then down into what seems like a
lost world. It’s a stunning landscape
that leads to greater views. Ancient,
prehistoric, before time, where does
it stop?
At a micro level the Bungles are
so different from above. The domes
don’t become apparent until almost
at the end of the track, there’s the
occasional glimpse yet nothing that
prepares you for the sight when in
amongst them.
No two are the same. The colours,
the bands, the shapes, striking as
the first sightings are those that rise
above the flat plain. Rounding a
sweeping bend, we are confronted
with many standing before us, a wall
seeming impenetrable like a fortress
guarding a mysterious world.
We park at an area where tables
under shelter from the sun sit wait-
ing, toilets stand sentinel, the tourists
hoards will come.
We strip from our riding gear and
follow a trail. Striped walls loom on
TRAVERSE
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