"Family, get up family. Morning!" That morning I could handle Reg’s wake-up call, the excitement of exploring Kata Tjuta and Uluru stirring my stomach. I was also looking forward to spend time with our group, now armed with some knowledge of their names.

We drove out to Kata Tjuta. Standing at the lookout, wrapped in our sleeping bags, we watched the sun rise, its rays dancing around the golden domes.

"Amazing." Alison was sitting next to me on a bench, gaze transfixed, sucking aimlessly on her cigarette. Then she looked back at the rest of our group. "We all look homeless." It was true.

We took a group photo in front of Kata Tjuta and the mood was electric. The promise of the new day was exhilarating. Everything was untouched, unspoiled and magnificent. I wanted it to last forever.

We walked to the base of Kata Tjuta (Anangu for "many heads" – the 36 domes) and began the Valley of the Winds walk. It started with a fairly innocuous flat trail cutting through the towering red domes, but quickly gained a vertical angle. At the top of a hill, we sat down as the wind blustered, listening to Reg talk about the geology of Uluru and Kata Tjuta. Their creation began 500 million years ago. Millions of years of folding, faulting, fissuring and eroding had created the landscape that existed today. They were only the tips of two giant rocky slabs that extended up to 5-6 km beneath the earth’s surface. I was amazed.

After the geology lesson, Alison, Dan, Paul, Reto (from Switzerland), Stephen (medical student from Germany) and myself began our exploration of the sacred domes. Difficult at times, the hike took us up to the Karingana Lookout. The view was astounding and straight out of a film – an infinite panorama of rolling hills next to rugged stretches of uninhabited desert. We were the only ones there. Everything was silent and still, infusing the air with reverence. Sighing audibly, Paul took off his sunglasses and murmured to himself, "So this is Australia." I’ll never forget hearing him say that.

The rest of the hike was eerily vacant and surreal. My heart raced as we walked through the Valley of the Winds, meandering through the textured stones and empty land. I can’t remember ever being so certain that inanimate rocks were actually alive.

"So howya goin’?" asked Reg when we finally returned to the bus two hours later.

I couldn’t hold back: "I see why Aboriginal culture is also a religion."

We drove to Uluru and ate lunch at the Cultural Center, an informative but artificial museum built to teach tourists about Anangu culture and the rock. I buried myself in my journal, inspired by the Kata Tjuta hike. There was so much to learn, to reflect on, and to appreciate. This was why I had come on my trip. Sitting there, at the base of Uluru, I felt more at peace with myself, the world, and my place within it than I had ever before. It was the epiphany of my trip. Life loses meaning sometimes. So much of life is about acquiring THINGS to make you happy. Do I take the time to think about their importance or significance? The outback made everyday minutiae seem unimportant. Aboriginals were completely in tune with their country, each other, and with themselves. Theirs was a civilization that RELIED on a heightened sense of awareness to survive. Although this was extreme compared to Western society, it seemed much simpler and more natural to me. I promised myself that I would somehow incorporate this broader, more mindful perspective into my life when I got home.

That afternoon we did the Uluru Circuit walk around the base. It took nearly 3 hours, but rewarded us with views of the rock from every angle and stunning cave paintings and bright blue skies. Alison, Dan, Paul and myself traveled well together: conversing amicably and pausing often to enjoy the scenery.

Later that afternoon, we watched our last Uluru sunset from a sand dune near our campsite. Reg brought a white cockatoo up to the lookout and all of us had a laugh. We had a fabulous dinner of mashed potatoes, peas, corn, steak and sausages. Then we sat around the campfire some more, singing songs with the Japanese guys and talking about our trip. I didn’t want it to end. I hadn’t called anyone at home in days because I couldn’t bear breaking the bubble of peace I had been in.

At one point I went to get my bag out of the bus. Reg happened to be there, smoking a cigarette.

"What’re you doing tomorrow?" His voice was awkward and abrupt.

"Well, you’re driving us back to Alice Springs and then I don’t really have plans. I’m not flying out until the next day."

"I wanna hang out with you. I’ll show you around Alice Springs if you have the time."

“Sure, cool.”

Then he told me something that sounds very corny in retrospect, but could quite possibly be the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me:

"You have a beautiful mind. A very powerful mind."

"So do you." The response was at the tip of my tongue.

The next morning we drove straight back to Alice Springs in one long stretch, dropping Dan, Paul and Stephen off at the airport. Then Reg dropped everyone else off at their respective hostels and made plans for all of us to meet up for dinner later on.

He picked me up in his own car a couple of hours later and took me to his house. I met his housemates: Steve, Michelle, and Steve’s dad, Cole. Steve and Cole were from Newcastle originally (2 hours north of Sydney), but Michelle was from the midlands of England. I watched the documentary on the last two Aborigines to leave the Western Desert with awestruck fascination.

We visited the old Alice Springs Telegraph Station and then he took me to the Gap Youth Center to meet the kids. Eventually we found our way to Casalinga and met up with the rest of our group, having one last wonderful night in Alice Springs as everyone gobbled up pizzas and calzones. I couldn’t believe that my stay in the "Red Centre" was almost over.

~Hope