Sunset On An Assumption

“You know” the softly spoken man says to me, “I was the last person to stand on Uluru before it was closed to tourists.”

The Traditional Owners didn’t want people climbing all over their sacred rock, but here I am with someone who seems on the verge of boasting about it.

I pull up the zip on my favourite jacket against the rapidly cooling air. The sun is dipping, splashing vivid colours into the desert sky.

Sunset at Uluru. It’s extraordinary, but part of me is a little bummed.

I'd kinda like him to go away so I can enjoy this moment on my own.

“Yeah. Okay” I say flatly, not wanting to encourage a proud trophy display.

My lack of enthusiasm has the desired effect. We fall silent watching the shadows of the distant Kata Tjuta mountains against the blazing western sky.

My companion snaps some photos with his DSLR camera. “Wow” he says to himself.

Then, glancing sideways at me, he quietly adds “You’re so lucky. This has got to be one of the top 20 sunsets I’ve seen at Uluru”.

There’s something about the way he says it that catches me off guard.

I feel a twig of curiosity snap.

Something doesn’t add up… he was the last person to stand on one of Australia’s most sacred sites… and he’s amazed at my luck of seeing a top 20 sunset?

Just how many sunsets has he seen?

Suddenly, my mind whisks back to another place and time.

As a teenager growing up in Sydney, I played cricket.

My coach for years, Marty Rhone , was the Dad of one of the other boys.

Week in, week out, year in, year out, Marty was always there for us: patiently coaching us after school, umpiring games, and teaching us the strategy of the game.

Marty was my cricket coach. A family friend, someone you could trust and talk to.

One day, at a huge annual concert for our local area, Marty came roaring up onto stage on a huge Harley Davidson, black leather tights and jacket. And then he blasted out a truly epic version of Ride Like The Wind.

I remember sitting next to my parents, my jaw ajar, “What…?”

"Oh yeah, Marty is a famous entertainer, known all over the country" said my folks.

To me he was just Marty, my trusted cricket coach. But in that moment I learned that we only know people from our interactions with them… we often either assume, or fail to look for, the rest.

And the rest is often very substantial!

Watching the sunset I suddenly recognise there’s a thread I have to follow.

“You said you were the last person to climb Uluru?” I ask.

David’s face lights up as he tells me about how he’s lived for the last couple of decades in the local Mutitjulu First Nations community. He explains how it’s been really hard getting enough warm clothes into the community this winter because of the Covid lockdowns.

As the trusted local photographer, the Elders had asked him to document the removal of the security handrail chains from the rock when it was closed to tourist climbs.

David was the last person to stand on the rock because he was the person capturing, for perpetuity, the moment Uluru was freed from its chains.

I’m humbled and in awe.

He’s not bragging about being the last person to stand on Uluru.

He’s proud because there won’t be another to stand on Uluru.

“How many sunsets have you seen out here?” I ask.

David looks thoughtful, “Maybe… 500?”

I know what I have to do.

I unzip my jacket. The cold air rushes in.

“It’s an incredible jacket… my fave” I say, handing it to him, “Give it to someone in the community that needs it. Please thank them for sharing their place with me.”

Tears of gratitude are in David’s eyes as he takes it from me.

“I will” he says, “I will”.

And I know that I won't be the only person happy tonight that sun set on my assumptions.

#australia #storytelling #travel

Rob Malicki is a traveller and storyteller.

His passion is helping young people to find the next step on their journey, and amplify their impact, because life is a daring adventure or nothing at all.

More stories at robmalicki.com/stories