We’d been camped on the banks of Cooper’s Creek near Innamincka – Outback northern South Australia, for a day or two. The Outback disturbs some people. They feel isolated. It’s so far from the coast, the comforting urban sprawl. It really is. You can drive all day without seeing another person. But this is what I love about it. You can hear the hush of the universe. It makes you quiet. The air is clear. Your travelling companions, because they’re of the same inclinations, are quiet with you.
We sit and watch the water birds at their rituals. A fish leaping for an insect breaks the surface of the water in front of you. A silent dingo on a mission takes a wide berth. At night you can see an entire hemisphere of stars. The rigours of business are relegated to the deep recesses of your mind.
We’d noticed a small home-built caravan up river a bit. On our second day on the creek, it’s owner dawdled across to us. After introductions, handshakes and some chatter, Robert told us he was in the grips of terminal cancer and had come to the Outback to die. He’d done well for himself – recently relinquishing a successful building company. He’d built a magnificent home for his family and had all his affairs in order. Showed us photos – of the home, himself and his family there. None of his loved ones wanted to come with him on this, his final journey, so he was alone. His beginnings had been humble, in the desert, as a member of an aboriginal mob whose name I can’t recall now. He was educated, had become ambitious. Now we could sense his need to talk, and were enthralled by the amazing story of his life. For me, this is part of the richness of the Outback – not only its beauty, its stillness and its vastness, but the characters you meet along the way. The scenery is predictable for long stretches, but these are the surprises, the gifts, the people that embellish the journey.
You will find much more about our Outback adventures in my book So Big The Land.
Until next time,
Sue