Australia

I come to Australia, as many people do
To see the old koala, hitch a ride on a kangaroo
John Denver

You wouldn't think a place as big, as patently there as Australia, could escape the "civilized" world's notice until just about the modern era, but there you have it. It took Captain Cook, the greatest of human navigators, to find the island continent in 1768. And what he found was weirder than imagination, a place where summers are winter, swans are black, and a mammal lays eggs. For real? This I've got to see.

With my guide, Sab Lord (his real name), I will visit Australia's fabled Outback, land of sand, sun, kangaroos, and Uluru (Ayers Rock). Extra gas and spare tires stowed, we climb aboard Sab's Land Cruiser. With a grinding of gears, a couple of bucks, and a snappy but unintended swipe of the windshield wipers, we are off, drawing a bead on some of the hottest, dryest real estate in the world.

Sab is Australian through and through, with the leathery skin, akubra hat, and safari shorts to prove it-and the language, too. Beginning with our introduction he says mate, bloke, and sheila repeatedly, like a nervous tic. I assume it's for show, to give me the full effect. After all I'm paying him well. Time would prove otherwise, however. Every Aussie I met spoke fluent Australian.

These mates of the outback look as if they spend every day doing tough stuff and every night drinking, which is pretty much what they do. They're the first ones you would choose to start a colony somewhere, and for whom a bit scared is the maximum allowed. Sab and company have their own proud 200 year history and worldview, and no longer consider themselves England's bucolic cousins. Nor are they inclined to kowtow to pushy Americans.

After a morning of paved roads leading out of Darwin we finally encounter reality, the washboard dirt track that will take us into wild Australia. So begins nonstop axle action sufficient to rattle teeth and scatter bowel gas (and any wallaby within earshot). Every hour or so we zip by an oncoming vehicle with a wave, a whoosh, and a cloud of dust. Occasionally a kanga (Aussie for kangaroo) bounces by on his way to somewhere. Neatly arranged termite mounds are the dominant landscape feature, like so many headstones, commemorating eons of wind, fire, and flood. Welcome to the Outback. (next photo)

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I come to Australia, as many people do To see the old koala, hitch a ride on a kangaroo John Denver You wouldn't think a place as big, as patently there as Australia, could escape the "civilized" world's notice until just about the modern era, but there you have it. It took Captain Cook, the greatest of human navigators, to find the island continent in 1768. And what he found was weirder than imagination, a place where summers are winter, swans are black, and a mammal lays eggs. For real? This I've got to see. With my guide, Sab Lord (his real name), I will visit Australia's fabled Outback, land of sand, sun, kangaroos, and Uluru (Ayers Rock). Extra gas and spare tires stowed, we climb aboard Sab's Land Cruiser. With a grinding of gears, a couple of bucks, and a snappy but unintended swipe of the windshield wipers, we are off, drawing a bead on some of the hottest, dryest real estate in the world. Sab is Australian through and through, with the leathery skin, akubra hat, and safari shorts to prove it-and the language, too. Beginning with our introduction he says mate, bloke, and sheila repeatedly, like a nervous tic. I assume it's for show, to give me the full effect. After all I'm paying him well. Time would prove otherwise, however. Every Aussie I met spoke fluent Australian. These mates of the outback look as if they spend every day doing tough stuff and every night drinking, which is pretty much what they do. They're the first ones you would choose to start a colony somewhere, and for whom a bit scared is the maximum allowed. Sab and company have their own proud 200 year history and worldview, and no longer consider themselves England's bucolic cousins. Nor are they inclined to kowtow to pushy Americans. After a morning of paved roads leading out of Darwin we finally encounter reality, the washboard dirt track that will take us into wild Australia. So begins nonstop axle action sufficient to rattle teeth and scatter bowel gas (and any wallaby within earshot). Every hour or so we zip by an oncoming vehicle with a wave, a whoosh, and a cloud of dust. Occasionally a kanga (Aussie for kangaroo) bounces by on his way to somewhere. Neatly arranged termite mounds are the dominant landscape feature, like so many headstones, commemorating eons of wind, fire, and flood. Welcome to the Outback. (next photo)

© Danny Kimberlin 2015