Putting byways on the map

Early in the afternoon, the sky over Outback is ablaze. Rust-coloured dirt gathers on everything: rickety shrubs, gum trees flaying their bark, and my sweaty skin. We've left the nearest town 100 kilometres behind. Here, on the banks of Menindee Lakes, I find myself looking up into huge eyes of a camel. She lets out a guttural rumble and cranes her neck so that her head is now hovering close to mine. Dangerously close, for my taste. I resist the urge to step back, and pat the beast instead.

The camel nuzzles to the crook of my arm, giving me a curious glance. I freeze and abide her hot, foul breath on my face. Gill, the camel's caretaker, is grinning at me. Soon the camel loses interest in me and trots away to her herd. It comprises of over twenty animals – many of them rescued from live export by two extraordinary people who had resolved to create a safe haven for every dweller of Australian desert, from pinecone lizards to brightly feathered galahs.

Kye and Gill's journey had begun years ago in Alice Springs as they set forth to the desert in a caravan pulled by camels, searching for a place where they could bring their dream to life. Mine started a week before, when I left Melbourne's lecture halls and hipster coffeeshops to explore New South Wales. I had some ideas about what I'd see: Sydney sweeping into summer, ghost towns of the Outback, and kangaroos jumping across highways. My friends equipped me with advice ("Poke a python with a stick to make it go away"). But I never expected myself – a declared city girl – to become infatuated with the vast landscapes of russet rocks and brilliant skies, and to end up in a place like Kye's Camel Camp.

And yet, I feel strangely at home.

It grows on me. At first, I keep to myself. The atmosphere of the Camp and the rainbow-coloured decorations make my head spin. Animals wander around, not limited by fences, prodding and snuffling. I dodge their curious snouts. Kye watches me with a knowing smile. She has seen people like me before, awkward visitors driven by a sense of need, even if they couldn't tell what's missing.

I used to think I like animals best when seen from a distance. Here, I reach out to them gingerly, amazed by their unique dispositions. I learn to tell the camels apart; some follow me, while others only give me proud glares. By the time of my departure, I have made some unusual friends. But the most astounding discovery is that I want to stay, and I don't miss my urban life at all.