Having spend a semester being told about the stereotype slathered all over the Australian landscape by its writers, I was thrilled to finally find some of the illusive ‘Weird Melancholy’ in the trees around Catherine Gorge. Wandering around Sydney in a soy-latte induced stupor, I had previously struggled to identify my Australia with Henry Lawson’s sparse tales of drunken drudgery and dusty hopelessness. However… once you hop on the road and head away from the coast, it very quickly becomes clear where that image comes from. Having read Nevil Shute’s ‘A Town Like Alice’ a couple of years ago, I was finally seeing the distances he spoke about by myself. The thought of being stuck in this environment without having the option of a jolly coach to hop on to or a phone to pick up suddenly makes the beautiful desert in the North seem much less enticing.