365 days of summer

And here we are, on the final stretch of our incredible Australian road trip: 11,000 kilometers of adventures!

Ready to join us for this ultimate leg of the journey? Let’s go!

Day 30: 3 hours on the road, Perth → Margaret River

We leave Perth, making a detour to Penguin Island along the way. The goal? To catch a glimpse of the penguin, a truly emblematic animal that we hadn’t encountered yet. The entire island is a national park.

Seagulls are everywhere, majestic pelicans abound, and lizards bask lazily in the sun… but penguins? None in sight! Apparently, they’ve all gone off hunting, as they do every day.

This, my friends, is Australian marketing at its finest: naming an island “Penguin Island,” turning it into a national park, offering a paid ferry service (open from 10 a.m. to 3 p.m.), all while knowing full well that the island’s stars won’t be there during those hours. Obviously, if they had called it “Seagull Island,” there would be far fewer visitors.

But honestly, who cares? The island is beautiful, the sea breeze is invigorating, and the walk is delightful. Even if, let’s be real, the air occasionally carries a hint of bird droppings.

For the first time, we really struggle to find a campsite. But finally, just before 6 p.m., bingo! A spot opens up at the last minute. In Australia, all campsites close between 5 p.m. and 6 p.m. After that, you can forget about making a reservation. Here, schedules are no joke.

Australians have a pretty healthy work-life balance: their motto seems to be, “We work to live, not the other way around.” I can’t count the number of times I arrived ten minutes before closing, only to be met with unanswered phones and employees giving me a look that said: “If I pick up now, I’ll never leave on time.”

Day 31: Margaret River

For the first time since we arrived in Australia, we pulled out sneakers and jeans. It’s 17°C, with a light drizzle that feels straight out of Belgium. Everything here happens outdoors, but when it rains, it’s a different story: the van becomes far less pleasant. Nothing dries, mud tracks its way inside, and we spend most of our time cleaning. Let’s just say the mood takes a hit.

So, plan B to escape the gloomy vibes: we head to a chocolate factory, followed by a visit to a gorgeous winery. The kids stuffed themselves with chocolate, and at the winery, we were welcomed by a Frenchman. (Seriously, it feels like every second person here is French—have they all moved to Australia or what?) He treated us to an exceptional tasting, with bottles priced up to €150. Needless to say, we indulged while chatting with him about life in Australia.

Margaret River is truly a stunning region, on par with the finest European vineyards.

Day 32: 2 hours on the road, Margaret River → Pemberton

We took our time today. One last stroll on the beach to soak in more of that gentle Australian vibe. On the road, we paused by a river for lunch, enjoying a peaceful break. Not in a rush, we also stopped at a vineyard.

After 2.5 hours of driving, we arrived in Pemberton. Honestly, it felt like stepping into a time machine. The town looks like a movie set from the 1930s. All the houses are wooden, with a style reminiscent of Australia’s early settlers. But this isn’t some tourist façade—people actually live in these charming, slightly antiquated homes.

And you know what? There’s something endearing about these old buildings, nestled among vast, dense forests.

Day 33: 2.5 hours on the road, Pemberton → Denmark

This morning, I went on a long walk at dawn while everyone else was still asleep. I needed to escape, breathe in the fresh air, stretch my legs, and let the forest wrap itself around me. Just me and nature.

The photos that accompany this story speak for themselves. After days of crossing arid, desolate landscapes—about 40% of the continent is deemed uninhabitable—we’re now discovering another side of Australia. Here, forests dominate: dense, green, and almost overwhelming in their vastness. This region is called Timber Country. We’re deep in southern Australia now, and it reminds me a bit of the great forests of Canada.

Along the way, I came across wallabies, kangaroos, and plenty of unfamiliar birds.
Here are some of the highlights:

• A sulphur-crested cockatoo, perched high in the trees. It has a piercing, almost sarcastic scream.
• A rainbow lorikeet, with its metallic, repetitive squawk.

Let’s admit it: it’s a bit more exciting than running into cows or horses!

Today’s itinerary included a journey back in time on a steam train that gently winds through the forest. We followed that with a dizzying walk on suspension bridges 40 meters above the ground, in a place with a name as poetic as it is fitting: the Valley of the Giants.

