Dwarfed by Uluru Uluru / Ayers Rock rises up 348 metres (1141 feet) from the flat red rocky sands in the centre of Australia. The path around the base is 10.6 kilometres (6.6 miles) – giving walkers plenty of time to admire the rich variety in the surface of this amazing red monolith.
At a distance, it made me choke up with emotion. Close up, it was simply awe-inspiring!
Uluru. Ayers Rock. The heart of Australia.
It sits almost dead-centre of a very large land mass, a long way from anywhere else. Formally recognised by UNESCO World Heritage for both its natural and cultural values, it has been home to the Indigenous Anangu people for as far back as they can remember – back to the arrival of their mythical ancestors, the Mala (rufous hare-wallaby) people. Anangu creation stories, called Tjukurpa, tell how each feature of the rock was formed and explain how the marks on the landscape that are still seen illustrate these stories, and lead to laws to live by.
Uluru feels older than time – and is as old as the Australian continent itself. The origins of the rock date back more than 500 million years, to around the same time the whole continent was forming. The sand that became the arkose sandstone of Uluru was dumped at the bottom of a pre-historic mountain range, and resurfaced from under an inland sea some 400 million years ago.
Today, it rises 348 metres (1,142 feet) out of the surrounding plain, sitting 863 metres (2,831 ft) above sea level, and extending for at least another 2.5 kilometres (15 miles) under the surface. The rock is about 3.6kms (2.2 miles) long and 1.9kms (1.2 miles) wide, with a circumference of 9.4kms (5.8 miles). The Uluru Base Walk skirts wider, to keep people away from the most culturally-sensitive places; although it is listed as being a 10.6km (6.6 miles) walk that will take about 3.5 hours, if you detour into the waterholes (as you should!) it will take you longer.
This is desert country, where temperature extremes are to be expected. My SEIT Uluru trek started very early on the easternmost side of the rock at Kuniya Piti. As much of the north side of Uluru is sacred to Anangu men under Tjukurpa, the Anangu religious philosophy that links the people to their environment and ancestors, we were not allowed to take pictures of the rock there. So, it was ideal to finish this section of the walk in the low light of dawn.
Join me on a counter-clockwise walk around the sacred rock that is the very heart of Australia:
Sunrise in the Trees Our day started early! We left the resort in the dark, and the sun was just breaking over the horizon and through the desert oak trees when we reached the approach to our walk.
Approaching the Rock : Kuniya Piti It is not yet 6am on an October (mid-Spring) morning. The air is chilly, and that magnificent rock is bathed in red light. A small covered stand exhorts us to drink more water: dehydration and heat exhaustion are real risks in this area any time of year!
Long Morning Shadows Photographs of much of the north rock face of Uluru are are not allowed, as this area is culturally sensitive to the Anangu people. I kept my eyes – and camera – on the track, and into the rising sun.
The Mighty Rock Our path skirts wide around the rock until we are out of the most sacred sections. The tall, long-tap-rooted desert oaks (Allocasuarina decaisneana) scatter across the flat ground in front of us, and black algae marking on the rock show us where waterfalls race down the face during the rare rainfalls.
Kulpi Minymaku Just before 7am, our track meets up with the Mala Walk, and we stop to explore the ‘Kitchen Cave’.
Kulpi Minymaku – Kitchen Cave There is something surreal about knowing that women have been grinding grain here more than 10,000 years.
Rough Surface Even more surreal is the age of the rock itself! How does one grasp the concept of 500 million years? Contrary to my expectation, most of the surface was not smooth: it is flakey with bits of rock left behind after water and oxygen have decayed minerals in the rock. While the underlying rock is grey, the distinctive red outer layer is due to iron oxidation.
Outside the Caves The textures have another-worldly feel – as if we are on the moon, …
Cave Textures … ore even Mars!
Pathway This section of the Mala Walk takes us to Kantju Gorge, the site of one of Uluru’s semi-permanent waterholes. You can just see the black stripe where less than a week before my visit, rare rainwaters were rushing down the vertical drop.
