You need some interests, mate.
Posted: July 5, 2025 Filed under: Camping | Tags: family, fiction, hiking, travel, writing Leave a comment
When Waz told people he was retiring, the number one question was “What are you going to do?”, often spoken with a trace of projected fear. The second most asked question was “Hey Neen, now Waz is retiring, what are you going to do?”. This is curious to me because I just assumed I’d be doing what I usually do, but with a bonus minion to order around. He could finish repainting the house in a colour I’ve finally decided on, despite being painted two years ago, and me starting a repaint project just this year. I would have an intern that would undertake repetitive and uncreative tasks in my pottery studio.
Concerned acquaintances warned Waz that “since you’ve been a captain of industry, you’re going to need new projects, mate”. Meaning, Important Things to keep your (undeniably genius) brain from turning into a blob of misdirection and apathy. Well, FEAR NOT. Waz, as the very least concerned about #slayingretirement has found plenty to keep himself occupied.
Moments after we installed ourselves at our campsite, random interlopers dared to take a shortcut through the plants, eschewing the clearly designated paths and daring to roam up the private path to our site, then across the underbrush to the other side. Every now and then some Muppet actually walks through our site. This is a problem for a couple of reasons. The path they take is somewhat worn in by other short-cutters but is actually fenced off as native bushland trying to colonise a wee piece of the cape in between all the people. There are Let it Grow signs, in case anyone is confused. Inexplicably, they stamp past the Let it Grow sign and shave ten metres off their camp-to-water 70 metre journey.
Waz has made it his personal job to erect barriers to the shortcut, his eagle-like gaze scanning the landscape for boulders and clumps of dead plant to relocate. It is not uncommon for him to comment “That’s a good boulder” as we get about our day. It’s a triumph of landscaping that is effective to 90% of the time. The 10% get the following:
Waz: “Yeah, that’s not a path. You need to go back. Heh. Yeah, back there. No, not a path. Trying to grow stuff here.”
The response is always: “Oh, I didn’t know.”
Waz: “Yeah, we all need to learn sometimes.”
A reply once: “Oh, THANK YOU for teaching me.”
Waz has taken the fight to Yardie Creek such is his commitment.
I used to be the one raging at drones, and engaging in ‘discussions’ with escalating sarcasm, but it is SO nice to sit back and let Waz deal out the heat. Besides, I’ve bought a drone (that as the oldest child I’m a rule follower, and there’s a no drone rule in National Parks), so I’m conflicted, leading to inaction, unless there is one hovering ten metres above us as we do our sunset kayak, and I may be moved to gesture. Plus, a friend told me the horror story of her husband who had their drone ‘Follow Me’ as he swam in the ocean. It dive bombed said husband, requiring stitches in his face. I tell you, the machines are just biding their time before we are all in an episode of Black Mirror getting hunted by robotic dogs.
It is a definite ritual. At any time of the day, you scan campsites and men are moving solar panels, untying ropes, retying ropes, taking down or erecting awnings, doing something in the back of the car, looking mystified as they poke at stuff attached to their caravan. Relocating water jerries. Pumping water from one thing to another, poking at the Weber, carrying shade tents to the beach, or looking meaningfully at a tyre. A more solid case of purpose I’ve not witnessed.
The other thing that passes the day for Waz is multiple enquiries from strangers.
“Hi, do you have any fuses? Our Inverter just popped.”
“Hello! How did you put your pegs in? The ground is REALLY hard.”
“Hey, do you mind if we leave our SUP here?”.
“Hi, mate, how’s the new Prado? Heard the brakes before. REALLY loud.”
“You stay here? Anything to see?”
“Yeah, gidday, so how do we book this site?”
“Hi, yeah, South Australia. Who do you barrack for?”
“Knock, knock. Hi! We had an Aussie Swag too. Loved it. Started the forum on Facebook.” (Follows is much Aussie Swag camper trailer reminiscing.)
