Uluru & Lake Amadeus – A Journey Above Australia’s Spiritual Heart
Few projects have the power to stop you in your tracks, to shift how you see the world, but this one easily makes my shortlist. Working with Parks Australia and the Anangu traditional owners to capture rare aerial perspectives of Uluru’s southern face, followed by a high-altitude flight above the salt pans of Lake Amadeus, was one of those rare, life-changing experiences.
The Journey South
Our adventure began in Darwin, tracing the Stuart Highway south toward Katherine Gorge. From above, thirteen ancient gorges carved by the Katherine River reveal themselves. Deep, winding scars in the earth, holding immense cultural and spiritual significance for the Jawoyn people.
We continued on through Mataranka, where we swam with turtles in the crystal-clear, 34°C waters of Bitter Springs. A surreal, tropical experience and a swimming spot free of Salt Water Crocs, before heading back into the red heart of the country.
The next day brought an eleven hour drive through the desert to Alice Springs, and then onto Uluru, where we met with Parks Australia for an in-depth briefing to plan the following morning’s aerial shoot over Uluru.
The Flight at First Light
Uluru Aerial Photography Flight – Southern skies at dawn, just before take off.
We were prepped and on the tarmac before sunrise, the familiar tick tick tick-wooosh of the Bell 206’s turbine springing to life. Looking up I watched as the main rotors began turning, and I felt a deep connection to the land already. The same star patterns I’ve seen countless times from the air somehow felt different in this place, older, more sacred.
Lifting off, Uluru instantly appeared as a enormous silhouette against the eastern glow. As the sun crept higher, its colours shifted dramatically, deep purples giving way to crimson reds, then glowing amber as rising light cascaded down the 1,142-foot rock face like a waterfall. The desert trees below cast long shadows across sacred sandstone. A geological titan more than 500 million years old, just like a tip on a giant red iceberg with its base extending roughly 2.5 kilometers underground.
The surrounding dunes lay flat and endless, as if nature herself had cleared the stage for this sacred monolith. For fifteen minutes we circled, bearing witness to Uluru waking with the sun, capturing every shift of light and angle, from Uluru’s south face across to Kata Tjuta, the domed rock formations that also hold deep meaning for the Anangu people.
Across the Great Southern Land
From there, we turned north, climbing up to higher altitudes with the morning light. Below us, wild camels traced ancient paths through the sand. Few songs capture the spirit of Australia like Icehouse’s Great Southern Land and in that moment, soaring above the desert, it felt like the land itself was singing back.
At 7,000 feet, the landscape transformed. The vast expanse of Lake Amadeus (known as Pantu to the Anangu) stretched 180km’s out across the horizon. Brilliant white salt flats contrasted against red desert islands, streaked with soft blue minerals left by receding floodwaters..
According to Anangu, Lake Amadeus was created by the giant water serpent Wanampi, who carved the lake with a stick, leaving behind concentric circles that became the red islands still visible today. Standing there, or even imagining walking across it, it’s easy to lose all sense of time and scale.
We traced camel tracks winding through the salt, imagining the long, thirsty journey of these desert wanderers. At one point, we considered setting down on one of the islands, but after two hours photographing patterns from the air, we began our return to civilisation – tarmac, hangars, and the distant hum of tourism returning to the day.
Back to Earth
Back on the ground, the Bell was refuelled and readied for its next flight. I stood for a moment, reluctant to leave. After witnessing such raw beauty and spiritual depth, it was difficult to reconcile this sacred landscape with the modern world.
Our return journey stretched across the desert once more, past lonely roadhouses, sleeping underground in Coober Pedy’s mining caves, and finally back to Melbourne a few days later.
Even now, weeks on, I still find myself revisiting those moments. The silence, the light, the stories passed down by countless generations of Anangu. Few places on Earth resonate like Uluru and Lake Amadeus. Fewer still make you feel so small, yet so deeply connected to something timeless.
