Kimberly Dru Keyes

5 May 2004

Robyn Davidson’s Tracks:  A Journey of Self-Discovery

“You wish there was someone to whom you could describe

what you saw, because words might trap the moment

and what it contained—an almost, almost belonging.”

--Robyn Davidson

Women have contributed to the genre of travel literature for years, yet women’s travel writing has become popularized only in the last several decades. In fact, not long ago, the words “women” and “travel” were considered an oxymoron as women were the keepers of the hearth and men were the ones who explored new frontiers (Hexberg). Today, women’s travel writing is considered an area of new literature which absorbs earlier styles of both male and female travel writing. More than ever, women who contribute to the genre of travel literature bring new dimension and substance to the art of travel writing. Such is the case with author Robyn Davidson, a resolute, gutsy, young woman, who journeyed across 1700 miles of Australian desert and subsequently wrote Tracks, a narrative chronicling her adventure.  After its 1980 publication, even Davidson was surprised to find that what she had written was catalogued as a travel narrative because she “knew nothing about literary genres then, but felt an instinctive recoil, as if [her] intentions had been misunderstood (Granta 248).  Indeed Davidson’s shudder upon learning she had written a travel book continues to raise eyebrows among critics as, along with Davidson, they more often than not agree that Tracks moves the reader far beyond the simple travel journal as she captures the essence of life, the land, and the people in the Australian outback during her six month trek. Her narrative invites the reader to relax, pull up a chair,

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observe, and enjoy the oddities of the quaint town of Alice Springs, and, subsequently, experience as well as appreciate the magnificence of the Australian outback. Although Davidson arrives in Alice Springs “with a dog, six dollars and a small suitcase full of inappropriate clothes,” she quickly learns survival skills that will enable her successful journey (Tracks 19).  As the author unravels her tale beginning with the rigors of camel training during her two years of preparation, she also reveals her frustration, anger, and at times downright disgust at her decision to travel alone across the desert in the first place.  However, Davidson does begin the journey into the all but uninhabited territory and spends months struggling with the various physical aspects of the taxing journey as well as the deeply emotional and psychological issues she must face. The emotional, psychological aspect of her journey becomes a focal point as she progresses and perseveres to overcome the stumbling blocks that ultimately lead to her redefinition of self. 

            Robyn Davidson’s inner, psychological journey brings her full circle to an understanding of “the freedom, the encounters, the obstacles overcome, and the self-awareness” she experiences as a result of the physical journey (Edwards).  Furthermore, these are the very issues that some critics believe shape Davidson’s tale into not only a contemporary woman’s travel narrative but a piece of writing with fine literary merit.  Davidson takes care to bring the reader into “the moment,” and this seems to be a result of the good travel writer’s passionate involvement with the places and people about which she writes (Murphy).  For example, as Davidson begins her tale, the reader becomes acutely aware of the desolation and perhaps disappointment experienced upon arriving in Alice Springs.  Her “first impression…was of the architectural ugliness of the place, a discomforting contrast to the

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magnificence of the country which surrounded it” (Tracks 21).  The visual of lackluster buildings coupled with the fact that this woman has arrived alone and penniless clearly brings the reader into Davidson’s physical and emotional world.  It is important to note that without this intimacy between reader and author, it is not possible to truly connect with Davidson’s plight and subsequent experiences that lead to a new self-awareness. The reader must be able to enter the text and recognize the various stumbling blocks that the author experiences and overcomes that in turn lead to her successful redefinition of self; moreover, it is Davidson’s candid rhetoric that allows this bond to develop.

            Apparent from the beginning of the narrative, Davidson harbors her own motivations for undertaking such a journey, and clearly one of her intentions is to experience the untamed wilderness alone and on her own terms.  As a result, she understandably takes issue with the repeated intrusion of white society throughout her journey. Most of her encounters with white people leave her drained, frustrated, and more often than not, disillusioned. At times the journey into the wilderness alone becomes a negotiation, a compromise that drains her physical as well as mental energies (Porter 44).  As Davidson’s journey progresses, she is continually reminded of the fact that the majority of these intruders are thoroughly disrespectful, thoughtless creatures.  Ironically, through her experiences with these insensitive brutes juxtaposed with her encounters with the native Aborigines she is able to shed European single-minded mentality and adopt a pure, harmonious, and introspective nature that is central to the indigenous people of her country.

