Day 7 – 27 July 2025: Mud, Ruins & a Tactical Escape
This morning, we crossed our fingers and hoped the tracks had dried out enough to let us descend from the top of the Kennedy Ranges without turning our camper into a mud sculpture. With the skies looking cooperative, we packed up and rolled out, spirits high and tyres cautiously optimistic.
Before heading down, we detoured to the hauntingly beautiful Merlinleigh Station ruins—a place where time has etched its story into every weathered beam and crumbling wall. Once a homestead, now a quiet echo of the past, it was a fascinating stop that reminded us just how layered this landscape really is.
Then came the descent. The winding tracks were surprisingly kind—firm underfoot and scenic to boot. We were just starting to relax when we reached the Mount Sandiman Woolshed ruins, and there it was: a soaked stretch of road that looked more like a mud wrestling pit than a viable exit route.
Cue the cautious inspection. We hopped out, surveyed the scene, and plotted a dry detour with the precision of a military operation. Because let’s be honest—getting a 6.5-tonne truck bogged in the middle of nowhere is not on anyone’s bucket list. With a bit of clever navigation and a healthy dose of patience, we skirted the obstacle and made it through with wheels clean and pride intact.
From there, it was smooth sailing as we continued north, eventually reaching Cane Nature Reserve for the night. The reserve welcomed us with open skies and a peaceful vibe, the perfect spot to unwind after a day of dodging mud traps and exploring ruins.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, we kicked back with a well-earned cuppa, grateful for dry tyres, good decisions, and the kind of day that keeps the adventure alive.
Day 8 – 28 July 2025: Pannawonica Pit Stop & Gorge Dreams
Today we rolled into Pannawonica, one of our favourite little gems in WA. There’s something about this town—maybe it’s the friendly faces, the red dust, or the way the sun hits the hills just right—but it always feels like a warm welcome. It was buzzing with activity, too. Trucks rumbling, locals chatting, and the unmistakable scent of diesel and bakery goods in the air.
We topped up on the essentials—a full load of water and fuel—because out here, you never know when the next tap or bowser will appear. While filling up at the service station, we struck up a chat with a local who shared a few insider tips on camping spots near Millstream Chichester National Park. Always love those golden nuggets of local knowledge—they’re better than any guidebook.
Groceries sorted, we pointed the camper toward Millstream, hearts full of anticipation. The drive was classic Pilbara—wide open spaces, spinifex plains, and the occasional kangaroo giving us the side-eye. By late afternoon, we reached one of our favourite gorge campsites, tucked away like a secret waiting to be rediscovered.
The gorge was stunning—steep walls, soft light, and that quiet hush that only comes when nature’s doing all the talking. We set up camp, stretched our legs, and let the evening settle around us. No rush. No noise. Just the gentle rustle of leaves and the occasional bird call echoing off the rocks.
Tomorrow, we settle back into more planning for our Thailand trip. But tonight, we sleep under stars and sandstone.
Day 9 – 29 July 2025: From Gorge Serenity to Fridge Frenzy
Last night was bliss—not a soul for kilometres, just the hush of the gorge and the stars keeping watch. We woke to the kind of silence that makes you feel like the only people on Earth. But peace has a way of being interrupted.
Before our morning walk, we noticed the fridge was warmer than it should be. Figured the door had been left ajar—easy mistake. But after a stroll along the local tracks, soaking in the rugged beauty, we returned to find the fridge still struggling. Uh-oh. Cue the pivot.
What was meant to be a restful day in nature turned into a mad dash to Karratha. Straight to the hardware store, where we picked up a budget Kings fridge—not glamorous, but it’ll do the job. Then came the hunt for a proper fix.
We tapped into some local knowledge and booked in with a fridge mechanic for the morning. (If you ever need one in Karratha, Air Dynamics are solid)
With the day winding down, we found a quiet camp just outside town, letting the dust settle and the new fridge hum away. Tomorrow, fingers crossed, the old fridge gets a second chance. Near camp we also found the first Sturts Desert Pea flowers of the trip. Stunning.
Day 10 – 30 July 2025: Fridge Surgery & a Night Near Town
Today was all about giving our fridge a second chance at life. We arrived bright and early at the fridge repair shop in Karratha, and with a bit of muscle and a few muttered instructions, we carefully removed the fridge from the truck. It felt a bit like prepping a patient for surgery—minus the white coats and dramatic music.
