In which we fly into Perth (eventually) meet the Masters (and the Aravena-Romans) of Western Australia, stay in a horrid motel, take a long, hot trip up the Coral Coast to Karijini N.P. and back again, stay in a lovely hotel courtesy of Anne Masters (thank you
very much, Anne) and take a trip to Margaret River before leaving for Southern Australia.
Days 221 & 222 (flight to Perth plus Fremantle)
Looking back, I see our story to date has got as far as us getting back to Brisbane from our Whitsunday’s sailing trip and checking into our airport motel the night before our one and only flight, all the way from one side of this enormous country to the other. Not something either of us, but especially Juli, was looking forward to.
After a quick cuppa, we loaded up our hire car and drove the short distance to Brisbane Airport’s international terminal, where there’s a petrol station with surprisingly reasonable prices, and then, remembering to leave by the back of the petrol station, to the domestic terminal, where we returned the Barina.
Next, after forking out $4 for a luggage trolley – trolleys are free at the international terminal – we trundled our kit over to the Qantas check-in desks, or rather the bank of check-in machines that have replaced most of them. Now, as you know, we don’t fly much, so these faceless fiends rather phased us. I’m sure they’re a boon to the frequent flyer, but we’d rather deal with a human being. This seemed rather to surprise the chap who was standing near them to offer assistance to other inexperienced flyers, but, after some persuasion from Juli, he said we could use the traditional check-in desks if we really wanted to, which we did.
Once checked in – surprisingly, my bag had got a little lighter while Juli’s had gained some weight – we went through security and had a bite of breakfast while we waited for our flight to be called. Well, not actually called anymore – that’s something else that’s been replaced by machines – but displayed, of course.
Before very long, it was time for Juli to take her sedatives and time for us to cut along to the gate, soon after which we were boarding our one and only flight: a nice, safe, Qantas 767. Shortly after 11.00 am, we were in the air and heading for Perth on our one and only flight. (Did I mention this was our one and only flight?)
Everything was going well – smooth take-off, no steep banking or unexpected noises – and Juli was just settling into her seat when, about an hour into the flight, we heard: ”Ladies and gentlemen, this is your Captain speaking. I’m sorry to have to report that, due to a technical problem, this flight is going to have to divert to Sydney,” etc., etc.. Seems there was a problem with the plane’s air-conditioning system which manifested itself as an unbearably loud noise in another part of the cabin. We couldn’t hear it, but apparently, so one of the flight attendants informed us, they were handing out noise cancelling headphones there, and the captain had decided, after speaking with their engineers on the the ground, that he couldn’t subject his passengers to this for another four and a half hours. As I’m sure you can imagine, after steeling herself to get on an aeroplane at all, this was the last thing Juli wanted, but, of course, we had no choice but to sit tight, wait and go with it.
The Captain had said in his announcement that he was uncertain when we’d be able to continue our journey, as they seldom have quarter of a billion dollar planes sitting around doing nothing. However, as extreme good fortune would have it, there was another 767 waiting for us at gate two alongside our aircraft now parked by gate three at Sydney Airport. This meant that the transfer of our baggage, ourselves and our crew was as swift as it could possibly have been. The only downside to this speedy turn-around, however, was that in order to make the changeover as quick as possible, they took the decision not to transfer or take-on any meals or refreshments. This was okay by me – I’d had my meal and Juli wasn’t eating – but I got the impression that some other of our fellow passengers had faired less well as the change of plan had interrupted the service of meals.
Anyway, to cut a long flight short, we did get to Perth, albeit a bumpy few hours later than scheduled. But before I move on, I want to pay tribute to one of the Qantas flight attendants. Her name is Sari and, when apprised of Juli’s general distress, though I think she had already spotted it and was keeping an eye on her, went out of her way to calm, reassure and comfort Juli and generally do all that she could to help make a difficult situation as bearable as possible. This included offering a tour of the safety features and equipment they have on board, and mentioning – they aren’t allowed to actually offer it anymore – the fact that they do carry oxygen for nervous passengers to breathe, something that Juli was very glad of on a previous flight, some years ago, between London and Paris. Nevertheless, and perhaps understandably since our one and only flight turned out to be our two and only, Juli says she is never getting on another plane so long as she lives, and, having sat with her through those flights, I believe her.
There to meet us at Perth was my cousin Naomi, who, poor soul, having got to the airport early even for our original scheduled arrival time, had had something of a wait. Fortunately – and this is where those arrivals and departures display screens work well – she’d seen there was a problem and used the time to visit her mother, my aunt Maria, who, you may remember, was in hospital following something of a health scare, but now doing much better, I’m happy to report.
Naomi took us and our luggage, which came off the conveyor quite quickly, to the motel we’d booked for ourselves in the city. Once there, we said goodbye for now, having made an arrangement to see her again for lunch at her home the next day.
