On the edge of the world, my highway home

'Crossing the Nullarbor'  is an initiation to the raw wild isolation and vastness of Australia, a travelers rite of passage. It is also what connects me to home. 

The term 'crossing the Nullarbor' refers to a 750 mile section of the Eyre Highway, that runs from the East coast to the West.  It is a journey at the ends of the earth, hugging unforgiving coastline that rolls off the horizon towards Antarctica. A place where the endless expanse of desert meets the endless expanse of the ocean.

From the car, you can easily miss the cavernous wonders, ancient fossils and relics of early explorers/inhabitants, found even metres from the roadside. Lost in the repetitive drone of short shrubbery and mirages. The Desert looks empty, it knows how to mask it's secrets.   

I never understood the appeal of being in a desert before crossing the Nullarbor. How can an environment that cares nothing for you, make you feel so free? Everything in life seems to fizzle away out on the Nullarbor. You become one with the landscape, insignificant to the desert. You are neither rich or poor, young or old. Lifes labels mean nothing. This is the deserts world.   

I have made the desolate journey by car across the Nullarbor seven times in my life. Once in a Kombi van at age 19, embarking on a solo journey of 4900 kilometres (3000 miles) to the other side of the country to live and work. I had only just got my license too.  It takes around three days of solid driving, to make the road trip across the bottom of Australia, between the states major cities.   

Technically the Eyre highway only touches the actual Nullarbor Plain desert in a few places. The name Nullarbor is derived from the latin root meaning  'null of trees.' An appropriate name, the plain is believed to have once been a shallow sea bed. This is hard to fathom at the “Bunda Cliffs”, a spot where the flat plain comes to an abrupt halt, dramatically plunging to the ocean depths below. 

The desert breaks a few international records; with the longest straight section of railway and is the worlds largest piece of limestone. In the past, it has been a nuclear test zone and the impact site of a sky lab (and meteorites). The night sky is breath taking on the treeless plain, almost a 180 degree panoramic view into space. 

On every trip, I have seen people on this long lonely highway out there on foot or loaded up on a bicycle. It has been the mission of many an adventurer to cross this unique landscape. A harsh arid climate, the desert is scorching in the day and near freezing at night.  

 

There is a special travellers camaraderie on the open road, a customary wave or a nod to those you pass.  That may be the only car you see for hours.  There is no real towns just petrol station road houses spaced hundreds of kilometres apart. Fuel, food and accommodation is highly inflated and a hot shower may cost a small fortune. Don't even bother asking for water at the roadhouses, there are signs everywhere saying you will be rejected. You must pack enough water to make the whole journey.   

Thanks to my Dad, I harbor an admiration for the Nullarbor, a rich appreciation of its subtle wonders. My Dad knows the place well, having made the trip more than 20 times over a period of sixty years. The road and journey has changed a lot over his time. From a precarious dirt track in his childhood to a full bitumen road serving hundreds of road train trucks. It is now the main artery from east to west. But certain trees and sights remain unaffected by time.    

He has camped out there for weeks, explored the caves, discovering its hidden gems and even journeyed by bicycle. I am always amazed at how he can mentally landmark sites in an environment that on the surface looks the same. But he spots the difference, shrubs bent a certain shape, rock formations and land layout. I think it is because he really looks and I don't. He can take me to a spot he camped at thirty years ago or even as a young boy.   

That Kombi trip I mentioned earlier, started out as a six month adventure.  I always planned to return home. Fourteen years later, this giant continent still separates me from my family.  Puttering across the Nullarbor in a noisy Kombi, footloose and fancy free, I never imagined that this was a journey that would start a whole new life for me. 

I love the Nullarbor.  For me it symbolising the start of my youthful adventure. It is a connection both literally and emotionally to my Mum and Dad. 

The Nullarbor is a long drive, and I may vow never to do it again.  Then one day sipping my morning coffee, engulfed in modern living, I hear the desert calling. A restless craving for the open plains and deep blue ocean. I know now, this is why my Dad has done the trip so many times.  You want to feel that part of you alive in the desert again.  I know I will be back out there, crossing the Nullarbor at least one more time. One more time! 

xx Isabella