Here I am, minutes before we went into the white choppy surf. It was very windy that day. The only people who knew Jeff and I were at this spot were the owners of the sheep station.
Below is a picture of a grave site nearby. The stone reads, "In Memory of Vern Storry Died 24 6 79" (June 6, 1979 or maybe 1879?) Maybe he went swimming and didn't live to tell about it.
Below is a picture of the sheep station from a distance. It's in the outback, on a piece of land the size of a small country (almost), and the owners live off-the-grid. Mail was delivered once a week along with their groceries. It's as remote as it gets. I go into great detail here about the land, the people, their way of life, sheep shearing, and what it was like to drive our rental jeep through the desert and then swim in the rough waters.
At the end of the day, we celebrated being alive (we had our moments) and the beauty of Christmas Eve by dining on the patio of Fin's Cafe (below). The food was fabulous.
Fin's is also where we were able to check emails. I had a lot to tell my friends and family back home.
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All photos in this blog are genuine trip photos.
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