Our motel, which shall remain nameless, was, it’s fair to say, pretty horrid. We both got the impressing that it was used as a halfway house for reformed drug users and/or recovering alcoholics and reeked of sweat or damp dog. We decided to go out for a walk, find where we were supposed to meet the tour group a little later in the week and to see something of the city. We also, on the motel receptionist’s recommendation, had dinner at a Thai restaurant, which cheered us up a bit.
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| The Bell Tower, Perth |
***
The next day, after a surprisingly good night’s sleep, I left Juli sleeping off the trauma of the day before and went out in search of breakfast goods to bring back to our room and, after preparing, serving and eating them, left Juli again to get the laundry done. This accomplished, I repacked for our forthcoming trip up north then sat with Juli in front of the TV until it was time to wait out front for Naomi to collect us. However, as we were putting on our shoes, there was a knock at the door, which turned out to be Naomi come a little sooner than we had anticipated.
On the way to her home in Fremantle, Naomi drove us through some of Perth’s western suburbs and pointed out the University where her husband Max worked, the junior school associated with the high school where she worked and the hospital where my late Uncle Peter (my father’s brother) worked. Fremantle is an important city (and port) in its own right, but it’s quite close to Perth, which has expanded much in recent years, so you’d be excused if you mistook the former for a suburb of the latter.
At Max and Naomi’s home, we were taken directly into their delightful courtyard garden and introduced to Max’s mother, who, you may remember, now lives with Max and Naomi since her worsening health made it difficult to continue living independently. Max is from Chile and his mother speaks no more English than we speak Spanish (i.e. very little) so conversation was limited, but we got by with smiles and gestures, just as we have all along this trip.
Naomi prepared a lovely lunch, which we ate in the garden under a beautiful old tree – the name of which now escapes me – that provides some very welcome shade in the summer, but drops its leaves in the autumn – they have four seasons in Fremantle, being a bit further south – to allow light through during their winter months.
After lunch, Max drove us for coffee at a cafe on the coast with splendid views out over the Indian Ocean. Sitting there, it occurred to me that I can now say that I’ve seen the Atlantic, Pacific and Indian oceans from both sides, though not if you subdivide the Atlantic and Pacific into north and south. Even after our cruise home, that will have to wait for future trips to, say, Japan and Argentina, and as for the Arctic Ocean... Ah well: one day.
After coffee, Max was keen to get back to his mother, whom he doesn’t usually leave on her own for long, so after dropping him off at home, Naomi drove us on to the Hospital where my Aunt Maria was recovering from her health scare. We found her in excellent spirits having improved to the point where she had been told by her consultant that she could go home the next day. This was, of course, very good news and we had a lovely visit and chat with her – 90, by the way, though you wouldn’t credit it to look at her; more like 70, if you ask me – and told her all about our adventures to date and where we were going next.
The time passed quickly in Auntie’s company and we were surprised when her supper tray appeared, indicating that it was time for us to say goodbye, though we’d be seeing her again soon – hopefully in her own home – after our trip north. After our visit, Naomi very kindly drove us back to our motel in Perth, where we said goodbye for now to her too, followed by a disappointing microwave dinner and the posting of my previous blog entry over a very slow internet connection, for which we paid through the nose.
Days 223 to 232 (Perth to Karijini via the Coral Coast)
After a bit of breakfast, we waved a far from fond farewell to our flop house and lugged our luggage the short distance to Barrack Street Jetty (soon to be renamed Elizabeth Quay) and waited for our tour bus to arrive. There was some confusion amongst us and some other passengers who had arrived, where (and, indeed, when) this was supposed to be, but fortunately, there wasn’t that much traffic about at that hour, so the confusion was short lived when, not long after we arrived, a small half-truck, half-coach type vehicle pulled up a short distance down the street.
There to greet us (20 passengers in all: 6 British; 2 Dutch; 1 French, though living in England for the past 20 years; 1 German; 2 Swiss-German; 3 Taiwanese; 2 Japanese; 2 US citizens and 1 French-Canadian) was Paul, our Aussie guide. Paul was excellent and very good at informing (without overloading) by drip-feeding us nuggets of knowledge about what it was we were seeing out the windows as he drove us north out of the city. For example, he told us all about Grass Trees, which, within about two hours of leaving Perth, were practically the only things standing higher than the scrub all around us.
Grass Trees (or Yaras, also known as ‘Black Boys’) grow incredibly slowly: maybe 5mm per year. The base of their grass-like leaves are edible and taste a little bit like celery,apparently. The whole leaf can be boiled to produce a natural cure for diarrhoea. The single, long, dark, poker-like flowers that grow out of the top of Grass Trees taste sweet like honey. And, finally, the heart of the trunk is also edible, but rarely eaten as that would obviously necessitate killing this very useful tree.