Unfortunately, Davidson must frequently deal with members of her own race who infringe on her private journey, and this indeed poses a problem not easily overcome.  For example, because she is personally unable to fund her trip, Davidson writes a letter to National

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Geographic requesting financial assistance.  She explains, “As I shall be following roads and four-wheel-drive tracks most of the way, there will be ample opportunities and facilities en route for filming, photographing, talking or whatever else National Geographic journalists have to do” (Jacobs 50).  National Geographic accepts her offer and sends six thousand dollars and an intruder, her photographer, Rick Smolan.  Moments after her departure from Alice Springs, “camel lady” Robyn Davidson has a bone to pick with photographer Rick.  She begins her journey with a picture-perfect moment; walking over that first hill with the camel’s nose-line in her hands, she feels a sense of joy, of exhilaration:

I wanted to fly in the unlimited blue of the morning.  I was seeing

it all as if for the first time, all fresh and bathed in an effulgence of

light and joy, as if a smoke had cleared, or my eyes been peeled, so that I

wanted to shout to the vastness, ‘I love you.  I love you, sky, bird, wind,

precipice, space sun desert desert desert’.

Click.

‘Hi, how’s it goin’? I got some great shots of you waving goodbye’ (111).

This poignant moment is short-lived when Rick, with the click of his camera, simply destroys it. Even though Davidson acknowledges that National Geographic, by way of Rick Smolan, plays an important role in her pilgrimage, she finds it difficult to cope with these interruptions from the “image makers…who seek to capitalize on her ’adventures’ by turning them into lucrative media spectacle” (Holland & Huggan 122).  These intrusions not only frustrate her but seem to cast a shadow over the original purpose of her journey as well.  Often, the author views Rick as a “blood-sucking little creep who had inveigled his way into [her] life by being nice…and

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tempting [her] with material things” (Tracks 112).  For Davidson, Rick Smolan represents everything that she despises about white European society; furthermore, he just does not “get it” when it comes to the indigenous inhabitants with whom Davidson so longs to develop a meaningful relationship.  Early one morning, Rick leaves camp to photograph the Aborigines and unwittingly records “a secret ceremony and sacred business, [and] he was lucky he didn’t get a spear through his leg” (Tracks 150).  Rick Smolan serves as a metaphor for a society that drains and depletes its natural resources and invades and offends its native people; this not only disheartens Davidson but almost ruins her hope of a relationship with the Aboriginal people.

            However, Rick Smolan’s presence wears far less on Davidson’s psyche than the tourists and other members of white society who spend time gawking, photographing, and generally annoying the “camel lady.”  For instance, as Davidson nears the end of her journey, she is forced to play a “cat and mouse” game with the “jackals, hyenas, parasites and pariahs of the popular press” (Tracks 233).  Critic Sidonie Smith describes the tourists as “invaders from the world of motorized postmodernity which Davidson identifies with boredom, ennui, purposelessness, and degraded femininity” (58).  It is however important to note that Davidson’s experiences with white society are not always negative.  She befriends several wonderful souls during her journey who she describes as “salt of the earth…charming, kind, generous” (Tracks 216).  It is those she labels as “tourists” who intrude upon the intimacy she seeks between herself and the desert and drain her emotionally and psychologically.  At first Davidson attempts to tolerate these intrusions; however, on most days, by mid-afternoon when she “cannot even be nice to [herself], let alone these fools who would pile out, block [her] path, frighten the camels, hold [her] up, and ask stupid boring questions…[she] would begin to get mean” (Tracks 136).  The insensitivity of

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these wolves clothed in the proverbial “sheep’s clothing” not only incites her anger, but it brings a sense of hopelessness to the journey. Davidson frequently feels cheated as if her journey is a collective effort between herself and these mindless, inconsiderate creatures, and obviously, this is certainly not the plan she envisioned.  She quickly learns the “best policy [is] simply to keep off the road or feign deafness” (Tracks 126).  Ironically, it is the off-road adventures that she experiences that truly lead to self-awareness.

