New South Wales is a huge state and when you weave your way through some of it’s hidden pockets it can take some time to reach the furthest boundaries.  But that was our mission as we left the modest regional centre of Bourke and pointed Wanda in a westerly direction towards Sturt National Park and the far northwest corner of the state.  And that means long stretches of straight rough and dusty roads, monotonous scrub on flat terrain, temperatures rising to uncomfortable levels and flies attacking even with the windows up.  Bring it on!

The iconic Aussie outback is great to see in movies but a little more taxing in real life.  Distances are vast and conditions can wear you down a bit unless you are prepared and keen.  Julie and I love moving slowly across this remote landscape, even if it sometimes lacks variety or colour.  The road leaving Bourke towards the small settlement of Wanaaring started well but deteriorated into a dusty, rutted and washboarded affair that kept our progress in check and had the clutch working overtime.  Never mind, the dry Aussie bush was at its best and we were enjoying the moment.

From Wanaaring, not much more than a forlorn general store and a few houses, we briefly headed south into the Nocoleche Nature Preserve to see first hand how rivers like the Paroo  and Warrego fill these flood plains after every rainy season and provide sustenance to flora and fauna as they slowly weave their way south, eventually joining the mighty Darling River. 

But the road westward, by this time romantically called The Cut Line, kept a straight trajectory and took us further into the desert, crossing scrub-covered sand dunes and vast open plains.  We never saw a car all afternoon and the occasional cattle grid was our only interruption.  We camped that night behind a sand dune, the heat oppressive, the flies offensive, the sky later blanketed in stars, the feeling of being totally alone overwhelming.  What bliss.

Onward we moved, slowly at times as the washboards and rough patches slowed us down, up and over the scrubby sand dunes, never a car in sight.  We would stop occasionally and get out just to admire the desert at close range, watch the birds and fight the flies. 

Eventually we made the edge of Sturt National Park, named after Charles Sturt, the indefatigable explorer searching for the inland sea (and how did that go?), and checked out the old homestead and shearer’s quarters at Mt. Wood.  What a forgotten and desolate place this would have been to live in over one hundred years ago.

We headed into the heart of the national park, founded in the early 1970’s as the government bought up seven different sprawling stations, today spanning more than 340,000 hectares of semi arid desert, ephemeral (only flows when it rains) creeks, small rocky gorges and a landscape of handsome mesas or buttes which are called jump ups.  And as a bonus, due to recent rains everything was green, even the stony gibber plains that usually look more like a transplant from the moon.

Stormy dark clouds moved in and the wind picked up, giving us some relief from the heat and flies when we stepped out of Wanda but the weather only added to the surreal landscape and the feeling we had this vast park to ourselves.  A green desert is a sight to behold, that’s for sure, throw in a few red kangaroos, noisy bird life at the water holes and infinite views in all directions for good measure as we rolled over the hills and through the creek beds.  Sturt NP doesn’t get many visitors because of its remote location but those who make the effort are deeply rewarded.

We woke at the Olive Downs campground to a wet and gloomy morning, perfect for a little walk in the nearby area to take in the green rolling hills and the astounding beauty of a desert in bloom. Then we headed west, following a 4WD track near the Queensland border across more green gibber plains.  As we headed towards Cameron Corner, where NSW, South Australia and Queensland meet, the terrain evolved to sand dunes, most of which running north-south, ‘forcing’ us to go up and over them. Ah, sand dunes, great fun to drive on, this time all covered in grass and scrub, the terracotta red earth shining through. 

After probably our favourite drive of the trip so far, bringing back so many memories from our adventures in the Simpson Desert and other outback tours, we arrived at Cameron Corner (the gates locked due to corona virus), the furthest we could venture from Sydney.  Not a soul in sight, up against the Dog Proof Fence, gracious sand dunes all around us, marvelling at our journey so far and this special place in Australia, loving every moment. 

And as it would happen, also reminiscing about our first time here, 21 years ago with our kids on one of those epic family adventures.  That trip took us from Sydney to Cameron Corner, into South Australia, down the Strzelecki Track, into the Gannon Ranges and back to Sydney, a journey still fondly remembered when the family gathers around the dining room table.

From Cameron Corner we couldn’t go north or west – we had to go south.  We made our way to Tibooburra and civilization along a badly rutted, muddy and corrugated track from the recent rains.  We camped our second night in Sturt NP at the wonderfully named Dead Horse Gully campground, tucked in behind large granite boulders to protect us from the desert wind.  What a day.

Following up on a new fad, between morning coffees and before the desert sun began to melt us we followed a track for a four kilometre walk through the nearby granite boulders, privileged to see the rare and somewhat strange Sturt Desert Peas flowering near the creek beds after the recent rains.  Quite a coup for any desert traveller.

It took a further day and a half to get to the large regional centre of Broken Hill where we had shopping and laundry to do.  Along the way we passed over endless barren desert, turned green by the recent rains, the recently paved road allowing us to make good time.  We stopped at Milparinka, a town of seven residents (though it seemed six of them were hiding), and visited the great old pub built in 1882.  We followed a dirt track out to Mt. Poole and climbed the summit to see Sturt’s cairn – which he and his men built while they summered nearby in 1845 – and take in the stunning 360 degree views.  That night we camped in a rocky floodplain of a beautiful tree-lined creek, enjoying the great desert serenity.

The next day was an admin day in Broken Hill, showers and laundry at a campground, shopping and fuel in town, a new traditional stop (since our last visit here) at the Astra Hotel where Julie indulged in a huge piece of lemon meringue pie with all the toppings, then south across more flat desert to the Menindi Lakes area where we camped the night on the sandy shores of Lake Pamamaroo, made famous as a base camp for Burke and Wills on their ill-fated journey.  The panoramic sunset views across the lake topped off this camping spot as a perfect 10.

Our plan over the next couple of weeks is to head further south following the Darling River and then turn east with the Murray River as it takes us back towards Sydney.  We’re in no hurry and there will be plenty to see and do along the way.