First stop was Nambung National Park, noted for it’s desert-like landscape, punctuated by slender limestone columns known as The Pinnacles, which vary in size from a few inches to perhaps eight feet in height. These hollow structures were formed round trees about half a million years ago. The trees, of course, are now long gone.
After lunch at Jurien Bay, we stopped for a quick go at sand-boarding on the dunes at Sandy Cove, before a long drive through Western Australia’s wheat belt, though all we saw was 1000’s of acres of bone dry stubble, since the wheat has long since been harvested at this time of year. Our journey’s end this day was Horrocks, a small town just north of Geraldton, WAs largest town outside of Perth, though known locally as ‘Gero’, because, as we saw with Rockhampton (‘Rocky’) three syllable names seem to be too much for most Australians to handle.
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| Juli Sand-boarding |
***
Today was January 26th: Australia Day, the day most Australians get the day off work, go to the beach and/or have a barbeque (‘barbi’) and get drunk without, according to Paul, knowing why. It is, of course, the anniversary of the day the ‘first fleet’ landed at Sydney in 1788, following the ‘discovery’ of Australia by Cook in 1760.
[Actually, the first European to set foot on the continent was a Dutchman named Dirk Hartog who landed on the west coast (not far from our destination this day) the best part of a century and half earlier in 1616.]
After an early start – which meant that we got to see kangaroos, who generally only hop about at dawn and dusk – we continued up the coast, stopping off briefly at Kalbarri for bread. Kalbarri is famous for locally caught Rock Lobsters, which, we were told, have a particularly sweet flesh and sell in Asia for $100 a kilo.
Our first proper stop of the day was Kalbarri National Park, through which the mighty Murcheson river flows. Our particular interest was a section of the river known as Z bend gorge for the shape the river has carved through the rock here. Paul led us on a walk to and down into the gorge and back out again. Part way long our walk, those who wanted to could have a go at abseiling down a section of the gorge wall. The rest of us took the opportunity of seeking shade and having a bit of a rest from the baking heat, which had already reached 39°C by 11.00am.
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| Juli at the bottom of Z Bend Gorge |
While the rest of the group went for a second walk (to Nature’s Window) I stayed behind with Paul to help prepare lunch. It was getting way too hot for me to be out in the sun and Paul had found a shady spot to slice salad vegetables. Mind you the disadvantage was the number of flies buzzing round us while we worked. I was glad I bought a head net to go over my sun hat. Not the most stylish of adornment, but definitely the most practical at that moment.
After lunch, we carried on (via the Billabong Roadhouse for cold drinks and ice cream) to Hamelin Pool, home of the Stromatolites, the oldest living organisms on earth, which first appeared around 3.5 billion years ago. Slowly, over the next 2 billion years, they released enough oxygen to create an atmosphere capable of supporting air-breathing life forms. They were thought to be extinct until rediscovered here around the middle of the last century. They’re not much to look at, but without them, there’d probably be no us.
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| Stromatolites |
Moving on via Shell Beach, so named because it’s a beach covered not with sand but with shells (geddit? – I stayed on the bus) we finally arrived at Denham – Australia’s most western town – at about 6.00pm. This evening, it was our turn to help Paul prepare the evening meal: steak, mash and coleslaw. Not an arduous task, and certainly easier than any of our cook group duties on the London to Singapore leg.
***
From Denham it’s a short drive to Monkey Mia, probably named after a ship that was for a long time moored off the coast hereabouts, not the animal. Here there is a beach where Dolphins come close to the edge of the water and ‘interact’ with human visitors. You used to be able to paddle and even swim with them, but the eco fascists, sorry, rangers there don’t allow that any more. Instead, you have to stay behind a line and one or two lucky tourists are allowed into the water up to about mid-calf depth to hand over a dead fish under close supervision. Juli was, however, one of the lucky ones. She also saw a pelican and a highly venomous sea snake, but didn’t manage to attract the attention of and alert the ranger around who’s legs the snake was swimming. If I’d seen it, I would have stayed quiet deliberately. Fascists.
Just outside Monkey Mia is Eagle Bluff Lookout which gives the visitor an excellent view out over Shark Bay, so named because the first white men to survey the bay saw a lot of sharks. (Are you seeing the pattern yet?) We saw some too; the small black shapes in the middle of the following photograph are probably Reef Sharks.
After a long drive via the Overlander Roadhouse and the town of Carnarvon, we crossed back into the tropic of Capricorn and travelled on to Coral Bay where our overnight accommodation was a couple of 10 bed dorms in a backpackers hostel with a large bar area and a swimming pool.
