The first blow to our bravado is the sign as you enter the Simpson Desert from Mount Dare. It delivers a long explanation and bears the font and colours reserved for dire warnings. For the"early readers"in the back seat there are accompanying diagrams illustrating just how many ways you can die in the desert.

The sign says we need a flag raised above the car in case we encounter another vehicle approaching the same dune (of the 1200) from the other side. We don't have a flag,so up goes a fishing rod with red Bond's undies flapping at the top. That should repel other drivers.

The first night we set up camp in Dalhousie Springs,about 70 kilometres south-east of Mount Dare – alone. The waterhole is warm,wide and deep. A large rubber ring sits on the small jetty,inviting anyone who makes it here to take it for a spin. We frolic in the springs,observed by several hundred native birds. The sound is deafening. That night a dingo watches us from the shadows.

The next day we head further into the desert and we're soon surrounded by hot,red sand dotted with spinifex to the horizon. Then the dunes start to come in waves. It is not dissimilar to bobbing in the surf and watching the waves roll in.

Many dunes take several attempts to scale,particularly after a windy night when the peaks are fresh and tracks covered. Working out the angle,speed and the moment to accelerate becomes a fascinating exercise. Solving it is rewarded by the seconds when all four wheels are off the ground and only blue sky is framed by the windscreen.

At night the solitude I sought so keenly is oppressive. The scale is too large to comprehend and the stars and sky seem to wrap around until they gather underneath my feet. It is impossible to ignore the spirituality. I am elated,but anxious.

“Mum,I want sushi,” shouts a child from inside the tent,snapping me back to the familiar and mundane. We talk a little about resources,supply and demand and transport routes before going to sleep. “Can someone please turn off the light?” groans another child. That would be the moon.

On the third day we set out for Lone Gum Tree,just because. I can count on one hand the number of landmarks noted on the desert map.

At noon on the third day we see the first sign of human life. We stop alongside the oncoming vehicle carrying an older German couple in matching safari suits. They have fulfilled their lifelong ambition:to cross the Simpson.

Frankly,they're a bit strange. I think it's the monogrammed names on their jackets. We share a motley lunch in the shade of the cars. In any other setting it would be an unlikely social pairing. But not here.

We finally reach our destination in the late afternoon. It is a gum tree. On its own. A lone gum tree. They call it as they see it in the desert.

It takes us four days to cover the distance between Mount Dare and Birdsville – about 500km,depending on which dunes you take. We limp out of the desert – totally spent. Covered in dirt,sweat and the essence of Australia.

FAST FACTS

Getting there

Information about track conditions should be sought at Mount Dare,Oodnadatta or Birdsville before entering the Simpson Desert. A desert parks pass is required and available at these locations. The recommended crossing is from west (Mount Dare) to east (Birdsville) to take advantage of the more gentle up-slope to most dunes. Experience driving a 4WD in sand is necessary. It is critical to travel with extra fuel and water and to understand the vehicle's fuel consumption. The desert parks pass handbook advises strongly against towing trailers. Nominate a contact person to advise when you are entering the desert,give an estimated crossing time and advise on completion. The Simpson Desert is closed between December 1 and March 15 due to extreme temperatures.

4WD with high clearance,a second spare tyre,air compressor,basic recovery gear,EPIRB (emergency beacon,406MHz),satellite phone (can be hired from Mount Dare and Birdsville),detailed map (recommended over a GPS),tall flag,extra water and fuel.