I woke the next morning to Simon cooking scrambled eggs on the portable stove. We were both drained. We decided to drive most of the day, to arrive at Geraldton and the coast late that afternoon. It was a quiet day with little talking, and we settled that night in a crowded seaside caravan park.
The next day was perfect—hot with a gentle breeze. I took Matey and a newspaper to the beach while Simon worked in the van, sorting through his photos, making phone calls, and answering emails.
It wasn’t a placid beach. Dumpers washed everything in their path in curls of foam before retreating into the strong current. Children squealed, sand invaded my water bottle, and greasy sunscreen streaked my newspaper. Matey and I watched while parents dragged reluctant kids from the water and photogenic t