Kulpi Minymaku Boulders The path to Kantju Gorge takes us in and back the same way, giving us a different perspective on some of the caves we have already seen – like the kitchen cave.
Mala Walkway
The Mala Story in Stone Inside the Kulpi Watiku – the mens’ cave – the story of the Mala (rufous hare-wallaby) people is illustrated in the stone: this is where they camped when they first arrived at Uluru, and where the senior men prepared their ceremonies.
Kulpi Nyiinkaku – The Teaching Cave Since time immemorial, boys on the brink of manhood, or Nyiinka, spent time here with their grandfathers and away from the rest of their families, learning hunting skills, self-reliance, and discipline. The elders illustrated their lessons on the cave walls.
Red Rocks and Flakes
Like a Another World The rock-shapes we pass as we continue around the base, are just incredible!
Home of the Marsupial Mole Only very resilient plants and animals survive in this rugged environment.
Crested Pigeons – Ocyphaps Lophotes It is almost eight in the morning when we reach the Mala Carpark, where benches allow us to stop for breakfast. I enjoy watching the pigeons almost as much as I enjoy my morning coffee.
Please don’t Climb! Back when people climbed the rock, with the aid of a chain-link hand-rail, this is where they did it from.
Climb Sign It was a year to the day that climbing had been officially stopped: the scars on the rock were still visible.
Pock-Marked Rocks Continuing around the base, we pick up the Lungkata section of the walk.
Rock Markings According to the Anangu people, the various markings on the rock face show the journeys of the ancestors, and in many places around the rock, markings are part of complex creation stories.
Admiring the Paintings Kulpi Mutitjulu (the Family Cave) is where generations of Anangu families camped.
Kulpi Mutitjulu Cave Paintings Anangu families told stories around the campfire, illustrating them on the rock using paints made from ochres, charcoal, and ash.
Mutitjulu Waterhole An absolute hush falls as we contemplate this spot, home to a wanampi, an ancestral water snake.
Hearts at the Waterhole Everywhere I look, I can imagine my own stories in the rock markings.
Split Stones near Kulpi Mutitjulu
Kuniya As we come back around to our starting point, we pass formations whose name I couldn’t find, and learn the complicated story of how the battle between Kuniya, the python woman, and Liru, the poisonous snake man, helped create this landscape. Kuniya is still here, somewhere, protecting and avenging her family, in the rocks.
View of the Rock On our way back to the resort, we stop at the viewing area for a last look at the giant rock we have just circumnavigated. It looks so different from here – as it does from the air (see: Over the Red Centre).
Roasting Mustard Seed In the medieval Newari town of Khokana – just south of Kathmandu, Nepal – mustard oil is produced in the traditional way.
The terraced fields of the Kathmandu Valley were bright green and yellow with blooming mustard plants the last time I visited (see: People of the Rice Bowl).
I couldn’t help but wonder what it was all being used for! I’ve always thought of mustard as a condiment, designed to add piquancy to an Austrian/SlovenianKransky and sauerkraut, English bangers and mash, or an American hot dog. What I didn’t realise, until I mistook Australian fields of canola for mustard, was that the plants are related, and both are grown to produce cooking oils.
I find it fascinating to see how food gets from the fields to our tables. So, I was pleased to learn that – as part of a photographic workshop in Nepal with Jack Kurtz (sadly, now deceased) and Gavin Gough – we were visiting the historic Newar village of Khokana, 8 kilometres (5 miles) south of the capital Kathmandu. For centuries, Khokana was the centre of mustard production and oil extraction, and the name is still synonymous with the most sought-after cooking oil in Nepal (e.g.: OnlineKhabar Khokana).
But, even in these small villages, times have changed.
Today, less mustard is grown in the surrounding local fields; with the ever-expanding population in nearby Kathmandu, there is more profit in fresh vegetables. Most of the locally-grown seed is used by the farmers themselves, and commercial oil production requires seed imported from other regions, and from India, Australia, and further afield. Only two workshops using the traditional Newari methods remain in Khokana: one is a community-owned collective, and the other is the private enterprise that we visited.
