Golden Soak

Sandstorm in the Gibson Desert…

In moments the sand had lifted from the surface, rustling against the bonnet of the Land-Rover, millions of grains on the move, a drift waist high and the broken twigs of dry shrubs blowing against the windscreen.

And then it hit us, the sky darkening, the desert world sudaenly brown. I couldn’t see a thing, only the sand like brown smoke, the howl of the wind, the noise rasping at the aluminium panels like the sound of a train…