Arriving in Townsville marked the beginning of a chapter I didn’t fully expect: one centered on stability, routine, and preparation for what’s next. After the whirlwind of transitioning from Cairns, selling my van, and adjusting to new surroundings, this period became a grounding force in my journey—a chance to breathe, recalibrate, and start shaping the future I envisioned.

Building Stability

When I first arrived, the familiar rhythm of van life kicked in. As always, the initial days in a new city were about finding the essentials: safe spots to park, public showers, and places to escape the scorching midday sun. Townsville’s climbing gym became my refuge. Between climbing sessions, I parked near a gas station or the beach—though swimming wasn’t an option here due to the ever-present risk of crocodiles and stingers.

Work began soon after, and the first week was a blur of lifeguard training, certifications, and learning the ropes at three different pools. I was doing a mix of lifeguarding, maintenance tasks, and swim teaching. The variety kept things interesting, but the workload quickly felt overwhelming. My hours were unpredictable, ranging from early mornings to late evenings, and I could feel the strain creeping in.

This was when I learned the value of voicing my concerns. I spoke to my manager and set boundaries: no more than 35 hours a week, with clearer expectations and fixed availability. To my surprise, my concerns were well received, and things shifted almost immediately. The stability of having predictable hours gave me the space I needed to enjoy my time outside work and focus on personal growth.

Philosophical Lessons and Connections

One of the joys of this chapter was the people I met. The climbing gym wasn’t just a place to train; it became a social hub where I connected with individuals who brought profound insights into my life.

Jack, who I’d met through Tomer, became a close friend. We shared countless conversations about self-love, vulnerability, and the importance of being at peace with oneself before extending love outward. Then there was Marcus, who had a deep passion for presence and often quoted The Power of Now. Our talks explored themes of mindfulness, love, and how different paths lead to the same truths. Ann and Dom, a couple I met at Alligator Creek, shared their entrepreneurial wisdom and a wealth of knowledge about human design, nutrition, and philosophy.

One particularly profound moment was sparked by The Prophet by Khalil Gibran. Reading this poetic masterpiece felt like a culmination of my own musings, beautifully expressed. Marcus and I both contemplated a specific passage and reached the same core meaning through different perspectives, reminding me of something I’d learned from Siddhartha: every person must find their own path to truth. It was a powerful reminder of the universal yet deeply personal nature of wisdom.

A Glimpse Toward Home

Amidst the philosophical insights and routine, a surprising realization surfaced. For the first time in years, I felt a pull toward Europe—a longing for a sense of home. One evening, as I reflected on my travels, I realized I couldn’t vividly remember the faces of my friends and family back in Belgium. It struck me deeply, planting a seed of curiosity about returning, not to settle but to create a network of stable connections—a home base of sorts within the larger framework of my nomadic life.

It was an unfamiliar feeling, but one I embraced as part of the journey. Stability and connection, both internal and external, seemed to be recurring themes during this chapter.

Discovering Housesitting

One of the most interesting developments during my time in Townsville was rediscovering housesitting. It was something I had always wanted to try but had forgotten about until a casual conversation at the pool brought it back to mind. It felt like a perfect fit—a way to travel while minimizing costs and creating a sense of temporary stability. My first experience involved caring for two cats, and later, I found a longer-term opportunity that became my base for several weeks.

Housesitting turned out to be more than just a practical solution; it offered me insight into another way of living—a slower pace, with moments to reflect and plan without the constant demands of van life. It’s a tool I now consider part of my repertoire for future travels.

Planning for New Zealand

With the end of my Australian chapter in sight, my focus began to shift toward New Zealand. The upcoming bikepacking adventure was both exhilarating and daunting. Planning consumed much of my mental space: researching routes, deciding on gear, booking tickets, and securing a visa.

But as exciting as the future seemed, I found myself needing constant reminders to stay present. It’s easy to get lost in what’s ahead, but life is happening right here, right now. This tension—the pull between the present and the future—is something I’ve encountered often in my travels. I’ve learned to approach it by noticing the tension, understanding where it comes from, and letting go of the need to control everything. Everything happens for us, not to us, and this belief has been a grounding force for me.

Wrapping Up Australia

As my time in Townsville and Australia comes to an end, I feel a mix of emotions. Gratitude for the stability this chapter has provided. Relief from the financial pressure I faced earlier. Excitement for the adventure awaiting me in New Zealand. And a budding sense of clarity about what I value and where I’m headed.

This chapter has reminded me that every phase of life, no matter how mundane or transitional it may seem, is a vital part of the whole. It’s not just about where I’ve been or where I’m going—it’s about how each moment shapes me, one lesson, one connection, one insight at a time.

With that, I prepare to move forward, trusting the journey, embracing the present, and stepping into the next adventure with an open heart and a curious mind.

Extra

(From The Prophet by Khalil Gibran - on Freedom)

At the city gate and by your fireside I have seen you prostrate yourself and worship your own freedom,
Even as slaves humble themselves before a tyrant and praise him though he slays them.
Ay, in the grove of the temple and in the shadow of the citadel I have seen the freest among you wear their freedom as a yoke and a handcuff.
And my heart bled within me; for you can only be free when even the desire of seeking freedom becomes a harness to you,
And when you cease to speak of freedom as a goal and a fulfillment.
You shall be free indeed when your days are not without a care nor your nights without a want and a grief,
But rather when these things girdle your life and yet you rise above them naked and unbound.
And how shall you rise beyond your days and nights unless you break the chains which you at the dawn of your understanding have fastened around your noon hour?
In truth that which you call freedom is the strongest of these chains, though its links glitter in the sun and dazzle your eyes.
And what is it but fragments of your own self you would discard that you may become free?
If it is an unjust law you would abolish, that law was written with your own hand upon your own forehead.
You cannot erase it by burning your law books nor by washing the foreheads of your judges, though you pour the sea upon them.
And if it is a despot you would dethrone, see first that his throne erected within you is destroyed.
For how can a tyrant rule the free and the proud, but for a tyranny in their own freedom and a shame in their own pride?
And if it is a care you would cast off, that care has been chosen by you rather than imposed upon you.
And if it is a fear you would dispel, the seat of that fear is in your heart and not in the hand of the feared.
Verily all things move within your being in constant half embrace, the desired and the dreaded, the repugnant and the cherished, the pursued and that which you would escape.
These things move within you as lights and shadows in pairs that cling.
And when the shadow fades and is no more, the light that lingers becomes a shadow to another light.
And thus your freedom when it loses its fetters becomes itself the fetter of a greater freedom.

Townsville: Stability in Motion