Rain on the Rock

Uluru explodes out of the vast, flat desert plain of central Australia. It appears as though it is completely disjunct from or alien to the surrounding landscape. It looks as if it was cast off from, or abandoned by some extra-terrestrial mother ship. But its alien appearance belies its origin and affinity with this great land of ours: Australia. Uluru is the beating heart of our country: the Red Centre, the Rock. It has stood steadfast and true, unchanged for millions and millions of years. It is hot, dry and listless and appears to be completely void of life. The truth, however, is that the Rock is more stochastically dynamic than most people can imagine. It can change radically from one day to the next and then not at all for months and months on end.

There are 365 days in a year and rain teases the Rock for on only 30 of those days over which only a miserable 280mm of rain falls upon it. But the Red Centre are not about averages, it is about extremes and it is those extreme climatic events that defibrillate the beating heart of Australia resulting in a short but thunderous pulse of life that radiates out into the surrounding desert.

Every so often as much rain can fall on the Rock in a month as would be expected for a year. Moreover, there have been rain events where almost one half of the annual rainfall has been recorded in a day. But such events are few and far between: generations in fact. To personally experience such an iconic Australian event, to see rain on the Rock, is a privilege that few Australians will ever enjoy.

I could have been one of them; I could have been one of the select few that could put their hand on their heart and say they have seen rain on the Rock. I was less than 25km away when it happened, but I squandered the opportunity. At 22, I was too young and foolish to appreciate the rarity of the occasion. I woke to the rainstorm smashing my tent as the sun rose over the Uluru National Park. I knew what was happening but I was too tired and too lazy to comprehend the enormity of the occasion. I rolled over, pulled my swag up over my head and went back to sleep. When I work again, only one hour later, it was all over. And I have regretted it ever since. 

In the desert, water is life. In my swag, in my tent, on that morning I just let a life event pass me by. Now I bide my time waiting for it to happen again, only this time I will take you with me and you will see the desolate and desperate Red Centre explode into life.

P.S. Just to be clear and decent, these photos were lifted off the web. First one by Fabien Zassadowski. If I'd taken the second one, I would not have needed to write this blog!