21/06/2025
This shot was one of the highlights of our trip — not because it was perfect, but because it was real.
Three weeks on the road felt like forever… and now, sitting back in the city, it feels like a lifetime ago. That time out bush lit a fire in me again. A hunger for the wilderness. For the red dust, the remote tracks, the kind of peace you only find when you're miles from the nearest anything.
Coming home hits hard. The post-trip blues are real. But it reminds me why we do this — why we chase these moments. It's not about the gear, or the vehicle, or the next shiny thing. It’s about experiences, and the people you share them with.
The Pilbara — she’s got a hold on us. That red dirt gets into your soul. And once it’s in… there’s no shaking it. I find myself daydreaming daily, plotting ways to make this a full-time thing.
Now, this photo might look peaceful. But behind the lens? Stress levels were through the roof. We were towing the camper up a steep, loose shale climb on a track that had clearly been hidden away — pushed out of sight to funnel tourists into fancy eco-lodges. Midway up, we lost traction. Wheels spinning, trailer sliding, verge of a jackknife. My wife, bless her, was rattled.
Made the call to back it down slow. Found a clearing on a bend just big enough to tuck the trailer in — and that’s where we got this ripper of a shot. After that, we rolled back down to the claypans below, set up next to some termite mounds, and did what we had to do — fixed up some busted plumbing, wiped the dust off with a sponge bath, and lit a fire under the stars.
No noise. No crowds. Just us and the sky.
And I tell ya — I wouldn’t trade that for anything.
