Myth and imagination

As I sit here over another breakfast of toast and tea, I am aware that we have entered a new chapter in our journey. The 'holiday' has been entering its final phase of entropy for a couple of weeks now. After packing up our camp at Burns Beach, a northern beach suburb of Perth, we moved into a new gear.

We left the city at last and were now facing the next couple of months in a part of our country that covers vast stretches of bitumen that join mythological towns that we've read and heard about all our lives.

Right now we are in the mid-west at Geraldton. We're here to wash, clean, cook and rest after free camping for over a week and to prepare our (my) faint hearts for the next leg of our adventure. This lifestyle has become the normal way of being now - setting up camp, taking in what the area gives us, packing up again and moving on to the next dot on the map.

As I sit here jotting down my thoughts I am visited by four different types of birds; honeyeaters, wagtails (always wagtails - little darlings), small iridescent doves, and the silvereye, and I realise I am no longer reaching for my camera to capture yet another close up of one of these lovely creatures. They are just part of camp life - a little more intimate than the grey nomads or the Euros out to see the world - part of this new kind of community to which we belong.

We still ooh and aah at the new sights and experiences we see and live, but take it all so much more in our stride.

You could be forgiven for thinking that this type of travel is relaxing and all you do all day is stroll along beaches and read books. But that is far from the real picture which has us keeping a steady travel pace, knowing we need to get up north and across the top end during the height of the dry. Each time we stop and sit a spell and think about chilling a bit longer, we get the maps out and see all those mythic towns and seaside must-sees, and are compelled to follow our imaginations up the North West Highway to feast on the next experience. It can be taxing and requires a bit of stamina - but so far we've managed to make it this far in good health and good spirits - and with Shark Bay (think stromatolites) almost in sight, and with it Monkey Mia, the most westerly part of our country, we are once again ready to pack up and do the ks to enter the North West's history and mythology.