Day 34 : Denmark

Denmark is a charming little town nestled in the far south of Australia. Today, it’s a glorious 25°C. We took full advantage of the weather, heading to the beach (stunning but a bit windy), visiting a cheese and wine producer, and savoring the peaceful rhythm of waves and tastings.

Day 35: 45 minutes on the road, Denmark → Albany

The weather has completely changed. Today, it’s 15°C, with strong winds and a very cloudy sky. The contrast is striking. It’s incredible how much the weather can affect our mood. With our sneakers, only pair of jeans, and sweaters on, we drag ourselves along, feeling a little gloomy.

We drive just 45 minutes to reach the largest city in the area, Albany, home to 35,000 people. Finally, a place with things to do, including a few museums to visit. We start with a museum dedicated to Australian and New Zealand soldiers from World War I. These countries sent 450,000 men to fight thousands of kilometers from home, and a third of them never returned.

As always in such museums, a question arises: why? Why lose so many lives in such brutal and futile conflicts? Every visit leaves me struck by the brutality and absurdity of this war, as well as its parallels with today’s conflicts.

At 2 PM, we stop in the middle of nowhere and, for the sixth or seventh time, run into Alan, Kate, and their three kids. It’s as if fate keeps pushing us to spend time together. So, we decide to extend the evening around a campfire. The kids play: Matteo with Olivia, who is 5, and Nola with Emilie and Jake, who are 10 and 12.

The evening is enjoyable, but I must admit, with the temperature at 12°C, a sweater, and cropped pants, I’m really cold.

Day 36: 5 hours on the road, Albany → Esperance

Today, we’re back on the road for 5 hours, driving through endless landscapes. Miles and miles of wheat, barley, and canola fields stretch toward the horizon, interrupted only by small hills and massive grain silos. We’re crossing a region called the Wheatbelt.

Yes, Australia is also an agricultural giant. The country is among the world’s largest wheat exporters, with agricultural products making up about 10% of total exports. Not much, you might think? That’s true, but remember, Australia’s real wealth lies in its mineral resources: iron, coal, and natural gas. Together, they account for nearly 60% of exports.

But when compared to European standards, the scale here is staggering. The region we’re driving through covers 150,000 square kilometers, almost entirely dedicated to grain farming. That’s five times the size of Belgium. Just incredible!

In the back seat, Matteo is complaining. A little. A lot. He’s only allowed one hour of tablet time per day, and of course, we try to save it for the final stretch of the drive to minimize boredom. But he has a very different opinion on this strategy.

We finally arrive at the campsite under a drizzle reminiscent of Belgium and a brisk 16 degrees. It makes us appreciate the warmth of the camper van all the more as we settle in for a cozy evening.

Day 37: 4.5 hours on the road, Esperance → Somewhere in a Nullarbor forest

Today, a stopover in Esperance, a remote town of 13,000 souls, somewhere between nowhere and really far away.

What keeps this town from slipping into tourist oblivion? Cape Le Grand, a nearby national park. The beaches there are surreal. The sand is so white that I think these are the most beautiful beaches I’ve ever seen in my life. The sand and sea are crystal clear, and the wild landscape is swept by the wind. Humanity’s impact on this nature is minimal.

But the weather wasn’t on our side. No sunshine, no dazzling blue sky. Even with this gloomy weather, it was stunning. I can only imagine how breathtaking it must be under the sun.

At 3:15 PM, we leave the national park, heading toward the legendary Nullarbor Plain. 200,000 square kilometers of nothingness. And when I say nothingness, I mean nothingness.

Nothing

Nada

Zilch

From Esperance, it’s 1,500 kilometers to our next stop. The kind of road trip where your GPS looks at you like, “Are you sure about this?”

7 PM: after 4 hours of driving, we stop at a roadside rest area tucked away in a patch of forest. Suzanne gets busy in the kitchen, the kids gather firewood, and I take care of the fire.

Night falls gently. Then the magic happens. An infinite, raw, dazzling starry sky..

Day 38: 9 hours on the road, Somewhere in a Nullarbor forest → Head of Bight

The morning is my moment. This solitude, the absolute silence, this feeling of being alone in the world, far from everything, yet strangely at peace. During these stolen hours, my thoughts wander. Paris. Our departure nearly four months ago. Another life. Yet, as distant as it seems, our friends and family don’t feel so far away. It’s as if physical distance doesn’t impact emotional closeness.

