We’re not officially on our Big Lap just yet, but the wheels have definitely started turning. The house is empty, our worldly possessions are in storage (hopefully all in the same storage unit), and we’ve officially moved out. It feels strange, exciting, and slightly terrifying all at once — a bit like handing in your homework and realising you might have left your name off the top.

Our first stop was Woodman Point Discovery Caravan Park for a quick trial run — a week of “practice retirement,” if you will. The weather, naturally, didn’t get the memo and decided to test both our patience and waterproofing. To make things even more entertaining, my back decided to join the rebellion. Still, we got through it with a mix of stubbornness, hot tea, and the occasional groan.

We did have some lovely company though — Lincoln and Olivia dropped by for a visit, bringing sunshine and laughter (and reminding us that sitting still isn’t really our strong suit).

For now, we’re house- and dog-sitting for friends for a couple of weeks before we head off properly into the great outdoors until Christmas. The adventure has already begun, just at a slightly slower pace — and with fewer kilometres but plenty of wagging tails.

Search and rescue operations were briefly (and somewhat dramatically) deployed at camp this morning after Debbie offered to do the noble deed of emptying the toilet cassette.

Now, some people think I exaggerate when I say Debbie has no sense of direction — that she could get lost in our own garden if given half a chance. But let the record show: I do not exaggerate.

Whenever we head bush, I make absolutely sure she’s equipped with all the essentials — radio, GPS, backup batteries, and even a whistle — because, frankly, the woman could wander off from a straight road.

So, when she cheerfully volunteered to find the dump point (which, I might add, is literally behind the reception building we both visited earlier this week), I figured she’d be fine. What could possibly go wrong?

Ten minutes later, I happened to glance up and saw our bright orange car cruising slowly up and down the complete opposite end of the caravan park, clearly searching for something that was nowhere near there. No phone. No radio. No GPS. Just pure determination and confusion in equal measure.

While it wasn’t exactly a life-or-death situation, I felt morally obligated to initiate a mild search-and-rescue mission. I tracked her down, guided her safely to her destination, and the cassette was successfully emptied without further incident.

I suppose every good expedition needs a navigator. Unfortunately for us, Debbie isn’t it.

Ok, so I have been a caravan owner for over two and a half years, not what you could call experienced but not a complete novice. To be fair, we have been on less than a handful of caravan parks, the vast majority of what we do is free or bush camping, you pull up where you like and camp, there are no regimented pitches. So anyone watching my solo attempt to get myself parked on our current site at Woodman point would have been thoroughly entertained. Debbie could not be with me this time, so I was on my own (no help with reversing the van). We had asked for an extra wide pitch because we have a large slide out bed on the side of the van.

When I turned up, sure enough, we had been given a large corner pitch, ideal. There was a large blue mat in the centre of the pitch which clearly was meant to be our outdoor area, so I was to park the van to the side of it. To left was another pitch with a caravan on it, to the right was a lamp post and the roadway. Behind was a large caravan. So I decided to park the van to the right of the blue mat next to the lamp post. Without assistance, it took me about twelve attempts to get the van exactly where I intended. I had avoided the lamp post and had not hit the van behind me. Without a “spotter” I had to get out of the car and check my position countless times. Well done me!

As soon as I was about to unhitch, I realised that the door of the caravan was on the wrong side. I should have parked to the left on the blue mat, not to the right. This would mean our awning would be covering the roadway. FFS!

Never mind, I will just have to move it.

Countless more manoeuvres were required to position Mobi to the left of the mat. Happy that we could now exit the van and set up our table in the correct position, I set about putting up the awning and setting up camp. Finally, I pulled out our slide out bed. To my horror it extended about two feet into next doors pitch. There was no way our neighbour would be able to park their car. Double FFS!

Just as I was about to put the last peg in the ground the phone rang and Debbie was ready to be picked up, the first thing she said was “ did you have a nice afternoon”?

I couldn’t help but chuckle at the day’s events. Despite the struggles, it was all part of the adventure of caravan life. Next time, I’ll remember to double-check my positioning before I settle in!

The big lap of Australia is waiting, and the freedom I imagined is already beginning. But I’m starting to understand that the true joy will come not from racing to the start line, or finishing every task before the first mile, but from embracing the journey itself — and carrying a calmer, steadier mind into the adventures ahead.

The big trip around Australia still has to wait until I hang up the work boots at Christmas, but in the meantime, we’ll be living in the van full-time. It’s not quite the grand departure we imagined, but maybe it’s the perfect trial run before we officially hit the road.

Life has a funny way of nudging you forward, even when you think you’re not quite ready. So here we go—one step closer to the adventure of a lifetime, just a little sooner than expected!

