we were. We made the long trek to the toilets and got to sit at the shelter and watch where we had climbed. And with NO sign of Whingey or Whiney the entire climb. What an achievement for us all!