Sydney to Adelaide Road Trip

Roadtrips and Strangers

Leaving the WWOOFing nest in Kurrajong, I finally hit the road with my van. I’d carved out about three weeks to get from Sydney to Adelaide, and somewhere in my head I’d convinced myself it was time to actually see this country I’d been living in for nearly three months. Until now, I’d mostly hovered in one spot—budgeting, building, and tinkering with my direction. But now? Now, I was free to move.

The route took me first along the coast toward Melbourne. A week of darting through small seaside towns—Shoalhaven Heads, Ulladulla, Eden—names that feel oddly distant now. It was summer, so I expected sunny beach days, but the rain followed me, nudging me forward. I remember one evening, parked near a beach, meeting a group of German travelers crammed into a tiny car. We ended up watching a movie in my van—five people squeezed inside, testing the “living room” I’d built. It was a quick reminder that on the road, strangers become friends at the drop of a tailgate. We all belong to some traveling family, passing around makeshift homes and borrowed laughter.

In Melbourne, I stopped just long enough to catch up with Alisha (a relative through my half-brother), and her roommates. We visited the coast, did some cliff jumps into the ocean, and later played multiplayer party games on the Wii U.

Then I was off again. I picked up Janne, a fellow traveler from the Netherlands, who needed a ride all the way to Adelaide. This is common in Australia’s backpacker scene—trading a lift for fuel money and company. Traveling together meant adapting. Janne liked hitting popular tourist spots, while I discovered I wasn’t really drawn to crowded viewpoints. Still, I respected her list—this was an experiment in compromise, after all.

We made it to the Grampians for New Year’s Eve. There, we met Oscar and Mel, a couple who let us join their bouldering session. Being so free under an open sky felt like the perfect way to end the year. That night, as midnight approached, we sat around talking about fear, trust, surrender, and the idea that everything in life is on a singular, perfect path. Philosophical campfire talk that lingered in my mind.

“Acknowledge fear and let go, lean into trust and surrender,” I’d noted after that night, along with other insights: “Direct with the heart, facilitate with the head” and “Fruition of self leads to fruition of others.”

I didn’t journal much during these three weeks, but with the new year approaching, I mulled over goals for 2024—health, creativity, finances, self-love. I wanted to blend discipline with intuition, seriousness with ease. Being on the move gave me space to think about who I could become when I eventually settled somewhere again.

One memory stands out: Janne and I arrived at a lakeside campground only to be ambushed by a swarm of relentless mosquitoes. We panicked, dropping dishes mid-wash, hurling everything into the van, and desperately seeking help from fellow campers. They sprayed us with repellent and handed over a mosquito candle, saving the evening. It was ridiculous and humbling—and hilarious once we caught our breath. Moments like that remind me that no matter how confident or prepared you think you are, life has its ways of keeping you honest.

Eventually, we rolled into Adelaide, and Janne left soon after, feeling her chapter in Australia had ended. I parked near Semaphore Beach, took a long breath, and wondered what would come next. I’d spent most of my savings, poured energy into the van, and I knew I needed work soon. But at least I’d given myself these weeks to see the landscape, test my new home on wheels, and share part of the journey with another traveler. Along the way, I collected insights—about myself, about human connection, and about embracing the unknown.

As I settled there, I realized that these reflections might be the real souvenirs: subtle shifts in perspective gathered from roadside picnics, mosquito panics, and quiet nights under unfamiliar stars. Even when we don’t realize it, we’re always learning something, one mile at a time.