Final day in Western Australia.

We drove into the nearby town of Hyden to get lunch and allow Diana to qualify as SPOTD. Yes, it had taken the entire holiday for Di to be nominated for the award, but she made a fantastic entry. Getting two bottles of soft drink out of the fridge to have with our lunch, the condensation on the sides of the bottles proved too much and she dropped one. Ordinarily a plastic bottle of soft drink will just bounce and be shaken up, but the bottom end of this one cracked, and the sudden shaking of the bottle added enough pressure to spray most of the wall, counter and Trav’s legs with soft drink.

In order to stop the bottle from soaking absolutely everything, Trav grabbed it and headed for the door. The only problem was that Di was between Trav and the door, saw the bottle of spraying liquid coming her way, and bolted backward, blocking the doorway. By the time the sticky mess was outside, it had stopped spraying, so everything had been sprayed inside the shop.

No other entrants need apply - Di had taken the award…

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By the time we left the park in the morning, almost everyone else was either preparing to go, going, or gone, leaving the park very empty, and the way we presume it usually is when Woolorama is not on.

While eating breakfast, a fellow camper came across and we were discussing the costs of caravanning versus tenting. We told him that because the caretaker had not called the previous evening to collect the camping fee (as advertised), we’d have to slip it under the laundry door (also advertised as the alternative payment method). He then told us that the caretaker had called on the previous evening at 7pm, which is when we would have been eating dinner, only 2m from our tent. We could not understand how we’d been missed in the fee collection, but took it as a bonus, and did not bother leaving the fee on the grounds that the caretaker should have approached us. A small present for our last night’s stay in the state.

After driving through broadacre cropping farms for a couple of hundred kilometres, we arrived at Kondinin and took the turn-off to Wave Rock. The map we had marked the road to Wave Rock as a high-grade road, similar to a highway, but a sign warning “INTERMITTENT SINGLE LANE ROAD NEXT 55KMS” suggested otherwise. However, we were in the middle of nowhere, and it was the road to Wave Rock, so we drove down it. We soon discovered that “intermittent” meant “ninety five percent of the time”, with sections of two-lane road only over hills and around corners, exactly where it is illegal to overtake a slower vehicle anyway.

Wave Rock was a lot smaller than we were expecting, which surprised us. We’ve seen so many pictures of the place that we estimated it was about 400-500m in length, but in reality, it was about 100-120m. The height was as we envisaged, based on the height of people in the pictures we’d seen, but the length really surprised us.

After admiring the rock from the socially-correct angle, we then climbed up the side of it, to walk around on top. The actual wave part of the rock is only a small section of the rock, which is about 2km in length, sticking up out of the ground for no reason. Also on top of the rock were four deaf people who looked about to pass out from dehydration, but were still staggering around. We’d taken water up with us, but they had none, and were really feeling the heat of the 35C day.

We left the wave part of the rock then, and drank a 1.25L bottle of lemon soft drink between us in record time, and drove to another part of the rock called Hippo’s Yawn, so named because it looks like, well, you guessed it. Hippo’s Yawn is separated from Wave Rock by a 1.4km walking track, and when we arrived, the four deaf people came staggering along the track, barely able to keep going. Two of them were too weak to walk back to the car, so the other two started to walk back and get it, then drive around to this part of the rock, as we had done. We offered the walking two a ride in our car back to the carpark, and had to play a weird game of charades to indicate that we could give them a lift back to their car to save them walking. Neither Trav nor Di can do sign language, and neither of them could lip-read. Great. Still, we got the message through, and they got back okay.

Our good deed done for the day, we drove into the nearby town of Hyden to get lunch and allow Diana to qualify as “Stupid Person Of The Day”. Yes, it had taken the entire holiday for Di to be nominated for the award, but she made a fantastic entry. Getting two bottles of soft drink out of the fridge to have with our lunch, the condensation on the sides of the bottles proved too much and she dropped one. Ordinarily a plastic bottle of soft drink will just bounce and be shaken up, but the bottom end of this one cracked, and the sudden shaking of the bottle added enough pressure to spray most of the wall, counter and Trav’s legs with soft drink. In order to stop the bottle from soaking absolutely everything, Trav grabbed it and headed for the door. The only problem was that Di was between Trav and the door, saw the bottle of spraying liquid coming her way, and bolted backward, blocking the doorway. By the time the sticky mess was outside, it had stopped spraying, so everything had been sprayed inside the shop. No other entrants need apply - Di had taken the award for Day Ten.