***
The big draw up here is the Ningaloo Reef and most of the group went off on various boat trips to see bits of it, either diving, snorkelling or, as Juli did, in a glass-bottomed boat. Having already snorkelled on reefs around the Whitsundays, I decided to avoid the searing sun and save the $160 to do it again here, so remained at the hostel to do a bit of laundry. Not very exciting, I know, but it needed doing and, to be frank, we didn’t need to spend any more money than necessary.
Juli had a bit of trouble finding a glass bottomed boat trip that was running that day. She was the only person booked on the one hour trip with the company Paul uses, which should have meant they would ‘upgrade’ her (free of charge) to the two hour trip, but they didn’t have the necessary bookings to run that trip either. After a bit of waiting, they eventually suggested she try a different company along the way a bit. When she got to their booking office, they offered her a place on their one o’clock boat, which wasn’t due out for over three hours. She told them she wasn’t keen to hang around, so they called the boat for her and discovered there was space on the 10 o’clock boat, which was just about to sail. She had a bit of a rush (in the heat, remember) to get along to it in time, but her perseverance (and perspiration) was rewarded by the sight of a great many colourful fish and some fabulous coral.
When she got back (with her photos) we had some lunch with the others before they went off for their diving and snorkelling. While we waited for them to return, we amused ourselves by playing table tennis and Juli had a swim to keep cool. The flies were again being a bit of a pain and I sat feeling a bit silly in my head net. Mind you, I can’t have looked too silly, as I was asked by another resident where she could get one, and she was French. (Tres chic, nes pas? Non!) In the end, Juli went to the store down the road a bit and bought two more head nets: one for the French girl and one for herself.
Later, a group of the others came back having seen loads of exotic fish including Manta Rays and a Whale Shark out of season, for which they were charged an extra $80. At four o’clock, once everyone had returned, we all got back on the bus and took the short drive along the coast to a caravan, camping and motorhome park in Exmouth for two nights.
One of the motorhomes there, an enormous vehicle the size of a 40 seater coach with a 20 foot trailer that held a Land Cruiser and two Triumph motorcycles, was owned by a gold prospector, who was only too happy to show us around inside. The whole vehicle was kitted out for no more than two people, although we only saw evidence of one occupant. He told us that the thing was worth about $200K and included a safe, in which he stored the gold he found until he needed to sell it. He later came over with a huge and heavy lump of the stuff, which he allowed us to hold. He told us it was worth around $40K. He also told us that he keeps a gun on board, perhaps in case any of us got any ideas about holding on to it for too long.
***
Got a bit of a lie-in the next morning while Paul took the rest of the group off to Turquoise Beach, from where you can literally walk out to parts of the reef. This suited Juli perfectly as she was able to control how deep she went and how quickly. As it happened the were so many fish, she didn’t have to snorkel very far out from the shore to see a good show.
After lunch, Paul drove us into the centre of town for a bit of supermarket shopping, I helped Paul manoeuvre two huge trolley’s full to the brim with groceries for our three night stay at the campsite in Karijini National Park. Meanwhile, Juli was stocking up with a few extra supplies, including a small stash of ready mixed Gin and Tonics.
***
Another early start for another long drive day. The distances between places in Western Australia are staggering, matched only by the emptiness between them. Our journey today took us along the Great North West Coastal Road to the Nanutarra Roadhouse, then along the Nanutarra-Munjina Road towards an iron ore mining town called Tom Price. From there we took a side trip down a dirt road to Hamersley Gorge, which has been carved by millennia of water erosion through wonderfully folded strata of pink or purple Shale and grey or pale brown Dolomite rock. The result is a stunning landscape and some beautiful swimming holes, which the group seemed to enjoy very much.
From there, after a bit of back-tracking, we continued to our most northerly destination and home for the next three nights: an eco-resort in the Karijini National Park. The campsite really is in the middle of nowhere, well away from any source of light pollution, and we were treated that night, thanks to a cloudless sky, to an excellent show of stars.
***
Exhausted by the long drive the previous day, and without the benefit of the lie-in I enjoyed the day before that, it was Juli’s turn to stay in bed this morning. Not even the smell of bacon and eggs cooking could persuade her to rise with the rest of us.
This morning’s nugget mined from Paul’s rich vein of knowledge was all about termites, or white ants as they are sometimes called. All around us in the park were termite hills, most of which were about a metre and half tall or less. However, according to Paul, in Kakadu National Park in the Northern Territory, they can reach 10 or 11 metres high and are known as Cathedral mounds. Worker (blind and sexless) and Soldier (sighted and male) termites are about 10mm long. However, Queen termites, who live in the centre of a hill and whose job it is to eat and lay eggs (thousands of them) can grow up to 200mm long. Termite hills are made, putting it crudely, of spit and shit. However, this simple recipe produces a substance so hard that, when ground up and mixed with water, becomes as hard as concrete and is used to surface roads.
