We’ve been in and out of Mukinbudin over the past couple of weeks, using it as a handy base to explore the natural wonders that aren’t far from town. And honestly, “Muka” — as the locals call it — has grown on us. A Town Built on Wheat, Sheep and a Bit of Grit Mukinbudin…
The most expensive part of a travel day can happen before you’ve even moved five metres. It’s a strange truth of caravanning: the bit that actually terrifies experienced tourers isn’t the Snowy Mountain pass, the reversing bay full of onlookers, or the merge onto a busy highway. It’s the driveway. Or more specifically, the last…
This rock is done. We’ve explored it every which way and, as a form of exercise therapy, it’s done its job. We’re out of here tomorrow, and back to Muka for our last overnighter before we move on. The only other monolith worth a look close to here (and you should list it) is Beringbooding…
There’s a particular kind of quiet that only turns up once you’ve put enough gravel road behind you. We found it at Elachbutting Rock, a few hours north of Westonia, out where the wheat paddocks give way to red dirt and gimlet scrub. It’s not a place you pass through on the way to somewhere…
A Joining The Dots touring guide to Campion, the Emu War, and the wild granite country around Mukinbudin Somewhere between Mukinbudin and the wave-walled wonder of Elachbutting Rock, out on the Koorda–Bullfinch Road, sits a town that doesn’t exist anymore. No pub, no school (but you’ll see where it was), no footy oval crowd —…
Well, that was a bracing start to the day. We woke up in Mukinbudin to a wind that meant business, having spent the night serenaded by shunting trains — okay, one train, but it made the most of itself, clanking and clattering about until it finally gave up and buggered off into silence around 10:30pm.…
Six months. That’s how long Gingin held onto us, one appointment at a time, until the neuro review finally delivered the verdict we’d been angling for: pace yourself, but you’re clear to travel. Not exactly a starter’s gun, more a gentle nod — but after half a year in one postcode, a gentle nod is all we needed. Swoosh got packed, mirrors got checked, and we pointed east into the wheatbelt like we’d never left.
This spot holds a special place for us. We pulled up at the Gingin Caravan Park back in February, with Michael’s health taking a turn for the worse. It was as far as we got before a rush trip to hospital saw him diagnosed and admitted to ICU with Myasthenia Gravis — a condition we’d…
Australia’s famous landmarks get the postcards. The little towns get the stories. You know the ones. The sunburnt curve of a red dirt road, a servo with one bowser and three utes parked out front, a pub that’s been pouring since before Federation, and a showground where the loudest thing on a Tuesday night is…
If you’ve ever driven the long, red-dirt highways of central Australia, you’ll know how far apart things really are out there. A town might be three hours from the next town. A hospital might be a full day’s drive away, or more. For the people who live, work, and travel across these vast distances, one…
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