You never know what surprises await on a morning beach walk. Lisa and I set off along Cleaverville Beach this morning, heading toward the far end where the last few campsites sit tucked against the rocks. The tide was out, revealing those magnificent rock pools that make this stretch of coast so special, and we were just enjoying the quiet when I spotted a familiar face at one of the camps.
Paul. A bloke I worked with thirty-five years ago. What are the odds? Out here on this remote stretch of Western Australian coastline, thousands of kilometres from anywhere, we run into each other. We stood there chatting, catching up on three and a half decades in about twenty minutes the way you do, and then Paul mentioned something that took us completely by surprise. They were packing up to leave but still had a few days left on their campsite booking. Would we like it?
Well, you don't need to ask twice. We headed back to our spot, broke camp, and relocated to what turned out to be an absolute ripper of a position. Sometimes the universe just lines things up perfectly.
The new site gave us front-row seats to everything Cleaverville has to offer. Those volcanic rock formations create natural pools that fill with crystal-clear water at high tide, and when it recedes, you're left with perfect little swimming spots surrounded by ancient stone. We spent the afternoon exploring, finding sea cucumbers lounging on the sandy bottom and watching the light change across the water as the day wore on.
Come sunset, we understood exactly why Paul had chosen this spot. The sky put on a show that went from gold to pink to deep purple, with the crescent moon hanging there like it had been painted on. Lisa and I just sat with a cuppa, watching the colours reflect off the calm water, feeling pretty grateful for old workmates, unexpected generosity, and the simple pleasure of being exactly where we wanted to be.
This is what full-time travel gives you—not just beautiful places, but moments like these that remind you the world's a lot smaller and kinder than you might think.