            Staying off the traveled roads and on the desert tracks allows Davidson to focus her energy on the journey and her reasons behind it, and this, in turn, leads her closer to a redefinition of self.  By escaping the constraints of a “civilized” self and following the original desert tracks, the author discovers a more “authentic” self (Smith 8).  Davidson refers to finding and following the correct “tracks” on numerous occasions throughout the narrative, and generally, her building success lies within the desert tracks and less on the much-traveled roads. Furthermore, it is through her friendship with her Aboriginal guide and friend Mr. Eddie that she grasps the true meaning of the native philosophy of man and earth.  However, Davidson’s success develops slowly as through her experiences she must come to grips with the inadequacies of white European thought and culture that block her personal growth and awareness.  At the beginning of the journey, while searching for the right “tracks,” she laments:

            When you are presented with half a dozen tracks all leading off in the

            general direction you want to go…and none of them marked on the map,

            which one do you choose?  If you choose the wrong one, it will begin leading

            you in exactly the opposite direction to where you thought you wanted

            to go (Tracks 120).

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As a member of the white, European society, Davidson’s frustration in finding the correct track seems justified, and as a result, her first reaction is to damn the cartographers of white society and agonize over which track will lead to her destination.  However, in her article “Alice Springs,” published ten years after her original journey, Davidson looks back on this experience with an enlightened perspective.  She explains that “the deeper one can read [Aboriginal] culture, the closer one comes to being able to imagine what it is to truly be ‘at home in the world’” (Travelling Light 128).  In time, Davidson learns that breaking away from the man-made maps and tracks allows her a freedom and a critical release from the constraints of modern society.  For example, when Davidson travels with Mr. Eddie as a companion, she tells how they “left the track one evening-- Eddie had decided to take me through his country…[and] his links with the special places we passed gave him a kind of energy, of joy, a belonging” (Tracks 178).  In contrast with the maps and roads of white society, Eddie’s “off-track” journey brings Davidson a new understanding and appreciation of the metaphorical tracks of her own journey.  As a matter of fact, Davidson reaches a point where she actually foregoes the maps, finding them “superfluous with Eddie around” (Tracks 184).  As she learns to look at the details of the land through Eddie’s eyes, one who clearly embraces the earth as a part of his spiritual being, she is able to differentiate herself from the prosaic tourists and opportunistic journalists and find a peace heretofore absent (Smith 58). 

            After Davidson’s first “off track” experience with Mr. Eddie, she finds it difficult to re-enter European white culture on any level.  On the one hand, European civilization and culture are ingrained in her psyche, yet as she gains an understanding of the importance of one’s relationship to the land, she begins to steer away from European thought and move toward a

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philosophy that benefits, heals, and rejuvenates. She explains that after taking the off-road journey with Mr. Eddie, neither she nor Eddie “liked being on the road after [their] time in the wild country” (Tracks 182).  At this point, Davidson’s relationship with the land and herself is rapidly changing.  She prefers to travel via Eddie’s “tracks” versus “civilized” tracks, and even her ideas concerning food and cleanliness evolve into something that most members of white society would find appalling.  These are signs that Davidson is becoming more aware of herself and her surroundings. Her attitude toward food has also “changed utterly” because now, it has become “something you put in your mouth to give you energy to walk” (Tracks 182).  Furthermore, even “washing had become an unnecessary procedure…[she] was putrid and rank and…loved it” (Tracks 182).  One may question Davidson’s motives and the obvious pleasure she derives in this newfound freedom from the constraints of conventional society. She eats only to sustain energy; she revels in the fact that she no longer feels the need to bathe, and she even has instances when she walks through the desert naked, interweaving her existence directly into that of the earth in its unblemished, natural state.  Despite the struggles that she has endured with photographer Rick Smolan and other emotionally draining members of European white society, Davidson finally gains “an awareness and an understanding of the earth as [she learns] how to depend upon it” (Tracks 194).  In her article “Against Travel Writing,” Davidson further corroborates this idea when she explains that the “internalized fear” and “necessary reining-in” of women’s emotions and self-consciousness often prohibit a true expression of self (Granta 254).  With that said, it is truly an epiphanic moment when Davidson overcomes the “ceaseless attention to modesty, to the body, and therefore, to the self” as she finds meaning in the land and the resources it offers (Tracks 195).

