On Kangaroo Island, I truly came to experience some of Australia’s nature and something inside me was pulling me toward it. I take the first ferry early in the morning, arriving on the island quite early. Once again, no real plan. The island is, of course, famous for its kangaroos, and they are impossible to miss. Within five minutes of driving, they’re already hopping around. It’s incredible to see an animal in the wild that you’ve never seen before. Experiencing new things never stops being impressive.
After ticking kangaroos off my bucket list, I decide to map out a route and drive around the island clockwise at least, that’s how I start. I’m here for five days, knowing I won’t be able to see everything, so I’ll just make the most of it. My first stop is a lighthouse: Cape Willoughby. And I have to admit, I simply love lighthouses. Especially when they’re perched on a beautiful cliff. For me, they create this “end of the world” feeling, with a view into endlessness. I grew up with that sense, and to me it’s something magical, it brings peace to me.
During my drive, I come across an incredible scene and stop to capture it from the car. It’s very quiet on the island, with lots of open space, so I even stop in the middle of the road for a photo. Driving here feels like moving through a piece of art. I park the car and step out into the grey, windy weather, it’s quite chilly here, a big shift from wearing swim shorts just two days ago.
I walk to the viewpoint, and in the distance I’m welcomed by an unbelievably beautiful “Jacob’s Ladder” one of the most stunning views I’ve ever seen and won’t soon forget. For me, Cape Willoughby with this view is a complete picture. The sea is rough, waves crashing against massive cliffs. Standing there, a wave of thoughts also come over me, about life. What if life ends here? What if I jump, dissolve in the ocean and was no longer here? Who have I truly loved? Who did I mattered to? What am I living for? What impact did I make on others? How did I make them feel?
No worries, I am NOT suicidal. I’m more rich of life than ever. I am actually grateful for these kinds of questions. It’s a moment to pause, to realize what life truly means. It makes me more aware that I am alive, and that my perception and feelings are my reality. Yes, these are deep, very deep thoughts and I understand they might surprise you. I didn’t come here intending to think this way. Some people have these thoughts on a Sunday morning with a coffee, others during a walk. I experience them here in the presence at Cape Willoughby.
And like waves, these thoughts pass. They dissolve into emptiness. I feel the wind, the wind connecting me to life. And when I look again at Jacob’s Ladder, it gives me a powerful sense of choosing for life.
After this, I decide to treat myself with a wine tasting and a beef pie that brings me back into the moment. There I am: my notebook, four tasting glasses of wine, a beef pie, and my own company. I enjoy it, I love it. This is something special about being alone. That day I write a lot, cook a few sausages in my campervan, and go to bed early under a thick, warm blanket.
The next morning, I wake up and feel like going for a walk but not before stopping at a local oyster farm. Delicious fresh Australian oysters from the island, a salty start to the day. During my walk, melodies and lyrics come to mind, and I write some of them down. After this creative walk, I visit a eucalyptus farm. This does something to my mood, I’m sensitive to scents, and this plant is fantastic and calming.
I stop for a cider tasting, and the owner even gives me a shot of whiskey to top it off. She enjoys my company and asks if I want to pet the wallabies. I immediately say yes, something I probably wouldn’t have done a few years ago. Lucky and Star are two injured wallabies that I gently pet. I ask her where I can see koalas, since I haven’t spotted any yet. She points me toward Duck Lagoon.
At Duck Lagoon, I see just two cars in the parking lot, it’s very quiet. I step out, close the car door, and walk into the park. After only walking for 20 meters, I spot a sleeping koala. It moves slightly snuggly, beautifully nestled in its sleep in this tree.
Further into the park, I see a stunning view: between two large trees, with a small lake in the background, there’s a silhouette at a picnic table, a blue-turquoise hat and scarf. It catches my attention. I walk over and, excited after seeing my first koala ever, ask if she’s seen it too. She casually says she hadn’t noticed. We start talking, about her, about myself, about each others life. Her New Zealand roots, her bold tattoos, and her soft outfit hold my attention. She’s beautiful, truly beautiful. Tanned skin, wide eyes, a broad nose, perfectly symmetrical. The conversation has depth. She’s been living here for a few years on Kangaroo Island, working as a sheep shearer, and hasn’t had Instagram for seven years. And honestly, that sounds refreshing. Balance is the answer: maybe a simpler life with less stimulation, some sheep, food, and nature. I admire that.
She talks about her family, her brother, and her role within her blended family. I share stories from my life too. Her kiss feels incredibly soft, and it turns into something romantic, something special, if I’m honest. She has an amazing self-built Van that feels very homely. “Silk soft” that’s the best way to describe our meeting. I came for a koala and met a beautiful Māori.
After some silky soft morning cuddles, we open the van doors. Waking up in the middle of nature feels like a dream come true. We make breakfast, eggs and avocado from my supplies, bread and spices from her camper kitchen. A memory.
We go to the beach, and the magic continues. As we walk into the sea for a refreshing swim, I look toward the shore and see people pointing at us. Two fins appear in the water, two dolphins. One of them even comes within two meters to say hello. Back on land, we have a burger, and then a huge flock of cockatoos flies overhead, dancing through the sky. It feels like nature is giving us signs, affirming our meeting. It feels strong, like something we both needed.
A heartfelt hug for this beautiful Māori and 24 hours I’ll never forget. The only way to describe it: silky soft.
To clear my head, I head to Stokes Bay for sunset, voted Australia’s most beautiful beach in 2023. Sitting there, watching perfect waves roll in, I feel gratitude for the encounter, and for myself for attracting it.
The next day, I wake up feeling magical. This nature does something to me. I drive west across the island on a grey day to visit Admirals Arch and Remarkable Rocks. I end the day with a drink at the local pub. The next morning, the ferry leaves at 5:30, followed by a long 650 km drive to Halls Gap.
Driving here is relaxed. In the Netherlands, I wouldn’t casually drive 650 km, but here it feels normal. Along the way, I stop at a pink salt lake, followed by a misty lookout, and realize you can’t have everything in life. After beautiful days come quieter ones.
After a long travel day, I read in my van and go to sleep early for a hike the next day. Before sunrise, I set off. I hear birds I’ve never heard before and feel nature in scent and color. At first, I’m a bit anxious starting in complete darkness, but my headlamp helps. After two hours, I reach Pinnacle Lookout. After Nepal, every hike feels easy, whenever it gets tough, I think back to those treks.
By 10:00, I’m back in Halls Gap and head toward Warrnambool—the start of the Great Ocean Road. Here, Australia shows its most beautiful side again: dramatic coastlines, sun, beaches, massive cliffs, and the ocean. I can’t get enough of it. One view is even better than the last. I finish with a sunset at the Twelve Apostles a famous tourist spot.
The Great Ocean Road is definitely a must if you’re near Melbourne.
Before arriving in Melbourne, I make one last stop: the Sequoia trees from California. I missed them last year in the US, but now I can see them here. Alone among these giant trees, over 80 meters tall, I suddenly feel small, even at nearly two meters tall myself. I tick it off my list and make a few random stops along the way to stretch my legs and refuel before returning my van in Melbourne.
Stan the Man steps out of his van, he changed, shaped by Australia’s powerful nature. It has definitely done something to my senses. I notice it immediately when I arrive in Melbourne, how civilised it feels. I have to switch gears, not the van, that was automatic and is now parked in an industrial site in Melbourne. No, I have to switch myself into city mode.
I check into my hostel for five nights. For the first time in six months, I cook a meal for myself and adapt to hostel life.
On to new adventures in sporty Melbourne!
One response
Ik geniet met volle teugen van jouw avontuur 💗❤️ take care babe