After lunch, we checked out the original Kondinin homestead, which is apparently classified by the National Trust. We expected to find out a little of the history of the area, but it was just an arts and crafts shop in disguise. Neither of us felt like buying a bar of soap for $5, or a rocking chair for $400, so we left pretty quickly.

On the road back to Perth, we passed through a town called Corrigin where the main claim to tourism fame is - we kid you not - a dog cemetery. Naturally, we had to stop and pay our respects to the graves of Snoopy, Rusty, Cobber, Bluey, and others.

As we got within 50kms of Perth, we began to get concerned about the amount of fuel remaining in the car. Due to the Hyden petrol station being the most expensive fuel price we found in all our WA travels, we had not filled up much there, and were beginning to get quite low. Adding to that was the fact it was a Sunday afternoon, and a lot of the small towns had closed petrol stations. We eventually managed to find an open petrol station with about two litres of fuel (~25 kms driving distance) remaining, which was a relief.

After cleaning the car to return it to the hire company, and having dinner, we had to kill time in Perth on a Sunday evening until our flight left at 10:55pm. We decided to check out the Burswood Casino, and were surprised to find such a nice-looking exterior featuring a dark, dingy, run-down dump inside. We actually had to argue our way inside to have a look because the doorman told us we could not go inside with jeans on after 8pm. Trav pointed out that, as it was only 7:57pm, we could still go in, and after a look of great disgust, the doorman had to let us in. We only ended up staying in there for about 15 minutes, suddenly realising that Crown Casino in Melbourne is a beautiful place in comparison to Burswood Casino.

With the late flight and time difference, we arrived back in Melbourne at 5:05am, and went to bed for a few hours before driving down to Glenormiston to take soil nitrogen measurements. It would have been nice to take a break for another couple of days before easing into it, but then again, we were lucky to get that much time away from the paddock and glasshouse (thank you to the people that released Trav of duties for ten days!).

So what did we learn from the trip?

1. Western Australian tourist bureaus are lousy.
2. Western Australian beaches are fantastic.
3. A Hyundai Excel can easily cover 3983 kms in 9 days of driving.
4. Diana survived the whole time sleeping in a tent.
5. It is good to take a vacation.

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Nearing the end of the Western Australia trip, we just missed out on Woolorama, but found our SPOTD with only one hour in the day remaining.

The caravan park in Wagin was one of the nicest we’d encountered, with shade, grass, BBQ and firewood, clean bathrooms and laundry. We think it might have been extra clean given that Woolorama was on, and it was filled to capacity, but still, we were impressed. The one downside was the location, it being in the backblocks of the town, where the less-affluent members of society lived. For a large part of the night, we were privy to loud debates about who go could and jump in the lake, and what sort of person their husband/wife was. Still, it calmed down about 11pm, so that was okay. SPOTD was awarded to the anonymous person that kicked the side panel of a car, audible to us from over a block away.

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During the night, it did rain, and Diana lay awake for a couple of hours waiting for the giant deluge she imagined would dump upon her because she was in a tent. However, because we’d known the rain was coming, Trav had checked and double-checked the tent for weather-sealing (as well as he could in the darkness during set-up), and so there were no hassles.

One of the most useless signs we had encountered throughout the trip was found at our first destination of the day - the Tingle Tree Walk. We followed the directional signs into the forest, and along a dirt road for 5km until we came to the carpark and information boards. On the information board was a poster describing which road we needed to take to get to where we were. Fat lot of use that was us, seeing as we had to be there to know how to get there…

Because the Tingle trees grow so large, and the soil is so firm, they tend to grow horizontal roots, ended up with buttressed root systems for support. The living tissue is located just under the bark, so if there is damage to the tree that exposes through to the heartwood, it is possible to burn the entire tree hollow, yet it may remain living. The Tingle tree walk shows off a number of these hollowed out trees, and they are all still alive. One tree was so large that people were able to park their car in it, in years gone by, as a photo opportunity. Since the CALM people moved in and protected the area, it is impossible to do that now, but you still get to walk through a completely hollowed out tree, with a girth of 24 metres, and somehow still alive. The red Tingle trees are unique to the area, so it was interesting to see what they look like.

