There was something satisfying about waking up knowing we were ready to roll. The tanks were full, the fuel was topped up, and after making sure every last scrap of rubbish had been disposed of responsibly, we were packed and ready for another day on the Great Central Road.
As always, Mr Unshackled was busy programming the day's route while I looked over his shoulder, wondering how a single day's drive could still look so incredibly long. Our destination was the little roadhouse at Tjukayirla—a name we both struggled to pronounce—but out here, the journey is always far more memorable than the destination.
Our campsite at Desert Surf Central had been an unexpected gem. Nestled beneath towering desert ridges, it was peaceful, spacious and surrounded by spectacular scenery. But it wasn't just the landscape that made the night memorable.
After treating ourselves to a delicious dinner of slow-cooked lamb shanks and vegetables, we soon discovered that the aroma had travelled much further than we intended. Before long, several curious dingoes had quietly surrounded our campsite.
For a while it was more than a little unsettling.
Thankfully, after making plenty of noise and ensuring there wasn't a single morsel of food left behind, they eventually wandered off in search of an easier meal. Encounters like that are a good reminder why responsible camping matters. Feeding wildlife—even accidentally—only encourages them to return to campsites, creating problems for both animals and travellers.
One of the joys of travelling the Great Central Road is the unexpected places that appear out of nowhere.
Standing alone amongst the endless desert was a magnificent Kurrajong Tree, often nicknamed the "Bat Tree" because of its distinctive bat-shaped leaves. Against the red earth it looked impossibly green, almost like an oasis.
The information board revealed just how important this remarkable tree has been for thousands of years. The sap is edible, the roots store precious water, and the seeds can be ground into flour or even brewed into a bush coffee.
Naturally, Mr Unshackled couldn't resist investigating.
Within minutes he had found some hardened sap, declared it tasted like cardboard, then moved straight on to sampling the seeds instead.
"They're actually quite nice," he insisted with complete confidence.
I wasn't entirely convinced, especially considering they'd been lying on the ground, but after all these years I've learnt that Mr Unshackled possesses what can only be described as a stomach made of steel.
Not long afterwards we pulled onto the Royal Flying Doctor Service emergency airstrip just outside Tjukayirla Roadhouse.
The roadhouse itself is one of those classic outback stops that travellers grow to appreciate. Fuel, water, accommodation, friendly faces and a chance to stretch your legs before heading back into the vast emptiness.
Its name comes from the Ngaanyatjarra language and translates to "rescue someone from death"—a fitting tribute considering the nearby RFDS emergency landing strip that has helped save countless lives in this remote part of Australia.
Out here, places like this are far more than fuel stops. They're lifelines.
Our next stop was the White Cross.
Perched high on a hill overlooking the desert, the simple white cross was erected in 1991 by Aboriginal Christians. From its vantage point the views stretched endlessly across the landscape, while the nearby information boards shared more stories about the remarkable mulga trees and their importance as a traditional food source.
As we stood quietly taking it all in, a massive, oversized road train slowly appeared in the distance carrying enormous mine equipment.
In one of those wonderfully small-world moments, we discovered the lead driver was originally from Bendigo—our own hometown in central Victoria.
It's funny how even in one of Australia's most remote places, home never seems too far away.
Late in the afternoon we arrived at what would become one of our favorite camps of the entire trip.
Giles Breakaway.
The escarpment simply falls away into an endless landscape of rugged ridges, deep gullies and wide-open plains stretching towards the Great Victoria Desert. The scenery was breathtaking.
With camp set up, we couldn't resist heading off on foot to explore. Everywhere we looked there was something new to discover.
Camel tracks crossed the sandy creek beds and fresh dingo prints wound their way through the soft earth.
Tiny desert flowers somehow flourished amongst the harsh landscape bringing some color amongst the red hues of this land.
Hidden caves appeared beneath towering cliffs, while massive slabs of rock looked as though they could break free at any moment.
At one point we unknowingly wandered across private pastoral land before spotting the warning sign on the way back. Thankfully we'd only ventured a short distance before turning around, but it served as another reminder that exploring Australia's remote regions comes with a responsibility to respect both cultural and private land.
That evening brought another small celebration.
For five days we'd travelled through Aboriginal lands where alcohol restrictions apply, meaning our beers had remained unopened the entire time.
So after lighting the campfire using our trusty supermarket paper bag filled with kindling—a little trick that's both practical and helps recycle the bags—we finally cracked open a cold beer.
After nearly a week without one, we joked that a single stubby would probably send us straight to bed.
It almost did.
Our final morning at Giles Breakaway was spent wandering the ridgelines one last time.
The colors seemed even richer in the early morning light, while the vastness of the Great Victoria Desert stretched endlessly towards the horizon.
It was one of those places where you find yourself slowing down without even realising it.
No schedules.
No crowds.
Just silence.
Those are often the moments that stay with you the longest.
Eventually, though, every adventure has to come to an end.
After around 50 kilometres of bitumen, we rolled into Laverton—the official end of the Great Central Road and, for us, the completion of the entire Outback Way.
Standing beside the sign felt surprisingly emotional.
We'd travelled 2,700 kilometres from Winton, with around 1,300 kilometres of that on dirt.
What had started as another road trip had become one of the most rewarding journeys we've ever undertaken.
Along the way we'd kept ourselves entertained by counting everything we saw.
By the finish line we'd recorded:
-
280 wrecked vehicles
-
46 camels
-
9 horses
-
2 dingoes
-
4 wrecked trucks
-
Countless bumper bars, hubcaps and rims scattered beside the road.
-
Even the occasional microwave, caravan parts and abandoned trailers.
The Outback Way is almost like an open-air museum, with every kilometre telling another story.
As we drove back towards civilisation, neither of us was particularly excited.
There's something incredibly special about Australia's remote interior.
The dirt roads slow you down.
The distances force you to appreciate the journey.
The campsites reconnect you with nature.
And the people you meet remind you just how welcoming the outback can be.
Plans are already underway to eventually seal much of the Great Central Road and Plenty Highway. While that will undoubtedly make travel easier and safer, part of us hopes this remarkable drive never loses the rugged character that makes it so unforgettable.
Some adventures aren't meant to be rushed.
And this was certainly one of them.
The Outback Way gave us far more than a route across Australia.
It gave us memories we'll carry long after the red dust has been washed from the caravan.
** Tip: For the best viewing experience, click the YouTube link in the bottom left corner of the video to watch in higher clarity.
Add comment
Comments