I wave my hunting torch over the spiky tufts of grass beneath a darkening sky. The shitty-sharp things stab me like needles. Long-arm shoots of Eucalyptus sway to the rumble of approaching thunder. Only the dark heavens know what made me stop here—– only a pinprick of a moment that felt strangely alien at the time. ‘Stupid photography’ —- so limiting in the greater scheme of things. How can electronic pixels even pretend to pose for a brooding landscape? Who was the Dreamtime Aboriginal God of all creation —- God of the sky? Altjira, if I remember correctly. The darkness gathers speed. Large drops of rain start crashing down all around me, a new smell of earthy wilderness rises up from the newly damp ground. The red earth holds me down like a magnet; an unknown spirit clutches me as a Canon camera glances around in marvel. Driving back to camp, I punch the steering wheel of the Land Cruiser and say, “ not Luxembourg, mate —– not Luxembourg”. (The Mornington sanctuary is remote, even in Australian terms. It is situated in the central Kimberleys and covers an area of 3582 square kilometres around the King Leopold Ranges and the Fitzroy River. In simple Outback terms —- it is in essence, the complete opposite to the European country of Luxembourg and is one and a half times its size.)
