Gabi Steindl

Surf Camping in the Wild West

Off-grid for months. No towns, no shops—just wind, waves, and wilderness. Every year, pro kitesurfer Gabi Steindl and her husband vanish into Western Australia’s wild northwest, where the desert meets the sea. Out there, they find something deeper than adventure— freedom in its rawest form.

Suddenly, a humpback whale appeared beside me, as if out of nowhere. The Indian Ocean danced wildly with its movements. My heart pounded, a flash of anxiety—then it melted into a grin as wide as the horizon. “Woooooooooooooooow, this can’t be real!” I thought. I steered my kite closer, soaking it in. It was better than any documentary—Mother Earth had gifted me a live, once-in-a-lifetime encounter at the UNESCO-listed Ningaloo Reef. When the 15-meter, 30-ton mammal surfaced again, its massive eye met mine. For a second, I thought I was dreaming.

INTO THE WILD

Western Australia is one of the oldest landmasses on Earth, and its 2.5 million square kilometres hold some of the most remote coastline in the world. “Remote” takes on new meaning here, indicating hundreds of kilometres from fuel, food, or phone signal. But that’s what makes this wild, wave-lashed coast so special. It demands respect—and gives you magic in return.

My husband Corey and I chase that magic every year. When the storms hit down south, where we live, we load up and head into the desert. Corey’s a big-wave windsurfer, I’m a pro kitesurfer. We spend months off-grid, camping where the desert meets the sea. No town for 200 km. No shops, electricity or phone coverage. Just us, the wind, and everything we need to survive.

It takes us almost two weeks to prepare for the annual migration into the outback. Every bit of space gets filled. Between our two Land Cruisers, trailer, and boat, we carry 200 litres of water, 150 litres of fuel, 4 solar panels, multiple batteries, 2 Dometic fridge/freezers, BBQ, tables, chairs, firewood, tents, sunshade, lots of tools, food and of course all our toys: surfboards, kites, windsurf rigs, SUPs, fishing gear. With nearly 20 boards split between the roofs of our cars and trailer, we’re often mistaken for a surf school. But it’s just us—two wave junkies heading north.

RUGGED FREEDOM OFF-GRID

We set up, what we call, the “Bush Taj Mahal”, our base camp that has a pantry, dining area, the chill out zone at the fireplace, a board stable, BBQ area, bedroom, a shed (the trailer) and more. Our inflatable tent, the Dometic Santorini FTK 4x8, is our ‘house’ for months. Most people think we’re mad for tenting this long, but the connection to nature is much deeper than in a caravan sleeping off the ground and boxed in by walls. We also bring the smaller Santorini FTK 2x4 for day missions—a place to rest and out of the harsh sun. I love those solo kite sessions at secret spots, with the entire coast to myself.

The drive north takes days. Long, red-dirt roads stretch to the horizon. That moment when we cross the 26th parallel south is always a favourite—it’s the line that marks the true beginning of the wild northwest. From there, the land changes: jagged gorges, ancient riverbeds, red cliffs dropping into turquoise water. It feels like another planet.

The Ningaloo Reef begins just north of Carnarvon and runs 260 km to the Muiron Islands. It’s one of the world’s most biodiverse marine ecosystems, home to over 500 fish species and 220 types of coral. Whale sharks up to 16 metres drift along the reef, drawn in by coral spawning. From July to October, some 40,000 humpbacks pass by on their migration. We often spot them while we’re out kiting, fishing or surfing—sometimes just a few metres away.

For the Aboriginal people, this place—Nyinggulu—has been sacred for tens of thousands of years. The word means “deep water.” That meaning hits you when you’re out here: you feel the depth of everything.

WHERE NATURE RULES

Although we know this coastline like the back of our hands—and it’s become our “home” away from home every winter—every trip still feels like an adventure. There are no guarantees. Just you and the elements. Some nights, the stars blaze so brightly it’s hard to sleep. Other times, sandstorms tear through camp, testing every peg and part. When the wind blows in from the desert, millions of flies arrive—you eat with a net over your face. The heat can be brutal. Then a downpour turns the whole place into red mud in minutes. And always, there’s of course also a lot of wildlife: snakes, spiders, sharks. But that’s all part of it.

Out here, the rewards are just as intense. The thrill of an empty wave. The freedom of waking up with nothing but ocean and sky. A fire at night, our “bush TV,” while the sea breathes metres away.

About once a month, we do a supply run. There are several farms in the northwest where we can buy directly. Over the years, we’ve learned what lasts: green tomatoes ripen slowly, green bananas too. We buy 10 kg boxes of each. Add some onions and olives—boom, salad. We’re pescatarians, and Corey’s a legendary fisherman. I’ve gotten decent, too—15 years of marriage will do that. When there’s no wind or swell, we head out in our 4.2 tinny. Sometimes we’re out for 8 hours. We usually come back with a good catch—Red Emperor, Pink Snapper, Spanish mackerel… The Red Emperor is the crown jewel. We eat every part—fillets for the freezer, the massive head slow-baked on the fire. The eyes, tongue, and lips? Delicacies.

Corey and I truly live for these months. Hundreds of kilometres from the nearest anything—and yet we live so well. Our Dometic setup makes it possible—two Dometic fridge/freezer units, solar panels, and a bank of lithium batteries. We can store food for weeks. Cold beers after a big session. Fish vacuum-sealed and in the freezer minutes after filleting. Fresh fruit and veggies tucked away just right. Without that system, we’d be heading home in a week.

Out here, there’s no Plan B. If your fridge dies, your food’s gone. If your power system fails, you’re done. But that’s the beauty of it—everything’s real. There’s no faking it in the outback.

It’s the kind of setup you only get right by living it. Trip after trip, testing what lasts and what doesn’t. We’ve seen searing heat, dust storms, and weeks without a cloud. And through it all, Dometic’s gear has held strong. This isn’t survival—it’s thriving, in the middle of nowhere.

This stripped-back life brings us closer to what matters: the wild. Each other. The wind. The sea. And those moments—on the water, under the stars, with everything you need and nothing you don’t—they’re worth it every time.