In two days time I will be at the iconic, monolithic and, from all accounts, fantastic piece of monstrous rock that is Uluru. I am a rock virgin, never having gazed upon it with my own eyes. Never having had the chance to be in awe, but that is all about to change and I can't wait.
But there is a question nagging me. I have been pondering long and hard about it. Do I climb the thing?
See the thing is, I really want to. The little red devil on the shoulder is crying out for me to climb up the mighty rock and gaze out over the centre of Australia from up on high. The little white angel on the other shoulder says, respect the wishes of the local aboriginals and fore go the climb for the walk around the base. The devil tells me to do both. Arg, I really am not sure what I should do.
So my plan is to see what my gut feels when I get there. If a genuine sense of guilt washes over me then I will stay grounded. If not I will follow my old man's footsteps from the sixties and make it to the top.
Either way, being at the rock will be a fantastic way to start my six months of travelling, right in the red heart of this great continent.
Look forward to some upcoming nomadic tales.
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