Port Hedland

If you find yourself wandering the wild edges of Western Australia's Burrup Peninsula, prepare to enter a sprawling, sun-baked gallery that's been gleefully spray-painted by nature and history alike-minus the spray cans, thankfully. Here, over a million petroglyphs carved by industrious Aboriginal artists as far back as 40,000 years ago sprawl across rust-red boulders, making the Sistine Chapel look like a freshman art project. Go early-preferably at dawn, when the rising sun lights up the ancient carvings like mythic graffiti and before the midday heat melts your enthusiasm (and possibly your sunscreen). Planning ahead is wise (though not months-this isn't Machu Picchu), and budget-friendly travelers will relish that the greatest open-air art museum on Earth charges precisely zero dollars for entry. Bring plenty of water, sturdy shoes, and a hat capable of shading your awestruck expression. Sure, Burrup Peninsula may sit slightly off Australia's beaten tourist path, but how often do you get to casually stroll past prehistoric masterpieces older than Stonehenge, depicting kangaroos, extinct species, and mysterious cosmic symbols? Trust me-you want this anecdote urgently, if only to triumphantly drop into conversation at your next dinner party that you've touched rocks older than civilization itself and lived to smugly sip Chardonnay afterward.

Stepping barefoot onto Shell Beach in Pretty Pool feels a bit like infiltrating a crunchy, mildly masochistic spa treatment devised by Mother Nature herself-a whole shoreline arrogantly rejecting sand for billions of tiny shell fragments. Historically speaking, this peculiar stretch is Mother Earth's whimsical recycling project: generations of mollusks graciously donating their former homes to craft a beach more shell-laden and less forgiving than your average stretch of sand. Visit early in the morning, when rising sunlight casts a pearly glow across the beach (and before the summer heat turns it into an impromptu skillet for your feet). Bring sturdy sandals, sunscreen, and a camera-ideally one that can capture your grimace as you test out shell-walking bravado. Plan at least a week ahead if you're traveling from afar, and budget enough cash for fuel and snacks; the beach itself doesn't charge admittance, perhaps understanding you'll already be paying with mild discomfort. Sure, strolling on endless acres of shells may seem slightly masochistic, but how often can you casually drop "shell-induced exfoliation" into dinner conversation?

Karijini National Park isn't so much visited as willingly plunged into-a place where you half expect Jurassics or hobbits around the corner, rather than backpack-toting Aussies. Tucked away in the iron-rich Pilbara region, Karijini is a rugged, rust-red maze of deep-cut gorges, emerald rock pools, and tumbling waterfalls carved by a casually violent few billion years of geological mood swings. You'll want to start your adventure early in the morning; sunrise here makes everything look like you've accidentally stumbled into an HD documentary narrated by David Attenborough. Planning at least two or three months ahead isn't just advisable-it's your best chance of snagging accommodations that don't mimic Bear Grylls' sleeping arrangements. Pack sturdy shoes, a swimsuit, and a quality headlamp-in Karijini, what starts as an easy stroll can quickly turn into a tight squeeze down slippery canyon walls. Entrance fees are a modest AUD $15 per car, but budget at least $100-$150 per day if you're camping and fueling your slightly questionable outback cooking attempts. And sure, half the reason to brave the isolated grandeur of Karijini National Park is to brag about your battle scars from Weano Gorge, or how Hancock Gorge's "Spider Walk" nearly claimed your dignity-but you'll leave with memories as deep and indelible as the ancient passages themselves.