After breakfast, the others went off on a couple more gorge walks. I didn’t fancy that in the heat, now well into the 40s, so stayed behind with Juli and dozed or read Juli’s Kindle for the rest of the morning. When it got to about one in the afternoon, since the other weren’t due back ‘til teatime, Juli and I walked to the camp’s air-conditioned reception/shop/cafe/bar area and had some lunch. It was so pleasant there that we sat reading for the rest of the afternoon, until the others returned, completely exhausted, from what had been by all accounts quite a hard walk.
***
The next morning, the forecasted high was just as hot and the programme just as strenuous, so while Juli did go with the group, I decided to stay behind and had another peaceful day on my own, pretty much following exactly the same pattern as the previous day. One variation worth noting was being called over by the receptionist to see Frederick the resident Sand Monitor Lizard, who had come out from his usual spot under the decking around the building for a bit of a warm up. He was a big chap, about a metre and a half in length, with stripes in various earthy colours. Apparently he’s quite territorial and keeps all other lizards and snakes away. The receptionist told me that they do have have a few snakes about the place but mostly they’re as keen to get away from you as you are from them. She also told me that, when she and her partner started working at the resort, they went on a course to learn how to deal with snakes, partly to get rid of her fear of them.
When Juli came back (smiling – she’d had fun swimming out to waterfalls and whatnot – but just as exhausted, it seemed to me, as the day before) she confirmed my suspicion that I would not have enjoyed the trip had I joined in. Far too hot, was the verdict.
She stayed with me in the reception/shop/cafe/bar area and got talking to the receptionist, who showed her the Monitor Lizard, now busily digging for ground nesting bird’s eggs. She also told Juli about the snake handling course she and her partner went on. Apparently they had to handle a wild (i.e. not one used to being handled) Brown Snake (highly venomous) in order to pass the course. It brought back the wise words of the ranger at Kurumbin over on the Gold Coast: “Leave it alone!”
That evening, the group came together for a last supper, for which most people got dressed up a bit. This was the last evening we’d all be together before the group split into those continuing north to Broome and those, like us, hitching a ride back to Perth with the remains (just two plus their guide) of another group on a different bus, which pulled up, with perfect timing, just as we were preparing to eat.
***
Just time for a quick group photo (and even some tears, after only a week – you Humans are curious) before the two buses went their separate ways: 11 north to Broome and the rest, including us – curiously also 11 (9+2) – with our new guide, Storm (he swears that’s his real name) south on the Great Northern Highway.
On the way we saw a Wedge-tail Eagle (mighty bird with a wingspan up to three metres) carrying a dead snake in it’s claws. I wondered what the ancients would have made of such an omen and what it might portend.
First stop was an iron ore mine just outside the town of Newman, although, in terms of relative size, it’s probably more appropriate to say that the town of Newman is just outside the iron ore mine, for the mine is vast and dwarfs the town. It is, in fact, the world’s largest single-pit, open-cut mine, being nearly one and a half kilometres wide and more than five kilometres long.
It produces mind boggling quantities of the stuff: currently over 150 million tonnes a year (Mtpa) with plans in development to increase that to a production and shipping capacity of well over 200Mtpa. Every day of the year 12 trains, each around 3.5Km long, take ore on an 8 hour journey along a 426Km railway (Australia’s longest private railway) to their shipping facility at Nelson Point near Port Headland. In 2001, the company, BHP Biliton Iron Ore, set a new world railing record for having the longest (7.353 kilometres) and heaviest (99,732.1 tonnes) train hauling over a distance of 275 kilometres.
The mine is called Mt Whaleback because, when discovered, the mountain they’ve been excavating since 1968 – which turned out to be a very large deposit of high grade (up to 68% pure) iron ore – resembled a Whale’s back. Well, not anymore. Now it looks more like a whale’s grave.
Lunch was on the side of the road in very little shade, with a stop down the road at the Kumarina Roadhouse for cold pop, and a wee stop a bit further on at Meeekatharra. Our final overnight accommodation of the trip was at Nallan Station. (Nothing to do with trains, a station is what they call these enormous sheep and cattle ranches they have in the outback.) The place was deserted and looked like an open air heritage museum after closing time, or the set of a film based on a John Steinbeck novel. Juli and I were given the only double bed in a sheep shearers bunkhouse. (The only double bed of the trip, in fact.) Why a shearers bunk house would have a double bed, I don’t know. Perhaps the American Army policy of ‘Don’t ask; don’t tell’ now extends to Australian outback sheep shearers. Well, I expect it gets pretty lonely out there.
***
The last day of our trip saw us continuing on down the Great Northern Highway, bound for Perth via New Norcia. On the way we had to pull off the road completely a couple of times to make way for a number of ridiculously oversized loads, three times the width of the trucks that were carrying them. They were new Haul Trucks (we might call them dump or tipper trucks) bound for the mine at Newman. Each one capable of carrying 240 tones of iron ore.