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            Ultimately, Davidson’s relationships with the Aboriginal people and her subsequent embracing of their beliefs concerning the land and its relationship with time and space shape the outcome of her journey.  Throughout the narrative, the author often compares white European society with Aboriginal.  She at last decides that European society is “so archetypally paranoid, grasping, [and] destructive…[and] the other so sane;” furthermore, she doesn’t “ever want to leave this desert” (Tracks 200).  Davidson comes to this conclusion as a direct result of her encounters with the indigenous people she meets during her expedition.  One significant event that brings Davidson into the world of the Aborigine occurs when she is invited to a social gathering of Aboriginal women.  An elderly woman from the group asks Davidson and friend Glenys if they would like to dance.  The group is “lead into a clearing away from the view of the camp,” and as the “clicking rhythm and the droning melody” of Aboriginal life sail into the night air, Davidson explains that “the sound seemed to rise from the ground.  It belonged so perfectly…and the old crones were like extensions of the earth” (Tracks 152).  Paramount to Davidson’s redefinition of self is this idea of the Aboriginal “symbiotic relationship with nature that was about them and within them” (Clark).  As with her other experiences with indigenous people, this encounter brings Davidson a realization that true joy and contentment can be found right inside oneself. 

  Yet, it is important to note that Davidson’s encounters with the Aborigines do not always leave her with the contentment she desires.  She learns that often she “could not be with Aboriginal people without being a clumsy intruder” (Tracks 154).  Nevertheless, even though she will never completely assimilate into their culture, Davidson does connect with the Aboriginal people on many levels through interaction with them and their environment;

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consequently, the author is able to define her own relationship with the earth and its mystical connection to her own sense of belonging.  As Davidson is “continually aware of her adventure as partial in all senses of the word, she does not claim equivalence but uses her own experience of difference to inform her understanding of theirs” (Porter 43).  Furthermore, although she frequently finds Rick and other members of white society emotionally draining and problematic, she does come to terms with these experiences when she finds the peace and satisfaction for which she has been searching. She understands that “identity is not only self-fashioned, it also depends on definition and acceptance by others,” specifically the Aborigines (Pesman).

Intertwined with the Aboriginal notion of the earth and man as one is the concept of time, or rather timelessness that prevails in the Australian desert.  The earth, time, and man join in the indigenous culture to create the whole.  In addition to the fact that Davidson has made adjustments in the manner in which she views herself and her relationship with the earth, she must also reassess her Western concept of time in order to fully embrace a newly defined self.  In the beginning, Davidson treats her journey “like a nine-to-five job.  Up bright and early...boil the billy, drink tea, hurry up it’s getting late” (Tracks 133).  Although a familiar ritual in urban society, this practice only reinforces the drudgery of everyday routines that seem to stagnate one’s existence, something Davidson expressly desires to leave behind. She soon realizes that her “description of time need[s] reassessment” (Tracks 132).  In the desert, time is not measured in days, hours, or minutes rather “a thousand years fitted into a day and aeons into each step” (Tracks 157).  Instead of the clock that is used to measure time in Western culture, in the dreamtime of the desert, a permanence exists that encompasses time and space and stretches

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far beyond the Westerners’ imagination.  Davidson finds it difficult to overcome the regimented schedule and organization of Western time, and until she grasps this concept, she finds the journey frustrating and disingenuous. It is almost as if Davidson wanders as an alien transported into a distant world where her concept of reality, time, and space are entirely disparate from her own world.  In Smith’s Moving Lives, the author explains that during her “walkabout with Eddie, [Davidson] shifts her relationship to time, space, and self;” furthermore, “in her memory, this time of traveling remains a ‘blur,’ time ‘undifferentiated’ rather than time linear, time Aboriginal rather than time Western” (65).   Moreover, Davidson’s continued perseverance together with Mr. Eddie’s mystical wisdom joins to bring her into her own “desert time.”  With this undifferentiated time, Davidson’s relationship to the desert blossoms leaving behind the chaos and constraints of Western society. 

