There are places on this Earth that still belong to themselves, places where very few people have stood. And some of those places are holy.
It was the summer of 2018 when we packed my old Hilux and a Troopie and set off from Lajamanu to Mina Mina. It had been Aunty Agnes’s idea. Although she’d painted this place for decades, she’d never set foot on Mina Mina, on her grandfather’s Country, in the jaws of Lake Mackay, Northern Great Sandy Desert.
It’s too dangerous to attempt Mina Mina. The route is too treacherous – no roads, just open desert. Even the hardiest get stranded in deep sand, or their tyres are shredded by sharp acacia. There’s no water for hundreds of kilometres, and birds attack the plastic bottles, pecking holes in the side to steal the water.
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