Day three and I have finally found the outback. But more on that later.

 The day started with an early morning (and I mean early 5.30! Yes I know Kathy, I never get up that early) walk up little mountain to see the sun rise over Gundabooka.  This impressive range appears out of the vast flat landscape.  While I could give you the full geological reason for its existence I liked the traditional version better in which Googa the goanna laid down to sleep creating Mt. Gundabooka.  From here it was a quick pack up of camp and a 3 hour hike up the escarpment.

The isolation of this place is amazing. The only noise was the zebra finches flittering amongst the acacia.  From the top I looked out over the parched plains and watched the hawks as they glided on the rising eddies looking for lunch.  The last sign of a traveller was a hundred km away making the climb both rewarding and a little bit scary (now I know why I got my personal satellite tracking device).  As I climbed over rocky red boulders and rock scree past mulga thickets I developed a new appreciation for the traditional inhabitants, as well as those early explorers and pioneers that followed, on how they survived in this remote land.

Having found my way back to the car (all good Kathy) it was a 100km drive into Tilpa.  Now Tilpa is one of those iconic locations that appears as an oasis to the travelling shearer (or me).  Consisting of a pub, 3 shacks and 2 sheep, there is little more to this place but it's character typifies everything to me about the outback. 

Out the front were two elderly gentlemen who's bush hats had enough history to tell 100 stories. Under the porch a wiry cattle dog sat waiting for its owner who was in side having one last drink.  The walls of the pub are decorated with thousands of names and sayings written on every surface from locals, travellers and misfits who have ventured past its doors. 

After two beers I had finally found it.  

While the clutches of the pub tried to keep me there for one more, the sun was setting and I needed to find somewhere to camp before I had to play lotto with skippy or the numerous cows, goats or wild pigs on the road.  The road, affectionately known as the Darling River Run, follows the Darling River through to the Victorian border.  Eventually I found 2 small wheel tracks leading off the road which meandered through the river gums opening up to the most magnificent flat spot overlooking the River.  Camp for the night.  

Now I have really found it!