Salt, Sand, and Solitude (Plus a Bit of Chaos): My Western Australian Adventure
- Dana Cully
- Aug 6
- 11 min read
I went to Western Australia to find peace and enlightenment at a place that called itself an A
Ashram, but all I found was tension, gossip, and physical stress. I didn’t leave enlightened, but I did leave.
After finishing my degree in anthropology and history, I knew I wanted to make my dreams of travelling come true as soon as possible. I had always dreamed of visiting Europe, but it seemed daunting, and traveling somewhere so far from my home in New Zealand seemed like too big a step, having never traveled solo before. I decided to go somewhere close to home first, either Australia or the Pacific Islands. I wanted to volunteer but had no idea how or doing what, so I headed to the internet and searched Workaways and Worldpackers for their current openings. Nothing seemed to click, and I lacked motivation until I found it. 4 weeks in an Ashram. 4 weeks of yoga, peace, and kind people. Away from the fast-paced, stressful, and draining world I was in. Within a few days, everything was planned. I was going to Western Australia in January, spending 4 weeks in an Ashram in Fremantle (the hippy capital, so I had been told), and was hoping to go South and spend another 4 weeks in Margaret River. I could not wait for my solo adventure to begin!
The Adventure begins!
On the 30th of January, 2025, I said goodbye to my family and flew solo for the first time internationally. The 8-hour flight from Auckland to Perth was not too bad. I had a seat between me and a kind old lady, and the time went fast, as I spent it watching movies and eating (the plane food was actually good!). After landing, I met two German girls who were also taking the train into the city, and together we began our journeys in Western Australia! (Public transport was free for the next two weeks - Bonus!). As soon as I got out of the train I I was hit with a wave of heat, and immediately began sweating as I carried my 15kg bag for 10 minutes. When I arrived, I wasn’t sure if I should be happy I could stop walking or cry. My first-ever hostel. What an experience…
It was on what felt like the busiest street in Perth, and on top of a bar that had live music every day, until about 2 am. As I walked up the creaky stairs and entered my rather dirty room, I was again hit with another heatwave. The hallways were packed with people, the place smelled, and it felt like a brothel from a movie. Tired faces and piles of dirty clothes and shoes lined the narrow corridors. My bedroom consisted of 3 bunk-beds, no air conditioning, carpet that looked like it had never been cleaned, long-term residents who had clearly made the space their own, and a rather large window and door that stayed open 24/7 to let in all the heat and noise. I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t this. Despite my body telling me it was 1 am, I went downstairs to get the wifi and bumped into some Kiwis who invited me to a free salsa class at a local bar. Normally, I would’ve called it a night, but this trip was about saying yes. So for the first time, I said YES! All of a sudden, I was dancing and laughing with people I had met 5 minutes ago, and having the time of my life! I decided to call it a night and headed to bed, but my night didn’t end there. About 2 hours later, I got ‘woken up’ (I wasn’t actually asleep yet) by someone asking me, “Why are you in my bed?” The bed I was told was free and mine to take was actually not free. Horrified that I had taken someone's bed, but also about the possibility of bugs from the unwashed sheets, I migrated to another bed, hoping this time it was free. After lots of melatonin, a sleeping pill, and earplugs shoved deep into my ears, I finally got a few hours of sleep in. I think the music stopped at about 4:30 am. At 6 am, I was woken by an alarm that was snoozed about 4 times. Welcome to hostel life, the endless cycle of snoozed alarms that no earplugs can block out.
Ashram Life
The next day was the day I had been waiting for. I left the hostel, caught a train, and arrived at a beautiful little Ashram not far from Fremantle. I felt so lucky to be there. As soon as I arrived, I was welcomed with a big lunch that was shared with a table full of gentle strangers. As I was talking, I discovered one of the girls there came from the same small town in New Zealand where I had spent every summer of my childhood. This small piece of home was all I needed to feel welcome in a new and scary environment. I spent the afternoon in a beautiful garden, enjoying the smell of clean air and feeling the gentle warm breeze on my skin. So far, the Ashram felt like a beautiful and refreshing place, full of peace and gentle hearts. This was the life I had craved — and now, I was living it. Little did I know, this feeling would last less than 48 hours before doubt started settling in.
