THE sun rose above Wolfe Creek Crater and Mick Taylor mustn’t have been out hunting, I was still alive. A short walk led to the base of the crater and, after a quick climb, I took one last look at this magnificent specimen of a meteorite crater. It must have been one heck of a piece of space rock that crashed here more than 300,000 years ago.
With breakfast done and dusted, the rooftop tent closed, and the dishwater emptied on the coals from last night’s fire, it was time to hit the corrugations again. Passing Mick Taylor’s ‘abattoir’, a small herd of Brahman cattle kicked up bulldust as they wandered to the watering point, I felt a chill go down my spine.
The southern Kimberley town of Halls Creek was busy with overlanders, the Shell servo had a queue of 4WDs waiting to fill up. I drove around the corner to the BP self-serve to fill the Prado’s tanks, the only soul there.
