In which geology finally pays off and Team America emerge victorious from Bus Trivia

Certain things come to mind when one thinks of Australia: kangaroos, koalas, that horrible Men at Work song, Vegemite, and the Outback. Upon my arrival in Australia, I vowed that, come hell or high water, I would make it into this vast expanse of desert, and last weekend I fulfilled my promise to myself.
In all of my previous travels around Australia, the plane has swung wide out over the ocean, only returning to land just before landing. This time, flying into Alice Springs, we had no choice but to fly over Australia's vast interior, an experience that gave me yet another reminder of how immensely vast this country is. As we touched down, I stared out across a vast plane of tiny tufted trees, looking like something out of a Dr Seuss novel, each spaced just far enough apart to cast its own individual shadow, giving the land a mottled look.
We checked into our hostel and spent the afternoon wandering around the bustling metropolis that is Alice Springs. PSYCH. "The Alice," as it is called by the locals is, generously, a sleepy town. We enjoyed a nice omelet brunch, accompanied by an old man sitting on the bench across the way playing a variety of popular tunes, ranging from "On the Road Again" to "Roxane." In the immortal words of Notting Hill, "surreal, but nice." There wasn't much to see in the Alice so after a little souvenir shopping we headed back to the room to prepare for our 6 am wakeup the next day.
We met up with our guide, a diminutive Kiwi named Sam, before the sun came up Friday morning, and as we drove out to Uluri-Kata Tjuta National Park the sun rose to the strains of AC/DC's "Highway to Hell." To say the sunrise was spectacular would be an enormous understatement. It began as a single red ember just above the horizon, glowing hotly. Then, slowly, it began to send out tendrils, like ink dispersing in water, until soon the entire sky was bloodred. This only lasted for a few moments before the sky reverted to its normal electric blue, but its a mental snapshot that will stay with me forever.
We played a couple getting to know you games on the bus, and the group of 4 other Americans I was traveling with was quickly nicknamed "Team America," setting the stage for the intense inter-country rivalries that were to characterize the trip. Before long, we arrived at our first stop, King's Canyon, and the dreaded Heart Attack Hill. The journey from the ground to the top of the canyon is undertaken in one fell swoop during which you scrabble as quickly as your lungs will allow up steep "stairs" aka rocks. Fortunately the view on top was incredible. Sheer nothingness goes on forever in any direction, the only break in the monotony was a tin-roofed Aboriginal settlement glinting in the distance. As we began to navigate the perimeter of the canyon, Sam began to explain to us the geological processes that occurred to shape features such a King's Canyon, and how those intersect with the Aboriginal creation philosohpies, known collectively as Dreamtime stories. According to Aboriginal Dreamtime legends, the geological formations were created by giant humans, animals, and human-animal hybrids who wandered the landscape long before any of us arrived. It was simply fascinating to hear about the Aboriginal lore, as well as the ways in which these people learned to survive off this seemingly barren landscape. Fun fact: Having no written language, Aborignal people passed down incredibly vast amounts of information on survival techniques orally. However, this knowledge had to come from some trial and error. In order to figure out which varieties of seemingly inedible plants were edible and which were poisonous (hint: everything in Australia is poisonous), early Aboriginal peoples needed guinea pigs. They couldn't use the children, because even before "The Greatest Love of All" was released, they knew the children were the future. They couldn't use young or young-ish people because they were the hunters and gatherers, and the tribe depended on them for survival. And the old men were out of the question because they were tjilpi, or elders. They couldn't even test them on animals, because animals are scarce in the death, and why would you poison a perfectly good kangaroo/lizard when you could eat it. So, you guessed it. Sorry Grandma. At least as they died, presumably horrible, painful deaths writhing in agony, the old women knew they were providing useful knowledge to future generations.
After King's Canyon, we headed to our first campsite, where we were introduced to swags. A swag is simply a large sack that you put your sleeping bag into and zip up around yourself. Basically a glorified body bag, but surprisingly comfortable. And one advatnage of sleeping in a giant sack is that you are free to roll over and stare up at the MULTITUDE of stars.
