The Nullarbor Plain, seven hundred miles of waterless plain but with many trees (and untold kangaroos) is other-worldy in its exquisite and remote presence. Like most parts of non-urban Australia it is a dangerous and even fatal place for fools and risk-takers, who regularly pay the ultimate price. This piece is about the aura of darkness that surrounds the happy traveller in such surroundings.

 

Winging It (Nullarbor Journey)

 

This country has gravel in her guts;

black sand pastures rising in sheets

over red scar rocks

when mirages flicker lies

at sunrise.

 

She lives at our feet,

lays out salt flats in alizarin light

between she-oaks as we slide,

consuming the Earth

eating the day

living on hours

counting miles by microwave towers;

being Great on the Highway,

bouncing in the beat

of drumming tyres,

 

listening to road music

and the miles,

flexing axle springs;

wondering how far

it really is ...

… as the raven flies.

 

Chris Hubbard

Perth. 2018