We’ve already seen so much. Explored improbable corners, accumulated countless memories. And the craziest part is realizing we still have eight months left. Twice as many places, twice as many adventures. It’s dizzying.

And then there’s us. The family. Before leaving, we had some doubts. Living together 24/7? Could we handle it? Would Suzanne and I still have things to talk about? And Matteo and Nola, those two little tornados—would they spend all their time fighting?

The answer? Surprisingly, no. Well, not too much. Yes, sometimes the kids get on my nerves. Yes, Suzanne and I argue. Yes, Matteo and Nola bicker. But it’s rare. Much rarer than I’d have thought. We’ve learned to live together, adapt, listen. We’ve become a team. A quirky team, but a team nonetheless.

8:45 PM. We park in what looks like a lot, planted in the middle of nowhere. Night falls. A strange day, marked by kilometers of straight lines and this invisible border between two states (Western Australia and South Australia). Well, not so invisible, because there’s a 2.5-hour time difference between the two states. It feels a bit like taking a long-haul flight.

Day 39: 5 hours on the road, Head of Bight → Streaky Bay

We spent the night near the national park known for whale watching along the coast. But alas, the whales have already migrated south, to the icy waters of Antarctica. All that’s left is the vast emptiness and the raw beauty of the cliffs.

This morning, I’m alone. The others are still asleep, and I step to the edge of the rocks, facing the sea. The waves crash thunderously against the stone under a gray sky, punctuated by the occasional timid ray of sunshine breaking through. In my ears, The Big Blue soundtrack. A perfect score for this encounter between solitude and infinity.

3 PM: We arrive at a lovely little campsite, right on the beach. The weather is perfect—not too hot, not too cool. We decide to stay for three nights. It feels like a return to civilization. Well, Australian civilization.

Streaky Bay is a village of 1,625 souls and a single supermarket. It’s located on the Eyre Peninsula, which spans 170,000 km²—about the size of Belgium and Greece combined—with only 59,000 inhabitants. Can you picture the emptiness?

Day 40: Streaky Bay

We explore the area, driving over 60 km on gravel roads. On the agenda: watching seals lounging on the rocks, marveling at strange geological formations, and the cherry on top—an unforgettable moment: for the first time in my life, I encounter a wild dingo, my scouting totem.

Day 41: Streaky Bay

The campsite has a little game room with two bins of toys. The kids spend hours there, inventing stories about shops, dinosaurs… It’s moments like these that highlight their instinctive need to play, even when everything they own fits into a tiny backpack that Matteo carries everywhere.

Normally, we’d tell them, “Go outside! Enjoy the sun!” But here, we’re already outside all day. So, we let them enjoy the moment.

Day +42: 7.5 hours drive: Streaky Bay → Clare Valley

Luckily, we arrive just in time for what really matters: two wine tastings in one of the best wine regions in the country, Clare Valley. Cheers!

Day +43: 2 hours drive, Clare Valley → Adelaide

With a little pang in my heart, I return our home, our means of transport, our place of comfort for these last 42 days. It never let us down during these 11,000 km, where we passed through all kinds of terrain and weather.

While returning it, I stop to buy a few things for Saint Nicholas! Yes, the great saint made quite a detour on his rounds to visit Australia as well.

We spend the night in a small apartment, and it feels very strange to be able to use our own toilet, have two separate bedrooms, or take a shower without stepping outside. Well, I admit, after 42 days, it’s quite nice.

Day +44: Adelaide → Fiji

The final urban stop: a nice lunch, a haircut for me, and nails for Suzanne. Melancholy and happiness are battling in our minds.

With this third trip through Australia, spread over 15 years, we can finally say we’ve circled the country. And yet, we never get tired of it. We’ve loved, once again, these endless roads leading to magical places, these pure moments of solitude. This time, the road brought us a more secret Australia, less traveled, where we got closer to the Aborigines, felt the raw soul of the Outback, and admired incredible beaches.

But perhaps what we’ll remember most is the time spent together in the van. Four of us, cramped but happy. These imperfect moments that make the journey even more precious.

And now? A new chapter awaits. It’s time to say goodbye to this red and wild land and fly off to the turquoise waters of Fiji. Australia will remain in our hearts, though I doubt we’ll return one day. But who knows… Inshallah.

Sending you big hugs.