Yesterday I drove an undesirable distance for any one person to drive in one day, roughly about 1400 kilometres. The landscape of the desert along the Nullabore is monotonous, subduing and dreadful. This country is completely impersonal. It is a landscape without physiognomy, no faces of life or men, no bodies of recumbent animals, are suggested by the shapes or lack of shape of the land. Dull yellow and gawkily bending shrubs and trees give way to red clay and seemingly relentless unyielding road for as long as anyone would care to see. Having said this the desert has a feeling completely unparallel to anything I have experienced before. There is a raw beauty hidden amongst the harsh desolate nothingness. It is a beauty that has to be studied to be truly observed, a beauty that despite the repetitive seemingly vacancy continues only to grow more intense with each hour passed watching.
The picture is two road trains with police escorts taking up the entire road.
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