There's something about ending the day in the outback that makes you feel properly connected to this ancient land. This evening near Broken Hill, We waited for the sun, camera in hand, waiting for that magical moment when the darkness light way to darkness. The sky didn't disappoint—it put on an absolute ripper of a show.
Standing on top of a hill, watching the horizon transform from deep blue to gold, then orange, then that brilliant burst of yellow as the sun finally crested the edge of the world—well, it's moments like these that remind me why we're doing this Big Lap. The silence out here is profound. No traffic, no neighbours, just the occasional call of a bird greeting the new day.</p>
Lisa joined me as the colours really started to intensify, and we just stood there together, not saying much. Sometimes words aren't necessary when the landscape speaks for itself. The plains stretch on forever in every direction, and you get this overwhelming sense of just how massive Australia really is.
On our way out from the statues through the scrubby bush nearby, and that's when I spotted him—a big male wallaby perched up on the rocks, backlit by the morning sun. He was watching me as carefully as I was watching him, perfectly still except for the occasional twitch of his ears. These encounters never get old, no matter how many roos you've seen. Each one feels special, a reminder that we're visitors in their territory.
As I stand here now, the stars beginning to appear in the darkening sky, I reckon the notes I scribbled in my journal earlier sum it up perfectly: a perfect end to a perfect day. Tomorrow we'll point the van towards new horizons, but tonight, we're exactly where we need to be.</p>
