Independent on Sunday, 20 November 2011
Australia’s Eyre Peninsula is a harsh, empty place. Yet it’s soul stilling in its beauty
There is water everywhere. It runs off the tin roofs of farm buildings in a clattering rush, making great red rivers in the sand. Our Land Rover aquaplanes, chased by bolts of lightning, as cracks of thunder fall like boulders around us.
Through curtains of rain, I can see vast, water-filled clay pans that look like permanent lakes, yet given just two weeks of hot dry weather they will burn off to dust.