On Sunday evening, I did a few hours of my karma by working in a Chai van. I learnt how to make Chai from scratch, tasted some delicious kitchari, and welcomed many beautiful souls to the Ashram. That night, I experienced my first Kirtan. I had no idea what it was or what to expect, but it exceeded any expectation I had. The harmony of music and the voices of 30-odd strangers filling up an empty space to create such a mesmerizing sound is a feeling I cannot describe. I felt the words of a foreign language enter my body and touch every piece of me. I closed my eyes and for the first time in as long as I can remember, I had no thoughts. My mind was empty, I was simply being. Floating in a room of individuals coming together to be themselves. I had no idea how different I’d feel the very next day.
Monday morning, we had a meeting to decide our karma/jobs for the week. This was as expected, as I was doing a workaway, which meant I worked in exchange for food and accommodation. This is where it started to go downhill. I was given way more hours than I agreed on, and was also expected to dedicate personal time to extra commitments that didn’t count as working hours. Being the people pleaser I am, I just put my head down and got to work. After a long 10-hour day of cleaning, I finally stopped, but the work expected of me still wasn’t finished, which meant my hours continued to pile up. At the end of the day, I was exhausted, both physically and mentally. I also experienced some weird attitudes towards me from the managers, and it became clear that there was a hierarchy, which I was at the bottom of. Not the power dynamics I signed up for. If I were a paid cleaner in any other situation, I wouldn't have minded, but in an Ashram, I expected everyone to be treated as equals. So after my first day of work, I was not left with a good feeling.
The days continued on like this, and by the end of the week, I was not doing okay. My body was showing signs of struggle, my eczema had returned, and my stomach was not happy. I finally opened up and mentioned I was struggling. When I asked to uncross my legs during meditation or skip it entirely, due to pain and tiredness from a medical condition, I was given a look of disgust and was told “pain is in your head”, and “you’re not tired, you’ve just slept all night”. Whilst I understand some people can reach a level of no pain, I was not yet there, and far from it. Instead of getting the help and support I needed to explore my own path and reach this level, I was shut down and told to do things exactly as they instructed. Again, this was not the open-mindedness or compassion I had expected from an Ashram. And so I put my head back down and continued living in this unhappy situation.
Thankfully, I decided to go to the beach with my roommate, one time during the few hours I had spare. We soon discovered we were both feeling the same. Her honesty was a relief — it gave me a momentary new lease on life. I wasn’t alone. She was feeling exactly the same as I was. We also both shared experiences of other members talking badly about each other behind closed doors, making it seem as though everyone at the Ashram secretly hated each other. It made me think, if they were already gossiping this much after just a week, how long before they turned on me, too? A quick stop to the beach turned into hours of talking, complaining, and laughing at our terrible situation. Suddenly, I had found someone who made all the negativity of the Ashram disappear. My roommate decided she would send an official complaint and would be gone from the Ashram at the end of the week. I admired her for doing it; I didn’t have the guts. Although the next few days continued to be negative at the Ashram, I spent every bit of spare time out in Fremantle or at the beach with my roommate. I’m forever thankful to have had her friendship; It’s one of the beauties of travel, meeting and becoming good friends with the most unexpected of people, she’s about 25 years older than me!
My roommate moved out, and by the end of the week, I was alone again. I hoped her speaking up might change things, but it felt even worse without her. I spent every day searching for a new workaway position, and finally found one. I was to leave the next day. It was a hard decision to make, having to give up on something I had been looking forward to for so long. But part of travelling is accepting that things don’t always work out as expected. I said my goodbyes to a few of the people I had connected with. It was bittersweet. I was sad to be going, but even during my goodbyes, I was reminded why I was leaving; Most people tried to squeeze the last bit of gossip out of me. “Is it because of them?”, “I bet they did something.” “Do you not like them?”. I kept my mouth shut and silently left the place that called itself an Ashram. Oh, I forgot to mention, it didn’t even have a Guru!
