If you thought the soft sand was the Canning's signature challenge, wait until the track decides to throw some proper rock hopping at you. Between Well 6 and Well 7, Steve T's LandCruiser got the workout of its life—and so did we. This section isn't for anyone nursing a dodgy back or harbouring romantic notions about peaceful desert driving. This was technical, rough country where every metre had to be earned.
The suspension was working overtime, doing the kind of gymnastics that would make a one-armed drummer in a solo look relaxed. Steve T was locked in, reading every boulder and rut, picking lines that kept us off our roof and the Cruiser off its belly. In the backseat, Jamie was in absolute heaven, camera clicking away as we crawled over rocky outcrops that would give a mountain goat serious pause for thought.</p>
As navigator, I had my hands full making sure we didn't end up high-centered in the middle of nowhere—because out here, 'nowhere' is exactly where you are, and the nearest mechanic is about 800 kilometres in any direction. I was also mentally preparing tonight's feed, knowing that after a day like this, nobody's going to want anything requiring serious chewing.
When Well 7 finally came into view, it felt like crossing a finish line. The classic Canning greeted us—those rusted reminders. It's a rugged spot, no question, but after hours of being rattled like dice in a cup, any patch of flat ground feels like a five-star resort with room service.
The LandCruiser took an absolute beating today and came through grinning. Steve T's checking her over now, making sure nothing's come loose or decided to retire early. Out here, your vehicle isn't just transport—it's your lifeline, your shelter, and your ticket home. Treat it right, and it'll see you through.</p>