Parrawe

After the vibrant tapestry of music and stories at the Yolla Tavern, a question mark hung heavy in the air: where next? Southward we steered, drawn by the whispers of emerald embrace - Hellyer Gorge, a free haven nestled deep within a forest's leafy arms.

We burrowed deep into the verdant canopy, finding solace in the cool shade. Though sunlight eluded our thirsty solar panels, we basked in the assurance of our built-in reserves, confident enough to call this place home for a night.

But paradise wasn't without its tiny terrors. Swarms of march flies, notorious for their voracious appetites, descended upon us, relentless in their quest for a meal. Thankfully, the sturdy screens of our bus proved an impenetrable fortress.

However, the lush foliage also cloaked our Starlink connection, severing the digital lifeline to our work. This, coupled with the persistent fly brigade, made our decision swift - a one-night stand it would be.

Undeterred, we sought solace in the whispers of the forest. The River Track unfolded along the Hellyer River's gurgling banks, a well-trodden path echoing with the rhythm of countless footsteps. Yet, we yearned for something less familiar, something hidden.

As if guided by serendipity, we stumbled upon the Old Myrtle Forest Walk, a lesser-known gem tucked away from the crowds. Its entrance, veiled by dense foliage, whispered tales of secrets waiting to be unraveled. And what secrets they were! The towering ancient myrtle trees, draped in emerald moss and whispering secrets through their leaves, transported us to a world lost in time.

This hidden path, revealed by a geocaching treasure hunt, became a metaphor for our nomadic adventure itself. Just beneath the surface, hidden in plain sight, lay adventures waiting to be discovered, stories waiting to be told.Read more