A 3 and a half hour plane journey is pretty long to go and look at a big rock, but it’s what thousands of tourists do every year. We were following in their footsteps as we stepped onto the tarmac at Connellan Airport, having already glimpsed the mighty Uluru on our descent. The first thing that struck me was how red the soil was, and within very little time we were setting off down the road to our hotel with Uluru looming large on the horizon. It completely dominates the flat landscape around it, and its very existence appears to defy all logic.
A few of us went off to our rooms after lunch for a nap (Johny promptly fell asleep for 12 hours and woke up at 5am!), and then at sunset Nat and I walked up a track to get a decent view of what we’d all come to see. My first experience of the setting sun hitting the most famous Australian landmark was slightly marred by the persistant desert flies that seemed hell bent on crawling up my nose, and Nat’s running commentary about how decidedly unimpressed he was with the whole thing. But I still felt immensely lucky to be standing there watching it.