Rick, the National Geographic photographer who Davidson meets during her time in Alice Springs, compels Davidson to reckon with her values and goals even before the trip begins. When Davidson first meets Rick she doesn’t think much of him as he represents many of the things from which Davidson wants to divest:

He had the most beautiful hands I had ever seen on anybody—long tapering fingers that wrapped around his cameras like frogs’ feet; and I remember vaguely some tepid arguments concerning the morality of and justification for taking clichéd photographs of Aborigines in the creek-bed for Time magazine when you knew precisely nothing about them, and didn’t much want to. And, oh yes, I remember he stared at me a lot, as if I were a little bit touched. Just those few things, nothing more remains (83).

Davidson’s reference to his hands “wrapping around his camera” foreshadows his obsession with photography during their trip together, and his tendency to hide behind his lens rather than actively engaging in the present moment. The reference to their argument about photographing Aborigines foreshadows Rick’s ongoing inability to (and seeming disinterest in) understand the implications of his work. The final allusion to Rick staring at Davidson portends Rick’s attachment to her and their sexual affair.

Rick becomes a fixture throughout Davidson’s desert trek, at times offering her comfort and at other times intruding upon her solitude. Davidson’s biggest frustrations with Rick include his disregard for the Aborigines’ privacy and fraught history as well as his behavior that she views as mopey or childlike. Over time, Davidson confronts her role in bringing Rick on the trip, noting that she’s so busy blaming Rick for her disappointments, that she’s avoiding taking responsibility for allowing him to come. She also recognizes the boundaries she needs but has failed to establish in their relationship.

Despite these fraught dynamics, Rick and Davidson become friends over time as they develop a better pattern of communication. Although they never see eye-to-eye on all socio-political topics, Davidson comes to value their connection. She later learns to appreciate that Rick needed the trip, too, and that his attachment to the journey was not solely about her. As one of the key figures who Davidson learns from along the way, Rick contributes to her meditations on the Transformative Effects of Intimate Relationships.

Kurt Posel, one of the camel-men who Davidson works for during her time in Alice Springs, acts as the central antagonist of the narrative. Although Davidson is wary of Kurt from the moment they meet, she agrees to work with him because she feels desperate to realize her trip, needs to learn about and adopt camels, and believes that Kurt is her only route to success. The way that she describes him upon their first meeting foreshadows the toxic role he’ll play in her life over the months to come:

But for his ice-blue eyes, he looked like a bearded, wiry Moor. Standing near him was like being close to a fallen power line—all dangerous, crackling energy. He was dark brown, stringy, with hands calloused and outsized from work and he was certainly the most extraordinary individual I had ever laid eyes on. I had barely got out my name before he had led me to the verandah and begun to tell me exactly how life was to be for the next eight months, grinning, gap-toothed, all the while (12).

Davidson uses figurative language to capture Kurt’s imposing presence— comparing him to “a fallen power line”—a metaphor that evokes danger and volatility. She also describes him as “extraordinary” and remarks upon the size of his hands—details that capture Kurt’s hardworking nature and skill with camels. Davidson notes that Kurt interrupts her, steers her around the property, and imposes plans on her in a domineering manner while “grinning, gap-toothed.” Kurt’s air of elitism and obsession with control position him as representative of the domineering, patriarchal systems of power Davidson seeks to escape.  

Davidson positions Kurt’s emotional and verbal abuse throughout their time together as symbolic of misogyny and patriarchal violence against women in a broader social context. He holds Davidson to impossible standards, berates her for messing up or straying from a schedule, and actively threatens her safety at all times. He’s also cruel to his wife Gladdy and to his camels—behaviors which underscore Kurt’s intolerance for and insensitivity to any living being in his orbit. Despite her negative experiences with Kurt, Davidson holds that her time with him contributed to her personal growth. Without defending his actions, she argues that being around such an aggressive person for so long compelled her to claim her voice and advocate for herself.

Davidson introduces Sallay Mahomet, another of the camel-men she works for while she’s living in Alice Springs. He’s the first camel farmer Davidson seeks out upon arriving in Alice, desperately wanting him to approve of her plan and take her on as his mentor. She notes that the minute she “saw Sallay Mahomet it was apparent to [her] that he knew exactly what he was doing. He exuded the bandy-legged, rope-handling confidence of a man long accustomed to dealing with animals” (9). However, Sallay’s obvious skill with animals didn’t make him sympathetic to Davidson’s desert trek plans. Instead, he scoffs at her ability to walk through “the central desert” with the “three wild camels” she plans to train and initially refuses to hire her (10).

Davidson’s relationship with Sallay positions him as the antithesis of Kurt. Despite Sallay’s original skepticism, he takes Davidson in and helps her realize her goal. She describes his approach to working with camels as the opposite of Kurt’s—from Sallay she learns “the rough and tumble; the fact that these animals could and would kill if given the opportunity” (33). Being on Sallay’s farm offers Davidson a reprieve from Kurt’s abuse and teaches her new skills. In particular, Sallay fosters her deep and abiding love for camels. The way she describes her time with him reinforces this notion:

He had been with camels all his life, and although his relationship to them was anything but sentimental, and although he treated them somewhat roughly for my soft-hearted tastes, he was the best camel-man in town. He knew the animals as well as the back of his own hand, and some of that knowledge seeped into me and came out when I least expected it on my journey (33).

While Sallay doesn’t offer Davidson the warmth of human companionship she finds in other relationships, he does contribute to her growth. Via her time with Sallay, Davidson develops a deeper care for her animals. She also learns how to assume the role of the student and mentee, to ask for and accept help.