Adventures
‘Finding my way back’ (in the Outback)
There is something special about returning to a place you once knew, but seeing it through different eyes. When I landed in Sydney, it felt like stepping into an old story – one I had read before. This time however, I was here to write a new chapter. I came back to find something, to reconnect with a feeling, a version of myself that I may have lost along the way. Or maybe, I was simply here to understand who I had become since the last time I stood on this land.
It’s easy to fall into routines, to build a life where safety, comfort, and predictability become the foundation of everything. The older I get, the more I notice how this feeling sneaks up on me. The pandemic amplified it even further. Staying in one place, reconsidering every decision through a lens of sustainability and security, and questioning whether traveling far and wide, was something I still needed.
It’s easy to fall into routines, to build a life where safety, comfort, and predictability become the foundation of everything. The older I get, the more I notice how this feeling sneaks up on me. The pandemic amplified it even further. Staying in one place, reconsidering every decision through a lens of sustainability and security, and questioning whether traveling far and wide, was something I still needed.
But deep down, this has always been a part of me. I have always been someone who throws herself into new experiences, who is endlessly curious, who sees the world as an open door waiting to be walked through. I have travelled alone before, met people from all walks of life, and said yes to spontaneous invitations without hesitation. Somewhere along the way, I lost touch with that version of myself.
And then, as I waved goodbye to my husband at the airport, it hit me: what if I no longer remember how to do this?
So, the adventure begins
The first week was a slow reintroduction. I revisited places in Sydney where I had spent time as a young adult, letting the memories catch up with me, trying to feel where I stood – both physically and emotionally. I drove up the coast to Brisbane, stepping out of the car and breathing in the scent of eucalyptus forests, looking up at the sky to see flocks of birds in every colour imaginable.
The first week was a slow reintroduction. I revisited places in Sydney where I had spent time as a young adult, letting the memories catch up with me, trying to feel where I stood – both physically and emotionally. I drove up the coast to Brisbane, stepping out of the car and breathing in the scent of eucalyptus forests, looking up at the sky to see flocks of birds in every colour imaginable.
But it wasn’t until I started meeting people that I truly felt like I was finding my way back.
Stepping into the unknown
Now, the real journey began. For the next two weeks, I headed into the wilderness alone. I’d packed light but thoughtfully, preparing for hikes through some of the breathtaking landscapes in New South Wales. But this wasn’t just about exploring nature. This was about giving myself the space to reflect, to push my own limits, and to be fully present in every moment.
Now, the real journey began. For the next two weeks, I headed into the wilderness alone. I’d packed light but thoughtfully, preparing for hikes through some of the breathtaking landscapes in New South Wales. But this wasn’t just about exploring nature. This was about giving myself the space to reflect, to push my own limits, and to be fully present in every moment.
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous. I have camped alone before, but not in a country like Australia with risks and dangers different to what I’m used to in Sweden. But I’ve always been the one cheering on my husband in his adventures. I love watching him throw himself into new challenges, seeing the joy and growth that comes from stepping outside of his comfort zone. And I have always been genuinely happy for him. But somewhere along the way, I realised—I need to do the same for myself. I need space to be brave. I need experiences that challenge me, that remind me of my own strength, that allow me to grow in ways I can’t when I stay within the safe and familiar.
Happily, there is a certain hospitality here in Australia that makes this easier. A warmth, and an effortless inclusivity. Strangers talk to you as if you’ve known each other for years. I received recommendations for hidden beaches and remote trails, shared meals with people I had only just met, and found myself in conversations that changed the course of my day.
This is when it hit me: this is who I am. I love connecting with people. I love hearing their stories, exchanging experiences, and letting a simple conversation shape where I go next. It wasn’t just the travel I had been missing. It was this; the openness, the spontaneity, the way the world feels bigger and more alive when you allow yourself to be part of it.
A moment of pure magic
One of those spontaneous moments led me to an experience I will never forget: swimming with wild stingrays.
One of those spontaneous moments led me to an experience I will never forget: swimming with wild stingrays.
I hadn’t planned on it. I had spotted a beach on Google Maps, and I felt the urge to explore. Out of nowhere, they appeared – gliding beneath me like shadows, their graceful movements perfectly in sync with the rhythm of the waves. The sunlight danced on their smooth bodies, illuminating the delicate patterns on their backs. They were breathtaking.
At first, I stayed still, simply watching. But then, they got closer — brushing against me, their heavy bodies pressing gently against my legs, mistaking me for someone who might have food for them. There was something so peaceful about the way they moved and their effortless elegance in contrast to their weighty presence against my skin.
I couldn't shake the feeling it gave me. So, the next morning, despite it being a long detour from my planned route, I decided to return. I wanted to see them again, to experience that fleeting connection one more time. And as I waded into the water just after sunrise, the world still quiet around me, they were there– gliding, circling, existing in their own rhythm, unaware of how deeply they had impacted me.
The power of solitude
There is a unique kind of freedom in being alone out there. Waking up to the sounds of the wild, choosing my own pace, knowing that my body will carry me forward without having to adjust to anyone else’s rhythm. It is both humbling and empowering.
There is a unique kind of freedom in being alone out there. Waking up to the sounds of the wild, choosing my own pace, knowing that my body will carry me forward without having to adjust to anyone else’s rhythm. It is both humbling and empowering.
At the same time, it is a reminder of how much the natural world gives us: peace, perspective, a sense of belonging to something greater. It reminds me of how important it is that we take the time to truly be in it, to not just pass through, but to listen, to observe, to appreciate.
For the people who dream of this
I hope more people dare to do the same. Not to prove anything to anyone, but to discover the strength, peace, and inspiration that waits out there in the open and within themselves. As guide J.R. Harris said in his article ‘The Solo Trekker’, I also enjoy the company of friends but going solo makes me more aware of my surroundings. My senses are sharpened to the point that I know I appreciate every little thing far more than if I had been part of a group. There is a quiet kind of power in choosing to go alone, in trusting yourself enough to embrace the unknown.
I hope more people dare to do the same. Not to prove anything to anyone, but to discover the strength, peace, and inspiration that waits out there in the open and within themselves. As guide J.R. Harris said in his article ‘The Solo Trekker’, I also enjoy the company of friends but going solo makes me more aware of my surroundings. My senses are sharpened to the point that I know I appreciate every little thing far more than if I had been part of a group. There is a quiet kind of power in choosing to go alone, in trusting yourself enough to embrace the unknown.
Because sometimes, the journey isn’t just about discovering a new place. Sometimes, it’s about rediscovering yourself.
Perhaps most of all, it’s about realizing how quickly life can change when you make the choice to step outside of what’s familiar. I had spent years convincing myself that a solo adventure in Australia was something distant, something complicated – but in reality, all it took was a single decision to remind me that I could shift my entire world in an instant.
Published May 2025
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