We passed through Cue, which also looks like an open air heritage museum or a second set from the same movie in which last night’s sheep station featured, and an old gold mine called Paynes Find (now producing iron ore) which could have been a third.
After lunch in Wubin, we pulled off the highway and into New Norcia, which was established in the 1850s by Spanish Catholic monks and comprises a monastery, two schools, a seminary and quite a modern style church. The buildings are mostly brick and stone and look like nothing else we have seen in Australia.
We drove into Perth around around 5.00pm and Storm started to drop off his passengers at their various hostels and hotels. Ours had been arranged by my cousin Anne as the solution to the problem of what to do with us, because, you may remember, of my cousins either having no room or other long term guests to look after. Well, I’d have to say, once we found it – my fault: I forgot to make a note of the name of the place – I doubt she could have found nicer accommodation nor a more perfect location, and we will be forever in her debt.
Dinner was Sunday roast at an Irish pub washed down with a pint of Guinness. Cheers!
Days 233 to 238 (Perth, Fremantle and Margaret River)
As has become customary after a busy section of our trip, I spent practically the whole day in our hotel room writing about what we’ve just been doing, while Juli attended to our laundry and did a bit of grocery shopping.
At about lunchtime, we got a call from the front desk to say that we had a visitor waiting in reception, who turned out to be my Cousin Max and Naomi’s son, Max Jnr. keen to make contact with us. Apparently he’d tried calling our UK mobile number but couldn’t get through. (In fact the messages did come through, but not until much later in the day.) He wanted to make a date to take us out and show us round his city. We chatted for a bit and arranged to meet up the following lunchtime, his boss permitting.
***
The next morning, I spent a couple of hours finishing of my post while Juli went out to take photos. When it was nearly noon, we went downstairs to reception to wait for Max. Shortly thereafter, he arrived directly from his office and drove us to his and his wife, Claire’s home in a northern suburb of the city. Once we’d chatted for a bit, looked at their wedding photos and he’d changed out his work clothes, he drove us to a place on the coast called Scarborough Beach, where we had a lovely seafood lunch. From there, we drove to another coastal location called Hillarys Boat Harbour, where we enjoyed a walk-around and an ice cream. (Well, Max and I enjoyed ice creams, Juli had a coffee.)
After that he took us south a bit to where my Aunt Maria (his grandmother) lives in another northern suburb of Perth. Auntie has a lovely home, full of books with pictures and photos of her large family everywhere. She gave us tea and delicious home made fruit cake followed by a tour of her house and garden, which is full of pots containing all sorts of exotic plants.
We passed a lovely couple of hours looking at old photos of my parents, siblings and cousins and were given copies of a few we’d not seen before, including one of my mother and her in their uniforms, taken when they were nurses together during the second world war.
While Juli and I were doing that, Max went and collected Claire, then the four of us (Max, Claire, Juli and I) said goodbye for now to auntie and went off to dinner together at a Chinese restaurant in Northbridge. After a delicious meal and lots more chat, Max drove us to Kings Park from where we had some great views out over the city by night before dropping us back at our hotel at the end of what was a great day out.
***
Today was all about Fremantle and started with a walk to Barrack Street Jetty to catch the 9.45am ferry – the MV James Cook – down the Swan River to there from Perth. The Ferry passed several points of interest, including Kings Park, which we had been taken to by Max Jnr and his wife, Claire the night before.
Another such was a dozen or more sailing clubs – Perth has the highest per capita boat ownership in Australia – including one with just two members. Apparently, two brothers built a boathouse under their multi-million dollar home without planning permission. When they were told to take it down, their lawyers found a legal loophole that allowed them to keep the boathouse if they registered it as a boat club.
We arrived in Fremantle with quarter of an hour or so to spare before the time we’d arranged to meet Naomi, who was to be our guide for the day, so we explored the waterfront a bit before walking to the rendezvous outside the Post Office. Naomi took us on a short walk through the city, passed many of the fine heritage buildings still in use in Fremantle, which sit very well alongside newer constructions. This is particularly apparent at the Notre Dame Catholic University, which has college facilities in several central buildings both old and new.
Our walking tour terminated at the old maritime museum now a museum of shipwrecks that includes relics from and the remains of The Batavia, a ship of the Dutch East India Company, which sailed from the Netherlands bound for present day Indonesia carrying a precious cargo of silver bullion. The story of the ship, which foundered on a coral reef off Australia’s west coast and involves mutiny, murder and barbaric, summary justice, is the subject of a number of dramas and documentaries, including one staring Vinnie Jones.
