Day 1 – 21 July 2025 Bye-Bye, Wet Socks!
Jurien Bay, we love you—but you’ve been acting like a soggy sponge lately. So, with the clouds looming and the puddles multiplying, we decided it was time to make a break for it. The expedition camper was packed to the brim—possibly with more snacks than gear—and we rolled out with the kind of giddy excitement usually reserved for kids on school holidays.
First stop: Geraldton! Because no great escape is complete without a supermarket sweep. We topped up on essentials—bread, cheese, chocolate, and a suspicious number of cans of coconut milk. Steve claims it’s “for emergencies,” but we know you have to buy it went you see it, its been rare as gold lately.
With the fridge humming and the pantry groaning, we pointed the camper toward Northampton. And that’s where the magic happened. We found a little gem of a camping spot tucked away just off the beaten track. Quiet, peaceful, and surrounded by nature’s finest—plus, not a single drop of rain in sight.
Day 2 – 22 July 2025: Red Skies & Roadhouse Restraint
We woke to a sunrise so fiery it looked like the sky had been tie-dyed by a very enthusiastic artist. Glorious reds and oranges lit up the horizon, and while it was stunning, we couldn’t ignore the old saying: red sky in the morning, 4wdrivers take warning! So we took it seriously—no dawdling, no second coffees—we packed up and hit the road north in search of warmth and dry socks.
Geraldton was in our rearview mirror, and by lunchtime, we rolled into the iconic Billabong Roadhouse. Now, while the pies may have been calling our names, we heroically resisted. That’s right—no pies were eaten. We’re not saying we didn’t stare longingly at the pastry cabinet, but we stayed strong. Lunch was simple, satisfying, and pie-free. A rare feat in roadhouse territory!
Later in the afternoon, we pulled over at a scenic lookout for a well-earned cuppa. The view was spectacular, the tea was hot, and the camper was still behaving—three wins in one.
As the sun began its descent, we turned east and found ourselves a peaceful camp at Lyons River. The sunset was pure magic—soft purples, glowing golds, and that quiet hush that settles over the bush when the day ends. Alison captured it all on camera, while Steve tried to name every bird within earshot (he got to “crow” and then started making up names).
We settled in for the night under a blanket of stars, grateful for good roads, great company, and the promise of more adventures tomorrow.
Day 3 – 23 July 2025: Gorges, Good Vibes & a Dash for Higher Ground
Another red sky greeted us this morning—beautiful, yes, but also nature’s way of whispering, “You might want to pack your raincoat.” So we took the hint and made a beeline for Kennedy Range National Park, chasing dry tracks and dramatic landscapes before the heavens opened.
By 9am, we rolled up to the park entrance and headed straight for the stunning Honeycomb Gorge. And wow—what a sight! This short but spectacular trail winds through a narrow gorge, ending at a towering rock wall carved into intricate honeycomb patterns by centuries of erosion. It’s like nature decided to dabble in abstract sculpture. We stood in awe, snapped a few respectful photos, and soaked in the serenity. We could believe it had been so many years since our first visit in 2006.
While admiring the gorge, we met a lovely ranger who had just aced an exam—go ranger! We had a great chat, swapped stories, and shared a few laughs before checking the BOM radar. Uh-oh. A rain front was marching in like it meant business. Time to move!
We made a quick dash to the Mount Sandiman Station Woolshed ruins for lunch—a hauntingly beautiful spot with weathered timbers and echoes of history. There we bumped into a couple of fellow explorers who’d just come down from the top of the ranges. Their verdict: roads were good, a bit tight, but manageable. Encouraged, we waved them off and started our climb.
The 4WD tracks were a mix of challenge and charm, winding their way up until we reached White Stacks just before 3pm. With clouds thickening and the wind whispering secrets, we decided to settle in before the rain turned the roads to soup.
Sunset was a no-show—just a blanket of grey—but the silence was oddly comforting. At 11pm, the rain arrived, soft at first, then steady. We tucked in, dry and content, grateful for good timing and a expedition camper that doesn’t leak (touch wood).
Day 4 – 24 July 2025: Stillness After the Storm
After a night of gentle rain—about 8mm—we woke to a sky slowly clearing its throat. The sunrise was modest but lovely, casting soft hues across the landscape and reflecting off a few distant lakes that shimmered like scattered mirrors.
We opted for a local walk along the cliffs, letting the morning light guide us. The air was fresh, the ground damp but firm, and the views from the edge were quietly spectacular. With the roads still drying and the forecast holding steady, we made the call to stay put. No rush. No need.
The day unfolded gently under partially cloudy skies, perfect for soaking in the solitude of the ranges. As evening approached, the White Stacks formations glowed under a soft, muted sunset—no drama, just peace.
Sometimes the best adventures are the ones where you don’t move at all.
Day 5 – 25 July 2025: Wandering Dunes & Dreaming of Thailand
Today was all about taking it slow and soaking in the serenity. We wandered along long-unused tracks, their faded outlines barely visible beneath the scrub, and climbed the tops of sand dunes that rolled like waves frozen in time. Another 10,000 steps ticked off—not that we were counting, but it felt good to move.
The rest of the day was spent in planning mode, sketching out our upcoming travels to Thailand. Matching itineraries to festivals, weather windows, and local events gave us plenty to dream about. It’s always exciting to look ahead while still being grounded in the moment.
As the afternoon wore on, the White Stacks formations put on their usual show—shifting colours and moods with every passing cloud. From warm ochres to cool greys, they seemed to breathe with the sky.
Day 6 – 26 July 2025: Nineteen Years Later—The Circle Closes
Some journeys take days. Others take decades. Today was one of those rare moments where time folded in on itself, and we found ourselves completing something we began 19 years ago.
Back then, we’d ventured to the top of the Kennedy Ranges, full of curiosity and awe. We reached the Great Gorge, marveled at its scale, and explored from one end of the circuit—but never made it all the way around. Life moved on, as it does, and that unfinished loop became a quiet bookmark in our memory.
This morning, we decided it was time. With the sky clear and the air crisp, we drove out to Great Gorge, retracing the path we once walked with younger feet and different eyes. The gorge itself was as magnificent as ever—its towering walls rising like ancient cathedrals, carved by wind and time. We took our time walking into its depths, letting the silence speak. It’s a place that demands reverence, not just for its scale, but for the stories it holds in its stone.
Standing there, we felt the weight of years—not heavy, but grounding. The landscape hadn’t changed much, but we had. Completing the circuit wasn’t just about ticking a box; it was about honoring a memory, reconnecting with a past version of ourselves, and celebrating the continuity of our journey.
By mid-afternoon, we had finished the walk and returned to White Stacks, where the formations stood like old friends welcoming us back. We settled in for the evening, letting the moment sink in. There was no grand ceremony, no fireworks—just quiet reflection, a shared smile, and the kind of satisfaction that only comes from finishing something long left undone.
Tonight, we celebrate not just the miles walked, but the years lived between them.