Wow, what a whirlwind this week has been. From the moment we rolled ‘The Beast’ up the driveway and began the tedium of unpacking, it feels as if we haven’t stopped. From a constant stream of visitors, well wishers and dinner invitations that would rival our pre-trip schedule to the unenviable task of sorting through the mammoth piles of gear that was withdrawn from the almost forgotten about corners of the van all of which was unceremoniously dumped on the floor inside the house. Where does one start?

The unloading begins.

For the first couple of days we felt lost in our own house. Such is the bother of walking from one end of the house to the other for every little thing. I remember writing before we left that I was concerned how we would cope with having everything so near at hand in the compact confines of the caravan. Well, now that we are back, agoraphobia is a more pressing concern. There has been discussion of fitting our bedroom out with a little fridge so that cold drinks can be kept close by, while Bec is still in the process of re-educating herself as to the number of steps she needs to take in the dark to go from the bed to the bathroom in the middle of the night.

Then there was my newly discovered evening free time. I have for the past six months devoted about 2 hours a night to putting my thoughts out there into the blogosphere for everyone to comment on. Home now, and relegating the blog to a weekly effort, I was lost for things to do as my fingers twitched about, itchy to be dancing across the keyboard once more.

I have learned other things too. Namely, when walking the dogs one sunny evening during the week, I called out a genial “hello” to a couple walking in the other direction. I was instantly reminded that we were back in Melbourne, in the middle of the ‘big smoke’, where random acts of conversation are at best regarded with suspicion. You would have thought I had two heads from the tightly clipped “hello” I got back in reply, accompanied by a seething stare.

It also took us less than a week to be reintegrated with the attitude of Melbourne drivers. As we cruised across town in ‘The Beast’, I felt more stress and anxiety on the road than I had during the entire trip. Having circuited the whole of Australia, I can honestly say that the driving skills in Melbourne are by far the worst in the country. A general lack of skill, combined with a couldn’t give a damn (which I have tamed down from my original comment, for publication), blasé attitude, it wonders me not that there is so much angst on the roads.

The week ended on a high note though, with us enjoying a night out on Friday, getting to see John Williamson performing live. He is the embodiment of the quintessential Aussie showman and storyteller, the stories in his ditties all the more personal for us, as it felt as though he was singing us through the trip we have just enjoyed.

John Williamson and Bec. What a way to end our trip.

Friday night was backed up come Saturday, when the ‘Darwin Six’ of Liz, Greg, David, Heather, Bec and I were reunited at the behest of David and Heather, with a deliciously home cooked meal at their house. The meal felt never ending as plate after plate of food was brought to the table, while conversation centered around past and future travel plans and somewhat strangely a pram fit for a dog. Naturally, the laughs came long and hard, leaving us in stitches and with pained abdominal muscles the following day.

It was well after 1:00AM by the time we bid everyone goodnight, already late considering Becs need to be up early for a breakfast date with a mate. The night got later though when we arrived home to find that our house keys had absconded and not made the return journey with us. I was in no fit state to drive after wetting my lips with a bottle and a bit of the red stuff, so it was left to Bec to drive us back to collect the keys. It was well after 2:00AM by the time we were eventually readmitted to the house, not leaving Bec much time to sleep before spending Sunday, her final day of freedom before having to return to the drudgery of work on Monday morning, going out to breakfast, then entertaining more friends during the afternoon, only for us to have to rush out for another dinner date. This time, it was off to dine with my grandmother, where another delectable home cooked feast of vast proportions awaited us, as we again happily recounted what we could remember of our adventure.

From all of this, the overwhelming majority of people we speak to ask us the same 2 questions: Where was your favourite place? And was there anywhere you didn’t like?

The second question is easy to give answer to as both Bec and I agree that it was our time in Busselton. Now, that is not a fair assessment of Busselton though, because we have been there before and loved it. That was the main reason that we returned. However, on this journey a combination of factors led to us finding this period of the trip miserable. You may remember, the weather we had while there was dismal, turning the caravan park into a quagmire. In turn, the dogs weren’t well and their constant need to go outside to paint ugly brown stains on the already putridly wet ground made it impossible to keep the inside of the van clean. Visiting the beautiful beaches we had come to see was not even discussed as the weather descended in a sodden pall across the entire landscape. It was in Busselton, after already completing something like 5 months on the road that we almost said “that’s it, we’ve had enough, lets go home.” We didn’t though and persevered with the weather to make the most of what we had, still managing to enjoy a pleasant day touring the Margaret River Wine Region and catching up with family.

More difficult to answer is the question about where we most liked on the trip. There didn’t seem to be any one place that wasn’t in the running for this crown as everywhere we went seemed to have a little gem that lives on in our memories as a highlight. Even Busselton. If pressed though, we can make a shortlist, which is heavily weighted towards Western Australia, maybe because these are some of our freshest memories. The mere mention of towns like Broome, Exmouth and Kalgoorlie evoke an almost instantaneous reaction in us. A slight quickening of the heart rate, a build up of saliva and dreamy glazed eyes seem to be the usual symptoms. Overall though, after much thought and debate we can’t narrow our favourite part of the odyssey down to one particular town, although in an effort to placate those that ask, we now prattle on ad nauseum about the trek between Katherine in the Northern Territory and Broome in Western Australia. A trek that saw us traversing some of the most spectacular scenery Australia has to offer and a trek I could happily repeat again and again and again.

Until next time, stay safe, have fun and don’t forget to write.