On the move again through remote Western Australia as we head north to Gascoyne Junction and the spectacular Kennedy Range. What started as a simple day trip quickly turned into one of those moments every drone owner dreads…

While filming those classic Outback drone shots — endless red dirt roads, rugged landscapes and total isolation — we suddenly found ourselves with some very unwanted attention. A Wedge-tailed Eagle, talons out and locked on, came within seconds of taking out our drone!

We also explore the incredible Kennedy Ranges, tackle dry creek crossings, enjoy another picnic adventure, and begin the long journey south toward Perth, with a few surprises still waiting along the way.

Australia always seems to have a way of keeping things interesting.

There are no strict plans when you travel like this… just a rough direction and wherever the road decides to take you. After a relaxing week camped beside the beautiful Murchison River, we finally hit the road again in search of fuel, water and our next adventure.

What followed was a journey through remote Western Australia along part of the historic De Grey–Mullewa Stock Route, complete with old cattle wells, nervous creek crossings and endless outback scenery.

Our travels eventually led us to Bilung Pool — a stunning permanent waterhole on the Wooramel River surrounded by red earth, river gums and incredible birdlife. But Bilung Pool is far more than just another free camp. Known to the Wajarri people as Birlungardi, this sacred place is deeply connected to Dreamtime stories and the Rainbow Snake, Gujida.

This is the kind of slow travel we love most — remote roads, peaceful camps, history, wildlife and discovering places we never expected to find.

We weren’t in any rush to leave Koolanooka Springs. Life on the road had finally slowed to that relaxed pace we’d been chasing—but an unwanted dinner guest and incoming weather soon changed our plans.

In this episode, we travel through the Wheatbelt to Morawa, where we quickly discover the town is battling a massive mouse plague. With empty shelves and bait selling out instantly, it’s a reminder that life on the road can throw up some unexpected challenges.

From there, we continue north to a peaceful free camp at Ballinyoo Bridge on the banks of the Murchison River. Western Australian rivers can be unpredictable—bone dry one minute and flooding the next—but with no major weather since Cyclone Narelle, we took the chance.

What we found was incredible—birdlife, butterflies, and one of those perfect camps that reminds you why you travel. Even with a storm circling nearby, we settled in for a peaceful night in the van.

The next morning delivered something special, including a pair of nesting Whistling Kite right across the river.

There’s something about slowing down that lets the world come to you.

This afternoon’s “walk” was hardly a walk at all—more of a gentle wander, really. A couple of kilometres at most, no rush, and back within the hour. But in that short window, the bush decided to put on a bit of a show. Every few steps seemed to reveal something new—birds darting through the trees, insects going about their busy little lives, all of it happening whether I was there to notice it or not.

Now, I’ll be the first to admit—I’m no photographer, and I’m definitely no wildlife expert. But sometimes it’s not about getting the perfect shot or knowing exactly what you’re looking at. It’s just about being there, taking it in, and capturing a moment or two along the way.

I’ve done my best with the camera, and I’ve leaned on Google to help put names to a few of these creatures—but if you spot something I’ve got wrong, feel free to set me straight in the comments. That’s all part of the fun.

Anyway, here’s a little glimpse of what turned up on a simple afternoon stroll… you don’t always have to walk far from camp to find something pretty special.

Some places just get the timing right, and for us, Koolanooka was one of them.

We arrived out of season at a free camp in the heart of wildflower country, not quite sure what to expect. While we’d missed the famous blooms, it didn’t feel like we were missing out. There’s a quiet beauty to the place all year round—open space, stillness, and just enough to make you slow down.

We planned to stay a couple of nights and see how we felt. As it turned out, the mood said “stay,” and before we knew it, we’d spent five nights there. That’s always a good sign.

Life slipped into an easy rhythm—no rush, nowhere to be, just enjoying the simple things. It was exactly the tonic we needed.

In the end, it wasn’t the place that made us leave, but our “unwanted visitor,” which meant that supplies were needed to deal with it.

Koolanooka reminded us that the best stops are often the unplanned ones—and even out of season, it delivered.

There’s something special about those first nights away. The van is finally set up, the kettle’s boiled a dozen times already, and everything still feels just a little bit new—even if you’ve planned it all a hundred times over.

We couldn’t have asked for better days to start the trip. Warm sunshine, clear skies, and that sense of freedom that only really hits once you realise… we’ve actually done it. We’re on the road.

But the nights? That’s another story.

A bit of wind crept in, temperatures dropped more than expected, and suddenly those peaceful mornings outside with a cuppa needed a little more determination than planned. Somewhere between pulling on an extra layer and watching the steam rise off the mugs, I was reminded of a promise I’d made—Debbie wouldn’t need her beanie at breakfast.

Let’s just say… we weren’t quite there yet.

So, in the spirit of keeping things enjoyable (and keeping promises intact), we made a small change of plan. The Wheatbelt Trail isn’t going anywhere, and there’s no point rushing into chilly mornings when we’ve got the freedom to adjust.

Instead, we pointed ourselves a couple of hours north, chasing a bit more warmth and seeing where the road takes us. That’s the beauty of this trip—nothing is locked in, and every decision can be as simple as “what feels right today?”

It’s early days, but already the rhythm is starting to settle in. Slow mornings, simple choices, and the kind of flexibility that makes this whole adventure what it is.

