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Follow the Sun: The Best Advice You'll Ever Receive

  • Flo MBT
  • 1 day ago
  • 3 min read

All we wanted was a summer road trip… what we got was soaked socks, spontaneous detours, and one of the best hikes of our lives.

Summer 2022. Australia. The scent of eucalyptus in the air, the hum of cicadas, and the call of the open road—it was time for our annual road trip. With some COVID-19 restrictions still lingering, we decided to explore closer to home, heading north through New South Wales. Like every year, we mapped a loose route, booked the first couple of nights (because, let’s face it, East Coast campgrounds fill up faster than your coffee mug in the morning), and left the rest to chance, and told ourselves the rest would unfold naturally.

This year’s setup? Back to basics: our tent. We’ve tried them all—vans, rooftop tents, ground tents. Each has its charm, and choosing one always feels like picking a favorite child. But that’s a conversation for another day.

With the car packed and hearts full of anticipation, we set off for four weeks of slow travel: swimming in hidden bays, hiking through national parks, and toasting marshmallows under starlit skies. The first week felt like a dream. We made our way north, stopping at Seal Rocks, Hat Head, Evans Head—each spot more peaceful than the last.

Then came Byron Bay. And then… the rain.

At first, it was cozy. A chance to truly slow down. We read, played cards, and let the rhythm of the rain on the tent roof lull us into deeper rest. But after days of unrelenting drizzle, everything was soaked—our clothes, our gear, our spirits. And the forecast? More of the same.

We had planned to stay near the coast. We had booked ahead. But with wet socks and wetter moods, we realized something: a road trip is meant to be freedom on wheels. It’s not about sticking to a plan—it’s about breaking free from it.

New Year’s Eve, five soggy days in, we were chatting with some fellow campers traveling by motorbike. They had just come from Tamworth and casually mentioned the weather had been perfect there. “You should check out Warrumbungle National Park if you like hiking,” they said.

We had never heard of it.

That night, we googled. Sunny skies. Free campsites. Beautiful hikes. Why hadn’t we heard of this place sooner?

The next morning, we packed up, made a pit stop in Tamworth (sunshine! hot showers! laundry!), and drove on to Coonabarabran, the last town before the national park. Supplies in hand, we rolled into Camp Blackman at Warrumbungle National Park. It was stunning. Kangaroos grazed lazily in the distance, the scent of dry earth filled the air, and the sky stretched wide and cloudless.

We stayed four days. We hiked some of the best trails we've ever done. We soaked up every golden hour. And we felt something we hadn’t felt in days—light.

The best part? We never would have gone if it weren’t for that rainy afternoon chat with strangers.

So here’s the lesson: A road trip isn’t about sticking to the plan. It’s about staying open—to people, to changes, to the unexpected. Sometimes, the best advice comes from a conversation at a soggy picnic table. And sometimes, it leads you to one of the best places you’ve never heard of.

Follow the sun. Always.

Warrumbungle National Park


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