That might seem like a pretty major map reading error to a Londoner but in fact this was Australia's Piccadilly Circus. No statue of Eros in the middle of a congested junction. Just a patch of grass in the middle of a turning circle, in the middle of a forest, at the top of a mountain called Brindabella. Not that we hadn't noticed the incline some way back, nor that the road had become a pot-holed track. It was just that we knew Canberra was located in a bit of an offbeat place, so we hadn't thought much of it. The city is served by four main roads and linked to everywhere else by minor ones -- some of them dirt tracks.

So, with this in mind, we'd pressed on, chatting away and admiring the dramatic scenery -- it had gone from dry brown fields to lush green forests – until we reached a point where a large swathe of trees had been cleared, and the view gave away just how high up we had come. That was when the doubts had begun to creep in.

We weren't there yet but we were already getting a flavour of the capital's little eccentricities. That morning we'd left our campsite amid the sun-seared hills and greedy possums of the Wee Jasper valley, and arrived at a small junction with a signpost pointing the way to Canberra. The road had looked promisingly surfaced, so we'd settled back in our trusty white Ford Falcon for a smooth ride all the way to the city. A few kilometers later, however, the black stuff ran out and we were back to gravel and dirt.

We'd bumped along like this for quite some distance and then hit the bitumen again. They must have started surfacing the road at both ends and aimed to meet in the middle, but they hadn't quite finished the job. It would be plain sailing from here. But no sooner had we resumed the cruising position than we were jolted back to ruts and humps again.

And so it had remained as we negotiated our way towards Australia's political epicentre, on a road best suited to tractors and 4WD trucks. Then, by the side of it, in amongst the sheep and the scrub, we saw the sign confirming that we were indeed entering Australian Capital Territory.

We emerged at the junction to a main highway and a large green sign pointed to Canberra -- in both directions. I had read about the city's Land Axis plan -- the equally lauded and vilified hub-and-spoke layout of its main roads -- and its potential to disorient the casual visitor. But we weren't even on the outskirts yet and already here was a road that promised to take us to Canberra no matter which way we chose to go. We tossed a coin and opted to go right. We'd soon be there now.

When you're sitting on a mountain, surrounded by trees, and you're struck by the realization that you have actually got lost trying to find the capital city of a major industrialized country, it is easy to feel stupid. On the other hand we probably weren't the first. That must be what the Piccadilly Circus turning circle is for; so those people looking for Canberra could turn round and go back. Which is what we did. Back at the big green sign we noticed on closer inspection that at least one other person had been sent the wrong way. In a public-spirited endeavour someone had scrawled a clarification onto the sign in black felt tip. It said, "Canberra -- turn left in 1K". Pity it was only legible close up. Sure enough though, further up the road was an easy-to-miss turn off. It was a relatively narrow country lane. The kind of lane you might expect to lead to a village, rather than a city. The highway we had just turned off was the kind of road you might expect to lead to a city, rather than a mountaintop.

There's not much of a build up to Canberra; no gradual transition from suburban sprawl to municipal hub. One minute you're in the bush, the next you're in the city. It’s weird. Straight away, Walter Burley Griffin’s grand axis ground plan grabbed us, pulled us in and had us driving round in concentric circles. A couple of people had warned us about this. One guy from Uralla said that he'd driven round and round all afternoon trying to find a parking space, but gave up and went home. This probably wasn't for lack of spaces. Space is something that Australia rarely lacks even in the city. More likely, it was because the parking signs are not clearly marked. The blue Ps are very small and you get no advance warning, so if you pass one by you're stuffed. You just have to drive round again.

To the driver, Canberra is essentially a series of ring roads intersected by long, straight avenues. To the pedestrian, Canberra is essentially a series of very long avenues interrupted by some very big parks. A driver unaccustomed to Canberra may wonder why he or she seems to be spending so much time inside the city, while simultaneously bypassing it. A similarly unacquainted pedestrian, may wonder why it's taking so long to get into town and, at the end of a leg aching day, might be forced to ask, "where the hell is the town, anyway?" This is because everything is so spread out that you never get the feeling of being in the heart of a city. Nothing is just 'down the street', or 'across the road'. Everything is a considerable hike away from everything else, separated by vast tracts of open green space. For anyone in doubt as to what this place is for, a long stroll to the middle should clear it up. But if you're looking for the shops, turn round and keep going, because Canberra city centre is Parliament House.

Order, Order