Writing about nuclear security, technology, systems thinking, and the cool things I build.
Mitchell Hewes Read more about why
Turning the wheel away from the coast, we headed inland. The salt spray was replaced by the dusty greens of Langhorne Creek, a landscape of river red gums amongst the vineyards. But this was just a quiet pause before the final push towards the end of the Coorong.
Leaving the vertical drama of the cliffs behind, the world suddenly flattened out. There is raw isolation here. The Coorong is a stretch of South Australia that refuses to be tamed. Nearly 200km of scrub and saltwater lagoons separating the highway from the ocean, creating a landscape that feels infinite and untouched. It’s just the wind, the birds, and the endless road ahead.
We arrived at the limestone edge where the continent crumbles into the Southern Ocean. Standing before the (less-than) 12 Apostles, the separation between land and ocean feels absolute. A hard-boiled wonderland of jagged cliffs meeting quiet solitude at the end of the world among lost shadows and relentless tides.
We needed a break from the sun, so we stopped at Maits Rest to escape the heat. It feels like a different world down here—quiet, green, and wonderfully cool. The path loops through some massive trees that have been here for centuries.
Starting the drive along the Great Ocean Road, on our way to Adelaide. The winding cliffs and wildlife set the tone for a lovely ride, leading us to our first stop for the night at Apollo Bay.
You walk up to the lighthouse trying to act like a responsible adult. But, deep down, you are absolutely terrified that if you touch the wrong railing you’re going to be forced to finish the trip without your pants... Have you ever, ever felt like this?
