Day 36 - Segways & Sunsets
Uluṟu is a massive sandstone monolith within Uluru-Kata Tjuta National Park. It is one of the country's most iconic natural landmarks and a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Standing at 348m tall with a 9.4km circumference, Uluṟu is the largest exposed monolith in the world. I've felt spiritually connected to this place since I first visited during my first lap, and always feel compelled to return.
Caption: the photos simply do not do it justice. Every face of Uluṟu has a story to tell.
During my first lap in 2017, I apparently misread the signage and naively thought that the walk around the circumference was 2km. This was the width of Uluṟu and not the circumference, and so I spent the following 90 minutes walking around in full motorcycle gear while swatting away a half-billion thirsty flies in 40°C heat.
Caption: The Scar of Uluṟu - a thin white line that shows where people used to be able to climb up one of the ridges. This has been banned since 2018 out of respect for the Anangu people, the traditional owners of the land.
This time around, Steph had a different plan. We missed our opportunity during our last visit in 2022, and this time she was committed to redemption. She floated the idea of a Segway tour and I realised far too late that she wasn't joking. 2025 is the year of the Segways.
Caption: Fly net, elbow and knee protection, and helmet. So ready for these rugged off-road Segways. Segways tend to wander off if left upright by themselves, so putting two Segways against each other helps prevent strays.
We loaded up into the shuttle bus driven by the tour guide himself, Si. He was friendly, personable, and accommodating beyond belief. After a brief orientation and demonstration of how to operate these self-balancing bad boys, we chose one and hopped on.
It's common belief that you control a Segway by using the handlebars, but it's actually only used to spin on the spot and turn. Forward controls are operated with your feet - you lean slightly forward (think Michael Jackson) and the Segway will start to move forward. We did a few laps of a purpose-built obstacle course and it became intuitive enough for all 10 L-plater Segway riders to hit the trails.
Caption: Steph became TEC, and when we asked the tour guide why, it was because he felt like he didn't need to worry about her due to her skill. It pays to know how to ride!
The tour consisted largely of indigenous stories told at the level of a children's book. The rest of it was operating the Segway along the relatively flat trails, over bumps and dips, even a small bridge - then onto the shoulder of the road. The device was easy enough to use, so easy that you could operate it while gazing skyward to catch the beauty of where we were. The experience could never be as intimate as though we were walking around the path, nor could we ever go up and touch Uluṟu because we stayed further away from it at all times. It was very enjoyable though, and we made our way all the way back to the carpark without a hitch. (We couldn't say the same for the 13-year old boy trapped in a man's body who was trying to do skids, much against the tour guide's advice. He managed to nut himself on the handlebars and take a full faceplant.)
Caption: Badassery 101. ATGATT.
We managed to catch the tail end of the sunset at Uluṟu after a mad rush on our bikes. The photo itself was abysmal, and I decided that I needed to return in the morning to do it properly.
Our friend Belinda, who works for Shannons Insurance and was doing the Cannonball Classic from Darwin to Victor Harbor. It took two live maps to find out where she was amongst the massive campground, chockers full of classic bikes and their support vehicles. After a nice catchup we brought home the driest chicken tenders and the coldest hot chips ever as an attempt to eat dinner. Note to self, food. in Yulara needs a complete and utter overhaul.
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Day 37 - Sunrise & A Field of Lights
Distance: 50km
Dep: 5:15am
Arr: 9:00am
Temperature: 4°C - 21°C
Total distance to date: 12,036km
Route:
- Yulara
- Uluṟu
- Yulara
Caption: Watching the sunrise over Uluṟu was exactly the type of closure I needed - now I feel ready to return to Melbourne.
I spent the remainder of last night's waking hours studying the features and gentle ridges of the original photo, walking around on Google Street View, and pinning the exact spot of where I stood 8 years ago.
Caption: The glow before the stars disappear and the sky erupts with light.
You know that feeling when you're paranoid that you'll miss an early flight, or a morning appointment, so your body simply doesn't let you sleep? I was either awake, or dreaming about being awake, because I so badly wanted to capture Nena in front of Uluṟu at sunrise. I specifically wanted a shot I took in 2017 when I was riding Sheba on the way to the sunrise viewing area on the far side of Uluṟu. At the time, I was rushing to get there, but decided to stop in a random place on the shoulder, run to the other side of the road, snap a photo, and hop back on. I was a backpacker then, and at the time, Uluṟu was only the halfway point of my entire ride.
I rolled out of bed at 5am and was on the bike 15 minutes later. By the time I reached the gates at the entrance of the national park, two things happened:
- I realised that the winter opening hours begin at 6:30am, and
- My alarm clock went off loud in my helmet. If I wasn't awake already, I definitely was now.
A queue was forming behind me, and the park ranger let us all in early so that we could choose our best spot to watch the sunrise. I knew exactly where I was going - albeit it was pitch black and I was relying solely on my GPS to tell me where to pull up. Uluṟu was completely shrouded in darkness, but the starry backdrop presented a void that was unmistakably the towering rock formation I had visited only 12 hours previously.
Caption: Top - 2017, Bottom - 2025.
And there I stood, in awe for the entirety of the three hours it took for the sky to begin its transformation. From a deep black with glitter sprayed across the top, to a glowing ember hue that spread itself equally across the horizon. The silhouette of the famous rock started to take shape in front of the burning light that lifted up off the land. My phone was in its little Quadlock tripod and filming a timelapse of the entire ritual. And it was a ritual - this place would have seen millions of sunrises and sunsets and it will continue to see millions more.
My screen-addicted self finally stopped fidgeting from lack of screen time when the sun finally appeared to the left. How privileged am I to be able to watch the sun rise with my beautiful Nena in front of one of the most iconic places in the country?
The last time I stood in this exact spot, I was not much more than a backpacker with no firm plans to stay in Australia. I didn't have a job at the time, nor did I have money, and I was in a relatively poor state of mental health outside of that. So many things have happened since, but with my hands in my pockets I stood their gazing up at the rising sun - as an Australian citizen, a small business owner, and a person who was thrilled to be alive.
Caption: Both sunrises and sunsets in the outback give off a completely different tone from the usual harsh light.
The timelapse was so long that my phone battery eventually waved its white flag, so I spun a couple of laps around the perimeter before heading back to the hotel room where Steph had just woken up. Breakfast was lunch, and lunch was non-existent in a resort where food was expensive and largely inedible. After a quick lap of the town to grab some water for tomorrow's ride, we headed back to the hotel to catch up on work before setting off to walk amongst the Field of Light. Uluṟu itself was beautiful against the sunset once more, then disappeared into darkness as the art installation came to life.
Caption: The Field of Light was originally an art installation, but due to popularity, they kept bringing it back for several years until they officially decided to keep it installed until 2027.
Steph and I spent the evening with our heads tilted to the heavens, trying to figure out which constellations were which and if that moving light was a plane or a satellite.
Tomorrow we begin the last ride of the Outback and the beginning of our journey back home.