The next day we headed to Kata Tjuta, which means "Many Heads" in the native Aboriginal language. Nearly everything in Aboriginal culture is divided into Women's Business or Men's Business. Men hunted while women gathered. No women's lib here ladies, sorry. Due to the incredibly difficulties of day to day survival, this division of labor was integral to the survival of the tribe. Everything was separated, including sacred sites. Kata Tjuta is a men's sacred site, and to this day, it would be incredibly poor form for an Aboriginal woman to visit. Much of the lore surrounding exactly why this site is a "men's" site or even why it is so holy is highly privileged information, and as none of us had completed our six months in the desert living off the land, it was unfortunately off limits for us. Regardless, it was completely awe inspiring and we again found ourselves scrabbling around on steep rock faces (Sam's helpful advice being to "run," because running up sheer rock is so simple). The views, again, were spectacular, and the climbs were, as always, completely worth it.
After roaming around Kata Tjuta for a bit longer we headed back to camp, after a stop off at a cattle farm the size of Denmark...or Belgium. I can't quite recall...Regardless, I think Team America made great strides in inter-country relations by NOT purchasing any alcohol, obviously because we prefer to sip a nice cold glass of lemonade and discuss relevant current events. Actually, we were just broke and the store didn't sell goon. Oh well, we did introduce everyone to s'mores around the campfire, so if that's not extending the cultural olive branch than I don't know what else.
The next morning (after being woken up by dingos) we headed for Uluru, the largest single rock in the entire world. Now rocks can get pretty big. We've all seen boulders, after all. Safe to say, Uluru puts them all to shame. Its 9.4 kilometers around and 348 meters high...above ground. It is estimated that Uluru extends at least 2.5 kilometers into the ground. All one solid, unbroken piece of rock. As you might imagine, its pretty awe-inspiring to stand at its base. We watched the sun rise and set over Uluru, changing colors on the rock face, and walked around the base of it, really gaining an appreciation for how huge and variegated this enormous rock is. One thing that attracts many people to this site is the opportunity to climb Uluru. Over 40,000 people climbed Uluru last year, out of nearly 400,000 visitors. If this doesn't seem like a lot, that's a good thing. Traditionally, Uluru is where boys who have just finished their Walkabout (6 months or more wandering in the desert living off the land)go to become initiated men. They climb Uluru to receive sacred knowledge, and it is very disrespectful for anyone else to make the climb. Unfortunately, respecting indigenous cultures has never been incredibly high on the importance list of most western cultures, and many people climb regardless, fueled by that desperate need to summit tall things (see Everest, Kilimanjaro, et al). If disrespecting one of the oldest cultures in existence isn't enough to deter you, consider the danger. The climb is incredibly steep and difficult, and the last person to die attempting the climb occurred just a week before we got there. If extreme danger isn't enough, consider the environment. Thousands of people climbing the rock every year adds up to a lot of human waste. Yup, human waste. As in poop and worse. And when it rains, all that poop etc washes off the top of the rock and into the waterholes located on either side of Uluru. One has become so pulluted that animals won't drink from it anymore. And when animals turn down water in a DESERT, its a problem. Side note: yeah, that's also the equivalent of walking into a cathedral, mosque, or synagogue and taking a nice dump on the floor. Real classy. But if extreme danger, disastrous environmental impact and intense cultural disrespect are your cup of tea, giddy up. Adding insult to injury, its incredibly important to Aboriginal people to protect visitors to their land. If someone dies on your land, its a huge problem for you, because it means you didn't do everything within your power to keep them alive ie show them your water sources, make sure they have food, keep them from climbing an incredibly dangerous, incredibly sacred rock. So for all of these people who don't heed the numerous warnings, both about the dangers of the climb and the incredible cultural significance of the rock, and die in the process, the Aboriginals must perform a sorrow ceremony because they consider it THEIR FAULT that you were a disrespectful idiot. Yikes.
Fortunately, no one from our group decided to do the climb and we appreciated Uluru from the safe, respectful ground. On the five hour bus ride back to Alice Springs, we were all starting to go a little stir crazy so we decided to have a "friendly" little game of trivia. Some of you may know my affinity for, and bizarre skills in the realm of obscure knowledge. I am happy to say, despite some stiff competition from "Cup o' Tea" aka the Brit, "Oh my God" Team America emerged victorious, no small thanks to the hours I have spent this semester wishing I were dead in Geology class. So thank you, crazy Dr. White, and also thank you to my incredibly obscure memory which allows me to remember not only who broke the sound barrier but also what an alluvial fan is.
All in all the Outback was amazing. The rocks were red, the sky was blue, the flies were abundant and aggressive, (at one point we had a contest to see who could accumulate the most flies on them without moving. I won, with eight on my shin alone, thank you, thank you) and frankly, that's good enough for me.