After nine days of cycling I found myself staring at maps more than the world around me. It was time for a break, time for a town wedged between iron ore and the foamy sands of the Indian Ocean.
Nothing much happens in Dampier but there always seems to be something going on. I’m the local vagrant, camping on the beach, sipping coffee in the salty air of paradise.
I sit here barefoot and watch the ships glide past. The tides come and they go, leaving in their wake something that has never come easily to me – contentment.
This is the first town in Australia that I well and truly adore. Part of me wants to stay, but when I turn over my calloused hands I know I’m not the type.
Lately I can’t help but wonder if this isn’t a trip at all. It has no real purpose and certainly no direction. Maybe this is my life, and maybe, just maybe, it’s all I ever wanted.