Photographing inside the factory was challenging! It was hot and dark and noisy, with small streaks of sunlight sneaking in at odd angles. The few workers employed there were busy, and the sorts of Occupational Health and Safety Regulations we take for granted in the West were absent, making it pretty important to watch where you put your feet. And, there were a few of us, so we had to take turns staying out of each other’s way.
Because various stages in the process were happening at the same time, it took me a while to figure out the actual sequence of production. Even so, I have left the pictures roughly in the order in which they were taken, rather than sorting them according to method.
I love these naturalistic peeks into the everyday lives of other people, and I hope you enjoy them too. Join me on the factory floor:
Mustard Factory The brick and wood factory floor is rough hewn and crowded. Many oil mills in this region were damaged by the 2015 earthquake; I don’t know if this one was, but prior to that, it was closed for thirty years before being re-opened by the current owner (see: Khokana’s Famed Tori-Ko-Tel).
Shovel in the Seed Today, the seeds that go into making traditional mustard oil are sourced from India, or further.
Roasting the Seed One of the first steps in the process is roasting the mustard seeds.
Funky Worker This young man – an employee of the mustard-oil factory – had/has an eye condition, and was, therefore, wearing his sunglasses in the dark factory interior.
Newari Woman Given this woman’s proprietorial air within the factory, I assume she was part of the organisation.
Khokana Gabu Jaaysha Those woven sleeves are what the roasted seed goes into before being manually pressed.
Oil Can Around the factory floor there are interesting colours and shapes.
Oil Expeller Yes, that is what it is called! This electric press is used last, when no more oil can be extracted mechanically. This second pressing is considered lower grade, and is used as a massage oil.
Shovelling Seed Seed is shovelled into wicker baskets to be ground up.
Still Life Found
Pouring Seed
Newari Press The traditional Newari mustard press is unique: the metal sleeve containing roasted seed is placed between two huge wooden beams …
Spinning the Press … and these are squeezed tight by turning a wooden wheel.
Straining the Fresh-Pressed Oil This valuable first pressing is collected below …
Bottled Oil … and bottled for sale as premium cooking oil.
Old Machinery The first step in the process is to grind the seed before roasting it.
Seed-Fall I was mesmerised by the flow of seed coming out of the grinding machine.
Old Machine Like all the other machinery in the factory, this unit looks old and heavy-duty.
Quality Control
Tending the Roaster Each step of the process was repeated multiple times: several batches of seed were roasted while we watched.
Pounding Fibre When all the oil has been extracted from the seeds, the remaining cake is broken up and sold as animal feed or compost.
Pride The workers loved sharing their time with us, and showing off the age-old traditions. Tourism – local and international – helps offset the increased costs of producing oil in this traditional manner.
Naturally, I couldn’t leave without buying some oil to take away: a couple of large bottles for our hostess, and some smaller ones to take home with me.
Common Hawthorn – Crataegus Monogyna Commonly known as the mayblossom or maythorn, the blooms on the hawthorn tree signal spring in the Northern Hemisphere. They were all around me in the delightful Buttertubs Marsh Park in the middle of Nanaimo, BC.
It was an unseasonably cold, wet spring this year in Nanaimo on Canada’s Vancouver Island.
I was experiencing cabin-fever after being trapped too long in a too-small-space by the inclement weather. It was time to ignore the forecast and get out for a walk! According to GoogleMaps and AllTrails, a park I was looking at was closed on Sundays; it wasn’t, but how was I to know?
Instead, I made my way to Buttertubs Marsh Park, a nearby bird and wildlife sanctuary. I’d walked there before, and remembered the two kilometre (1.2 m) loop trail around the marsh as being flat and well surfaced – so even if the skies opened up, the walking would be easy and relatively dry underfoot.