From the museum we moved on to the Round House, a former prison and site of Fremantle’s one o’clock gun and time ball. You may remember, we saw another of these important aids to timekeeping and navigation at the Sydney observatory, though we never saw that one falling, despite being there at one o’clock. This time we saw one lucky visitor, who was celebrating her 84th birthday that day, trigger the cannon and we saw the ball fall, albeit rather falteringly.
After lunch (at the Green Bean – recommended) we took the free Red Cat bus to the Freemantle arts centre, which is housed in an old lunatic asylum. There, we were puzzled by an exhibition entitled The Sport of Art, which seemed to comprise some Velcro covered balls and a large sheet of felt, a climbing wall and a punch bag in front of charcoal drawing of a gymnasium. Why is this art? Answer: because the artist says it is.
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| Juli interacting with the 'art' |
From there we took another bus back to Naomi and Max’s house for a cold drink before going out again in Naomi’s car for a drive along the river and a tour of some of the areas where ‘the other half live’ and a glimpse of their Multi-million dollar homes.
Back at Naomi’s we were treated to a delicious supper of Oysters (the first time I’ve had raw Oysters) various other shellfish and chicken breasts wrapped in prosciutto, all washed down with a delicious, un-oaked Chilean Chardonnay and a smooth as velvet Chilean Shiras – you may remember that Max Snr. is from Chile – before being driven back to our hotel by Naomi. Another great day.
***
Today – a very long day – we went although way south from Perth to Cape Leeuwin, Mainland Australia’s most south-westerly point, and back again. This was a one day excursion to replace the three day trip we’d booked originally that went to some of the same places plus a few more, but would have taken a bit more time over everything. This replacement trip was rather more rushed than the original trip would have been, but, unfortunately, that one was cancelled due to lack of bookings.
The meeting point was the same place as our trip up to Karijini, the Barrack Street Jetty, currently being re developed and shortly be renamed the Elizabeth Quay. Funny thing, this persistent connection with our queen: as head of sate, her face is on the money, which is a bit weird after all these months of seeing all sorts of other faces, and her name crops up here and there on public buildings or spaces, but I’d have to say that we didn’t find too many Australians who felt much affinity with the mother land.
The man driving and looking after us (and the dozen or so other passengers) was Keith, a very knowledgeable chap who gave us a running commentary on the things we passed on our long journey down to our first stop, Busselton. Unfortunately, I’d had a bit of a late night yesterday followed by an early-ish start, plus it was a warm day, and, so that we could hear him, Keith was being a bit careful with the air-conditioning. Consequently I can’t remember a thing about the names, dates and events he was giving us as we went along.
Busselton is a sea-side town with a very long pier, along which a small train runs. We weren’t given enough time to walk or even ride out to the end and back, but they have an observation tower you can climb at the land end from which we had time to take a few photos of the pier and the clear blue waters that surround it.
Our journey took us through Margaret river and the surrounding wine producing area for which it is famous, and our next stop was at one of over a hundred wineries in the region. Here we were treated to a tasting and given about half a dozen different wines to try while a member of staff talked to us about their products. I don’t know how the tour company choose which winery to visit – I’m sure you can supply your own theories – but, to be honest, nothing we sampled really stood out as something we wanted to part money for.
On leaving the winery, we headed for the Cape Leeuwin National Park. Apart from the magnificent Karra trees there, some over three hundred years old, the two big draws are the limestone caves, one of which we were given a quick tour round, and mainland Australia’s tallest lighthouse at mainland Australia’s most south-westerly point, which is also where they say the Southern and Indian oceans meet.
After that, we were driven back to Margaret River for a brief stroll along main street before being taken down the road to a large resort complex for a rather disappointing dinner immediately followed by the long return drive back to Perth.
Highlights of the trip were driving through the greener, fuller trees of the south-west and seeing lots of Kangaroos and Emu. The limestone formations in the cave we visited (Mammoth Cave) were great even though we didn’t have time to explore them adequately. It’s not that the tour company hadn’t made an effort to give us a good day out; when we boarded the coach, they offered us free bottled water and muffins, plus the packed lunch they’d provided (chicken and mango salad) was very nice. However, for me, the big problem was trying to cram too many things too quickly into a day that, at over fifteen hours, was rather too long.
***
After such long day the day before, what we really needed was a really long lie-in. What we got, at five in the morning, was a really loud fire alarm followed by instructions to evacuate the building and a really long wait while the fire brigade where called. It turned out to be nothing more hazardous than an especially steamy shower, so we were able to go back to bed (eventually) but it wasn’t quite the easy morning we’d planned.
The alarm had somewhat derailed our plans for the day. We’d arranged to meet back up with Max Jnr. for a drink after work (i.e. about 3.30pm – Friday is definitely POETS day here) before which we had planned to spend a bit of time walking round Kings Park. However, what with one thing and another and a bit of lunch, we didn’t leave the hotel until it was time to cut along to the pub.
