Uluru (also known as Ayers Rock) is a magical place, one of Australia’s most iconic landmarks. It is a place that is steeped in tradition and one that has a highly significant spiritual meaning in Aboriginal life. It’s also a place that is shrouded in modern day political contrasts and confusions.  To climb the rock, or not climb the rock?  To take a picture, or not take a picture?  A holy site or simply a big rock? These were questions with which I was faced and didn’t quite understand until my final moments at Uluru. It was a moment, where after days of forcing imagery and wanting to experience something surreal, I realized that it simply wasn’t going to happen. It was just then, only after letting my guard down, did the rock finally speak to me and allow me to experience a moment in time that will be engraved into my mind for as long as I live.

Sunrise at Uluru

When I rolled into Yulara, the small tourist town outside of Uluru, I set up camp at the Desert Garden Voyages, which was to be my home for my final five days in the Northern Territory. Five days in one spot is a long time on a photographic journey and I was prepared to get the best images possible. I knew the locations and interesting angles from where I should shoot, (thanks to hours on Google Earth) and the times of the sunrises and sunsets. It was simply a matter of getting out there and making it happen. I unrealistically hoped that I would be lucky enough to take some of the best photos of Uluru ever taken on my few days here.

I had a great itinerary for my time in the Northern Territory made up of exciting and inspiring events daily. At the sound of silence dinner, I sipped on great Australian wines and dined behind the shadow of Uluru. I  went on a camel trek at sunset while staring off at the silhouette of Kata Tjuta as the sky glowed orange behind it, and enjoyed an outdoor BBQ at the Outback Pioneer Bar. I experienced all of this at one of the world’s most beautiful places, but there was still something missing. I had a desire to connect at a different level with this place and it was proving to be quite difficult.

A little bubbly to accompany your sounds of silence dinner? Ah… yes please.

Sounds of Silence dinner

Essentially, most of the people at Uluru are tourists. There is a small Aboriginal town within the park called Mutitjulu, but it requires a special permit to enter the town. Everywhere you look there is another jumbo bus arriving, hauling hoards of tourists off to another site for their packaged deals. Every morning, thousands of people line up along a marked rope and snap away to capture the fabled sunrise. It’s beautiful, don’t get me wrong- but I was hoping for a slightly more personalized experience. I was expecting something a little more moving than standing next to 500 tourists with their cameras snapping away non-stop.

Uluru is a very spiritual place for all Aboriginal people, but particularly to the Pitjantnanara people, who are the traditional owners of the site. Aboriginal people believe very strongly in respect and show their respect through avoidance practices. It is out of respect that you do not make eye contact with one another, or mention the name of a deceased family member, or take pictures of sacred spiritual sites. This is a belief that I completely respect and did not want to offend anyone during my time as a guest at Uluru. It was also a belief that was a bit difficult for me as a photographer, considering the fact that my sole purpose was to photograph and write about my journey through the Outback.

I was given one of the three media passes granted per month and was also assigned a media ranger who followed my every move while I was in the park. Although I was given special access to areas not open to the public, it was the ranger’s job to make sure that I did not take any photographs or video of sacred sites in accordance with the Anangu guidelines. Although I completely respect this, I found it to be a little restrictive compared to my usual photographic freedom. I was getting worried about being able to get “the shot” I was hoping for.

It’s not called the red center for nothing!

The previous day had been cloudy and when I woke up on my final day to see a gray sky and rain, I made the conscious decision that there was nothing more I could do. I was beat, exhausted and needed a break. I had been on the move non-stop for 25 days, shooting close to a thousand photographs a day, and it was time for me to simply sit back and enjoy the place!  Uluru and I had been butting heads since the moment I arrived. My photographic expectations had not come to fruition, and I was tired of trying to force it.

This “No-photo” mentality came as quite a surprise to the second media ranger I met on the afternoon of my final day. She was going to escort me around the park to a few new locations. When we got out of the car and started walking she said – “It’s a little bit of a walk to the spot. Do you want to grab your camera before we go?”

I responded with:

“Nah, I don’t think so. I think I’ll leave it in the car.”

That was met with raised eyebrows. Here I was, with the same media pass that Oprah and her film crew (the size of a small town) had when they visited, and I was telling her that I really didn’t feel like bringing my camera.

Truth be told, I didn’t feel like bringing it. I wanted to just try and experience the place without taking from it. I wanted to smell it and breathe it without trying to photograph its beauty and to finally try and connect with Uluru before I left. And anyway, it was raining.

