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Coolest features to climb in Australia 5-Dec-2015 At 12:48:48 PM BA

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From Mountain Magazine February 1974: Part 1

And now for something completely different

by Keith Lockwood

Way back in the dreamtime, Kerungra (the Earth-Mother) brought life on to the earth with her sacred Ngaltawaddi (Digging Stick), and created mortals. So runs the legend of the Loritdja aborigines who inhabit the desert around the Rock of Uluru, the rock that was their repository of sacred knowledge.

To whites, this rock is known as Ayers Rock, the famous tourist attraction rising 1,143ft. from the sandy and spiky, spinifex-grass plain in central Australia. Reputedly the biggest single stone in the world, it was first climbed by a white man in 1873 when explorer W. C. Gosse made an ascent via the only gentle face, a ramp on the north-west shoulder. Nowadays, hundreds of tourists follow in Gosse's footsteps, assisted by an 800ft. railing. There are also legends about young natives trying to climb the rock as a tribal initiation rite, legends as often as not sad in their conclusion.

In 1972, Andrew Thomson and I attempted to climb Kerungra's sacred Ngaltawaddi. Ngaltawaddi (also called the Kangaroo's Tail) is a unique tongue of rock, 350ft. high, leaning against the north face of Ayers Rock. Andrew and I planned our attempt from Melbourne, 2,000 miles away, with very limited information. We had tourist pamphlets, but each showed the rock having a different angle, and it was impossible to judge what the climbing would be like.

But in the hot mid-winter sun, the red rock destroyed any climbing fears. In fact, it didn't look worth the trouble, appearing to be an easy-angled romp. Early next morning, however, as I led off with the desert's cool morning breeze caressing the quiet, now soft-grey stone, Uluru stirred in defence. Loose flakes rattled down, making Andrew's photographic work difficult, although his belaying was easy. In the first 150ft. there was no place for runners, and I belayed, still in a chimney position, to a bolt. Andrew led through into an identical pitch.

Our situation was fantastic, and we revelled in our technically easy adventure up this mysterious and legendary rock.

I passed Andrew, 300ft. up, swinging gently in his Whillans harness. But 50ft. above, Ngaltawaddi forced me out on to the less friendly, indeed quite inhospitable, face. After 80ft. of nervy and unprotected slab work on the ubiquitous loose flakes, I reached the first good foothold on the climb, an 8" x 2" haven. I placed a welcome bolt. Way below, the ranger was conducting his morning excursion of the rock. His band of tourists suddenly grouped, pointing our way.
"You blokes get straight down from there." (Ranger, short-tempered.)
"Can you hear me? Get down here." (Ranger, uniformed.)
"It's safer for us to keep going." (Us, reasonably.)
"I don't give a damn about your safety, get straight down here!" (Ranger, armed.)

Don't ask us why, but we went down.