The Crossing Eucla to Nullarbor National Park
The Last Cuppa
After 37 days in Western Australia, I stopped for one last cuppa near the border, then crossed into South Australia with Ben and Ols before the Nullarbor changed shape again.
I woke up on Day 38 with the border already in my head.
That made me slightly ridiculous, in the best possible way. I knew we would probably end up with a shorter day, partly because we were starting later, partly because the clocks were going to jump by 45 minutes when we crossed into South Australia, and mostly because this was not a day to hurry past.
For 37 days I had been walking inside Western Australia.
Perth had disappeared behind me. Canning River parkrun, the hills, the Wheatbelt, Kalgoorlie, Norseman, Madura, Mundrabilla, Eucla: all of it had become the first enormous chapter of the crossing. I had known the WA/SA border was coming, obviously, but there is a big difference between knowing something on a map and standing a few kilometres away from it with tired feet and a mug waiting in the van.
During that first session I was walking into sunrise, and the emotions started to grip me before I even reached the van.
After about 12 kilometres, I stopped just on the Western Australian side.
The border was only a few metres away, but I was not ready to walk across it immediately. I had one last cup of tea in WA instead.
That sounds small, and it was. A mug. A pause. A few minutes in a car park area next to the border. But it landed heavily. Eighteen months earlier, walking across Australia had been a wild thought I was almost embarrassed to say out loud. Now I was standing at the first state border, not imagining it, not planning it, not trying to convince myself it might happen.
It was happening.
When the moment came, Ben, Ols, and I crossed together.
I cannot speak for what they were feeling. They had their own version of the crossing: the driving, the van, the supplies, the long days, the watching, the waiting, the weirdness of keeping someone else moving across a continent. For me, it was pride and awe more than anything. Pride in the three of us. Pride that the idea had survived long enough to become something our feet and hands and wheels were actually doing.
Also, yes, there were photos. Of course there were photos. I had not walked all that way to be casual about the Welcome to South Australia sign.
The strange thing was that crossing the border did not make the day feel finished. It changed the energy, but it did not turn the rest of the day into an afterthought.
South Australia arrived with new signs, new distances, new place names, and the immediate reminder that a border is not a finish line. Nullarbor, Yalata, Ceduna, Port Augusta, Adelaide: the sign listed them out as if the country was calmly explaining how much work was still ahead.
Fair enough.
The landscape changed quickly too. Entering Nullarbor National Park felt different. The scrub, the light, the blue of the ocean appearing beyond the land; it all started to feel like we were edging toward the side of the country. I got my first glimpses of what I kept thinking of as the edge of the world.
And then, because HAA days were rarely only about distance, people kept appearing.
Lynn and Rob were the sort of people who make the story bigger than the walking. Their daughter Kirby had been following HAA online, and because of her they knew to look out for us as they travelled east. Lynn had messaged us, asking whether we needed anything. We did. A shopping list was provided, along with assurances that we would settle the bill when we saw them. Then they found us on the Nullarbor and delivered the supplies, refusing to take a cent for them because they wanted it to be a donation.
It is hard to explain how something as basic as groceries could feel so profound, but out there it did. A few supplies were never just a few supplies. They were timing, phone messages, a van on the side of the highway, and strangers becoming part of the crossing because someone else had cared enough to tell them about it.
Later, at the final break of the day, Prue and Wendy were chatting to Ols and finding out what HAA was about. They made donations as well. There were also jokes made about continuing the walk into the Northern Territory; for the record, I did not extend the trip to Darwin…
Rhonda and Cherre also stopped to see if I needed anything. I explained what we were doing, and they pledged to donate online. By then it really did feel like a busy day. The border had been the headline, but the people gave the day its warmth.
I finished about 25 kilometres past Border Village, with 39.6 kilometres added for the day and the activity-distance total sitting at 1598.7 kilometres.
Then we drove back to Border Village for the night. The finish point was waiting for me in South Australia, and that was where I would return in the morning. That mattered. The sleeping could move around, the van could move around, the logistics could bend as much as they needed to, but the walking still had to join up.
Day 38 was not one of the longest days.
It did not need to be.
It was The Last Cuppa in WA. The first border. The first farewell to a state. The first proof that this thing could move from one part of the country into another and still keep going.
Every state border would matter after that.
But WA to SA would always be the first.
Videos From The Day
Approaching the WA/SA border
Approaching the WA/SA border, about 500 metres from the line, as the emotion of the first state crossing started to land.
Open on YouTubeRunning across the WA/SA border
Footage of me running across the WA/SA border at Border Village after 37 days in Western Australia.
Open on YouTubeImages From The Day