As Davidson’s concept of time changes, she no longer measures the day to register the progress of her journey; in addition, her linear itinerary dissipates as does her adversarial relationship to space (Smith 65).  With a newfound understanding of desert time, Davidson relaxes her grip on the chaos and fear she often finds impenetrable and realizes a freedom that allows her to further develop Mr. Eddie’s concept of time and space. Yet, this complete revision of her Western psyche does not come easily.  For example, as Davidson and Mr. Eddie leave the village of Wingelinna, the camel lady finds herself restless, fidgety, and irritable and realizes that she is “still caught in [her] Western nets, trying to fight them and having little success” (Tracks 177).  As long as she fights the web of Western culture that entangles her, she will struggle with the demons of the desert.  However, this particular struggle bears a heavier weight than does her struggle to overcome the idea that she and the desert are separate entities.  Davidson fights

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relinquishing Western time for Mr. Eddie’s dreamtime and even acknowledges that she is “torn by two different time concepts; [even though she] knew which one made sense…the other one was fighting hard for survival” (Tracks 177).  One reason that the author finds it difficult to overcome the Western version of time lies in the fact that the Aboriginal concept holds a mystical, otherworldly quality that is actually an element of the consciousness; in other words, no separation exists between man, earth, and time.  Therefore, there is no conscious submission to what Westerners would label days, hours, and minutes which in turn lead to schedules, appointments, and itineraries; instead, time flows, intermingles, and washes through one’s being. 

            As Davidson overcomes the barriers that lead her to self-awareness, she embraces ideas and thoughts that bring her dream to fruition.  The camel lady succeeds in redefining herself in a way that brings her right into a world of “instantaneous association;” a world where she “didn’t just see the bird, [she] knew it in relationship to its actions and effects;” furthermore, “the motions and patterns and connections of things became apparent on a gut level” (Tracks 195).  At some point, Davidson actually submits to this indigenous belief system, and “when this way of thinking became ordinary…[she] became lost in the net and the boundaries of [herself] stretched out forever” (Tracks 195).  Although an entirely new world has opened to her, she understands that members of white society will never be able to identify with her success or the reasons behind it.  Davidson also realizes the fact that her media persona of “camel lady” will oftentimes overshadow the original purpose of the journey and her subsequent success.  Moreover, as the author looks back on her journey through the Australian wilderness, she seems to feel a bit of angst over the fact that the expedition has been sensationalized by the ever present media blitz.  Just as one might attempt to recapture “the moment” of a life-changing experience,

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so Davidson endeavors “to sort out fact from fiction,” and struggles to remember how [she] felt at that particular time, or during that particular incident” (Tracks 254).  Understandably, she fears forgetting all of “those moments” as well as all of the emotions and feelings attached to them.  Yet, this woman achieves greatness.  Robyn Davidson, the young woman who enters Alice Springs “shivering, holding warm dog flesh, and wondering what foolishness had brought [her] to this eerie…centre of nowhere,” effectively sheds the burdens of her former self and manages to walk away triumphant with the knowledge that “you are as powerful and strong as you allow yourself to be” (Tracks 19, 254).  What began as a physical journey into the Australian outback became a psychological journey into her soul subsequently leaving her with enlightened self-awareness and emotional freedom. 

Works Cited

Callahan, David.  “Robyn Davidson.”  In Dictionary of Literary Biography, Volume 204: British Travel Writers, 1940-1997. Contemporary Authors Online (2002) Gale Literary Database <http:// www.Galegroup.com/>.

Clark, John Stuart.  “Lost Wilderness.”  <http://www.brickbats.co.uk>.

