Hi, All!
The blog is (maybe?!) back - for at least this one update, maybe more. I don’t really know who will be interested in checking up, but hey, we’re here. I’ve got time.
You might think it’s strange to begin blabbing on my blog again after a two year hiatus in the midst of a pandemic where we’re supposed to be sitting at home doing nothing, but unfortunately (or maybe fortunately) we’re NOT doing nothing. We’re going on a road trip!
Now listen, I’m not actually that excited about this. I wish I was. Or rather, I wish I could be. At the moment, Australia is like most other places in the world practicing social distancing, limiting travel, closing non-essential shops, etc. However, hip-hip for the Land Down Under because they flattened the curve a couple weeks ago and overall kept numbers relatively low. Yay!
Although things feel generally under control here, and there’s finally normal quantities of toilet paper on the shelves again, Viv and I are now both out of work and therefore have no income to pay for our $240/week rent. (Yes, that’s per week, which is how Aussies and Kiwis like to roll.) A decision had to be made, and it wasn’t easy.
Just three months ago we literally packed up our lives and took a road trip out west to this beautiful place called Margaret River. It was me who pushed for it, having heard lore from friends and strangers alike about how beautiful the area was, how hip and progressive and fun. It didn’t let us down, and we’ve made lists and plans of the things we’d like to accomplish here. This included the Cape to Cape walk: a six-day backpacking trip that was destined to be Viv’s first ever carry-all-the-shit-you-need-on-your-back-overnight type of camping. The summer camp trip leader in me is DYING not to have accomplished this. But I digress.
Interjection: I’m on what they call a “Second Year Visa” here in Australia. I did enough rural work on my First Year Visa to qualify for a second one, which is how I’ve been able to bum around here for so long. Just in case you were wondering.
Back to the story: like most people in the world, our plans came to a screeching halt with the virus. We had to choose between staying here and potentially burning through all our savings only to have to head home to Viv’s family anyway, or simply go home now with some savings to hold us over when we came out on the other side.
We’d been leaning towards going home for a good few weeks. What made matters harder was an offer I received from a local business owner who I got to know recently. She and her husband run an auto shop in town, and she suggested that we could move onto her property with her family, rent-free, in exchange for keeping up her garden and tending her to her chickens. Amazing, right?! Absolutely stunning offer, and we debated the idea for several days. (Thank you a million times, Heather!)
But in the end, we both decided it’s wisest to stay on the path to the farm, especially knowing her family has been preparing for our arrival and (we assume) are excited for us to be back home.
“Home.” It’s a funny concept for this American-gone-rogue. I’ve found home in several parts of the world now, and in several communities in each of those parts. I’m disappointed - and I know I’m not alone in this - that Margaret River is no longer going to be home, after planning and hoping and willing it into being. But I take a strange solace in knowing that this disappointment is being felt worldwide, that we are all feeling this frustrating setback, like something has been stolen from us. And my disappointment is probably a lot less than the disappointment some other people are facing right now, or the terror, or the injustice. Perspective is important.
But we are intrepid, so we’re slowly preparing ourselves to leave town and quite literally take the roads that lead us here in the reverse direction. My new-old car has had repairs, Viv’s ute (or “truck” for us Americans) has gone in for new tires (or “tyres” for us Australians), and we’ll be packing up our things in the next few days leading up to our departure.
As for taking a road trip through pandemic-stricken lands and attempting to cross alleged closed state borders, I’ve done my research. Though borders are closed to non-essential personnel and aimless travelers, we fall under the category of essential travel/compassionate grounds by needing to return home. I’ve called the borders to ensure we’ll be allowed through, and the very friendly patrols have told me that police are assisting at the border and will give direction or permits to people passing through. We’ll be allowed to stop for food, fuel, and sleep, but are otherwise instructed to take the most direct route to our destination, and of course to quarantine ourselves for two weeks upon arrival.
Our plan spans six days to cross more than 3500 kilometres, which includes the famous Nullarbor Plain, a LOT of desert, and three state borders. We will leave shortly after my 29th birthday (which, by the way, holy shit), and that will be that! Or, “it is what it is.” Or something.
Catch ya on the other side, sickos.











