A huge thanks to my wife — Jasper’s amazing mum — who doesn’t love camping, sand, dust, or sleeping in a swag... but still supports this whole wild idea.

For keeping the show on the road, the budget from exploding, and reminding us that yes, we do need to eat vegetables sometimes.

She’s the quiet hero behind the scenes — helping us prep, plan, pack, and stay sane — and most importantly, she lets us go on these adventures with her blessing (and maybe a raised eyebrow or two).

Without her support, understanding, and patience, this trip would still be a daydream.

We’ll bring back the stories, the photos — and probably a lot of red dirt.

A heartfelt thank you to Andrew St Pierre White of 4xOverland for his outstanding storytelling and honest filmmaking. Your videos don’t just show the scenery—they make people feel the adventure, the solitude, and the purpose behind each journey.

Through your stories, you’ve helped so many of us (including a dad and his 9-year-old son) believe that exploration doesn’t need to be reserved for the big rigs or the heavily modified builds. It can start with what you have and where you are.

And above all, thank you for the one-on-one advice you gave us—it meant more than you know. 

A huge thank you to my mum, who first introduced me to the joy of camping. Back in the day, she’d pack up a tiny canvas tent, our essentials (and probably some non-essentials), and load them all into a classic Mini—yes, the old one, not the modern SUV-sized version.

To my friend Jouni, who didn’t just hike the Blue Mountains—he glided through them with a pack so light it may have broken the laws of physics.
You introduced me to ultralight hiking, where 7kg gets you through a long weekend, and every extra gram is treated with suspicion and disdain (and rightly so).

Thanks for showing me that smart packing beats brute strength—and for making “less is more” feel like an art form, not just a cliché. My spine, knees, and future self are all deeply grateful.

Every now and then you come across a resource so clear, so detailed, and so genuinely useful that it instantly becomes a favourite. For me, that’s Team Ghetto Racing’s 2019 Jimny (JB74W) technical pages.

It’s one of the best technical Jimny references I’ve found anywhere — and I’ve spent far too many late nights reading Jimny content. What makes it stand out is how every topic is broken down with real understanding. Not vague summaries, not copy-and-paste specs, but actual explanations. 

Whether it’s drivetrain quirks, electronics, torque specs, or clever engineering notes Suzuki never bothered to tell us, this site covers it all with clarity and depth.

And then there’s Richard, the author. Not only incredibly knowledgeable, but also one of the friendliest and most helpful people I’ve chatted with in the Jimny community. Ask him a question and you’ll get a thoughtful, detailed answer — no ego, no fluff.

So here’s my small thank you:

Thank you, Richard, for creating such an invaluable Jimny resource and for being so helpful to anyone trying to understand their little JB74 better.

If you haven’t checked out his site yet, go have a look. You’ll come away smarter and even more impressed with what the Jimny can do.

A big shoutout to my old friend Lars, back from our mountain biking days in the Netherlands. Together, we spent countless hours wrenching on ultra-lightweight competition bikes, shaving grams like our lives depended on it.

Those lessons—meticulous attention to detail, knowing when light is too light, and how to build gear that lasts—are still with me today. Whether it’s picking trailer parts or packing for the CSR, I hear your voice in my head: "That’s nice... but is it lighter?"

Thanks for the years of friendship, the bike rides, the shared obsession with efficiency, and the skills that carried over into an entirely different kind of adventure.

Massive thanks to my mate Paul, who unknowingly started this whole adventure by casually saying, “I’ve moved to a farm in Queensland—why don’t you come visit?”

What he didn’t realise was that this innocent invite would eventually snowball into a cross-country expedition, thousands of kilometres of red dirt, and us attempting the Canning Stock Route in a Jimny. You could say he lit the fuse with a dumbbell and walked away whistling.

These days, Paul’s busy lifting heavy things and flexing hard in his gym—so he’ll be pleased to know our Jimny flexes too… just with a bit more body roll and a lot more dust. Not quite the same, but we all have our talents.

Thanks, mate—for being a great friend, and for giving us the nudge (and excuse) we didn’t know we needed.

A big thanks to Nigel from Facebook for donating his original Jimny shocks to our Canning Stock Route project.

He’d just upgraded his suspension and figured his old ones might still have a second life — perfect spares for our trip.

That kind of generosity and community spirit is what makes the Jimny crowd so great. Every little bit helps when you’re prepping for a solo run like this — and knowing we’ve got backup shocks waiting in the box gives us one less thing to worry about out there.

Cheers, mate — much appreciated!

We also want to give a shout-out to Ronny Dahl—because few people can mix 4WD knowledge, practical advice, and a good laugh quite like he can.

His videos on camping with kids and basic gear setups were exactly what we needed when we were figuring out how to make these trips fun (and actually doable). No fluff, no overkill—just what works, why it matters, and how to get out there and enjoy it.

Ronny, your entertaining delivery and down-to-earth advice helped us feel prepared, capable, and excited to give this whole crazy adventure a crack.

Thanks mate!

We need to have a word with you, Harry.

While the rest of us are trying to boil water for instant noodles in gale-force winds, you’re out there slow-smoking brisket, baking damper in a camp oven, and whipping up something French-sounding with ingredients we can’t even pronounce—all in the middle of the outback.

We tune in to your videos hoping for inspiration…
Instead, we get hunger, jealousy, and the crushing realisation that our camp kitchen is basically a Jetboil and a titanium spork.

Seriously—how do you even fit all that gear in the car?
Your cooking setup has more drawers than our house.

But in all fairness: we love tagging along on your culinary outback adventures.
You make remote cooking look like a Michelin-starred experience, and even if we’re eating instant noodles (again), we’ll still be watching, drooling, and dreaming.