According to a signboard in the park, wetlands account for less than 7% of British Columbia’s land mass (according to current official government statistics (see: Wetlands in BC), this is now down to 5%), which is what makes this area so important. In 1975, the Nature Trust of British Columbia bought 46 acres (18.7 hectares) of the 100-acre (40 hectare) marsh and formed the Buttertubs Marsh Conservation Area. Over 120 species of birds – some rare or endangered – have been spotted in the marsh, and western painted turtles nest in one little corner.
Of course, the turtles remained completely hidden, and the birds were elusive to me. Still, for the most part the rains abated, and it was a most enjoyable stroll.
I’ve posted autumn pictures from other local parks taken on a long-ago trip (see: Walks in the Woods), but not from this one – so I’ve included some of those old shots here for seasonal comparison.
Walkway around Buttertubs Marsh The 2 km walking path was as beautifully groomed as I remembered.
Mayflowers Everywhere I look, the very pretty common hawthorn was in bloom. Spring has finally arrived!
Haws The last time I was here it was fall: many of the hawthorn leaves had succumbed to frosts and the pectin-rich berries, or haws, were in fine form.
Yellow Flag Iris – Iris Pseudacorus Yellow flag iris were scattered all through the marsh waters. If they were already as prolific during my last visit, they weren’t in bloom, and so were less noticeable.
Yellow Flag Iris in Bloom As beautiful as they are, they are considered an invasive species.
Standing Tall The name flag iris comes from the middle English word flagge, meaning rush or reed. Unlike other irises, they love boggy ponds, swamps, and waterways, and can outcompete against other wetland plants. To make matters worse, the beautiful plants are irritating to the touch, and toxic to wildlife if ingested.
Development at the Boundaries Competition for land also comes from development, especially around the edges of the lake, and the Nature Trust is trying to buy up privately owned land. (iPhone12Pro)
The Marsh All the caveats aside, the view through the native Garry oaks and across the irises, bulrushes, and the lake, is beautifully calming.
Garry Oak Leaves Garry oaks are the only native oak species in Western Canada.
Garry Oak – Quercus Garryana They are considered endangered, with many of the remaining trees on private lands which are slated for development.
Autumn Leaves Of course, these deciduous broad-leaved trees lose their leaves in autumn: leaves were underfoot everywhere when we last visited.
Common Snowberry – Symphoricarpos Albus Snowberries are attractive – but inedible. Part of the honeysuckle family (Caprifoliaceae), the berries have been crushed and rubbed on the skin by various Native American tribes to treat burns, warts, rashes, and sores.
Autumn Snowberries What surprises me is that this picture, taken in October, looks fresher than the one taken in May. Clearly, the berries have a long season.
Across the Wetlands Housing and industry might push at the edges of the preserve, but I feel like I am miles away.
Golden Shower Tree – Cassia Fistula Another beautiful invader, the Indian laburnum puts on a beautiful spring display. I know it a Thailand’s national flower, the ratchaphruek (ราชพฤกษ์).
Across the Marsh From another direction, views over the marsh lead the eyes to the distant, still-snow-capped, mountains in the west.
Duck on the Waters Several species of ducks make their homes here – they are all too far away for me to identiful properly.
Ducks in the Reeds Or, they hide in the reeds where I can’t get a clear view.
Canada Geese – Branta Canadensis The last time I visited, the waters were full of Canada geese – which are much easier to identify!
Nanaimo and the Hills Behind
Red-Winged Blackbird in the Bulrushes The air is full of beautiful, trilling song as the red-winged blackbirds mark their territory in the cattails (Typha latifolia) and watch for insects.
Red-Winged Blackbird – Agelaius Phoeniceus I found another one, high in the trees nearby, …
“Little Brown Bird” … and I think this might be his mate?
A Quiet Moment The park is well used, and people were out walking or running – or just sitting.
Textured Tree Trunk along the Path I think this is red alder – but I’m happy to be corrected by someone who actually knows!
Flat Path The path winds through the spring greens of the deciduous trees; …
Bigleaf Maple – Acer Macrophyllum … … their leaves turning gold and red in autumn.
