I’ve been hearing about the Nullarbor since I first came to Australia, nearly twenty years ago. The vast treeless plain got its name from the Latin—nullus (no) arbor (tree). Some people dread the drive; others cycle across the Nullarbor. I didn’t know what to expect.
Then, there we were, last week—the four of us—driving across the Nullarbor. Scrub stretched out in all directions as we headed down a dead straight road: Highway One.
In the back seat K read Harry Potter for the sixth time. R drew endless maps. Lee drove, mostly, and I stared out the window at shades of green and brown. Occasionally a wedge-tailed eagle soared overhead, or came down to feast on dead kangaroo at the side of the road. And I had nothing to do except stare out the window and contemplate half a life gone by.
handsacrossaustraliadotcom 
Oh now I understand what crossing the Nullabor means! Those deserts will turn you to contemplation. But you made it to the other side …
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The Nullabor didn’t look so formidable on the big Australia map we’ve got pinned to the wall in the downstairs bedroom here in Atlanta…. why the fuss? It’s all green on the map. But, whoops! Another wrong assumption from the hometeam: it’s green on the map because it’s a national park. Pop’s exporting the blog now to his friends who wonder why their wives want them to go to Australia….
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