The Red Centre

We reached the desert clearing for dinner when the sun was low in the sky. The colour palette of gold, ochre and yellow was akin to the colours of Tuscany. The effects of the setting sun provided a richness to the landscape, darkening as the sun retreated.

We were in the Red Centre - the term Australians use for the centre of their Continent - or in their vernacular - The Red Cenner.

We had flown in from Northern Queensland a few days earlier - the main purpose of our visit to see Ayers Rock - that sandstone monolith standing in the middle of nowhere. As our Quantas flight touched down at Ayers Rock airport we felt a little let down. We had seen the Rock from the air, and quite honestly, it did not look that impressive. In a climate where rainfall is scarce, the morning of our arrival had been a deluge of heavy rain and the vista was overcast and sullied. And you may be asking yourself, where do you stay when you have arrived in the middle of nowhere.

A complex of hotels and campgrounds accommodates the many visitors who come to the Red Centre, and checking into our hotel room, we saw that the clouds had lifted, replaced by a piercingly blue sky. Before long we felt the power of 40 degrees in a arid environment.

Our room was a short walk from the lobby through desert gardens of cactus and less familiar vegetation that provided home to the natural inhabitants of the Red Centre - monitor lizards and colonies of rather large ants who worked feverously to move the sand between the paving stones. Other creepy crawlies crossed our path and a loud buzzing from invisible life forms came from the surrounding bushes. And then there were the flies - millions of them. They are persistemt and undaunted by a brush of the hand. They also seem to travel in cavalries - no lone flies here.

What is remarkable about the Red Centre is the way in which the changing light of the day strengthens and dulls the colours of the desert. Sunrise over Ayers Rock - or Uluru - its aboriginal name - is like watching a rebirth of an ancient giant as the colours change from grey to tan to yellow. Sunset is even more dramatic as the colour morphs from red to rust before disappearing in its nightly ritual.

That evening we would experience it first hand in the desert. Walking up a small incline we quickly understood why this spot had been chosen as the greeting point. On one side Uluru shone in the fading sun. On the other side an almost ethereal glow encased the Kata-Tjutas - an oddly shaped mountain range known as the Olgas.

Australian sparkling wine, garnished with stawberries was offered as we watched the time old actions of nature. As the sun disappeared, out of nowhere came the haunting drone of a didgeriddo - the oldest wind instrument in the world, mastered by the aboriginals of Australia, one of the oldest cultures on earth.

All colour had drained from the sky by the time we took our seats for dinner. Tables had been set with white linen, silverware and candles - elegance in the rawness of nature. The backdrop - a fading landscape.

What followed was a meal showcasing the delicacies of Northern Australia - kangaroo kebobs and crocodile in red wine sauce. But fortunately, no witchety grubs - an apparently tasty snack found in tree roots and much enjoyed by the Aboriginals.

As we partook of the various courses, complimented by some very good Australian wine, the only illumination left came from the candles on the various tables. Occasionally there would be a loud shriek of surprise as an insect confused by the flame would dart to another source of interest - in my case, inside my shirt. I could hear my own scream - how could something that small feel so enormous and evoke such a reaction?

And then the waiters extinguished the candles and we were in total darkness. As our eyes adjusted, we looked up and experienced something truly astonishing - a canopy of stars that stretched as far as the eye could see. It was as if the land had disappeared and we had been consumed by the Milky Way.

The sound of the didgeriddo and our own animated conversation ceased - replaced by total, utter silence. The sound of silence was overwhelming - it was as if we were collectively holding our breath, absorbed by the magnificence above us.

As astronomer began to explain the night sky. Mars and Venus were now clearly visible to us. The Southern Cross shone brightly. Some of the astrological signs like Taurus and Libra were clear. Orion and the Seven Sisters sparkled against a backdrop of black velvet. It was as though you could reach out and touch the shimmering stars.

We learned that the Aboriginals have a legend about Orion and the Seven Sisters. An old, ugly man chased seven sisters across the land, determined to marry one of them. Eventually the sisters took to the sky to escape him, taking on the persona of the stars. The man became Orion and while his star is nearby, he is never close enough to harm the sisters.

That evening in the desert was remarkable. Talk about being reminded of your place in the universe. As human beings we have such grand ideas - and then you see a million stars in an infinite universe. One that Uluru and the Kata Tjuta have been basking in since time began.

This story comes from our 2006 visit to Australia - some of the

8 aboriginal prints above depict Orion and the Seven Sisters as well as witchety grubs.