And with any luck, tomorrow’s breakfast might just be beanie-free.

In the immortal words of Fabrizio Romano… “Here we go”.

After all the planning, tinkering, and waiting, we’ve finally hit the road on the first leg of our long-anticipated trip around Australia. It feels a bit surreal, if I’m honest—sitting here in the caravan, knowing this isn’t just another short getaway, but the beginning of something we’ve been building toward for a long time.

This first stretch is a gentle one. We need to be back in Perth toward the end of May, so the plan (at least for now) is to stay fairly close and explore the Wheatbelt. No big miles, just easing ourselves into the rhythm of life on the road (check out our travel map on the Homepage).

Today gave us a proper taste of it. Warm, almost teasingly so—27 degrees during the day, dropping to around 20 by 7:30 in the evening. Not bad on paper, but the wind has been howling like it’s got something to prove. Sitting inside, listening to it rattle around the van this evening and it’s just started to rain with more forecast, you start to realise how much the elements shape this kind of travel.

And that’s already got us thinking.

But plans on a trip like this are more like suggestions than rules.

If the wind keeps up and those evening temperatures don’t quite hit the mark, I wouldn’t be surprised if we make a sharp left turn in the next few days and start nudging north. That’s the beauty of this lifestyle. We’re not locked into anything.

For me, the sweet spot is low 30s during the day and low to mid-20s in the evenings. Comfortable, easy living. We’ll see if the Wheatbelt delivers that—or if it gently nudges us elsewhere.

Either way, we’re out here now. That’s what matters.

Well, it looks like we’ll be making a brief return to Perth this October.

Two years ago, Sweet announced what was meant to be their final tour of Australia. After more than 55 years of rocking stages around the world, the band had decided it was finally time to slow things down a little and keep their touring closer to home in Europe.

Just as the Australian tour was about to begin, legendary guitarist Andy Scott fell ill and was unable to travel. After a lot of agonising, the decision was made to go ahead with the tour without him.

The boys did a fantastic job. If I’m honest, they looked a little freer on stage without the boss watching over them, and they absolutely rocked. But the message from the stage that night was clear — as soon as Andy was well enough, he’d be back.

True to his word, a new “final” tour has now been announced for October. Tickets have been purchased, plans have been adjusted, and it looks like our travels will include a quick detour back to Perth later this year.

Some things are simply too good to miss.

Another little upgrade to the Mobi before we set off on the first leg of our big lap. It’s one of those ideas that is so simple you wonder why it isn’t standard on every caravan.

With solar panels and lithium batteries these days, power usually isn’t the thing that limits how long you can stay off grid. Water is. No matter how good your electrical setup is, the amount of water you carry is what really determines how long you can free camp.

We usually travel with a bit over 200 litres on board, which sounds like plenty. But once you factor in showers it is surprisingly easy to get through that in three or four days if you are not careful.

One of the biggest wastes of water happens before you even start your shower. You turn the tap on and several litres can disappear down the plug hole while you wait for the water to heat up. You can try catching it in a bucket to use later, but that gets messy and it’s a bit of a bother.

This is where the Shower Miser comes in.

It’s a really clever little system. You install a small return tap that sends the shower water back into the fresh water tank until it warms up. There is a little blue thermal pipe that changes colour when the water is hot, letting you know it’s time to divert the water back to the shower.

Simple idea. No wasted water. No buckets to deal with.

Sometimes the best upgrades are the simplest ones

Thanks to Jerry Lloyd for posting on Facebook.

There’s a running joke at our place at the moment — and like most good jokes, it’s only funny until you realise you’re the punchline.

Whatever you do, don’t plan to travel with us… or at the same time as us.

Every time we get close to heading off, something steps in. If it’s not COVID, it’s a bad back. If it’s not that, it’s car trouble — twice, just to make sure the lesson sticks. Then surgery. Then fuel shortages. And if all else fails, well… why not throw in a world war for good measure?

I know, I know — first world problems. There are far bigger issues in the world right now. But that doesn’t stop the frustration from creeping in when you’ve spent so long planning something, working toward it, and watching the start line keep shifting just out of reach.

We’re so close now we can almost taste it.

The plan — if you can still call it that — is to finally get out on the road in a couple of weeks. After all the delays, all the false starts, all the “maybe next month” conversations, it feels like this time it might actually happen.

And right on cue, as if the universe is staying true to form, fuel prices have just jumped by 40%.

As I write this, the government is meeting to decide whether fuel rationing might be needed. You couldn’t make it up if you tried.

Part of me just shakes my head and laughs. Not because it’s funny, but because at some point you either laugh or you go mad. It’s almost become expected — like there’s always going to be one more hurdle, one more reason to wait, one more excuse to stay put.

But at some point, you stop waiting for perfect.

Because perfect clearly isn’t coming.

Maybe fuel stays high. Maybe it doesn’t. Maybe plans change again — they probably will. But the whole point of this next chapter was never about perfect conditions. It was about getting out there, seeing the country, and finally doing something we’ve talked about for years.

So this time, we’re holding our nerve.

If we make it out in a couple of weeks, even if fuel is through the roof and the plan isn’t quite what we imagined, it’ll still be a win. A big one.

Because after everything that’s been thrown at us, just getting on the road will feel like breaking the streak.

And honestly, that first night camped somewhere quiet, away from all the noise and delays and what-ifs…

That might just make it all worth it.