When we set out to buy a new car, the agreement was pretty straightforward: I could choose any car I wanted (within budget), and Debbie would pick the colour. Fair enough.

Now, let me be clear—I don’t hate the colour she picked. But let’s just say if it were up to me, I’d have gone with something a bit more forgiving. You know… white or grey. Practical, low-maintenance, doesn’t show every smudge, scratch, or enthusiastic grandchild’s cleaning effort.

But nope. Sunstone Orange Mica it is.

To be fair, it does look great. Eye-catching, vibrant, unique. And according to two separate people in the car industry, also a colour that’s very prone to fading if not properly looked after. Their advice? Regular waxing to keep it looking showroom-fresh.

No worries. Since it’s “our” car, we split the duties: I handle the exterior, and Debbie takes care of the interior. Deal.

Now, waxing a car in Australia isn’t a task you just do. You’ve got to plan around the weather. Waxing a hot car in full sun? Nope. Doesn’t work. So you’re up at the crack of dawn on a Saturday, before the sun really gets going. Except, of course, the weekend I’d planned for it turned out to be a rare rainy morning. Typical. I pushed it back a week, and when the stars finally aligned, I put in two and a half hours of hard graft. The result? The car looked better than when we drove it out of the dealership (on the outside, anyway).

Cue the next week. Windy. And in Western Australia, windy means dust and sand everywhere. I got home from work to a cheerful update: “The grandchildren washed the car!”

Oh no.

Internally, I cringed. Had they rinsed the car first? Or was the dust just scrubbed straight into the paintwork? I had visions of sponges being dropped on the driveway and then enthusiastically rubbed along the car’s panels by a very keen six-year-old. But hey, they’re the grandkids—they’re allowed to commit small acts of automotive violence.

Still, I was feeling slightly anxious. So I wandered inside to Wayne’s Bar for a well-earned cleansing ale. That’s when I saw it. The bucket. The bucket. The one I’d used to mix concrete for the bar footings a couple of weeks ago. It had been over 40 degrees that day, and I’d only given it the world’s fastest rinse. Sitting proudly inside this cement-dusted bucket? My car-washing sponge and chamois.

I nearly choked on my beer.

“Deb… what bucket did you use to wash the car?”

I shouldn’t have asked. According to her, nothing was wrong. And if something was wrong? Well, that was clearly my fault for tidying the garage. Apparently, she couldn’t find her bucket. (It was right by the door, by the way.)

So I gave up. I was fuming on the inside but knew I was wasting my breath. I haven’t even dared take a close look at the paintwork yet. I’m just… not ready.

Is it me? Did I overreact??

We made the most of the ANZAC long weekend with a short but sweet escape to a Hipcamp near Karranadgin in the WA Wheatbelt. The area was quiet, and the break was exactly what we needed — even if it did come with a few lessons learned the hard way.

Lesson number one? Always check your gear. We discovered the padlock on our shovel had rusted solid, making it impossible to regulate the fire properly. That little oversight led to a very short life for the loaf of bread we tried to cook in the camp oven — charcoal, anyone?

Fortunately, redemption came the next night in the form of a hearty stew cooked over the fire. It more than made up for the previous evening’s culinary disaster, and there’s just something about a meal made outdoors that always tastes better.

As always with these mini trips, it felt like we were packing up almost as soon as we arrived. Still, it was a great reminder of why we love getting away — and a good warm-up for the bigger adventure ahead.

We’ve got a three-week trip through the Goldfields planned this winter, detectors in tow. Can’t wait to hit the red dirt again and see what we find.

We recently managed to steal away for a short but much-needed break with Mobi, and this time, we decided to explore a serene Hipcamp spot just outside Gidgegannup. The location, fittingly named The Paddock, was everything we hoped for – a tranquil slice of nature, complete with a chorus of birds and kangaroos, and friendly sheep and cows grazing just over the fence.

It might not be everyone’s idea of a getaway, but for us, it was perfect. We had the whole place to ourselves, with only the sounds of the wild and the occasional farm activities in the background. The hosts, who run a working farm, were around but kept a respectful distance, ensuring we had our privacy while also providing a warm, welcoming vibe.

One of the highlights of the trip was the stunning lack of flies – a rare treat! But the little critters that did decide to make an appearance were out in full force, determined to make life a little more interesting. Usually, we go all-in with our bug defences, but this time, the pesky insects found a way through. Bites and stings are all part of the camping experience, though, so we powered through and embraced the nature of it all.

Update: It turns out that one of Debbie’s “bites” was either a snake or poisonous spider. She is getting treatment and has been told to go to A&E if the swelling and bruising gets any worse.

Update 2: We did end up attending A&E after the swelling and bruising did get worse. The doctors were very interested and took lots of photos, but were unable to conclusively deduce what creature had done the damage. A blood test and X-ray confirmed that she was not in danger of losing a limb and now two weeks later most of the swelling has gone.

