Uluru is where all the veins of Australia open onto the earth, pouring its rich red blood into the soil. Where the pain, joy, determination, and conflict of thousands of years have soaked into the ground and left it brilliant with all of the crimson emotions: anger, passion, love, rage. Drive down a weathered two-lane highway and into an otherworldly landscape of silvery-sage, lacy leaves clinging in desperate wisps to burnt-black branches and trunks, grounded in earth a vermilion shade that borders unnatural, and a pale blue sky that looks as though it had to be stretched over twice the distance it was meant to, only thinly covering the heavens and ready to split at a moments notice.
Uluru is a place where history is dreamtime, and it seems as if this part of the world has never woken up from the dream, and keeps spinning natural wonders that are as strange as they are awe-inspiring. A rock that looks incongruously soft, like a pillow for the gods, beckons on the horizon. The sky is dotted with cottony clouds, billowing up and flat on the bottom, as if even the heavens dare not get too close to this sacred earthen altar. Approach this sandstone mesa in a sea of red sand, and you soon find that its complexities outweigh even its awesomeness. Curious patterns carved by nature throw shapes and shadows that spark the imagination and many a myth. Heat presses down from above and even more insistently up from the ground, pinning you into a desert trance somewhere between reality and someplace you’ve never been before.
Watch the rock as the sun sets, and see a wild array of color on the low end of the color spectrum that only nature could create. As the sun sinks out of sight over a stretch of land as unending as the sea, Uluru settles into dark shadow on a purple horizon, ringed by the atmosphere, keeping its secrets for another day.