Day 1. Free falling following the signs

I hate making decisions. Deciding where to go has always been the biggest stress when I travel, and it's exactly the stress I was having tossing up between heading South from Mandura to Margret river, or East to Esperance. Margret river is the land of awe-inspiring coastlines and surf, but it would be a big detour and, being day 1 on the journey back home, starting with a detour wouldn't be a very effective way to reach home within the month. Esperance on the other hand, was exactly on the way - a crucial town I would have to cross through to reach the East coast, with similarly breathtaking coastlines and large swells. I knew nobody at either place, and would be relying on camping - something a little more difficult to do in Margret river area on the weekend of the Margret River Pro surf comp weekend where park rangers would be sure to move me on. But Esperance was a good 8 hours away - A big distance for a single days hitching along desolate roads with absolutely nothing in between.

The last time I was stuck mulling over decisions like this I was in Hampi, India. To go to Tiruvannamailai or Trivandrum - East or West. The more I thought about it the harder it was to decide. Fuck it. I'll just go to Australia I decided. And within a week I was boarding a plane (to Malaysia, but hey, decisions are hard) much more sure of myself than had I been going to Tiruvanamalai or Trivandrum. And that's exactly the moment I was waiting for, as I sat in my friend's car deciding which road to aim for. 

That moment came.
"Go to Denmark! I have a cousin there you will love and it's a beautiful place," advised Vicky, my mum's friend who hitched around Australia with her in the 80s.

Denmark?!
I mean, yeah, the last time I came to this crossroad I flew out of the country in hurry and excitement, but I'd been in Australia two days - I couldn't fly all the way back to Europe! If I thought Margret river was a detour then Denmark was a whole other world of absolutely-not-on-my-way and, unlike some amazing friends (cross role-models of mine) I had not yet hitchhiked a plane - nor did I think I was able to. 

"It's only 5 hours away," Vicki insisted. 

A few minutes of map searching and we find Denmark, a small town tucked into the coast of WA. A few minutes more and I was stood by the side of a road, thumb out with a VB box sign labelled clearly

DENMARK.

The feeling I love most of all when travelling, that I am mostly seeking, is being lost. Counter-intuitive to seek being lost, yeah, but to be alone, in the middle of nowhere, with very little direction and nowhere really to be. And it wasn't long before I found that feeling, wandering along roads in towns with names I won't remember and populations less than my grade 2 classroom, feeling absolute contentment on the back country roads that lead to Denmark.

Within 3 lifts, with 5 wonderful people and one extra wonderful, cuddly canine, I had reached Denmark and was welcomed into the home of friends who immediately became family. Huddled in the car from the formidable antarctic winds, we watched the sun setting from coastal lookouts, I silently thanked everyone who I'd met that day. I thanked every little event that led me to this sweet, seaside town. I'm happy. Really really happy to be back in Australia, and back to this feeling of a new adventure. I've missed this.