The team was fantastic—friendly, efficient, and clearly knew their way around compressors and coolant lines. After a few hours of diagnostics and tinkering, they found the culprit: a sneaky little leak. With a new receiver drier installedand the system gassed up again, our fridge was officially back in action… or so we hoped.
We kept a close eye on it, watching like hawks as it slowly began cooling. But something wasn’t quite right—the compressor kept running without pause, and the chill was more of a polite whisper than a confident hum. By 4pm, we popped back in to share our concerns. The team was understanding and suggested we stay nearby and return in the morning for a follow-up.
So, we found a quiet camp just outside town, letting the fridge do its thing while we did ours—relaxing, reflecting, and hoping tomorrow brings a fully functional cold box. After all, in the outback, a working fridge isn’t just a luxury—it’s a lifeline for cheese, milk, and morale.
Day 11 – 31 July 2025: Overgassed & Underwhelmed
The fridge saga continued. First stop: back to the mechanics. We pointed out the icing on the return line—a frosty red flag that something wasn’t quite right.
This video from youtube Penguin Refrigeration was incredibly helpful
The team quickly diagnosed the issue: overgassed system. A bit of pressure relief later, and we were off to Murujuga National Park to monitor the results.
Murujuga was breathtaking. Nestled near the massive Woodside Gas Plant, the contrast was striking—ancient rock art and sacred landscapes just kilometres from towering industrial stacks. The sheer scale of the gas plant made our fridge troubles feel almost quaint.
By afternoon, we were back at the workshop. Another release of refrigerant, and like magic, the fridge snapped back to normal—cooling efficiently, no more ice buildup, and finally behaving like a fridge should.
We decided to stay close to town again, giving ourselves one more night to be sure everything held steady before restocking the fridge. After all, no point loading it up with cheese and yoghurt if it’s going to turn into a sauna.
Day 12 – 1 August 2025: Stocked, Soothed & Ready to Roll
With the fridge finally behaving like a loyal companion, today was all about restocking and regrouping. We hit the shops early, loading up on essentials—fresh food, cold drinks, and plenty of water. There’s something deeply satisfying about a fridge that hums quietly and actually cools things.
With supplies sorted, we took a detour to explore the coast just north of Karratha. The landscape shifted from red earth to shimmering blue, where rugged shoreline met calm sea. It was a gentle contrast to the mechanical drama of the past few days—salt air, soft light, and a moment to breathe.
By late afternoon, we returned to our little camp, tucked away near town. The fridge was stable, the gear was packed, and spirits were high. Tomorrow, we head back inland, ready to chase the horizon once more.
Day 13 – 2 August 2025: Return to Millstream
With the fridge sorted and the supplies topped up, we fueled up in Karratha and pointed the nose of the truck inland once more—back to Millstream, where the red dust feels familiar and the silence hums with ancient stories.
By 2pm, we rolled into Millstream Station, a place steeped in pastoral history and Yindjibarndi heritage. The homestead, now a visitor centre, offered a quiet glimpse into station life from the 1930s, with interpretive displays and echoes of the past lingering in the timber and stone.
From there, we made our way to camp on the Fortescue River, a lifeline that winds through this rugged landscape like a silver thread. The river, fed by the Hamersley Ranges and an underground aquifer, supports a lush oasis in the heart of the Pilbara. As the sun dipped low, we settled in—surrounded by spinifex hills, ghost gums, and the gentle murmur of water.
Days 14/15 – 3/4 August 2025: Solitude, Sandstone & Thai Daydreams
Sometimes, the best places aren’t marked on maps—they’re felt. And this little slice of paradise we stumbled upon near the Fortescue River was exactly that. Not another camper in sight, just us, the land, and the kind of silence that wraps around you like a warm blanket.
We spent two slow, soul-soothing days exploring the area on foot, tracing old tracks and wandering through spinifex and ghost gum groves. The sandstone cliffs glowed in the morning light, and the river whispered its secrets as we walked. Every step felt like a conversation with the land.
In between strolls and cups of tea, we turned our attention to the future—booking hotels for our upcoming Thailand adventure. It was a delightful contrast: planning bustling markets and tropical beaches while surrounded by red dust and ancient rock. The excitement of future travels mingled beautifully with the peace of the present.
The only sounds to break the stillness were the faint rumble of the iron ore train in the distance, like a heartbeat of the Pilbara, and the occasional flock of birds drifting overhead, their wings slicing the sky with quiet grace.
These were days of rest, reflection, and reconnection—with each other, with the land, and with the journeys still to come.