It'd been a long time since I claimed some solitude in this blessed landscape; since I've done without lifes little props. Here I have no friend, no dog, no radio, no clock, no phone, no roof, no body pollutants. The clackety-clack of the typewriter travels out into the valley and gets lost in expanses of forest and paperbark swamp. I'm the only soul around.

 

For ten years Robyn Davidson has been travelling light. Across the desert, across America on a Harley-Davidson, or walking through the bush of ghosts by night. In these articles that make up...