In 1995, on my first trip to Australia, I set out on a coach from Sydney going in the opposite direction - up through the red centre and then flying across from Darwin to Cairns before heading down the east coast. Because I had written far more during that trip than I did for this area of the country during my return trips, the following pages are taken from my original travel journals written all those years ago. As I take up the journey, our organised tour had just reached Marla, a small town south of Uluru.

Today has been by the far the most exhausting of the trip so far. At eight o'clock this morning, we left Marla and were given an absolutely hilarious town tour by Greg, the local hotel owner. Marla is in the middle of nowhere, and the people who live there only seem to serve one purpose - to give people somewhere to sleep when they pass through. Greg's half hour tour of the town was highly sarcastic and very funny indeed - in fact, he has recorded the whole thing on tape and has been selling it for some time, although he'd just sold the last copy today and I somehow doubt I'll be able to find one elsewhere which is a shame. When Greg left the bus as we pulled out of Marla, he got a standing ovation from all of us - at least until we fell over as we moved off, of course. We then headed directly for the Ayres Rock resort, stopping only briefly at a small town called Mount Ebenezer for a morning snack.

One of the most annoying problems we are experiencing out here, apart from the heat, is the abundance of flying insects. There are literally millions of them, and they seem to just swarm around us constantly trying to home in on the rich moisture deposits around the eyes, nose, mouth and ears. At Mount Ebenezer, a lot of people took the coach captain's advice to buy repellent or a special net which hangs down over your head and makes you look even sillier than you did with just the big floppy hat on. To be honest, when your choice is looking like a pair of curtains or being sucked dry by insects, you don't tend to worry too much about aesthetics anyway. We came away from Mount Ebenezer looking like a group from some sort of bee keepers convention.

Arriving at the Ayres Rock Resort, we had just about enough time to dump our suitcases in our rooms and renew our supply of sun tan lotion before we were all bundled straight back onto the bus for another scheduled afternoon of exhaustion. First off, we were whisked off to the base of Uluru (Ayres Rock by it's correct Aboriginal name) so that we could get some idea of the sheer size of the thing. Like the Grand Canyon, it really is impossible to describe Uluru in words - so I'll let the photographs speak for themselves - but nothing can prepare you for actually standing there at the base being dwarfed by it. Even photographs tend to be taken from a distance and framed so that the whole rock fits into the viewfinder, so there is generally no idea of scale. You pretty much have to experience it yourself to understand how incredibly mind-blowing Uluru really is. Coach captains like to wind people up when it comes to approaching Uluru on the bus, as its neighbouring big rocks tend to come into sight first and people on the coach rush to the windows shouting "Wow, isn't it amazing" thinking they're looking at Uluru. Having only ever seen it in photographs, most visitors just see a big round-topped rock on the horizon and assume it must be what they've come to see. When Uluru finally comes into sight, jaws generally start to hit the ground - it really is much bigger than you could possibly imagine.

One of the things on our itinerary for tomorrow morning is for people who want to to climb to the top of the rock - something I don't personally agree with as the local Aboriginal people think of Uluru as sacred and don't wish people to walk all over it - but when we all stood at the bottom and looked up at the 80 degree incline and 380 metre walk to the top I think most of us chickened out. The first third of the rock, in fact, is generally known as "chicken rock", because it seems that a large amount of people climb only that distance before heat exhaustion gets to them and they return to the bottom. In fact, there is actually a plaque at the base of the rock listing the names of people who have simply run out of energy and fallen to their deaths - and if that's not a reason not to do something, I don't know what is. Mike and Lisa, our coach captain and guide, tried to coax us to do it with promises of certificates if wereached the top, but it wasn't to be - the combination of respect for local beliefs and the sheer stupidity of wanting to climb such an insurmountable object had well and truly put most of us off the idea. Besides, they now only allow people to climb Uluru early in the morning as it is the heat of the mid-day sun which causes most people to go "oh, b***** it" and fall to their deaths half way up - so agreeing to climb Uluru also meant coming back at 5.45 tomorrow morning. That, in itself, probably put a lot of people off.

Next stop today was at the base of the Olgas, a mountain range at the edge of Kata Tjuta National Park where Uluru stands. The idea was that we would all set off on a walk along the winding path which led up into the range to a lookout point some four kilometres away. The older members of our party took one look and went off to find a shady spot to rest while the rest of us strapped on the backpacks which had been kindly provided by our coach captain and strode off in ninety-six degree heat into the mountains with camera in one hand and water bottle in the other. Only a few of the sturdier souls managed to bear the heat for long enough to make it all the way to the other end of the four kilometre track - the rest of us made a valiant effort and got about three quarters of the way before having to turn back. The combination of heat, angle of ascent and the fact that the track was littered with jagged rocks and fallen branches which we were constantly falling over was just too much for even the youngest, fittest members of the party. While I was doing the walk, it didn't actually seem so bad - I was aware that I was feeling a little breathless, but the scenery all around was enough to make me push on towards the top. When I did finally collapse in a heap, though, and sit down on a rock, it suddenly hit me and I found that I was unable to get up and stagger back to the coach for some ten minutes.

Back at the coach, Mike had opened the luggage compartment to reveal a ridiculously large water bottle and everyone was crowding around to get paper cups of water from the tap - and this was great as we ended up having to wait for some time before everyone got back. Some of the group hung around at the top to get their breath back as they had suddenly realised once they were up there that getting back down would be just as exhausting and have the added risk that if they tripped there would be a headlong plunge down the side of the mountain to deal with. Eventually, we all staggered back onto the coach and headed off back to the hotel - but was that the end of our exhausting day? Was it hell!

Back at the resort, Mike was generous enough to allow us just enough time to have a shower before we had to pile back on board the coach again for our second trip of the day out to Uluru - this time to witness the spectacular sight of the sun setting over the rock. According to everybody and their dog, and every article you ever read on the subject, Uluru is supposed to change colour and go all sorts of different shades of red and orange as the sun sets and the light changes. Well, while it may be true that the rock changes colour very subtly during the course of the day as the sun hits it from different angles, the sunset experience didn't seem to be anything particularly spectacular to me. Now, don't get me wrong - it was an amazing experience and obviously really romantic - lots of young couples were sitting around on deckchairs, ironically doing things which almost certainly meant that they weren't noticing anything going on with Uluru - but it didn't really live up to the hype for me. The vantage point was absolutely overrun with coach loads of tourists and sight-seers, and a lot of these seemed to have come prepared with picnic tables, numerous Tupperware boxes full of sandwiches, and seating. Mike and Lisa, in fact, had brought with them a selection of "nibbles" and drinks which they walked around passing out, and we all stood around and watched the sun set over Uluru with a glass of cheap champagne in one hand and a cheese-doodle in the other.

Tomorrow morning at 5.45, while all of the less sensible members of our party are getting onto the bus to go and see the sunrise at Uluru before climbing it, I will be sound asleep getting a well earned lay-in. The coach collects us after breakfast, at 9 o'clock, so for the first time in ages it seems as though I might get what some people might laughingly call a bit of extra sleep.

About Simon and Burfords Travels:

Simon Burford is a UK based travel writer. He will be re-publishing his travel blogs, chapters from his books and other miscellaneous rantings on these pages over the coming weeks and months, and the entry on this page may not necessarily reflect todays date.