After the Tingle tree walk, we drove to a nearby attraction named with all the imagination only an Australian could muster - Circular Pool. Gee, you’ll never guess why it is called that… We decided to view it from a distance because as we arrived, a 6-foot black snake slithered across our path into a clump of grass two feet from the main track. Di and Trav concluded it was indeed a pool, and most certainly circular, and beat a hasty retreat. As they got back to the car, only then did Trav tell Di about the second snake he had noticed three feet from the path as they walked back up - if it had been brought up before she’d walked past it, we’d be there still…*grin*

Arrived at the one thing our Holiday Pass did not cover us for - the Tree Top Walk. A large metal suspension walkway has been built through the canopy of the trees, reaching 40m off the ground at the highest point. As people walked along it, the walkway bounced around all over the place, due to the minimal number of supporting legs they’d used, in order not to impact on the environment. I think the amount of swinging would have been reduced with a couple more poles, and frankly, I’d rather they impacted on the view than my hips impacting on the walkway every step I took. After about fifteen minutes on the walkway, we felt like we’d been drinking alcohol all morning, so for $5, we had the same sensation as about $50 worth of grog. Not a bad deal…

At the base of the Tree Top Walk is the Ancient Empire - a number of large trees, which fire had swept through many years ago, leaving the bases all hollowed out, and just perfect to put a boardwalk through. Took a few photos there, but the light was not very good, and not a lot turned out well.

With the right Quicktime plug-in, you can go and see a 360 degree panorama of the Treetop Walk and the Ancient Empire.

We drove from one side of Denmark to the other - not quite as impressive as it sounds, given it was the small country town, not the small country. Arriving in Albany, we realised we were not that interested in what it had to offer - not a lot in the way of natural beauty, being essentially a large town positioned far enough from Perth that it would be a “big holiday” to go to Albany. There is a whaling centre there, which operated until 1978, but with whaling centres all around Australia, we decided to head inland and get a head-start on the trip to see Wave Rock the following day. Wave Rock was not originally in our itinerary, because it was a four hour detour to see a rock, but we were not coming back to Western Australia for a while, so decided to push the pace a little. Also, it was looking like it might rain again in Albany, and so there was no interest in swimming.

Just out of Albany, Trav spotted a white emu in a paddock, and stopped to take a photo. Unfortunately, it was too far away, and even with the zoom lens, still appeared to be just dusty, and nothing special. Therefore, it is one of those mysterious “no photographic proof” items that are usually more in the realm of UFO’s or Loch Ness Monsters.

Our newly-planned inland destination was a small town called Katanning, but when we arrived, the caravan park was a treeless paddock out the back of a service station, so we decided to pass on it. There was apparently another caravan park in the town, but the phone rang out when we called, so the drive continued through to another small town called Woodanilling. The caravan park in this town was apparently only 1km down the main road, but we couldn’t see it anywhere, despite their being nothing else in the town to hide it.

Headed northward once more to Wagin, wondering how we were going to fare in this town, given the standards of the last two towns. As we arrived, large banners proclaimed that we were there for Woolorama, but we were too late, arriving only ten minutes before it closed. Woolorama is apparently the second biggest agricultural show in the state, and it would have been interesting to go along. The surrounding area is broadacre farming, and some of the tractors in the machinery yards we passed had tyres larger than our whole car from end to end. Getting to climb into the cabin of one of those monsters would have been a lot of fun.

Wagin is not only famous for Woolorama, but also for it’s giant ram. There is no way to mistake the fact that this nine-times-living-size structure is definitely MALE, and is probably terrible for parents of young kids to explain away…

The caravan park in Wagin was one of the nicest we’d encountered, with shade, grass, BBQ and firewood, clean bathrooms and laundry. We think it might have been extra clean given that Woolorama was on, and it was filled to capacity, but still, we were impressed. The one downside was the location, it being in the backblocks of the town, where the less-affluent members of society lived. For a large part of the night, we were privy to loud debates about who go could and jump in the lake, and what sort of person their husband/wife was. Still, it calmed down about 11pm, so that was okay. Stupid Person Of The Day was awarded to the anonymous person that kicked the side panel of a car, audible to us from over a block away.

Onward to Wave Rock, and home tomorrow…

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Yep. Western Australia still.

Our SPOTD award went to the CALM ranger on-duty at the Gloucester Tree that day, working to collect the $5 entry fees for vehicles entering the park. When we showed him the Holiday Pass we’d bought instead of having to pay each time we went to a park, he replied that it was no good to him. We thought he meant that the pass was not valid at that park, although so far as we knew, it was invalid on one park in the state only, and this was not that park.

We asked him then what the charge was to get in, and he again replied the card was no good to him. Frustrated, Diana blurted out “so what is it that you want?” and he then explained that he got paid more out of the $5 per vehicle fee than he would get from the Holiday Pass $20 fee. Throughout the rest of the five minute conversation, he just kept muttering “that card’s no good for me, it isn’t, you know, no good at all” until we thought he had spent too long in the little 6-foot square ranger station.