Our days kick off with a walk along the coast, on jagged exposed ocean floor rocks that range between thousands and millions of years old, dotted with ancient shells and marine life, and scalpel-sharp as a brand new Microplane grater. I learnt this the hard way last year, tripping on one of the many sharp bits, falling like a mighty, silent, oak and opening up a deep slash on my hand, leaving a crime scene in my wake. Because the Ningaloo reef is particularly fertile with living organisms, including necrotising fasciitis, my grated shins, arms, and the stitches in my hand needed two weeks to close up before I was allowed back in the water. Naturally, I tested the advice with ‘waterproof’ dressings and a thick rubber glove, but leakage and the threat of flesh eating organisms drove me back to shore. Excruciating time out.
After we walk, I head out for a snorkel to check out the bay status. Waz stays back on coffee alert. His wetsuit had grown a series of ladder-type holes in the rear as it struggled to contain his athletic form, and he generally froze whenever we went out. The water temp started out as 28 degrees but quickly plummeted to 21 which gets chilly when you are not smashing out a 3km freestyle open water swim. I have persevered, distracted by fish but unable to use my hands when I return.
Another important task for Waz is soldering my fairy lights, which fall apart every time it blows a gale. So, every day. By the fifth repair Waz got creative, repurposing some silicone that had gone hard and sculpting a supportive frame. And he claims he is not an artist.
And then there is power and water management, requiring systems of levers and pulleys to keep everything in order. Speaking of which, some of you will know Waz’s obsession with the Tesla battery at home, often calling me from the office in the middle of the day:
“Have you get the aircon/heater/oven/washing machine on? Turn it off, the prices are spiking.” At which point, I either say “OK. Guess you don’t want clean jocks”, or I engage Amp Draw Tinnitus. Well, big brother came on holiday and continues to monitor the home Tesla the minute we have a scrap of coverage.
The other thing that gives us great joy is camp kids and their lovely parents. The explosion of young families travelling OZ means there are generally one year olds amusing themselves in the dust, primary school kids running barefoot over stones, digging one metre holes in the sand, piling three at a time onto SUPs, riding bikes flat out without shoes or helmets, and doing circles of the campground well after dark. All of this without conspicuous parental oversight. We’ve met kids who are so resilient, funny, and confident you can’t help but want to give the parents all a high five for taking the leap as a family, and both kids and parents a massive hug for being so awesome. I have been so inspired by their questions and ideas that I’ve started an Instagram to post @_wild_australia life. The vids are too bandwidth heavy for email or Android text and I’m wayyyyy behind because I only have sufficient coverage about two hours a week. They will see the light of day, I promise!
Meanwhile, I’ve found my own obsession. Caravan brands. How do any of them make any money? Someone told me there are 80 brands of caravans based in Victoria alone. Across 44 sites in Osprey in a one week survey, I saw 54 different brands of caravan. I’m now weirdly listing every different brand I see. Why? Not sure. I can confirm the most popular are Jayco, Crusader and JB Caravans = Wonderland. Personally, I’d always go Jayco because owner Gerry Ryan funded the first international Australian Cycling team and continues to do so. Legend!
15 years and counting.
Posted: June 12, 2025 Filed under: Iconic Australian images | Tags: Australia, Camping, Cape Range National Park, hiking, nature, Ningaloo Reef, Nyinggulu, outback, roadtrip, snorkelling, travel, WA 3 Comments
Osprey Bay is our favourite of the 11 campgrounds in Cape Range National Park. Cape Range is the most accessible entry point for Ningaloo Reef requiring a two wheel drive vehicle, and 20m walk into the water to see reef fish going about their business. We’ve been coming to Cape Range since around 2010, and our first favourite was Lakeside campground before a severe storm washed it away along with someone’s camper trailer, which has not been seen since.
Each of the bays offer something different. Turquoise Bay is Insta famous for its prettiness. Oyster Stacks for the amazing array of fish, and Osprey? The turtles. So many turtles, it’s turtle soup. You can also get a campsite right on the water, with a view of the ocean, sunset, and whales breaching between August and October. Of course, there’s a cost to this. Not the $20 a night we pay for our prime real estate, but eight months prior we get up around 15 nights in total at 2.30am Adelaide time, in order to book a site. Harder to get than an AFL Grand Final ticket, sites are released at midnight Perth local time, six months ahead of the available date, and book out within LITERAL seconds. Waz has it down to a fine art, honed over many nights poring over multiple screens to eventual fail yet again. His commitment and attention to the matter of booking Osprey every year is probably one of his greatest achievements to date. Determined to beat all odds, he had me lurch awake with him at 2.10am and sit in front of my laptop and iPhone with strict instructions and a timing countdown to the second for when I was to repeatedly refresh my screens.
