A different kind of red dirt

There aren’t many places further from Tasmania than Karratha in Western Australia. It’s quicker to drive to Darwin or Kununurra, than it is to traipse to Karratha.

If you’re going on an adventure, you may as well make it a big one, I say.

In the lead-up to my drive, there was only one moment when I questioned what I was doing. Mum and I were watching the weather on ABC. After the Tassie forecast, the image zoomed out to the rest of the country. I visualised the path I would take around the south and west coasts. I looked away.

I’ve been treading water for the past year. After deciding to leave Mount Gnomon Farm, I did some wwoofing in Victoria, spent three months in Asia, and then went back to the farm, like a moth to the flame, to help for a few busy months.

Sometimes, it takes a while for the pieces to fall back in place.

Writing the job application was painful. It’d been 10 years since I applied to be the ABC’s Rural Reporter in Burnie. I had to google resume templates, cover letters, and talk to friends about how to address the selection criteria. I listened back to interviews and broadcasts I’d done in Burnie so I could put a show reel together. I’d forgotten that I actually used to be pretty good at my job.

A few days after the interview, I got a call offering me an adventure in the Pilbara. I was camping on Bruny Island that day, and a land of red rocks, cattle stations, and mining camps was almost impossible to imagine.

I was determined to travel as lightly as possible. I filled the back of the LandCruiser with cooking gear, pantry ingredients, a tool box, camping table and chair, and my new snazzy fridge/freezer. I managed to fit about 8kg of meat from the farm in the freezer, and then bacon, chorizo, and Tassie cheeses in the fridge section. And a bottle of local white, of course…

I allowed myself two boxes for “luxury” items: books, art materials, pretty pieces of material for decorating new digs, headscarves, nice linen, and photographs. I kept my clothes pretty simple – just every long-sleeved shirt that I own, work trousers, happy pants for weekends, and a couple of go-with-everything dresses. I may also have packed an original 70s, psychedelic satin dress… just in case.

My aunty is an experienced outback traveller, and she put together a packing list for me. So along with all the day-to-day stuff, I’ve got an over-flowing first aid kit, fire extinguisher, 4WD recovery gear, 2kg of jelly beans, a shovel, washing line, wire, sewing kit, various tarps and occy straps, a wheel chock (LandCruisers have a reputation for dodgy hand-breaks), superglue… and it goes on.

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I could tell you all about the 5,000km from Tassie to Karratha, but this post is getting pretty long. I loved the trip – honestly. The first couple of days I didn’t go too hard, but eventually I got up to 1,100km in one day (that was a bit ridiculous, but I had to be in Perth by a certain day). I camped in national parks and at roadhouses. I had wine and cheese before dinner every night and used a tablecloth. I even washed up before I got in my swag! I listened to The Best of Van Morrison CD approximately 45 times because I couldn’t get radio reception most of the way, and my iPod kept dying. The driving time took 6.5 days, with a break for a couple of days in Perth to meet the boss.

I’ve had five days at work, ringing cattle stations and trying to charm the pastoralists. It’s usually pretty tough for new reporters up here, I’m told, with people saying things like, “How long will you be staying? Five minutes?”

Did you want to bet on that?