Setting the scene

Now, my first few days were spent in and around Perth itself and I was extremely lucky to be staying right near Cottesloe Beach, which typifies the glorious sand and more glorious water of this area. Proving it can be as good (and probably better) than Bondi, it was also hosting ‘sculptures by the sea’, bringing all sorts of random objects to the beach. It was here I pottered about leisurely in my first morning, soaking up the sun, supping on a very average coffee and getting my first taste of the Indian Ocean.

Just south of Cottesloe is the port town of Fremantle, complete with a few ‘historic’ buildings, a relaxed vibe and fantastic fresh fish and chips beside the water. It also hosts the Maritime Museum of Western Australia, which is a convenient refuge from the mid afternoon heat and full of nautical narrations. The centrepiece is Australia II, the boat which won them the America’s Cup in 1983 and which people still go on about now as if it were yesterday. My vague recollections centre though on Bob Hawke (the then Prime Minister) wearing a truly horrific jacket and basically telling the country they could have a national holiday and get pissed to celebrate. Pleasingly, the jacket was on display, though the beer stains must have been washed out.



Returning to Cottesloe, time was getting on and with the sun lowering out to sea, ideal to mill about more around the sculptures and watch the sun go down over the ocean, a significant event for people from the East coast. And I don’t usually need an excuse to catch a sunset…

Swanning around

So after that rather fabulous first day, I spent a couple more days taking in the Perth sights. The city strikes me as a quiet place, even though it has nearly 2 million people. I don’t know if many of these people just hang out in their grandiose suburban dream homes skewering snags and supping Pinot, but there never seemed to be that many people in the City itself. When you did see people, there was a fair chance they’d open their mouths and talk with an English accent – pommies everywhere, perhaps explaining why the coffee was not of an East coast standard and why there is a ludicrous mock tudor shopping arcade in the middle of the city.

The geography of the area is shaped by the Swan River, which in parts widens into lakes and splits into bays. It would be ideal for ferry travel a la Sydney, but it seems Pertherners (or Pertherts?!) prefer their cars. I did manage to get out on the water however, thanks to a cruise from Fremantle to the City, which provided a pleasant way to travel.

Everyone’s favourite part of the city is undoubtedly Kings Park, which covers a rather large peninsula overlooking downtown and showcases the variety of weird and wonderful plants scattered around Western Australia. It was an absolutely ideal environment to take a book and lay out under a shady tree… with the very hope of snoozing into a perfect afternoon siesta.

Rested and relaxed, it was time to leave the city and head to the south west. And as is the case in England, south west is clearly best!

Margaret!

I had three full days to explore the south west of WA, nowhere near enough in reality, but I was determined to pack as much in as I can, much to the displeasure of my crappy little Hyundai Getz hire car! Unlike much of the dry red dust of the state, the south west actually has rain from time to time, providing exquisite lushness, a perfect wine growing climate and – of course being Australia – great beaches and surf.

The centre of the area is Margaret River, which you’ll probably see if you pop in the wine aisle in Tesco. It is rightly world-renowned for wine and even Gerard Depardieu would acknowledge it aint too bad. Wine is not the only thing slightly French about this area. Much of this coast was first mapped by French mariners, evidenced in many of the place names, such as Cape Naturaliste and Geographe Bay. Maybe it was the lack of smelly cheese, but they tended to sail on by, miss the east coast completely and head back to the homeland.

My first stop was an hour out of Perth at a place called Mandurah, which is retirements-ville if ever I saw one. However, I was quite happy sharing a bite to eat and juice beside the water with the wrinklies. In fact, I could’ve been tempted to retire there and then. But I had to move on and see the largest pier in the southern hemisphere at Busselton, which was eclipsed in my eyes by the perfect still clear water and yet more fish and chips!



Not far from Busselton begins Caves Road – the tourist road of Margaret River stretching from Cape Naturaliste in the north to Cape Leeuwin in the south, dotted with turn offs to beaches, caves, forest and, of course, vineyards. At the top end, the Naturaliste-Leeuwin National Park provides stunning bays ideal for a break and cool dip in the calm waters.