The place Max had chosen is called the Generous Squire on Murray Street at the end of Shafto Lane. (Shafto as in Bobby Shafto, that is.) It’s a popular place – we were early and it was already busy with office workers – that has its own micro brewery. We ordered two glasses of Shafto’s Reward (very tasty) found a quiet-ish corner and waited for Max to arrive, which he did not long after.
There we passed a pleasant enough hour – though pubs really aren’t our thing – chatting with Max and his friends. One such was Rob, a Brit from Northampton, who came over as a bricky but now works in the oil and gas industry on Barrow Island; one month on, ten days off. He surprised by saying he’d not found the Aussie he works to be especially warm or welcoming. Nevertheless, he was still here seven years after first arriving, so he must have found something he like. Probably not having to lay bricks in the Midlands.
We still wanted to see something of Kings Park, however, so we finished our drinks and said goodbye and thanks to Max, thinking we might meet up again later for a bite to eat after a quick stroll round the park. The thing is, at 400 hectares, Perth’s Kings Park is one of the world’s largest city parks, and by the time we’d seen it all the sun was nearly setting.
The first thing we saw after a steep climb up to the park, was a new light sculpture installation and part of the Perth Arts Festival 2013. Next we walked up past a statue of Queen Victoria “…in whose reign Australia was colonised and federated,” to their war memorial. After taking in the views out over the city and river, we continued are walk through the many different sections of the botanic gardens there that have plants from all over Western Australia and the world. From here we crossed one of the many immaculately kept lawns to a concert stage – erected for the arts festival – by a large pond with fountains that play in a cycle of different patterns. Finally, after a bit more of a climb, we reached the DNA Tower, which is two intertwining spiral staircases (like the double helix of DNA – hence the name) that lead up to a platform and some pretty spectacular views out over the city and the surrounding countryside.
Walking back to the entrance, we were passed by about a dozen stretch limos, which turned out to be carrying various groups of young people in suits and party frocks on a big night out. These included university graduates throwing mortar boards into the air, high-school graduates on their prom night as well as others celebrating birthdays and the like. Stretched Hummers seem to be the vogue at the moment – we saw them in white, pink, black and red – but we also saw one with sports car doors and what looked like a stretched Model T Ford. One School party had hired a couple of trolley busses we thought looked a bit like a stretched tram. Definitely old school.
By the time we got back into the city, it was to late to hook back up with Max – sorry Max: see you and Claire in England – but not too late to walk to the Hawkers Night Market, a summertime only Friday night event where you can browse the many food stalls and enjoy the free entertainment. It was very popular that evening and we only just got there in time before all the food had been sold. We ordered a combo meal of Chicken and Veg Tagine on Couscous from a Moroccan stall and rounded off the evening by watching part of an interpretive ballet performed by some aerial artists. No idea what they were interpreting, but the acrobatics and trapeze work was impressive.
***
Finally got our lie-in this morning, the last day of our time here in Perth. When we did get up, we both had jobs to do before being picked up by Naomi at 2.00pm for a WA family get-together. Mine was to upload and put the finishing touches to all but the last day of this post. Juli’s was to get a last bit of washing and shopping done before our next road trip.
Naomi arrived just as we got down to reception to wait for her. She drove us to my cousin John’s house in the north of the city, where we met him and his wife, Helen, and their youngest, Josh. John and Helen have four children – would they be my 2nd cousins or 1st cousins once removed? I can never remember – and next we met their second to youngest (or number three) Rachel. Number two, Jessica and her husband, are working out of state at the moment so couldn’t make it, but John and Helen’s oldest Kelli and her husband Saxon could, and it was them we met next.
Next through the door was Auntie Maria followed by her eldest Anne, who we were finally able to meet and thank personally for arranging our accommodation here in Perth. Auntie has five children, and the first three (Anne, Naomi and John, in that order) were now present. However, my cousin Ruth, Aunt Maria’s 4th eldest, lives in Wagga Wagga, New South Wales, so wasn’t able to be there, but auntie's youngest, Rob and his wife Alicia was and so completed the party on their arrival a little later.
Now, I’ve a shocking memory and can’t remember which of these relations I’ve met before nor at which time, but I was very pleased to be able to meet them all together here today. Helen, with help from her daughters and sisters-in-law, had put on a feast of treats for us and we had lots of jolly chat round the groaning table about what they’re all doing or hope to be doing with their lives, and they were kind enough to show interest in us and our trip.
The time whizzed by, and all too soon, Naomi had to take us away so that she could get back to husband, Max. Max had been unable to attend the party as he had been with his mother who unfortunately had been taken into hospital earlier in the week. We wish her well for a speedy recovery.
And that was Perth. Tomorrow morning, we join our next trip and head off east across the Nullabor Plain. Destination: Adelaide in ten days time.
TTFN - N
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