What a carrion
The scenery was spectacular, views stretched across grassy plains into foot hills of far beyond. Brilliant yellows and purples blanketed the fields with the flowers of spring rejoicing the recent winter rains. The road wound easily through the landscape’s smooth features until eventually we hit the desert and one line was all we needed…straight.
The colour of the flowers disappeared and sand tones reached for the horizon only broken by the silvery reflections of an oasis with false promises of water. Once in the desert the drive could have gotten quite boring had it not been for the massive lumps of road kill that were dotted along the way. They were a solemn reminder that once night falls the roads get very dangerous. Imagine cruising along at 100 km/h and having a 200 kg kangaroo come smashing through your car windscreen. Many people have died on Australian roads from exactly that. You could tell the locals who travelled these roads frequently by their high riding Taliban style SUVs fitted with huge ‘roo bars. We however were travelling in a sleek, low profile family wagon with no protection on the front so we made an effort to tuck in behind huge twenty-six wheel road trains hoping they would clear a path through the carrion. I felt a bit like we were Mad Max in convoy to a promised land. I suppose we were…a land of giant lefts.