Archimedes Screw Around 234 BC, Archimedes described one of the earliest hydraulic machines to raise water – although the system is thought to have existed long before his time. When this area was still private farmlands, this rusty antique example was pulled by a tractor to draw winter waters off the marsh to allow for earlier spring planting.
It is only a short circuit – which is why some of the walkers and runners I passed actually did more than one lap – but it was a delightful break from the city and the rain.
And, it is always good to know these inner-city preserves are being guarded into the future.
Fat Little Fish In the Barka Fish Market, lots of fish (that I can’t identify) from the Sea of Oman are in bundles, ready for auction or sale.
As any visitor to these pages knows, I love markets!
Under the care of a guide, I and another solo-female traveller were on our way to visit some of the adobe fortresses for which the Sultanate of Oman is famous. I knew that that would result in history-overload – so, I was especially pleased that our first stop of the morning was at the local fish and vegetable market in the little coastal city of Barka.
In its heyday, Barka was an important port, and under Ahmed (Ahmad) bin Said al-Busaidi, ruler of Oman between 1744 and 1783, the city was the capital for a period of time. Like the current capital Muscat – about 80 kilometres (50 miles) to the east (see: Between the Mountains and the Sea) – Barka is bordered by the Sea of Oman and the Al Hajar mountains.
These days, the town is best known for its old fort – and the lively fish market were are about to visit.
Men Around the Table The auction is in full swing when we arrive at the wet market.
Auctioneer I don’t understand a single word, but I admire the men’s intense focus. I love the different patterns on the men’s kuma (كمة) caps. The hat style originates in Zanzibar and is believed to be a direct result of Oman’s historical ties to its former colony.
Dried Anchovies There is a wide variety of seafood for sale – …
Fish for Sale … – I have no idea what most of the fish are.
Scales
Large Fish
Fisherman The fish couldn’t be fresher: boats pull onto the beach outside, and the men bring the catch into the market.
Bagging the Fish Customers leave with their haul.
Yellow Fish
Chopping Fish Everywhere you look, there is something happening.
Cutting Habbar The pharaoh cuttlefish (Sepia pharaonis) is the most abundant cuttlefish species in the Oman Sea, so I assume that’s what this is.
Cutting Fish Some of the fish are huge!
Sorting Sea Bream Several types of sea bream are available – and it is even farmed in the waters of the Gulf.
Meaty Chunks Probably yellowfin tuna, which is one of the most important sources of livelihood for Omani fisherman. Recent production has increased markedly (see: The Times of Oman).
Thumbs Up I love people’s willingness to be photographed. I personally avoid it at all costs!
More Little Fish
The Mouth of a Fish
Boats on the Beach Outside, the boats come and go, and the work continues.
Lifting the Motor The shoreline is quite shallow; the fishermen lift their outboards and come to a stop on the sand.
Man Carrying Pink Perch The men carry their precious catches straight into the market building.
Master of his Boat When they have finished their business at the market, …
Fisherman in the Water … they push their little boats off the sand …
Leaving Port … and drop their motors in preparation for leaving the harbour.
Heron A heron watches – ever hopeful for pieces of fish.
Another Fisherman Omani fishermen typically turn their keffiyeh (shemagh) scarves into turbans called masar.
Fresh Food Market Outside of the fish market, the road leading to the beach is lined with fresh fruit and vegetables.
Fresh From the Farm The produce section is less formal than the fish market: trestle tables and tailgates do the job.
Woman Selling Flowers The heady smell of jasmine garlands in the heat, the wild colours of everything in sight, and the crush of people all around: that is India!
India is a real experience in sensory overload.
That is true of all the places I’ve visited in the country, but especially true in Varanasi.
Varanasi – previously known as Benares, Banaras, and Kashi – is considered the spiritual capital of India. It is one of the world’s oldest continually inhabited cities, and has been an important centre of Hindu devotion and pilgrimage since ancient times (e.g.: The City of Varanasi). According to Hindu stories, the city was founded by the Shiva, ‘The Auspicious One’, one of the Hindu trinity – the Trimurti. Today, many of the the temples around the city are devoted to Shiva. The city’s location on the left bank of the Ganges, the most sacred river is in Hindu mythology, also makes it a central place for pilgrimage, death, and mourning traditions.
