I especially look forward to a moment about a quarter of the way into the trip when I feel my brain "reboot", out of a world dominated by clocks, numbers and data into a mythic landscape where everyone/thing is connected in story arising out of the landscape.

It has been my experience that it takes about three days to fully make the transition, to move into the "flow" where fortuitous meetings and happenstance take precedence as if on their own accord; being at the right place at the right time, coincidental meetings with just the right people previously unknown.

And most of all I enjoy camping out and waking to the pre-dawn chorus. After hearing one bird in particular, I asked of my friend, born of that country, "What's that bird that sings early in the morning?"

"What does he say?" my friend asks.

Imitating the bird in my best falsetto, I reply, "Something like, 'pun-pun-palala, pan-pan-palala.'"

"Oh, that's the bird that sings his own name."

"Oh, what do you call it?"

"Pan-pan-palala!" replies my friend.

Back in Adelaide I discover that it's also know as a crested bellbird, a very apt description, thought you'll rarely see it let alone its crest because it's extremely shy, and no less because it's a highly skilled ventriloquist.

In the city I find myself merely a witness of such things. In the bush, however, I am a participant even if it's just being audience for this spell casting bird, who with fellow choristers takes delight in duets that peel across the countryside urging my soul to reach out and connect with the coming light.