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For the first time in the past eight mornings, we woke to find dull grey, leaden skies, instead of the usual sunny brilliance we had become accustomed to. It was not raining, but trying very hard to get started, with some small drops hitting us as a reminder to pack the tent up quickly. While we were packing up the tent, a goat from the neighbouring paddock leaped through a gap and came over to investigate the situation. Diana tried to shoo it away, but the goat was well aware of who had the upper hand and stood it’s ground. The caravan park owner came across and dragged it back into the paddock, went off to do another task, and the goat escaped again, leading the park owner on a merry little chase around for a while before he caught it, put it back in the paddock, and blocked the hole.

Drove to Cape Leeuwin (~8 kms) to see the lighthouse. On the way, we noted a sign directing us to the “scenic route”, so we decided to take that road. We have but one recommendation for anyone choosing to travel down this way - take the main road. The scenic route was very possibly the most unscenic we have driven along for a while, with nothing to look at from one end to the other. Fair enough, the local scrubby trees are technically the landscape and therefore scenic, but we were unable to see past the first metre of scrub on either side of the road, so it was pointless.

Drove to Skippy Rock, but due to the lack of effective signage, and there being more than one large rock in the area of ocean we were looking at, we were unable to figure out which one was the rock we’d come to see.

The Southern and Indian oceans meet at Cape Leeuwin - one of only four places in the world where oceans meet. We were expecting a reasonably distinct line between two different oceans, with waves slapping each other head on, but the weather was not in our favour. Apparently on some days, the line is quite clear where the oceans meet, but on the day we went, the wind was up a bit, and we were only able to see a couple of waves moving in different directions every so often. Climbing to the top of the lighthouse, we did not see any more distinct lines, although we got to spy on some dolphins that were about 20-50m offshore, swimming inside the curling waves, until they were about to break, then turn and leap out the back of the wave. Very impressive to see up to half a dozen dolphins racing along, then all turning and catapulting backward into the air.

Leaving Cape Leeuwin, we drove through tall timber to get to Pemberton, in order to see the Gloucester Tree. The Gloucester Tree is the highest fire lookout tree in the world, with 153 rungs letting people climb to a platform 61m off the ground. From that point, it is possible to spot bushfires during the hot season, and get fire trucks to the scene quickly. Trav climbed up about 15m off the ground, but decided it was “damn silly to go any higher” and climbed down. Diana climbed the tree too - all 2m or so from the ground - in order to get her photo taken.

On the other side of Pemberton to the Gloucester Tree is a Karri tree with a hole right through it. We visited it before we got to the tourist bureau, so thought it had formed naturally, and they had cleaned up some loose bits with a chainsaw. It turns out that someone actually just cut their way through the tree with a chainsaw, taking ten hours to carve a hole. The tree remained alive, and there is an estimated 150 tonnes of tree above the hole. We viewed it more as vandalism than tourism when we realised how it had been created, but I suppose it is done now, so they may as well use it as an attraction.

Our “Stupid Person Of The Day” award went to the CALM ranger on-duty at the Gloucester Tree that day, working to collect the $5 entry fees for vehicles entering the park. When we showed him the Holiday Pass we’d bought instead of having to pay each time we went to a park, he replied that it was no good to him. We thought he meant that the pass was not valid at that park, although so far as we knew, it was invalid on one park in the state only, and this was not that park. We asked him then what the charge was to get in, and he again replied the card was no good to him. Frustrated, Diana blurted out “so what is it that you want?” and he then explained that he got paid more out of the $5 per vehicle fee than he would get from the Holiday Pass $20 fee. Throughout the rest of the five minute conversation, he just kept muttering “that card’s no good for me, it isn’t, you know, no good at all” until we thought he had spent too long in the little 6-foot square ranger station.

We were intending to continue through to Walpole and go on a tree-top walkway through the forest canopy, but realised we would not make it before it closed for the day, so took a leisurely drive through the trees, following a trail known as the “Great Forest Trees Drive”. It had interested us when we read about it because there are several points where they have installed radio transmitters in the tree, and whenever you see a sign to turn the radio on, you could tune to a frequency and listen to the narration. However, the narration had nothing to do with the forest. Or the trees. Nor was it that great, although we did hear some old bloke recalling when his family walked some cattle through the area in the 1860’s. Still, given that we were stopped at a place with a boardwalk called Snake Gully Lookout, we figured it would be a radio message about what to look out for on the walkway, so it was rather disappointing.

