A solo expedition... to the movies.

Last night, I went to the movies by myself and it felt both strange and glorious.

The last few weeks have been long. Chris has been working overtime and I have hardly had one moment to myself so when I saw that a movie I wanted to see was playing at our local cinema, the urge to go was too strong to resist.

I went to see "Tracks", an Australian movie based on the true story of Robyn Davidson who set off on a solo journey walking across almost 2000 miles of the West Australian desert, from Alice Springs to the Indian Ocean, with a black dog and 4 camels as her only companions.

On a Sunday night at our floundering cinema, I wasn't surprised to be almost the only person in the room, besides just one other person there. We each had plenty of space to get lost with Robyn in the vastness of the great outback and her own physical and emotional loneliness.

A loner by nature, Robyn just wanted to be by herself. She reminded me of Grenouille in Suskind's Perfume who, to escape the smell of humans, climbs to the most isolated mountain peak he is able to find, where finally, his nostrils are free of the nasal pollution of society.

Unwilling to rely on anyone, reluctant to share her journey with another soul, she sets off along her country's long and unwinding dirt tracks, as generations of Afghan cameleers had done before her, taking on the dry dusty desert, the searing sun high in the sky, the sandstorms, the wild camels, the almost total absence of water, and the distance. "Too long way," as some aboriginal elders remark to her along the way. "Too long way."

To that, as to any other suggestion of canceling/shortening/modifying her itinerary, she simply replies with a polite smile, "I'll be fine, thank you."

She survives but was she really "fine"? The general mood is sullen, like she is dragging a burden heavier than the gear strapped to her camels' backs. The intensity of the desert is only rivalled by her own desperation to, on one hand, get away from everything (with more or less success as she becomes something of a celebrity, "The Camel Lady") and, on the other hand, to keep going, to reach something, even if at times, it must have felt like she was heading straight for the end of the world. And then what? Jump?

As the sun rays dig into her cracked skin, she seems to flirt with craziness on a few occasions. Thirsty, exhausted, sunburnt, lonely... Her despair is both inflicted on her by the desert and something she brought along with her, when sadness is like an old companion.

Every few months, Rick Smolan, a photographer from the National Geographic meets up with her as a condition of the magazine sponsoring the trip. Reluctant at first, she eventually carves a little bit of space for him on the journey. At one point, towards the end, she tells him, "I am so alone," to which he replies, "we all are." She then breaks down and says, "I miss her so much."

She is talking about her mother whom she lost to suicide when she was only a child. Her life was inevitably set on a new path from then on but the loss and grieving remained unresolved. Her journey might have been the only way to access that grieving, free of any other distractions or expectations. Maybe being literally alone allowed her to feel that loss more strongly, to get to the source of the pain and gave her permission to miss her mother after a lifetime of keeping on.

There were moments of unbridled joy too and they were beautiful in their simplicity: jumping in a groundwater well for a refreshing swim, playing with her dog, endlessly listening to the animated Mr. Eddie, an aboriginal elder who walked with her through sacred land. In such a harsh environment, these moments of happiness felt like an oasis in the desert.

And eventually, 1700 miles from Alice Springs, she crosses perfectly white sand dunes to arrive at the edge of the Indian Ocean,where she is greeted by Smolan. Robyn leads her camels into the beautiful turquoise waters and plunges in, washing off weeks of dust and maybe, years of sadness.

I have no idea what happens to someone once they finish something like this. She says before setting off that she believes that, "ordinary people can do the impossible." I wonder if it changed her, humbled her, strengthened her - probably all and more. And then, as crazy and surreal as her experience must have been, she probably moved on.

In any case, I'll be ordering her book to hear the story from the horse's mouth... or is it the camel's?