Davidson, Robyn.  “Against Travel Writing.”  Granta (Winter 2000): 247-254.

Davidson, Robyn.  Tracks.  New York:  Vintage Books, 1980.

Davidson, Robyn.  Travelling Light.  Sydney, Australia:  Harper Collin’s Publishers, 1989.

Hexberg, Maryanne.  Rev. of Without a Guide:  Contemporary Travel Adventures, Ed. Katherine Gorier. <http://www.thebluemoon.com>.

Holland, Patrick and Graham Huggan.  Tourists with Typewriters:  Critical Reflections on Contemporary Travel Writing.  Ann Arbor:  The University of Michigan Press, 1998.

Jacobs, Rita D., Ed.  From Alice To Ocean:  Alone Across the Outback.  Japan: Addison-Wesley Publishing Company, 1992.

Murphy, Dervia.  “Reflections on Travel Writing.”  Wilson Quarterly 16.3 (Summer 1992): 122-130 Academic Search Premier Database.

Pesman, Ros.  “Playing With Identity.”  Meanjin 62.4:  168-178  Academic Search Premier Database.

Porter, Eleanor.  “Mother Earth and the Wandering Hero:  Mapping Gender in Bruce Chatwin’s The Songlines and Robyn Davidson’s Tracks.”  Journal of Commonwealth Literature 32.1  (1997):  35-46.

Smith, Sidonie. Moving Lives:  20^th Century Women’s Travel Writing. Minneapolis:  University of  Minnesota Press, 2001.

Works Consulted

Boran, Pat.  Rev. of The Picador Book of Journeys, Ed. Robyn Davidson. <http://homepage.eircom-net>.

Broome, Richard.  Aboriginal Australians:  Black Responses to White Dominance, 1788-1994.  New South Wales:  Allen & Unwin, 1994.

Davidson, Robyn.  “Alone Across the Outback.”  National Geographic (May 1978): 582-611.

Davidson, Robyn.  Desert Places.  New York:  The Penguin Group, 1996.

Dose, Gerd and Bettina Keil.  Writing in Australia:  Perceptions of Australian Literature in Its Historical and Cultural Context.  Hamburg:  Lit Verlag Munster, 1995.

Edwards, Corinne.  A Woman Alone. Introduction. New York:  Hazelden Information Education, 2001.

Field, Michele.  “Robyn Davidson:  A Literary Nomad.”  Publishers Weekly 243.46 (November 1996):52-53.

Haebich, Anna.  “Imagining Assimilation.”  Australian Historical Studies 32.118 (2002): 61-70.

Ham, Anthony.  “Other Ways.”  Eureka Street. Australia:  Jesuit Publications, 2001 <www.eurekastreet.com.au/pages/109>.

Lucas, Susan.  “Down Under:  Immersion and Authenticity in Australian Travel Narratives.” <www.english.upenn.edu/Travel99/Abstract>.

Magowan, Robin.  “Writing Travel.”  Southwest Review 86 (2001) Academic Search Premier Database.

Mardon, Mark.  “In Search of Elusive Metaphors:  The Art of Travel Writing.”  <www.samexplo.org>.

McCarthy, Terry.  “The Stolen Generation.”  Time Europe 156.14 (October 2000):  144.

Mulligan, Maureen.  “New Directions or the End of the Road?  Women’s Travel Writing at the Millennium.” Journal of English Studies 2 (2000):  61-78.

Pattel-Gray, Anne.  “The Hard Truth:  White Secrets, Black Realities.”  Australian Feminist Studies 14.30 (October 1999):  259-266 Academic Search Premier Database.

Schaffer, Kay.  Women and the Bush.  Cambridge:  Cambridge University Press, 1988.

Skea, Ann.  Rev. of The Picador Book of Journeys, Ed. Robyn Davidson. <www.eclectica.org>.

Winder, Robert.  “The Point of No Return.”  Rev. of The Picador Book of Journeys, Ed. Robyn Davidson. New Statesman 130.4551 (August 2001): 37-38.