The evening is golden and still as the last light squints through the trees. Willow sits on the step of the sliding door, ears darting towards every sound – the rustle of leaves in the dry eucalypts, the distant calls of birds, the low hum of a car along the A1.

The same A1 that carried us around this entire country so many years ago.

It’s an evening like countless others on our travels around Australia, but as I set up our camp stove on the picnic table, I realise this one carries a certain gravity.

How many nights had we spent like this? Not hundreds… thousands, I suppose. Camped beside beaches, tucked away in forest clearings, breathing in the eucalypt-scented air, gazing out over mountains. Always with our campervan home. I stopped counting the days long ago. But tonight feels different. Monumental. Tomorrow, we’ll arrive back in Perth and begin a new chapter.

Willow jumps down from the step and struts towards me, tail high. She walks straight past and flops into the dirt, rolling onto her back as the dust kicks up. It’s been four months since our last van trip. When we set off ten days ago, I wondered if she’d still remember. We’ve been living in Perth for just over a year now – would she have forgotten how to be a van cat?

But seeing her now, I know: she’ll always be a van cat at heart.

Steph is away on a work trip back to Hobart, so last weekend Willow and I camped beside a lake with friends, about two hours South of Perth. How nice it was to share that time – and to know I’d see them again. When you’re always on the move, transitory friendships are challenging. It’s been good to settle down.

When the weekend ended, Willow and I faced a question: what now? It would be a week until Steph flew back. What should we do with ourselves?

But there was something else weighing on me. Just the week before, I’d interviewed for a new job. If I got it, I’d want to make the most of my freedom before starting. If I didn’t get it, I’d still need to get away – to have a break from the city.

It was a simple decision. We would keep travelling.

We headed further south, drawn toward Albany and Denmark, to some of the most pristine and beautiful beaches in the world. The last time I visited this part of the country was with Steph in 2017, before we crossed the Nullarbor back to the East Coast.

Lately, I’ve felt lost – and not geographically. Things hadn’t worked out at Cat Haven. Animal welfare is a tough industry, made even tougher when the management and board don’t have your back. One morning, I just woke up and said to myself: I won’t be able to achieve what I came here to do. So I made the hard decision to walk away. But it knocked my confidence, my sense of purpose.

So when this new role came up, I applied immediately. No, it wasn’t animal welfare. But it ticked every box. A Digital Enablement Analyst for a not-for-profit aged care provider: helping them better use technology, analysing processes, supporting the staff’s tech development. The perfect mix of people and technology with an organisation that has a focus on care.

Still, I wasn’t going to get ahead of myself. What chance do I have? I thought.

Without something meaningful to anchor me, I’d felt myself drifting these past few months. Like I’d forgotten who I was.

I knew I had to keep moving. Keep moving until I saw the turquoise waters of the Great Southern Coast. And besides, there was a friend I really wanted to visit.

Try not to think about the job.

Just outside Albany, I met with Elly at her home overlooking that turquoise water. She had followed our journey since the beginning and was excited to finally meet Willow. How great it was to meet her in person – to hear about her travels around Australia in a Citroën CX, to share a few stories of my own. We sat on her balcony as her cats, Napoleon and Merlot, lounged nearby. Napoleon loves to nap inside a giant vase – the perfect hiding spot.

Oh, how important Elly is. How important you all are – those of you who messaged, emailed, or supported us over the years, checking in when our only company was the distant howl of dingoes outside the van. You probably never knew how much you helped. But you did.

After feeding me lunch, Elly gave Willow one last cuddle, and we said our goodbyes.

Don’t think about the job.

I needed a swim.

The job.

The beaches along the Great Southern Coast have to be seen to be believed. Stunning. Pristine. They’re just words, really. Nothing can truly describe their beauty. I parked up at one of the beach carparks and walked down the steps towards the water. How symbolic it would be to dunk myself in the cold water and emerge, assured, optimistic, knowing what the next 10 years has in store for me.

What shall be, shall be – and other tautologies.

Real life doesn’t work like that.

Still, the water calmed me. It soothed, as oceans do. I came out dripping, seaweed clinging to my leg, the wind cutting against my skin. Maybe a little more at peace.

Later that afternoon, I went to the supermarket to stock up on supplies. I wandered the aisles and it was between the jars of sun-dried tomatoes and pickles that I received the phone call. Pending a few reference checks, the job was mine! There was a mixture of emotions swirling inside me; relief, gratitude, sadness, excitement, all wrapped up in sentimentality.

It was clear what I needed to do: Spend the next five days visiting as many beaches as I could before returning to Perth!

To feel every moment – every grain of sand, every lap of water – and as I did, reels and reels of the last decade ran through the projector of my mind.

