The corrugations have arrived in earnest. That 31-kilometre stretch from Well 5 to Well 6 marked a definite shift in the character of the Canning Stock Route—the station ruts we'd been navigating gave way to the relentless, bone-shaking washboard that this track is famous for. Steve T and his Land Cruiser outfit were getting a proper workout, constantly adjusting to the shifting terrain and the weight distribution of the soft-top camper trailer. It's one thing to read about the Canning's corrugations; it's quite another to feel them rattling through every bolt and rivet of your rig.
But Well 6 offered more than just a respite from the vibrations. Lisa and I stood there in the red dust, looking at the old windlass system, and it hit us both—the sheer bloody-minded determination it must have taken to establish these water points across this merciless country. We had a go at operating the windlass ourselves, working the handle to raise and lower the bucket from the depths below. The timber was weathered grey, the metal work showed its age, but the mechanism still functioned. Imagine doing this day after day, with thousands of cattle depending on you getting it right.
The engineering is simple but ingenious—a pulley system, a sturdy frame, and muscle power. That's all the early drovers had between survival and disaster out here. Standing there with the spinifex stretching to the horizon in every direction, you gain a real appreciation for the men who carved this route through the desert. We weren't just driving through history; we were touching it, operating the same equipment they'd relied on decades ago.
The photography opportunities were exceptional—the deep ruts cutting through the red earth, the caravan dots in the distance illustrating the scale of this landscape, the weathered windlass standing sentinel against the harsh outback sun. Every image tells the story of challenge and endurance.
The track ahead was only going to get more technical from here, but that moment at Well 6, working that old windlass with Lisa, connected us to the route's heritage in a way no guidebook ever could.