On the way to the Great Forest Trees Drive, we’d passed through a town called Northcliffe. Just outside the town there were some roadworks happening, with a man holding a stop/go sign at each end. Despite the fact we’d not seen a vehicle in the previous five kilometres, nor the fourteen kilometres after the roadworks, we still had to stop. The flagman watched us approach, made us stop for one quarter of one second, let the car go out of gear, then waved us through. There was no need to stop us along that section of road, given we were already travelling under the speed limit as we approached the roadworks, so he could not even pull us up on the grounds we would have driven through too quickly. We invented a new award for “Miserable Bastard Of The Day”, and this man won hands-down.

Just outside of Walpole, it began to rain for about five minutes, and seeing as Diana had come down with a cold and had been sneezing all day, suggested we might look for a cabin for the night, instead of tenting. Diana was most pleased with the idea, having no desire to see how waterproof the tent was. First stop was the caravan park we were intending to stay in, but they had no cabins empty, so we went back into town and tried a budget accomodation place called “Tingle All Over”. Had a look at the bedroom, shared bathroom, kitchen and TV room for $38, but decided to check out the other places, to see if that was a reasonable price or not. Next door’s motel was $89 for a single room, so it certainly seemed cheap, but we thought we’d try the other caravan park as well.

When we arrived and asked about a cabin, the strange old man behind the counter looked into the ledger book and read down the column for no less than five minutes, then announced that they did in fact have one available for $48 per night. Why it took him that long to read the column of “full or empty” is beyond us, but he struck us as very odd anyway. We decided to check it out and see whether it was worth $10 more or not seeing as we were already there, so looked inside and all seemed quite good. Nothing special, but a decent amount of space to live in, but given we only wanted it for the night, we decided to save $10 and go back to “Tingle All Over”. As we walked in the door, the bloke told us we were too late, and that we should have made our minds up earlier. There were no extra cars in the park, nor extra people around, which confused us. We figure he must have just not liked us comparing the cost to other places around town - still, his loss. We returned to the $48 cabin, and went for a walk in the last remaining hour of daylight.

When darkness fell, we went to cook dinner and realised that the stove did not work (later, the owner told us they’d turned them off because people were leaving them going all day by mistake, so he’d made sure they could not work any more - would have been good to tell us this, we think). We also found that the bathroom door did not shut, the blinds did not work in the bedroom, a small trail of ants was wandering across the wall of the bedroom, and the dishes had not been done from the previous tenant - the electric frypan smelling like vomit from the old food left in it. Went to get our money back, which he gave us without a hassle, and then returned to the very first caravan park we went to when we arrived and asked for a tent site. By this time, it was pitch black, so we set up the tent by the car headlights, and stumbled around in the darkness where the tent stopped the light.

Went to cook tea on the electric BBQ and Trav began to clean a couple of leaves off it which had fallen onto the hotplate. As he touched the hotplate, it seemed warm from the sun, because it was spotlessly clean as though nobody had used it that night. Problem was, it was not hot from the sun, but instead, there was a pilot light for the gas just underneath one corner of the hotplate, which was heating the rest of the metal up. When Trav accidentally touched the section with the pilot light, the skin on his fingers instantly blistered and his hand had to be run under cold water for several minutes.

All in all, we finished off the day with lots of driving to find accommodation, ended up setting a tent up in the dark, cooking tea about 10:30pm, and burning Trav’s hand in the process. Even toasted marshmallows later didn’t really compensate for that day, in Trav’s eyes.

Onward to Albany tomorrow…

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We’re in the south-west corner of Western Australia today.

Although we’d asked the takeaway shop owner about the local tourist attractions last night when we were ordering dinner, we decided to pass on her suggestion of visiting her street with four drug dealers and two prostitutes. After a bit of reading in the official (though duller) Bunbury Tourist Bureau, we decided to drive east toward Collie and get a free tour of a coal mine, that being the main industry of the town. However, it turned out to be further away than we thought, and we would have missed the tour if we’d gone, so we decided to return to our original plan of going southward.

It was shortly after this that we had a bit of a navigational problem. Di had the map and directed Trav along the right road, but then told me to take the wrong turn-off. Trav decided quickly that they were heading in the wrong direction, and attempted to get them back onto the correct road. Only one small detail - Trav had become disoriented during the drive to Collie, and was heading north, not south. Just before a large sign loomed up to point out this error, I had made the comment to simply “Trust me, we just go down this road and we’ll be fine”. (NB : swallowing one’s pride is never a satisfactory meal). On the plus side, we can now tell you the best way to the Bunbury bicycle shop, seeing as we passed it three or four times in our misguided travels.

Trav was put into contention as SPOTD, setting the pace early, and seeing as nobody had risen to the challenge by the end of the day, Trav won the right to the award.