Moving on down, Yallingup is in the way, a distraction of a small town which makes people up sticks from the city and go live a simple, albeit slightly yuppyish life, amongst the surf. The road then meanders inland for a while, at times through rugged bushland, at others alongside rolling vineyards before turning on into the township of Margaret River… which itself is actually distinctly average, a useful service centre for food and wine and petrol, and full of crappy little Hyundai Getz hirecars to the extent that you forget which one is yours and almost break in to someone elses.

With the day coming to an end and stocked up on food, I headed back to the coast where I was staying for the night. A cooling dip on Gnarabup Beach provided suitable refreshment for a walk along the coastline, past more sand at Prevelly and over the headland of Surfer’s Point – apparently world renowned by dudes and dudesses everywhere for it’s spectacular break and accommodating plenty of camper vans in the car park as evidence. Just around the corner from there is the river of Margaret River itself and, with the sun fading, time for another sunset out at sea. A sunset I found difficult to focus on as I tried to open the bottle of beer I had brought along with a combination of keys and scissors I had in my bag. Fancy Margaret River stuff you see, with no twisty top!

I then had to walk back as darkness fell… luckily my bag also included a small torch to shine on the strange noises in the night, including an owl and couples making out!

Finally, rest was near, one last relaxing shower to wash off all the sand, step out, unfurl towel, almost apply towel to body, see huge spider on other side of towel, try to get spider off towel without getting eaten, and then off to bed.

Tingly all over

The next morning and after a fine breakfast wrap in Margaret River, I rejoined an increasingly beautiful Caves Road, as it wound its way through majestic stands of Karri forest, signalling the start of ‘Tree Day’ as I explored the forests of the south. First though there was one last taste of the coast, the very edge of the continent at Cape Leeuwin. It was turning into a squally old day, gusting winds and the odd spray of sea keeping reinvigorating the tired bones, seals battling in the waves as the Indian and Southern Oceans meet.




From the south west tip of Australia I then headed inland, through forest plantations and national parks, dodging logging trucks and battling through squally drizzle, before coming out around the town of Pemberton, home to several national parks containing beautiful Karri trees and Giant Tingles – all native to this part of Australia. You can actually climb one of the trees here as it used to have the role of ‘Fire Tree’, providing a lookout for bushfires in the area. No, usually I’m quite partial to a lookout, but this one was pretty hairy to climb and I was content with a coffee and cake and amble through the forest.

The forest seemed to go on forever as I rejoined the road heading down to the South Coast of WA, staying at the small town of Walpole which is bordered by forest to the north and perched upon an inlet which opens up out to the Southern Ocean beyond. It was a very quiet town, you could say dull, but I managed to find an open supermarket and treated myself to some dinner in the very relaxing and friendly hostel there.

To cap off ‘Tree Day’ I drove a few kilometres out of town to visit the Giant Tingle, one of those trees which you can walk in, have silly photos with, that kind of thing. Amazingly, I was the only one there, but then I probably shouldn’t have taken the hire car onto the dirt and so all the other little sky blue Getz’s were sticking to the highway (including one parked next to me – I’m sure for irony – back at the supermarket). And with trees and elves and hobbits in mind, I was off to bed.

Treetops to Beach

Bearing up OK? We’re on the final day of the minitrip now, and one with the most kilometres though most of them boring on the Albany Highway back to Perth. For the most part though, the day was great, beginning once more with tree stalking and taking in a beautiful coastal location.

I remember Bill Bryson writing about the forests of south west WA and in particular the tree top walk. This was just 20 minutes out of Walpole and my first stop for the day. I have been to something like this in Victoria, though there was something about this one which was nicer – maybe it was a bit more wobbly and fun, and then it was a lot quieter at this time in the morning.

Giant trees also give us giant insects!

I was getting all a bit ‘treed out’ by now to be honest and was glad in some ways to be heading to the coast for a contrast. The destination was Albany, the biggest town in the region and sat snugly upon the most dramatic harbour. The southern part of the harbour is all national park, and home to striking rock formations, dramatic cliffs and windswept beaches.



I was on a bit of a mission now to find the perfect beach, with dazzling white sand, unbelievably clear water and a pristine setting. It took a couple of attempts, but I found it, all to myself on the calm waters of Frenchman’s Bay. Even the watery sunshine started to filter through the sky.

