One sun-bright morning in the last weeks of winter, I found myself in the passenger seat of an ancient Toyota Troopie, rattling down a dirt track on the way to a sacred engraving site four times older than agricultural civilisation.
Behind the wheel was Cliff Coulthard, a wiry Adnyamathanha guy with a bristly, grey-streaked beard and an Akubra tugged down over sharp eyes. His family owns and operates Iga Warta, an Indigenous cultural tourism centre where I’d come to volunteer.
