I spend another night in a stand of tall dead gidgee trees in the lee of the wind between 10m dunes. Their wan bare limbs reach up to the stars. The ground is getting redder as I travel further west. The wildflowers brighter and thicker. The northwestern Simpson Desert becomes gradually lusher, as deserts go, with every dune I cross now…
This part of the Simpson is the desert of the mind. Red dunes after red dunes. The roar of the V8 working under load climbing the dune, the inhalation sound of the intercooler sucking air through the snorkel, then the engine-braking groan going down the back of the dune and the upshift through the flat, corrugated valley…
Crossing the northern Simpson via the Madigan Line.
