At first the tracks were easy enough to follow, running parallel to the low range of hills, but soon they crossed a saddle between ridges and joined one of the old mining tracks. Tilly had thought the property roads she was familiar with were rough enough, but this topped them. Whole sections were washed out, and every declivity became a deep gutter to be negotiated with extreme care. Connor pushed the gear into low range as they crawled along, swapping from one overgrown track to the next while she clung to the grab bar and tried to avoid hitting her head over the roughest bits.

After nearly an hour of bouncing and jolting, Connor stopped. ‘It’s not worth it, Tilly,’ he said. ‘At this rate we’ll do an axle. Besides, look where the track’s heading.’

Her whole attention had been upon their progress, but now, raising her eyes, Tilly saw that they were heading straight for a massive spread of tall weather-worn pinnacles in varied shapes, interspersed with a heavy growth of timber, above which the rock fingers rose like fantastical towers.

‘My guess,’ Connor said, ‘is that the track ends there. No way is anyone driving into that, so they’ve must’ve bush-bashed a way around it. That’d have to be the Lost City. It was marked on Sophie’s map, but no roads were shown near it.’

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘It’s why I’ve never seen it. Luke said it was hiking only and you’d have to carry your camp, because you wouldn’t get there and back in one day – not if you wanted to see anything. Isn’t it amazing? Do you think, now we’re here, that we could have a quick look? On foot, I mean. I don’t want you to risk your vehicle.’

‘Why not?’ He got out, pulling a backpack from behind the seat and shrugging it on. ‘Water,’ he said and glanced at her jeans-clad legs. ‘Mind the spinifex. Roses have nothing to learn from its spikes.’

‘I’ll be right.’ Tilly pulled her hat down and they set off. It took twenty minutes to reach the outlying pillars, and for half an hour they wandered the cool sandy-floored canyons between the rocky towers, marvelling at the weird sculpting that time and weather had produced. Bird calls rang in the still air that was elusively scented by a scrubby, purple-flowered shrub.

‘Turkey bush.’ Connor had halted to pull a water bottle from his backpack. He offered it to Tilly and glanced at the sun. ‘We should be heading back soon. See that flatter shape over there? It doesn’t look too bad a climb. Think you could make it?’

‘Of course!’ Tilly eyed it. ‘Plenty of handholds. What are you hoping to see?’