Dispatch from Broome: Market Truths from the Edge of the Continent

Following our Uluru leg, next stop—Broome. There's something about standing at the edge of Australia, where red earth meets turquoise sea, that clears the mental fog. For me, Broome isn't just a place, it was a pause. A moment. And like all moments of clarity, it starts making connections for you.

While I was there, I learned about the pearl divers—men who descended into depths few of us can fathom, chasing beauty and treasure hidden in darkness. But the risk wasn't on the way down. It was on the way back up. Ascend too fast, and your body betrays you. A fatal reminder that shortcuts don’t just fail—they kill.

Markets are the same. The crash is quick. The fall feels instant. But the recovery? That’s one hand after another. A slow, deliberate ascent. There’s no hack, no workaround. Try to rush it, and you blow up. Respect the slow ascent of markets—respect the process or face the consequences.

Then there's the sunset—we watched them every afternoon. Nothing comes close to watching the sunset in WA—it’s spiritual. But it struck me, at the same moment I was watching the sun disappear below the horizon, somewhere else it was rising. Perfectly timed. Perfectly balanced. Just like markets. Every winner has a loser. Every interest rate cut lifts one side while weighing down another. It’s not good or bad. It just is.

The stars here are something else. Far from the noise, the pollution, the distractions. They remind you what’s really out there—what’s always been out there—but you just couldn’t see it. That’s the market too. Strip away the headlines, the noise, the algorithmic shouting, and you start to see the true patterns. The elegance. The scale. The wonder. Behind all the noise and cloud, there is a perfect universe—maybe not the perfect market, but gee whiz, it's pretty damn close.

Next—80 Mile Beach. In the middle of nowhere. The whitest sand and bluest water. And then there was the hotel, in the middle of nowhere. Fully booked, for weeks. You think it should be $150 a night. It’s $340. I was annoyed. But you know what? What I think doesn't matter. The market price is the price. You can scream, wish, argue, it doesn’t change a thing. If you need the room, you pay the rate. Price is what it is, not what you think it should be. That’s how markets work. Especially when you need them most. It doesn't care for your DCF, your uber-smart spreadsheets, or whatever your valuation model is. It marches to its own beat, not yours.

And we finally end up in Exmouth. Swimming with whale sharks took it all to another level. Beneath the surface lies an entirely different world—complex, vibrant, deeply interconnected. When I made it onto dry land, and on the way to the hotel, I realised just how little I really know. Financial markets are no different. You think you're across everything until you dive deeper and discover ecosystems, strategies, instruments, entire domains you never knew existed. And like the whale shark gliding silently beside you, the biggest things often make the least noise.

Western Australia taught me this: the natural world and financial markets aren’t that different. Both reward patience, humility, and observation. Both punish ego and shortcuts. And both, when respected, reveal a quiet kind of magic.

Here are a few snaps I took during our trip. If anyone is heading up and over to Uluru, Broome, Coral Bay, or Exmouth, hit me up—I'd be more than happy to share some tips. Enjoy!

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