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Although we’d asked the takeaway shop owner about the local tourist attractions last night when we were ordering dinner, we decided to pass on her suggestion of visiting her street with four drug dealers and two prostitutes. After a bit of reading in the official (though duller) Bunbury Tourist Bureau, we decided to drive east toward Collie and get a free tour of a coal mine, that being the main industry of the town. However, it turned out to be further away than we thought, and we would have missed the tour if we’d gone, so we decided to return to our original plan of going southward.

It was shortly after this that we had a bit of a navigational problem. Di had the map and directed me along the right road, but then told me to take the wrong turn-off. Trav decided quickly that they were heading in the wrong direction, and attempted to get them back onto the correct road. Only one small detail - Trav had become disoriented during the drive to Collie, and was heading north, not south. Just before a large sign loomed up to point out this error, Trav had made the comment to simply “Trust Trav, we just go down this road and we’ll be fine”. Note to audience : swallowing one’s pride is never a satisfactory meal. On the plus side, we can now tell you the best way to the Bunbury bicycle shop, seeing as we passed it three or four times in our misguided travels.

Trav was put into contention as “Stupid Person Of The Day”, setting the pace early, and seeing as nobody had risen to the challenge by the end of the day, Trav won the right to the award.

Courtesy of the detour (”No, I meant to go there”, says Trav), we found the Bunbury Dolphin Discovery Centre, and a place called Mangrove Cove. The dolphin discovery centre was the alternative we’d been suggested by the locals instead of driving all the way to Monkey Mia, but seeing as we’d seen dolphins recently, and it cost money to go in, we chose Mangrove Cove. Not sure whether it was mid-week, or just how bad the place was, but we were the only car in the carpark.

In short, Mangrove Cove is the place where you can find the southern-most living mangroves in WA, and it looks like a big swamp. We wandered around the boardwalk for a while, reading the patronising tourist signs written by “Jolly Jack”, apparently the ghost of a sailor that had died a century before. Pretty smart fellow to know what was going to happen in 1978 (ie: local whaling activities stopped) when he died in the 1800’s.

Then again, that character played by Leonardo DiCaprio in “Titanic” was pretty clever to spawn the idea of “king of the world” - a craze that has even reached Bunbury.

At the beginning of the Mangrove Cove walk, there was a large sign instructing us to return to it at the end, and follow another path to a “deserted island”. We did return to the sign at the end of the walk, and walked along the second path for about 200m to read a sign telling us to look out for birdlife. We did. There was none. The sign also said to look out for pigs. We did. They were as abundant as the birds. After another 200m, we came to a sign telling us a pig farmer herded his pigs onto the island last century but they all tried to swim back and drowned, hence the pig reference.

It was only then that Diana realised that we could not get onto the island, and vented her thoughts in words too strong to publish to a mixed audience. She was under the impression that there would be a bridge or something to the island, and that it was deserted other than the people walking onto it to have a look. This was not the case, as we only got to look at it across a hundred yards of water, hence the outburst.

Arriving in Busselton, we went to the tourist bureau to get the information about the town we had just arrived in. The woman behind the counter serving us had a limp, which although we noticed at the time, was not a significant thing until we thought about it later. After the tourist bureau, we went down the main street to buy some lunch and noted a person coming toward us with a limp also. Glancing across the street, Trav noticed a person on crutches. As we got back in the car and drove to a nearby park, we saw a person in an electric wheelchair, and another in an elderly person’s motor scooter. All of this lameness was within 50m with the exception of the tourist guide, so we decided to get out of the area in a hurry before we ran into Mulder and Scully. Walking along the beach promenade, we noted a sign saying there was a beach-going wheelchair available for hire from a nearby kiosk. We figure it would be in high demand…*grin*

Busselton has a long jetty (2kms/1.3mi) that extends out to sea, and there is a train that runs along it from the shore to the end. We decided that we had to definitely go 2 kms out to sea on a TRAIN, because it is rare these chances come along. The jetty was originally built in 1865, when the first 175m was constructed, and over the years it has increased in length despite fires and cyclones during that time. When we got to the end of the jetty, we saw a young girl who was reeling in fish left, right and centre. Catching three in the ten minutes we were there, she was handing them to the man next to her, who stuck hooks through them, and threw them back in as live bait to catch bigger fish. The advantage of the jetty to the common fisherman is that they can catch fish that live 2km out to sea, without having to own a boat.