Being pretty much perfect and hard to top, I decided that it was almost time to call it a day and head back to Perth… some 450 kilometres distant. I grabbed a roll in Albany, which was a rather cute, Hobart-like kind of place and took it up to Mount Clarence, overlooking the town and harbour, and shared with big black slink lizards. More wildlife encounters occurred on the long trip back, including a stop in the forest at Porongurup National Park and joining the bogans and hoons of KFC in the southern suburbs of Perth.

It was slightly strange re-entering what seemed like civilisation, busy roads, traffic lights and a distinct absence of road signs, bringing me back to Cottesloe at nine in the evening. Congratulations must go to the Getz, who I pushed to the extreme and apart from a couple of odd automatic gear changes and cramped legs, it did the job and even managed 135 kph on the long, straight Albany highway. Like me, it was tired but I’m sure very fulfilled from a whistle stop tour of the south west… which, as they say, is definitely best.

The final chapter

The last couple of days in WA were spent milling about Perth, including some *sigh* work and Friday night drinking, Saturday morning coffee and more sand in the toes amongst the sculptures. The water really is beautiful here – it tends to be pretty nice anywhere in Australia, but here there is that little something extra. I don’t know what it is but I was glad to sign off on this trip with one last stop north of Perth at the quiet town of Yanchep, for a stroll along the beach, a dabble in the water and ice cream in the mouth. I don’t know if the Pacific will ever be the same again.

Baywatch

The pack as much as you can into summer extravaganza continued with a long weekend beside the seaside, complete with beachside brunches, brilliant BBQs, Boags beers and other things not beginning with B. From Malua Bay to Jervis Bay where Sunday evening provided me with a blissful walk which makes it straight into the top 10. The White Sands Walk sounds promising and lives up to its name, not only because of sands whiter than a Pommie in winter, but the wonderful bushland, fragrant lushness and melodic warbling of semi-suburban wilderness.



It was so good I came back the next morning, ready for some lazy lolling in the sunshine, suitable recuperation after a night in a genuine bushland campsite. On face value, a beautiful peaceful pitch for the night, set in trees beside a creek yet its sheer natural setting made it a haven for bloodthirsty mozzies, screeching nocturnal possums and a dawn chorus chirpier than a cheeky cockney chappie.


So back to the beach, just me, the waves and a glamorous bikini photoshoot taking place on a distant corner of the sands for company.



It was a tough Monday morning, but I had to move on, bound for Sydney and some work related shenanigans. There was time to take in a few more stops along the way however, with the odd detour up hill and down dale, scenery near Kiama with a semi-resemblance to South Devon, though still no sign of proper clotted cream! Further north, and the rolling hills turned to steep escarpments, rising up from the third biggest city in New South Wales, Wollongong or ‘The Gong’ for those in the know.



From here, the road rises up to the plateau, crossing a huge swathe of green before spluttering into the outer fringes of Sydney, levels of concrete rising, kebab shops increasing, wonderful pizza places serving yummy food to take onto the beach, cars commuting, training taking place, Ipods providing a good sing-a-long, Maccers in the misty highlands and the lights of the Telstra Tower appearing on the horizon.

What a difference a week makes

Such is the sometimes cruel and sudden changeability in the Australian weather that this week triggered long trousers and jumpers, a cool moist easterly airstream cutting temperatures in half and giving the land a fighting chance. The land is a tough cookie and six years after bushfires ravaged a huge area of the ACT and Canberra, the Tidbinbilla Valley flourishes in life and peace and sanctuary.

The Sanctuary at Tidbinbilla is the perfect name for a meandering track through wetlands, eucalypt forest, grassland and virtually every habitat in between. It pulses with life, from not very scary unidentifiable tree mice, to slightly more worrying emus to very scary snakes slithering away before you can take a picture of them.



Outside of the Sanctuary are of course countless roos, possibly scary, although most of the time they just run away from you once they’ve stared you out. For some reason, I can’t help but picture the kangaroo with a machine gun in Crocodile Dundee… they just have that look about them.

Now I would like to point out a new link we have on the right of this here blog – it’s a work in process but I have started making my very own Google Map, showing the tiny portion of Australia covered in my travels and some pictures during those times. The aim is to keep it updated each week. Now you can know not only exactly what I have been up to but where I have been. Ah, life in the public domain!