So here we are. At our favourite place, in our favourite site. Over 16 years of travelling around Australia, we have finessed the set up somewhat. We started staying at Roadhouses where there were so many mice the ground looked like it was moving. We stayed in Backpacker Hostels with the great unwashed and your stuff went missing from the line. We’ve stayed in Motels where you wake up with mouse poo on your pillow, freakishly next to your mouth. About 2009 we upgraded to a swag. For the non-Aussies that’s a giant canvas pillowcase you put your sleeping bag in, squeeze into that, and spend the rest of the night claustrophobically seeking air around the canvas covering over head. At Mt Dare in the centre of Australia, we had dingoes sniffing our toes, and awoke to a blanket of frost on the swag exterior, and 100% condensation in the interior.
In 2010 we spoilt ourselves with a two room tent, the construction of which was longer than the time we slept in it, and a solid marriage tester. In 2011 we hired a soft floor camper trailer and giddy with the luxury, decided to buy one off Gumtree located in Brisbane, not so far from Woodend, Victoria. One week after spending four months long service leave around the country in the soft floor, Waz got all excited and bought a hard floor, our first Aussie Swag, a triumph of Australian engineering and practicality. We had moved to Perth at the time, so I was dispatched to QLD to retrieve it. I had nights on the Nullarbor alone, but the busy Roadhouses were actually scarier. To get to your room you have to walk past a line of male guests sitting outside their rooms smoking and holding a tinny of Jack and coke and silently watching you. Then there’s the vehicles that double back when you’re at an outpost service station, and the driver pulls up to chat. No refuelling.
9 years and about 200000km later we are we are in our second Aussie Swag and out at Osprey, we are an oddity. It used to be a mix of hippy camper vans, a chaotic mess of two minute noodles, incense, tie dye, and an interior that looked like it needed a forensic clean, grey nomads in well loved Millard, Coromal and Jayco caravans, and tiny two man tents housing hardy Scandinavians, shelf stable wraps, cans of tuna and boiled eggs. Now it is either enormous caravans, roof top tents, or fancy camper vans, and about every two weeks a camper trailer may appear for a night or two. The demographic has changed over 15 years as well. What were hardy fisher folk, adventurous grey nomads, alternative lifestylers and remarkably intrepid Europeans are now mostly young families doing a one year loop, retirees, 25-30 somethings on a two week break seeking Insta moments, and a considerable representation of the European and South American continents. Campsites are awash with bikes, boats, scooters, skateboards, inflatable stand up paddle-boards, satellite and Starlink dishes. Some sites look like a teenage boys bedroom, others are, well, like ours.
We’ve set up often enough now that the recriminations are long gone and we now have our assigned tasks which we have allocated without discussion. Usually set up occurs in blazing sun, occasionally with a testing wind, so the less said, the better. It takes about two hours to do the full one month occupation set up, after which there is cold beer and a swim to reinstate a sense of humour.
Not at all soft.
Posted: June 6, 2025 Filed under: Iconic Australian images | Tags: adventure, Australia, Camping, exmouth, hiking, landscapes, nature, outback, roadsides, Roadtrips, travel, WA 1 Comment
As you travel through the Gascoyne region toward Exmouth, Cape Range National Park and Ningaloo/Nyinggulu reef, the terrain quickly becomes deep red and festooned with vegetation that is generally out to get you. Soft looking spinifex will shred your shins faster than you can say “wish I’d picked another path”, and snakes, bull-ants and March flies with anger management issues sit seething in wait. Our eventual destination is Osprey Bay, 80km from Exmouth town, and 1250km north of Perth.