Looking ahead, we’re already dreaming of our next adventure. A prospecting trip in winter is on the cards, and we’re especially excited about Pirate Camp 2025 – it’s going to be one to remember! Until then, we’ll treasure this peaceful escape in the Paddock and can’t wait to get back into the great outdoors soon.

After weeks of adventure, the journey home began with one last epic stretch—crossing the Nullarbor Plain. This vast, rugged expanse is more than just a road; it’s a rite of passage for any traveler exploring Australia’s great outback. As we made our way across this iconic stretch, we were treated to unforgettable sights and moments that will stay with us forever.

The Majestic Cliffs

One of the highlights of the Nullarbor is the breathtaking Bunda Cliffs. These towering limestone cliffs, standing sentinel against the Southern Ocean, are a sight to behold. We stopped at several lookouts along the way, each offering a different perspective of the endless ocean meeting the sheer rock faces. The sound of waves crashing below, combined with the vastness of the horizon, was humbling. It’s the kind of place that makes you pause and truly appreciate the raw beauty of nature.

The Famous Ninety Mile Straight

Driving the Ninety Mile Straight—the longest straight road in Australia—was an experience in itself. Stretching endlessly ahead, it’s a symbol of the Nullarbor’s vastness. While some might find the monotony daunting, we embraced the meditative rhythm of the drive, marveling at the changing colors of the landscape as the day unfolded.

Campfires and Connection

Our evenings were spent around the campfire, sharing stories and laughter under a blanket of stars. There’s something magical about the simplicity of a campfire—the crackle of the wood, the warmth it offers, and the way it draws people together. On the Nullarbor, with no city lights to dim the view, the night sky is a masterpiece. We spotted constellations, planets, and shooting stars, feeling small yet connected to the vast universe above.

Spectacular Sunsets

Each evening, the Nullarbor delivered a sunset more spectacular than the last. The sky transformed into a canvas of fiery oranges, deep purples, and soft pinks, casting a golden glow over the plains. Watching the sun dip below the horizon was a daily reminder of the beauty of life’s simple pleasures.

The Journey Home

As we neared the end of the Nullarbor, a mix of emotions washed over us. There was the excitement of returning home and the sadness of leaving the road behind. The Nullarbor isn’t just a drive; it’s a journey that challenges and rewards you in equal measure.

For us, the Nullarbor was the perfect conclusion to an incredible adventure. It left us with a deep appreciation for Australia’s vastness, its natural beauty, and the connections forged along the way. As we pulled into our driveway, dusty but content, we knew the memories of this journey would stay with us forever.

Until the next adventure, the road calls.

Coober Pedy, a name synonymous with opal mining and underground living, was a stop on our journey that left us yearning for more time. We had just one day to explore this iconic outback town, and while we made the most of it, we couldn’t shake the feeling that a week would have been ideal to truly immerse ourselves in its wonders.

Morning: A Taste of History

Our first stop was a local museum, where we learned about the fascinating history of Coober Pedy. This town, carved into the harsh landscape of the South Australian desert, is a testament to human ingenuity and resilience. The museum showcased how early miners battled the searing heat and isolation to unearth the precious opals that have put Coober Pedy on the map.

Afternoon: A Trip to Tom’s Mine

In the afternoon, we ventured to Tom’s Mine, a working opal mine that offers a glimpse into the life of a miner. Walking through the cool, dimly lit tunnels was an experience like no other. The guides shared stories of the “opal rush” and the painstaking methods used to extract these shimmering gems from the earth. It’s a place that sparks the imagination and brings the opal mining industry to life.

Shopping for Memories

No visit to Coober Pedy would be complete without picking up a piece of opal jewelry. We couldn’t resist purchasing a couple of delicate opal necklaces for our granddaughters. Their eyes will light up when they see these little pieces of the outback, shimmering with hues of blue, green, and fiery red.

Noodling Dreams

If Debbie had her way, she could have spent days “noodling” for opals—the term used for searching through the discarded rubble left by miners, hoping to find overlooked gems. Unfortunately, time wasn’t on our side, and this dream will have to wait for our next visit.

Why a Day Isn’t Enough

Coober Pedy is more than just a town; it’s an experience. Beyond what we managed to squeeze into our day, there’s so much more to explore: underground churches, quirky art installations, and the vast expanse of the Moon Plain, where the desolate landscape feels like another planet.

As we drove away, we promised ourselves we’d return. Next time, we’ll give Coober Pedy the time it deserves—a week, or maybe even more.

Until then, we’ll treasure our opals and the memories of this remarkable town, a glittering gem in the heart of the outback.