We bought a campervan—a 2006 converted VW LT35. She’s full of dents and freckles of rust, but she’s sturdy and homely. The conversion is simple yet has everything we need: solar power and an inverter, a sink, a worktop, and a comfortable double bed.
I often travel with her and my little dog. Sometimes my husband comes too. We don’t rush, covering a couple of hours each day, and we use Wikicamps to find free sites. Escaping the caravan parks, where sites are cramped and neighbours sit almost at arm’s length.
This trip has brought us to a riverside spot at Ramco, on the mighty Murray, not far from Waikerie. It’s quiet and tucked away, with just a drop toilet for amenities. The river drifts steadily past, pelicans glide by, and at night we lie in bed watching the stars through the windows of the van.
Out here, I rediscover the quiet awe that comes from being in nature. Watching the river move, listening to music, or stitching with the dog curled nearby—these small, unhurried moments give me breathing space. They slow the rush of everyday life and help me stay present instead of spinning into worries about the future. Time in nature steadies my mind and restores me, reminding me why I chose a slower, more intentional way of living. It also gives my husband and me a chance to step outside our roles as caregivers and simply reconnect—with each other, with the world around us, and with ourselves.
