We’re on the road for hours, road noise, traffic and radio static from ever receding radio stations, as we turn into the driveway Gilda runs welcoming from the shed. We follow her little blue Suzuki down through the paddocks to the camp. Our ears are assaulted by the lack of mechanical noise. There’s nothing but stillness and the twittering of the birds in the melaleucas. A small grassy clearing with room for about eight self contained camps beside the tree fringed dam, no power, no toilets, just fire pits and peace.