Being “rescued”
Part 3 of my Australian adventure began, and boy, I was not ready for it. Excited to see my new home, the lovely lady who rescued me from the Ashram. She had heard stories of the Ashram before, so she picked me up from the bus stop and took me to her farm in Mardella. As soon as she said, “This is it,” my heart stopped. What had I signed myself up for? I found out then and there that she was a hoarder. She told me she was aware of it and struggling, so out of respect, I won’t go into detail. I was just shocked, it was not what I was expecting, as she did not speak about it until after I arrived. I spent my days gardening and helping with the kids and animals. The mum gave me free yoga classes, and I went on a couple of adventurous hikes with the family. Serpentine National Park was small, but beautiful and quiet, a nice escape from the chaos of the house. Despite everything, the parents were very kind people with hearts in the right place. After about a week, I decided it was time to move on again. I booked a bus to a town 9 hours North, with no real plan.
Happiness at Last
After a 5 am start, and 11 hours of travelling on the train and bus, I arrived in Kalbarri, and boy was I happy to be there. It was gorgeous. A cute little town, right on the water, with beautiful sand dunes on the other side. When I arrived at my hostel, I was even happier; It was a one-minute walk from the beach, had a pool, and I had my room all to myself with an ensuite! Literally a backpacker's dream. On my first day there, I went on my first adventure, and quickly learnt the hard way that hiking in the middle of the day was a terrible idea (I got heatstroke). I spent the next 6 weeks working every evening in a little restaurant and spending my days sleeping in, relaxing at the beach, and exploring the beautiful surroundings. For the most part, I was the only girl at the hostel. At the beginning, this was fun; it meant I had my own space, could do what I liked, and got lots of free food from the boys ;)
Unfortunately, this feeling only lasted so long until I started to feel lonely and crave some female energy. Every time a girl came to the hostel, I was so excited, and I would become friends with them straight away; however, most only stayed for a night or two. Still, I am lucky that I got to share their company for a while and share some memories together. One of my highlights was, of course, visiting Kalbarri National Park. The beauty of this place was unreal. The colors, red, orange, and dull green, with sparkling deep blue water in the valleys. I felt the hot wind across my face while I stood high above rolling canyons. And slowly heard the sound fade and the stillness arise as I descended into one of the canyons. It was moments like this that reminded me why I was in a tiny town, so far from home.
In my final days, more people started arriving at the hostel. It was actually kind of nice having new people around to do things with, but at the same time, it was a little overwhelming. I’d gotten used to the small group at the hostel that had become my little family, and the thought of a whole bunch of strangers joining me was a bit scary. Still, I’m really glad I pushed myself out of my comfort zone, because my last few days ended up being some of my favorites, and the newcomers were the people I got along with the most during my trip. It’s a shame they didn’t arrive earlier. We laughed a lot, had spontaneous little adventures, and just enjoyed each other's company. Of course, I can’t forget to mention the terrible flies. I’m not even exaggerating—they would crawl into your ears, try to drink from your lips, and swarm you like you were some kind of dead animal. It was like living in a cloud of buzzing misery, but it is now something I can laugh at.
Until Next Time
Eventually, it was time to move on. I caught the 9-hour bus back to Perth and checked back into the same hostel I’d stayed at before. It was bittersweet. I was ready to move on as I was getting bored and lonely, but I wasn’t prepared for how hard it would be to say goodbye to people I had just met. Back in the hostel in Perth, I was in a new room, but weirdly enough, the girl I had shared a room with during my first stay was also in my new room; it felt like a full-circle moment. I took a day trip to Rottnest Island, did a bit of exploring in the absolutely terrible weather, which thankfully cleared up later, and treated myself to a nice solo dinner to wrap it all up. When I got home, I collapsed into bed and slept for about 12 hours straight, then woke up and got straight into unpacking… and repacking for my next adventure in Europe!!!
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