Lightning striking just next to Uluru

A detailed view of Uluru at sunrise

That’s when she told me about the Anangu’s (the local Aboriginal people) belief that to truly understand and appreciate Uluru, you had to sit and listen to it. You had to listen to what the land has to say, to feel it and let it talk to you. We made our way along the Mala walk in the rain, drawing in the smell of the eucalyptus leaves which, thanks to the rain, where giving off a strong aroma. She told me about some of the ancient beliefs at the Kantju Gorge, and about the old spirituality of the place. Then we stopped for a while, listened and breathed.  It had literally been the first time I had stopped moving in a month. Definitely the first time I had been without a camera. I sat and tried to imagine people living and moving about this water hole thousands of years ago, long before the Renaissance, long before biblical times. People came to hunt, to drink, to rest and to practice their beliefs. Just because there is not an altar, statue, shrine or any man made entity, doesn’t mean that this isn’t a holy site. In those minutes that I stood there in silence and listened to the wind sway through the trees, I really felt its spirituality.

Suddenly the brisk blustery wind shifted directions and felt warmer. The ranger and I  talked about how nice it is to just slow down sometimes.  She told me about the notion of sitting and listening and how it simply doesn’t apply to the western world.

“Imagine going to a dinner party, where you ran into some old friends. Those friends said, Scott… How have you been? What have you been up to man?” and you responded with, “ I’ve been good, real good, I’ve just been, um, sitting and listening a lot.”

“Sitting and listening?!?! Can you imagine their response? It would be as if you were speaking another language.”

It’s true, we often only measure accomplishments and success on material achievements- what we physically have to show for what we’ve been doing.  If you don’t have money, or a beautiful home and other possessions, well…. then you’re not doing much.

As we made our way to the car, I noticed a small slice of blue sky on the horizon.  I love sunsets, and I’m fortunate to live close to the beach at home where I can watch the sunset over the ocean just about every night. I know when the sun gets underneath certain clouds it will light up the entire sky. Those clouds were taking shape right before my eyes.

I told the ranger that we should find a hill with a good viewpoint of Uluru for sunset. As if the mighty rock was orchestrating the entire thing, we took our time driving to a nearby hill and with camera in hand, strolled to the top.  The synchronicity of the moment was almost spooky. Just as we got to the top of the hill, the sun peeked its head out from underneath the clouds and hit the side of Uluru with all of its might. Uluru was wet from the rain, giving it almost a velvet-like texture, and once the light hit it, the rock popped with the brightest color of red I had ever seen. For about 5 minutes there was a natural light show that was simply surreal.

This was when the sun was first hitting Uluru, still wet from the rain, turning the color insanely red

As the sun set, I heard the ranger yell out- “Scott! Scott! Do you see that? Look… above it, it’s a rainbow!”

There, coming directly out of the center of Uluru was a faint rainbow.  In the next minute, the rainbow got brighter and brighter. It was a strange little rainbow- it didn’t have the full spectrum of color that you normally see, but it looked like a stream of red paint being poured over the top of the rock.

There it was… pure magic. A moment I’ll never forget, a rainbow hitting dead center in the middle of Uluru.

There I stood, in awe, watching this unreal sight. I was so excited that I could have jumped out of my skin. The ranger told me that in the six years working at the park she had never seen a rainbow like that over Uluru. It was a magical moment.

As fast as it came, it went away and left us standing atop that hill buzzing. We looked around, smiling, straight-up stoked on what had just happened. Shit like that doesn’t take place everyday.

As we walked back down towards the car to bid our farewells, the ranger made a comment that struck me deeply. She said that by sitting and listening to Uluru, I had given my heart a chance to finally catch up with my body. I thought I could simply roll into town and capture something beautiful from Uluru without taking the time to connect with it. This place has been the spiritual heart of a people’s culture for thousands of years and I had the audacity to think that in five days I could show up and start taking from it without getting to know it. What I know now is that for a brief moment in time I decided not to force things and instead to sit and listen to the beauty that is Uluru, and in return, Uluru gave back to me.

That was how my two weeks in the Outback ended. After hearing many people talk about the power of the land in the Outback, I finally felt it too. It is a beautiful place here on earth, a spiritual place. It can simply be a tourist destination if you want it to be, a place to snap a few pics, take a camel trek, enjoy a delicious dinner and some beautiful bush walks. But if you want to strip it all back, see past the facade and feel the place, it’s there… all you have to do is sit and listen to it.