
“When you’re out walking with the camels and you’re in beautiful landscapes, you just feel like you could keep this rhythm of walking going on forever.” A whisper of camel pads pressing against the dry red earth mirrors the quiet heartbeat of South Australia’s outback.
Out here — 54 kilometres north of Marree on the Birdsville Track — the rhythm of existence feels uninterrupted. Like the earth itself is taking one long inhale.
“You’re never born, and you never die…your spirit just keeps going on.” The words seem as though they should be attributed to some ancient deity. They actually come from Paul Ellis.
For seven months of the year, Paul is bordered by the Stony Desert to the south, Simpson Desert to the north, Triari Desert to the west and Strzelecki Desert to the east — a true expanse of outback wilderness.

The lines of his face read like the lines of a story; his chipped front teeth, cracked leather boots and well-worn Akubra are all tell-tale signs of a life well-lived. His eyes, used to squinting against the relentless sun and flies, are kind and knowing. Especially when they land on Karen Ellis, his wife and the head cameleer of Camel Treks Australia.
Together for over 30 years, they’ve built a life akin to wanderers, guided by their love for each other and their deep bond with camels — animals born of the harsh desert. “It’s a slowing down, it’s a grounding,” Karen says of their nomadic existence.
The pair’s life is an ode to the little moments — more of what matters, even in its simplicity. They’ve long since left behind the trivial dilemmas that plague many of us, the frantic rush of city life, to embrace a quieter, more intentional way of living.
“It would almost be easier if we were permanently on the road, just wandering,” Karen shares. “It’s the transitioning — coming back to normal beds — that’s the weirdest thing for me.”
Karen and Paul have made a home in a part of the world once deemed inhospitable. For them, home is a feeling – not a place. “When you close your eyes, you’re home,” she says.
So, what does life look like, when the closest thing you have to a fixed address is the shifting sands of the Australian outback?
When you close your eyes, you're home. Karen Ellis

Karen echoes the land
Among the slopes of the surrounding sand dunes, time feels less like a ticking clock and more like a thrumming pulse. Sandhill wattle and spinifex cling to the earth, the wind occasionally whispering between them. The silence of the outback blankets everything — broken only by the soft hum of birdlife and the shuffling, scuffling pads of Karen and Paul’s camels. Here, in this vast expanse, the two cameleers have attuned themselves to this soundtrack; “I think the landscape has affected us both in a spiritual capacity,” Karen ponders.
"I don't tend to suffer from looking at the past and lamenting, and I avoid looking into the future,” she continues, explaining how being fully present in the moment — no matter how big or small — can lead to greater happiness.

Moments such as the first light of dawn. The desert air begins to warm. Swags are unzipped, the pale orange of the sunrise bleeds across the jagged terrain. The stillness of the early morning is punctuated by Paul stoking the fire, signalling another day spent saddling camels and preparing for a long trek ahead.
We find Karen bent over her camel; an Akubra hat perched low on her head to shield her aquamarine eyes from the rising sun.
“[All I need is] a toothbrush, toothpaste, face cream and certain things that ground me like that... we're real minimalists," she laughs, her smile lines appearing like tracks in the sand. “What some people need to feel safe and okay, we’ve bypassed,” Karen says.
When you hang out with camels and you do what we do for so long, you just don’t need as much. Karen Ellis
Matriarch of the moving caravan

On constant alert, Karen moves with the rhythm of the land. As she guides her camels across the red expanse, one footfall after the other, she points out the rising saltpans and the occasional silhouette of a bird soaring overhead. The Chestnut-breasted Whiteface — one of only two species found exclusively in South Australia — flits by, a reminder of how unique and sacred this landscape is. “We love being on the land…you just feel right,” Karen says.
Though slow, the rhythm of each stride carries intention — bringing them one step closer to the next campsite, where the day’s journey will end. As the sun begins to sink behind the dunes, the camp is set and the air begins to still. The smell of oven-cooked damper bread rises from the fire, mixing with the soft crackle of flames.

What secrets do the camels carry?
Karen’s silver camel shaped earrings reflect the light of the fire, as she swaps stories about these majestic creatures. Each one has a unique name — Ava, Bella, Ghundi, Bindu, Rocky, Tanami, Zaki, Molly, Raji, Millie, Mocha, Dinny — and a distinct personality. “They’re very zen,” Karen says. “They’re also highly intelligent, emotional and their personalities are as diverse as ours. They’re just beautiful to watch.”
The camels — their strong, graceful bodies and wise, watchful eyes — are not just animals to Karen and Paul; they’re family. In many cultures and religions, camels have long been revered as symbols of strength, resilience and endurance. They are the unsung heroes of the desert, able to withstand extreme conditions and travel vast distances with minimal resources. These same qualities mirror the lives Karen and Paul have built in the unforgiving outback. Like the camels, they have adapted and thrived in an environment that constantly tests their limits.
"I’m not going to say I'm bulletproof," Karen laughs, "but it would take a bit to throw me off my perch. The camels have done that."
The landscape has affected us both in a spiritual capacity. Karen Ellis
HOME IS WHERE THE HEART ROAMS

Karen and Paul’s life is one of constant adventure, but it’s not driven by the pursuit of more. Instead, it’s about a deeper connection to the land, to the animals and to each other — something that can’t be found among the honking of horns or towering concrete of city life. “It depends how deep you want to go,” Karen says. “The deeper you go with your intrigue and desire to understand the art form you’ve committed to, the deeper the understanding and connection you’ll get from the landscape and animals.”
Their life isn’t bound by a fixed postcode. It’s defined by the shifting sands of the outback, a place where, as Gandhi once said, “truth is one, paths are many.” For Karen and Paul, the path they’ve chosen leads them to a richer understanding of life — one that is as simple as it is profound, grounded in the present moment and the rhythm of the land. It’s this way of life they invite others to experience, to discover for themselves.