OF DESERT SANDS, CAMELS, AND SERPENTS

THERE ARE FEW TOPICS THAT PIQUE THE ADVENTURER’S IMAGINATION LIKE VENTURING INTO A PLACE WHERE FEW HAVE TROD

PERCHED HIGH on the crest of a sand ridge, the rising sun cast my elongated shadow to the west, which dissipated like a heat-induced mirage in the thick clumps of spinifex below. Beyond was another sand ridge, then 100 more until the most distant collided with a waning dawn sky. Three hundred kilometres farther lay Old Andado Station, our next objective. I breathed in deeply and closed my eyes, letting the crisp air fill my lungs as I mentally prepared for the day ahead. Opening my eyes, I scanned the horizon for a hint of an existing track; any that did exist had been expunged by the wind since the last vehicle crossed this region 50 years ago. In the valley to the east, my crew pulled a billy from the coals, prepared the last cuppa joe, and stowed gear. Sliding down the ridge to my Jeep, I pulled a whiskey compass from my pocket, pointed the needle due west, and turned the key. We needed to cover 50km before sunset, and it would be a long day.

The previous year I’d met with Ben Davidson, publisher of Jeep Action Magazine, in Las Vegas. He shared that, in 1969, a man by the name of Ian McDonald rounded up a group of friends and three Jeep Overlanders and set out to not only cross the continent