Uluru

A block of red sandstone rises from flat ground, more of it buried than showing. It is sacred to the Anangu, whose country this is, and climbing has been banned since October 2019. Signs mark stretches of their stories where photographs are not allowed.

Fifty minutes west of Uluru, thirty-six rounded domes stand together, and the Valley of the Winds between them funnels wind at its narrow gap until it sounds. On days over 36 degrees the track past the first lookout shuts from 11am and you walk only that far.

Walk it early. The track circles the rock on flat ground with almost no shade, and at midday no water is enough. At Mutitjulu the wall is hollowed, so shade holds and birds gather at the water. Anangu paintings for teaching children remain inside.

Inside the national park and run by Anangu themselves. Photographs may not be taken in the building, and why the climb was banned is set out in Anangu words. A room alongside sells dot paintings, each labelled with the painter's name and village.

The nearest city is far enough away that no glow reaches the sky. On a moonless night the Milky Way runs horizon to horizon and the dark lanes inside it separate by eye. Anangu read an emu in those dark patches rather than in the stars.

A red sandstone gorge about three hundred kilometres north-east of Uluru. The rim track opens with fifteen minutes of nothing but steps, and the breath goes before the legs. Deep inside, one spot never dries, and palms and cycads grow only around it.

Over the half hour the sun drops, the face turns orange to red to purple. It happens because light strikes iron in the surface at a low angle, so a cloudy day shows almost nothing, and cars have set places to park rather than pulling up anywhere.

Tens of thousands of thin stems with glass bulbs are set into the desert floor. They light after dark. Solar cells charge them by day, so not one cable is laid. Walking in, the light sits at knee height, so your feet are lit and the sky stays black.

Camels brought in to carry loads while the desert routes were built were let go and spread. Every camel out here now descends from those and lives wild. The resort runs camel rides, and they go out only at sunrise or sunset.

A young tree stands as a narrow spike with drooping needles, and only once the roots reach groundwater does it throw branches sideways into an umbrella. Young and grown look like two different species. Wind through the needles keeps up a low sound.

A sunrise platform built on a sand dune; the Anangu name means looking from the sandhill. At first light Uluru sits on one side and Kata Tjuta on the far horizon, both in a single view. Desert dawns can dip below freezing, so wear a heavy jacket.

A short out-and-back path into the cleft between two of Kata Tjuta's rounded domes. Walpa means wind in the Anangu language, and wind does funnel hard between the rock walls. In the shaded far end grow plants seldom found elsewhere in the desert.

A flat-topped mesa south of the Lasseter Highway, on your left driving towards Uluru. First-timers so often stop thinking it is Uluru that it is called fake Uluru. It sits on a private cattle station; only station-run tours go closer than the lookout.

A path along the base from Mala car park on Uluru's north-west side, followed daily by a ranger-guided walk. Anangu stories tied to rock art and the stone carry you to Kantju Gorge. Start times and how to join shift by season; ask at the Cultural Centre.