Varanasi is a densely packed metropolis of well over a million residents, and attracts about 2.5 million pilgrims annually. In this holy city full of temples, much of what those people are engaged in is an expression of their (predominantly) Hindu faith. That means that people selling all manners of religious paraphernalia – like colourful flowers, tika powders, and sacred strings – are everywhere. And, for the most part, all these people are willing to share the life that is lived in the streets with strangers like me, and with my cameras.
The city is a hot mess of colour and colourful characters – and a joy to explore.
Cow on the Ghats You won’t go far in India without crossing paths with one – or several – of the zebu cattle that wander freely.
Still Life Found: Paraphernalia These brass pots are kumbhs, which are used to collect water from the Mother Ganga, the sacred river. We also see bowls for mixing, jars of tika powder, flowers for offerings, and combs and mirrors so that everything goes together as it should.
Man in a Scarf Yellow is the colour of Lord Vishnu and red is the colour of positive concepts.
Man in a Tilaka Unlike a bindi, which might be paste or a jewel, a tilaka is always paste or powder, and is usually applied for religious or spiritual reasons.
Men on the Ghats
Marigolds and other Flowers The offerings of flowers to the Gods signify respect and worship. Marigolds represent the sun and symbolise brightness and positive energy.
Floating Candles Diyas are small lamps with a candle surrounded by flowers that are lit for floating as a tribute to the Ganges.
Preparing Offerings Everywhere I look on the ghats of Varanasi, offerings are being carefully prepared.
More Paraphernalia A kautuka is a woven red-yellow coloured ritual protection thread. On the ghats there are plenty of priests offering to weave the threads together around your wrist for you and give you a blessing.
Sadhu with Religious Posters I have remarked many times …
Sadhu in a Topknot … on how unique and different the various sadhus are!
Beads and Saffron Powder On the streets leading towards the ghats and the sacred river, colour is everywhere.
Rings Brass, copper, and other semi-precious metals are laid out for sale in the street; …
Hands around the Jewellery … visitors to the city all want to take home a souvenir of their pilgrimage.
Shells and Prayer Beads The shankha, or conch, is a symbol of purity, brilliance and auspiciousness, and has a significant place in the aratis (see: Life and Death on the Ganges) that are performed on the ghats.
Cooking Samosas Street food is fresh, tasty, and abundant.
Sadhu Walking Varanasi streets are full of people, …
People in the Streets … coming and going.
Trinket Shop Crowded shops of all types line the narrow streets.
Seller of Religious Iconography It is impossible to count the Gods in the Hindu pantheon, but it is easy to find models of the most popular ones.
Lord Ganesha As the remover of obstacles, Ganesh/a is worshiped before starting anything new. Naturally, he can be bought in many colours.
Kids in the Market The children are beautiful – but I have to wonder where their guardians are, and what their future opportunities might be.
Sadhu in a Saffron Headscarf
The Trishula – Shiva’s Trident
Shakti Yoni and Shiva Nandi A yoni – Sanskrit for womb – is a representation of the Hindu goddess Shakti. Nandi, which means “giving delight or joy,” is the sacred bull of the god Shiva. Both are common symbols in Shaivite temples.
Shiva and Nandi All around the streets, images of Shiva and his faithful mount Nandi are there to remind us we are in a city that worships Shiva as the Supreme Being.
This is just a small selection of some of the colour that adorns the streets in this deeply religious city.
- Performing the Ganga Aarti from Dasaswamedh Ghat, Varanasi
- Buddha Head from Shwedagon Pagoda, Myanmar
- Harry Clarke Window from Dingle, Ireland
- Novice Monk Shwe Yan Pyay Monastery, Myanmar
Packets of 10 for $AU50.
Or - pick any photo from my Flickr or Wanders blog photos.
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Until next time,
