In 2020, Sophie Matterson set out from Shark Bay in Western Australia with five camels and began walking east.
Over thirteen months, she crossed Australia on foot, covering 4,750km through deserts, cattle stations, station tracks, dry country and long open stretches of land before reaching Tyagarah Beach, just north of Byron Bay.
The journey was slow. Sophie travelled at the pace of her camels, Delilah, Jude, Clayton, Charlie and Mac, living from saddlebags, sleeping on a three-square-metre tarp, finding her way from camp to camp, and learning the patience, surrender and self-reliance the crossing demanded.
Her memoir, The Crossing, documents that journey: the preparation, the solitude, the animals, the gear, the weather, the fear, and the strange freedom of having every part of life reduced to movement, water, food, shelter and trust.
These days, Sophie lives on a cattle farm near Kilcoy with her partner Jimmy and their son, Harry. It is a quieter chapter, shaped by motherhood, farming and the routines of staying in one place. But beneath it sits the same pull toward something beyond the familiar.
Ahead of Mother’s Day, Sophie reflects on the crossing, the camels that shaped it, and the shift that comes when a life defined by movement begins to change shape.
At 31, most of your friends were moving toward something conventional. What were you moving away from, and what were you moving toward?
I guess it was just that, I was terrified of leading a conventional life. I didn’t want the white picket fence, with the kids and the 9-5 job. I was craving something more, something that pushed me both physically and mentally. I think I was secretly hungry to prove myself, if only to myself, that I could do something hard.
You grew up moving, Hong Kong, Paris, then Brisbane by 12, and travelled extensively in your late teens and early twenties. You’ve written about 30 feeling like an invisible threshold, a time when you were meant to be “settled,” even though the word didn’t sit comfortably, and that living out of a bag and shifting locations often felt more familiar than staying put. Has your understanding of what it means to settle changed, or have you simply defined it on your own terms?
My partner Jimmy still jokingly refers to me as the ‘bag lady’! I love collecting bags of all shapes and sizes to go away. The term “settled” rings alarm bells for me. I always have a craving to see and experience more in the world than one place can afford. Life is too short, in my opinion, to only live in one place. It’s tricky however, because farming does necessitate a commitment to land. I think if you are too transient you never build anything, you never plant a fruit tree or invest in a new fence. We now do these things but still with the knowledge that we might not see that tree bear fruit because we might have decided to move on to a new life adventure. I have realised that my life is an ebb and flow of periods of transience and permanence. This period of early motherhood and being on the farm is a “settled” chapter in which I dream of the next big adventure.
The camels demanded full presence, you couldn't rush them or ignore them. You’ve spoken about the trust that had to be built with them, and surrendering to their rhythm, living for the moment, and moving forward to the next camp each day. What did that way of moving through things teach you, and do you recognise it anywhere in your life now?
I think the word ‘surrender’ is a good one. When I first began my trek I hadn’t surrendered to the camels’ rhythm. I was determined to do an allocated number of kilometres per day no matter what. I pushed the camels too hard, they became skinny and I wasn’t enjoying the journey. When I finally realised that the trek was going to take me longer than initially planned, I let go of all that. I learnt to go with the flow. I became flexible with how many kilometres we needed to do each day and let the camels guide me. It has been a valuable lesson for motherhood, to let go of the expectation of what each day will hold and remain flexible.
You write about your three-square-metre tarp becoming home, the crossing forcing you into a radical simplicity of food, water, movement, survival. What did stripping back to that level force to the surface, and what lessons did you carry out of it? And do you find any echo of that simplicity now in the early days of motherhood?
You realise that life is pretty simple and that less is more. Because I lived with so little stuff every item in my kit was cherished. When my world became stripped down to the daily routine of moving from one camp to the next, so many memories surfaced. It was like my mind was finally clear of clutter, the over complication that we inflict on our lives. I definitely feel an echo of that simplicity in motherhood. Just as during the trek my sole focus was on caring for my camels and building my relationship with them as I moved forward, I have realised in early motherhood that my purpose right now is all about caring and loving Harry in these early weeks and months. When it all feels overwhelming, I remind myself of that simplicity.
There were stretches where it was just you, the camels, and a landscape that went on forever. What started to surface in that kind of solitude?
A greater understanding of the landscape around me. Camels walk at such a slow pace that you become adept at learning to see the beauty in all the detail in nature. I became aware of much more, what plants grew in what types of soil, what animals had left tracks in the sand from the night before, what phase the moon was in and from which direction the wind was blowing. I felt deeply connected to the land in a way I have never felt before.
You reflected recently that life has slowed down, and that there’s a “frustrated adventurer” in you quietly craving more movement, ambition and travel. How are you sitting with that tension day to day?
I’m still working on it. I definitely struggle with the slow pace of life but without meaning to sound cliché, babies grow up so quickly. Already I am able to do more and more with Harry in tow. I’m excited for adventures with him in the future. I’ve realised that there will be a new depth and meaning to adventures with Harry involved.
The farm is its own kind of self-reliance, learning to work alongside nature, animals, seasons. Does that feed the same part of you that the crossing did, or is it a different thing entirely?
The farm feeds my love of learning, especially from nature just like the crossing did. I loved learning everything there is to know about camels just like I love learning everything there is about cows. One of the first stations I stopped at with the camels was Wooleen Station. They were doing all sorts of work in terms of repairing the land, slowing the flow of water, preventing erosion and reintroducing native grasses. They taught me how to observe damaged landscapes. I’ve taken a lot of those lessons and what I observed while walking with the camels and now use them today on our farm, trying to improve our patch of land.
What do you want Harry to understand about who you were before he arrived, and what you hope stays with him as he grows up?
I want him to know I was courageous and independent and that he can be too. Sometimes I look back on the crossing with the camels and think that I can’t believe that I did that. It was bold, and I often need to remind myself that I have that grit and determination within me. I want Harry to know that he can find that too.
After something as defining as the crossing, what has stayed with you, and what have you had to let go of in this next chapter of life?
The crossing was a big adventure. Those take time and a LOT of planning. They are impossible to do back-to-back. So, I have had to let go of being on a big adventure for now. Adventure is still possible, even with Harry, but they are just a lot smaller and more manageable. It's not to say I can’t go on another big adventure, but this is not the chapter in my life for it. And, I’ve also had to let go of sleeping outside for now. I miss that, being under the stars in my swag. We still get good stars in Kilcoy though, and I try and take the time to look up at them each night from the veranda.
Is there a trip already forming quietly in the back of your mind?
I don’t want to say too much because I don’t like to say I’m going to do something and not follow through. But, I’d love to work with Bactrian camels one day. Following the Silk Road and exploring that part of the world fascinates me. Also, I grew up riding horses so it would be nice to do some horse trekking and teach Harry to ride. I’m very inspired by animal-based travel. For right now though, Jimmy and I are planning to take Harry on some camping and overnight hiking trips. There are always more adventures quietly forming in the back of my mind.
Sophie Matterson is an adventurer, writer and author of The Crossing, a memoir documenting her thirteen-month crossing of Australia with five camels. Together with her partner Jimmy, she now runs a cattle property near Kilcoy using regenerative agriculture principles, with a focus on improving soil health and farming in harmony with nature. The property was purchased by Sophie's father 25 years ago, and after visiting it since her teenage years, she now finds herself returning to it to build a life and raise a family of her own.
Follow Sophie's journey on Instagram at @sophiematterson and at sophiematterson.com.
