Encounter with the outback

It strikes me that we are somewhat manic in the way we attack holidays. Though we have changed location, the inner-city spirit still percolates within – seeking to press every moment out of every day. The driving while at Rawnsley Park; the long walks – each day finding us lurching into camp as the sun set. Up again at the crack of dawn this morning (maybe just before it!) and pushing ourselves all the way to Coober Pedy, arriving at 6.30 pm, eyes scanning the horizon as the sun lowered itself in the sky and then set. The long long twilight – as we watched the sun drop from the sky as the clock neared 5:20, and not experiencing complete darkness until just after 6 pm. It was truly brilliant to watch the changing sky – the blue of the early night sky at the eastern horizon while the western horizon glowed brilliant red; the new moon carving its way into the ever-encroaching darkness. And all experienced at 110 km/h!

The vast expanse of nothingness which marked our day made me think that we really have not conquered this land in any real sense. It still holds its power over us, as we retreat to city centres with lush fertile grounds and easy access (for the most part) to fresh water. Our forebears found the going rugged through the early decades, particularly emerging from their penchant for simply relocating British farming methods to the harsh Australian landscape. The Hills family (Flinders Ranges Homestead) were required to run 120000 sheep on their land – clearly beyond what was sustainable, simply because the government required it (utilising patterns known ‘back home’). And so we live today on the most arable land in the country, covering much of it with concrete and bitumen, or housing, all the while giving up on the vast expanses. We have not come to grips with the arid land which we call home. Populations of these Stuart Highway towns rarely exceed 100. Homesteads are dotted across the landscape, most larger than suburbs in the cities. We zoom through, failing to come to grips with this land and its needs.

And so we too, holidaying at breakneck speed. Snacking on the beauty of the Flinders Ranges, but not fully drinking it in. Stopping for a snapshot or two, but not to listen to its voices. Some places resonated a deep history, but gives its secrets only to the patient. This is a lesson we must learn, having relocated from the city, but certainly still living by its spirit.

Here we sit in Coober Pedy, less than a week after leaving home. I can still readily recall the sounds of the tram turning the corner from Victoria Street into Errol Street. I can hear the horses cantering past at the end of a long day of activity for tourists in the city, Ben barking as they approach. These sounds are embedded within me. The sounds – or silences – of the outback close me in, leaving me with a sense of deafness hard to explain. The night skies reveal stars the cities obscure, and they have begun to find contact with the darker and distant places within me. What light will be revealed within when I pause long enough – slow down enough – to truly see and appreciate?