Out beyond the ranges the land is flat and the sky is big. Out here, with the car in low range, there is time to watch as the landscape grows flatter and simpler - like the old western movies of my childhood. There is a visual poetry to be found as the sun drops beneath the horizon, a new moon accompanied by Venus.
On the rocky country just north of the big Boab tree, life in low range is about taking it slow. There’s no reward for going fast or being first or being clever. There is no point in forcing the thing or rushing the thing. Nothing to be gained by impatience. The rugged escarpments a reminder that things around here take time. There is a permanence and an impermanence.
And maybe there are life lessons to be found out here on the track. When things get bumpy, let your tyres down and go slow, and don’t push too hard against the pointy bits. And remember to look up and take it all in, and savour it.
As the car creeps and crawls, springs flexing and tyres soft, with one eye on the track and one eye on the landscape, there’s time to enjoy the slow reveal of the ranges. There’s time to notice the Pipts as they rise and fall amongst the golden grass. The Bustards with their young, heads held high in slow retreat. The Brolgas at the waterhole and the cattle kicking up dust. It is a place to go slowly. It is a place to go quietly. So drop your tyres, and take it slow, and take it all in. This is the Kimberley, life in low range.
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