Just out of Busselton, and not in any of the tourist brochures, we found an archery course. It did not take long for us to decide that what we needed were weapons. After all, one of is a loony, and the other has dodgy vision. What better game than playing around with bows and arrows? For the record, out of a possible 270, we got a half-worthy 142 and 106, which was pretty good seeing as neither of us has fired an arrow since high school, and those were hardly of high training quality.

Arriving in Margaret River, we decided to change our plans to stay there the night. The whole town was filled with Bed ‘n’ Breakfast houses, yuppies, and brand new “ye olde country arte and crafte shoppes”. It looked so tacky we didn’t even stop the car - just kept driving south to Augusta to stay there for the night. Checked out the three caravan parks in town:

1. Turner’s Caravan Park was nice and shady, and was filled to the brim with ducks. Ducks were everywhere, walking over the roads, sitting near tents, wandering around, and generally putting Di into fits of excitement by just being there and saying “quack”.

2. Flinder’s Bay Caravan Park was a dump. No question about it. It was a dump. Open for only part of the year, they had a construction site office for a reception, and to cook a meal, we would have had to hire an old drum as a BBQ. Firewood was extra. Stayed there for about a minute - didn’t even bother to ask the prices - we could guess what the amenities would be like.

3. Doonbank’s Caravan Park was nice and shady like the first one, but had more grass, so we decided to stay there instead. Di was a little disappointed there were no ducks, but cheered up when I pointed out two ducks standing down the hill about 100m away. I went back up the top of the park to get the car and bring it around, and when I returned, Diana was standing at the tent site, with two ducks quacking merrily away at her feet, while she grinned like a Cheshire cat. With the car now there, we were able to feed them some bread, and they were very friendly with us then, even returning in the morning to see if we had any more bread for them.

Went out for tea at the Augusta hotel, which overlooked the river flowing into the sea - very picturesque. We decided to get a porterhouse steak each, which seemed a little expensive at $14.50, but then, we were in a relatively isolated coastal town, so they could afford to charge a bit more than usual. When we saw the meat though, we got a surprise - the steaks were roughly 10 inches long by 6 inches wide, and about an inch thick. We figured that we should also sample the local wine, seeing as were in the middle of the Western Australian wine producing region, but the bottle we chose was actually South Australian in origin.

After dinner, we went back to the campsite where it looked like it was trying to rain, but couldn’t quite muster enough energy to get the rain to form in the clouds. We decided to risk it for a while longer, lit a campfire, and toasted marshmallows before going to bed.

Onward to Walpole tomorrow…

Categories: Travel, WA 1999
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Still in Western Australia.

Background information from Monkey Mia a couple of days previous…

Three other backpackers from Switzerland arrived late in the evening - two girls and a guy - in a very small car they’d hired from Perth. All three of them were sleeping in a small tent, so we tried to guess how the guy had gotten lucky enough to be crammed into a tent between two good-looking girls. They’d only been in the country for two days, but we figured he’d be definitely enjoying Australia so far…*grin*

Now you have the background, here’s today’s winner…

Interestingly, we ran into the Swiss travellers from Monkey Mia again in the Bunbury Caravan Park, although their numbers were now depleted, with one of the girls leaving. Apparently she was not originally travelling with them, and they’d found her just standing crying in the Perth airport upon their arrival. She had been on the same flight as them but did not know anyone in Australia or on the flight. They recognised her as having been on the same flight and had offered her a chance to travel with them, because she expressed a desire to get straight back on the plane home.

After the drive to Monkey Mia though, she got them to drop her off at the Perth airport again and she flew home because she did not like the countryside. The main problem for her was that it looked nothing like Switzerland, which we thought was actually the point of travelling, as did the remaining Swiss travellers. Ah well, it cost her roughly $3000AUD to see the dolphins in Monkey Mia, so we hope the dolphins were impressed by her visit, even if she wasn’t. Given she was in the country for only 3 days, we doubt she got her $1000 per day value…

Still, she did not go home empty handed. She took with her the glory of being crowned our SPOTD. And probably some really tacky kangaroo souvenir from Perth Airport to prove she’d been there…

Categories: SPOTD
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Went on a tour of a rock lobster factory today, where lobsters are brought to for live export to (predominantly) Asian markets. The tour was absolutely free, despite the fact that the tourism guide said there would be a donation fee. They used to ask for a donation, and would then give it to charity, but they eventually decided that it was easiest to give the tours for free because they were running a $100 million per year money-spinner anyway. It was quite interesting to see all the different colours and sizes of the lobsters caught, and the strict rules they have on which are to be returned to the sea, which to discard, and which make it through the inspection process.