Mount Gambier, Melbourne, Bourketown, Borroloola, Mount Isa, Adelaide, Broome, Tullah, Doomadgee, Mathinna, Carcoory, Bowen, Cobar, Mataranka, Coffs Harbour, Billys Creek, Torquay, Slopen Main, Gnaraloo, Emerald Beach, Bedourie, Geraldton, Esperance, Noosa, Agnes Water, Port Hedland, Canberra, Birdsville, Windorah, Latrobe, Margaret River, Meningie, Waterhouse Point, Carnarvon, Rapid Bay, Victor Harbor, Woolgoolga.

Pomona, South Arm, Maldon, Exmouth, Karratha, Jerramungup, Geelong, Charleville, Sandy Point, Longreach, Binalong Bay, Bruny Island, Seven Mile Beach, Port Macquarie, St George, Braidwood, Goondiwindi, Inglewood, Ballina, Airlie Beach, Point Vernon, Byron Bay, Taringa, Sydney, Dolphin Sands, Arthur River, Comboyne, Savage River, Port Pirie, Winton, Emerald, Yeppoon, Mallacoota, Pine Mountain, Sulphur Creek, Marrawah, Cowell.

Whyalla, Rainbow Beach, Burleigh Heads, Tallebudgera Creek, Grafton, Port Fairy, Hahndorf, Devonport, Warrnambool, Lorne, Railton, Port Campbell, Bicheno, Nymboida River, Middleton, Clifton Beach, Coober Pedy, Port Augusta, Ceduna, Norseman, Port Arthur, Sommers Bay, Eaglehawk Neck, Zeehan, Clements Gap, Oatlands, Mount Pleasant, Tanunda, Gatton, Warwick, Wunjunga, Luina, Westmar, Yulara, Sheffield, Richmond.

Over those five days, walking and swimming at the beaches of the Great Southern Coast, I relived it all in my head.

And now here we are: our last night before returning to Perth.

Willow stretches out on the picnic table as I finish dinner, soaking up the warm evening. There will still be nights like this – the three of us together in the van – but not like it once was.

Life for us is changing. And right now, I want to celebrate that. To create some level of demarcation between these two chapters of my life. To celebrate everything that has led to this moment. Because it is monumental. It is big.

I want to honour it, and everyone who has been a part of it.

This is the end of an era – a decade-long era. But there will be new adventures. The beaches, the forests, the deserts and plains – they’ll still be waiting for us when we’re ready again.

And you know what? They’re waiting for you too.

Sometimes I wonder: what would have happened if I had stayed in that old career I hated? If I hadn’t let myself break free? If I hadn’t shed all my belongings and started over again – with Willow by my side?

I pack up the stove. Wash the dishes.

Willow circles my legs. I pick her up and cradle her.

Do you realise, little cat, how much you’ve shaped my life?

How you carried me through nights when the only company was the howling wind?

How you helped me find people when I felt most alone?

You made me a writer. You made me care. You gave me a purpose I’ll carry for the rest of my life.

Most of all, Willow, you taught me the value of now. It sounds simple – but it’s the hardest thing. To sit in the warmth of a summer evening with your ears, eyes, and heart wide open – to not worry. After ten years, I’m still terrible at it. But I’m getting better every day.

That’s a cat’s greatest gift to us humans.

Where we are doesn’t matter. It never did. It’s who we’re with. A deeper belonging.

Later, lying in bed, I look up at the map of Australia stuck to the ceiling. Postcards. Badges. They’ll all stay. The spices in the rack. That can of beans that’s been rattling in the drawer for months.

I look down the end of the bed and notice Willow staring at me. I know it’s time for sleep now. It won’t be until I turn the light out that she will jump up on my legs, have a quick bath, then fall asleep.

Tomorrow, we will continue to Perth and I’ll pick Steph up from the airport in the evening. The week after, I’ll start work.

Already, there’s a shiver down my spine when I think about what’s next. The same feeling I had when I left Hobart 10 years ago. That’s how I know I’m on the right road.

My first permanent job in over 10 years – Not for corporations, but for community. It will be strange not having the freedom to be itinerant, but I need to be a part of something bigger than just me.

If you’re ever in Perth, come say hi. We’d love to meet you. I’m sure we’ve both got a few stories to share. I’ll still be checking my emails.

This isn’t goodbye.

Just a different road.

I want you to know we’re doing okay. That I achieved everything I set out to achieve. That I’ve said everything I could possibly say. That Willow and I found Steph.

Life is always changing, evolving. Nothing is forever, even the stars in the night sky will one day fade away.

Right now, Willow snores as she sleeps on my shins, competing with the Boobook owl outside. Did you know they call them Mopokes in Tasmania? Funny little things.

I wonder what it will feel like driving into Perth tomorrow. I wonder if the people bustling around the city at lunchtime know what’s out there – beyond the skyline, beyond the freeways and hum of office lights.

I know what’s out there, and I hope they find it someday. I hope you find it, too.

As for me, I’ll never stop dreaming, nor will I forget how lucky I am; to have seen this wild country with my best friend.

We made it.

Thanks for walking this road with us.

Happy trails always,

– Rich