Eight-thirty, pm, Boxing Day. The odometer in the ‘new’ van clicks over, 1,200km since I started at five this morning. I’m fiddling with the switch for the light bar, getting the settings right in the fading dusk. A car travelling the other way flashes. A bouncing blur enters from the right and there’s a huge thud. Kangaroo. A big one. I pull over safely, but the culprit has already hopped it, no doubt a little sore. Fishing the headtorch out, I can see there is limited damage. The lightbar is pushed up to illuminate the heavens and now wobbles precariously on its fixings. Time to stop and sleep. Only another 200k left for the morning.
Queensland over-humidifies in mid-summer, so another destination is needed for my long school holiday. Corryong at New Year works perfectly. The little Aussie town sits at the edge of the high country with the Snowy Mountains and Mount Kosciuszko, the flattest continent’s highest point, as a backdrop. In a land where everything is huge, deadly and terrifying (venomous snakes, furious oceans and scorching deserts) the...
