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I had spent the night right in front of the fenced-off border of the national park and had to pass a cattle grid to enter it. Passing that grid felt like a step into another level of the wild and my heart was pumping. The road was a very rough and often barely distinguishable dirt track through a deep black desert, and I drove very carefully.
The track was mostly running on a mix of small gravel and grainy sand and had a few rocky sections on steeper ascents, but it turned out there were no major obstacles and thus makeable with my van. It was a bumpy ride though, with long sections of washboard road seriously rattling me and the van, but I nevertheless relaxed a bit and was able to put more attention on the landscapes I was driving through.
The road wound mostly through a plain with only occasionally climbing up a hill. But after about an hour of (slow) driving the hills became more and closer and slightly higher. At the beginning these hills were often bleak gravel and rock but now they turned more into mountains covered by bright green moss.
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