Wilma Geraghty, 89, and her son Peter own the Mukinbudin BP. She still works five and a half days a week because “What else would I do?” As well as working in the office this diminutive lady whose skin belies her years told me “I pump fuel, do the gas cylinders but I gave up carrying the 20 litre drums quite some time ago though…I’m the dog’s body! I do everything and anything but I’m the master of none.”

It’s a week ago today we found ourselves in the small country town of Kellerberrin on the Great Eastern Highway. One moment we were standing on the dusty pavement as a road train trundled past on its way to Kalgoorlie, the next we were in a room, grand in its scale, and opulent in its contents, with warm hues, 14ft high ceilings and Mary and Joseph towering above us either side of the antique sideboard. We were in the home of artist, menswear designer and TAFE lecturer Robert McCaffrey. His home is a work of art in its own right - eclectic and diverse, it was an outward expression of all that is Robert.

We rolled into Bruce Rock a week ago, with no plan, just as the Wheatbelt’s long dry spell was broken by a heavy downpour and storm. The sleepy town centre has a row of maybe a dozen shops on one side - one shop is a cafe, as well as the butchers and the bakery. 

Worthy of a five star rating on Trip Adviser, the Kulin Bush Races in WA’s Wheatbelt is so much more than just a day at the races. Celebrating its 25th anniversary this year, it takes place over the first weekend in October and is an event for all the family to enjoy, with live music, good food and spectacular scenery as festivities are nestled between a granite outcrop and a salt lake.

Jim, a retired farmer, was born and raised in Lake Grace. He described himself as deaf, with one bung eye and the other doesn’t work at all. Walking slowly now with his frame, he’s still living at home at 88. We arrived at his farm to find him sitting in his ute, door open, old sheepdog beside him on the passenger seat, Radio National playing full blast, and pleased to discover he had visitors.

As coast huggers used to the background white noise of the ocean, we’ve been acutely aware of the silence and any sound that breaks it. At sunrise it’s the rowdy galahs perched in the salmon gums, shouting at each other and the world, and at sunset as the wind picks up it’s the rustling of great strips of peeling bark and leaves of the trees around us.

At last! We’re almost ready to hitch up our camper and set off on an adventure through Western Australia, from small country towns of the wheatbelt and goldfields and up into station country in the north. A meandering road trip with no set route and no set time frame.