Exmouth was created in 1967 to support US naval operations during the Cold War, specifically a very-low-frequency transmitting station capable of sending messages to submarines. The transmissions are enabled by incredibly high spidery towers, including one that is 387 metres high, the tallest man made structure in the Southern Hemisphere until Tower 108 in Melbourne in 2019 took the title. Not sure why. In 1992, the US Navy passed command to the Royal Australian Navy and it is now run by Defence. For military buffs, Mike Hughes gives a more detailed account and the comments section has some interesting memories shared by those who worked there over the decades. Before Russia got a bit excited once more in recent times and security ramped up, you could walk around the 1960’s American base with the original architecture, bowling alley, swimming pool, and super wide streets, like it was a museum.
Over the last couple of years a veritable farm of radars has popped up, allegedly weaponised, as one undoubtably anti-vaxxer whispered to Warren. This farm turns out to be Australia’s Deep-Space Advanced Radar Capability (DARC), a joint tri-nation endeavour between the US, UK and Australia, to globally track objects up to 22,000 miles above Earth, like weather, space debris, and oh yes, hostile or ‘malign’ activity.
Thundering past the radar farm every morning at around 8am, vehicles and caravans point missile-like to their allotted campsites, whereupon they circle like vultures until the incumbents vacate. Many of these stay the night before at Bullara Station, a working cattle station that started out with a few campsites on offer around 15 years ago, and now offers lodge accomodation, huts, cottages, and fancy safari tents as well for 100’s of people per night.
It features one of my favourite kinds of architecture, I call it Colonial Outback Station. Remoteness, extremely harsh environments and 1400km to Bunnings has spawned incredibly creative and beautiful re-use of practical farm equipment and materials. Horse-shoes become door pulls, windmill blades make signs, wire becomes a chandelier. Giving early settler hut vibes, you see this kind of architecture in places like El Questro, and other stations that have opened their gates to travellers wanting an authentic outback experience. With coffee. And scones. And helicopters. It makes me want to recreate it at home in Adelaide. But then it would be like the crochet beaded top I bought in Sorrento, Italy, that had no business in Woodend, Victoria.
The other thing, perhaps the main thing, about Bullara is the famed ‘Burger Night’, stated in reverential and knowing tones. People the world over book their Bullara stay for a Friday for the station beef burger and live music. Didn’t seem enough of a draw to warrant the fame, until the conga line was mentioned. It was Sunday, and with a dawning state of FOMO we resolved to book Burger Night on the way back. Tomorrow, we finally get to Osprey Bay.
You’re a galah.
Nullarbor crossing number 15
Posted: May 19, 2025 Filed under: Iconic Australian images | Tags: Australia, cape-le-grand, hiking, nature, Photography, travel 5 Comments
It’s almost 200km long, has a 147km section that is dead straight, features possibly the worlds most arid 18 hole/par 72 golf course that spans 1365km, and somewhere out there 100.000 camels roam. And I’ve driven across it 15 times, twice solo. The camels date back to the 1800s when they were brought over from British India and Afghanistan to help build railroads. All that aside, the coolest thing I reckon is its spitting distance proximity to the coast.
Last year we found this spectacular spot at sunset, right on the edge. Feeling immensely lucky to grab this piece of paradise and only slightly concerned one of us may walk over the edge in the middle of the night, we retired ready for another 1200km day driving. At 1am, the wind threatened to rip all the canvas from around us and throw it into the ocean, so we packed up and got an especially early start.
We didn’t make the same mistake this year and although we have a much more relaxed timeframe, for some reason we still feel the need to drive 12 hours a day.
Our first real stop for longer than 8 hours was Lucky Bay in Cape Le Grand, on the south coast of Western Australia. The beach is unfeasibly white thanks to being almost pure silica, squeaky to walk on and super fine. The last time we were here, there were legions of tourists feeding the resident beach-loving kangaroos various kinds of the worst extruded snacks. This time, I was ready to stage an intervention, but perhaps the crowded beach and many vehicles had changed things, the only kangaroos were up at the campsites, no doubt looking for Cheezels and Twisties.
Among the many walks on offer is the 2km and therefore easy sounding Frenchman Peak, a blob of granite rising 250 metres out of the surrounding bush. Kicking off with a wide and lovely track displaying incredibly delicate lichen, things quickly escalate and I found myself frozen on all fours clinging to tiny divots in the rock surface unable to go up or down. Waz took this pause to check his email.
We had packed in a lot. It was time to head to Perth for supplies!
As I see it 