We were most surprised to note that they had no claws, as we had expected. We were envisioning these creatures as the large seafood animals with claws, but rock lobsters do not have the large pincers. At one point, the tour guide asked if anyone would like to hold one, and the only taker was Trav. I figured it would be the closest I come to a food source that expensive in the near-future…*grin* The tour lasted for an hour and we learned a great deal about something we’d never really thought about before.

One other important thing to note is that the start of the rock lobster season in Western Australia is the 16th March - Trav’s birthday. For the past two years, this one factory has brough in 64 tonnes of rock lobsters on the 16th March, and the entire holding capacity of the factory is only 90 tonnes, so they are flat-out for a few days at the start of the season.

Just south of Geraldton is a small town called Greenough. We passed through it on the way north, and noted all the horizontal trees. The only other thing in Greenough is the hamlet - a collection of 11 buildings constructed between about 1850-1860, when the area was first settled. The hamlet includes a school, church, police station, cells, courtroom, hall and a convent. It was very interesting to wander around inside the buildings which have been restored by the National Trust, and get an idea of the sort of machinery they worked the land with during that era. The only downside was the need for a serious spelling checker to go through the place with a fine-toothed comb. Trav’s biggest peeve is when words are spelled incorrectly, especially simple words like “scythe” (sith) and “convent” (comvet).

Having left the Greenough Hamlet, we rejoined our southward-bound route to Bunbury, but encountered a traffic hazard only a few kilometres down the road. An extremely large tractor was being transported down the road on the back of a semi-trailer, and the size of it was such that it was extending into the oncoming lane, despite being as far over as it could get. With three wheels on each axle, the vehicles coming the other way had to pull into the gravel to get past it, and given we had to pass this truck and tractor, it was not a task we were looking forward to. However, someone upstairs must have liked us, because the truck pulled off the road and we were able to get past it.

Nothing else interesting was found along the road back to Perth, seeing as it was the same road we’d previously travelled only a couple of days before. We discovered the people responsible for the roads of Western Australia had found a unique way to solve their problems. In a section of road between Gingin and Perth, there is a section of the highway that has become quite bumpy for some reason. Travelling at the 110 kph speed limit, vehicles could be thrown around a bit as they hit the lumps and potholes, so they needed a solution. One alternative to this situation would be to rip up the road and reseal the bitumen, creating a better road. The other alternative - and this is the one they chose - is to simply lower the speed limit for a couple of kilometres, from 110kph to 90kph. Although the cost of two speed-reduction signs would be less than resealing the section of road, we’re still not sure it’s a professional approach to road safety…

Further on down the road, as we entered the outskirts of Perth on the Great Northern Highway, we found that roadworks to solve the bumpy road might not be a good idea after all. We ended up behind a long line of traffic following a bus which was travelling at 55kph, in a 110kph zone. The reason for not being able to get past was that there were roadworks areas along the road, spaced at exactly the wrong places, so that every time there was a chance to pass due to no oncoming traffic, a water truck would wander down the road at a snail’s pace. After driving under these conditions for 30 kms, it was concluded that we needed large weaponry to remove the bus from the road and let us all past.

It is always interesting to go to another part of the country and see how different things are. People in Perth are much more relaxed and laid-back than those in Melbourne, and the driving style is exactly the same. We saw things in Perth we’d never see in Melbourne, such as everyone happily driving along in the fast lane at 20kph below the limit. Nobody was tooting or flashing their lights, although Trav was muttering a few curses under his breath. Traffic lights would change to green and neither of the front two cars would move off from the lights for maybe four or five seconds, and yet, nobody would get upset. It seemed so odd to drive in Perth, after the far more aggressive style of Melbourne had trained Trav to a different level.

A town between Perth and Bunbury called Brunswick Junction found itself our next destination. Because the surrounding area is predominantly dairying country, the local service clubs erected a statue of a cow in the main street. We had to get out and pose with it, simply because it was there. A few local kids were over the other side of the road, and Trav was tempted to get them to come over and kneel in front of the cow, as though worshipping an idol. Unfortunately, we decided they would want to be paid, and today’s kids would not think much of $2 between five kids. Sigh. I remember, in my day…*blah blah blah*

Found the caravan park in Bunbury without too much trouble, although it was bordering on getting dark, so there was a bit of a rush to get the tent up. With no other campers in the park, we decided to go and watch the X-Files in the recreation room, to let Trav get his weekly fix. We were sitting in the room quietly watching the TV at 10:00pm, when a woman came charging in the door in a very aggressive manner, semi-yelling, semi-asking “what did the Boss say when he let you in here?”. We both looked at one another and thought hard because all he had said at the time was to lock up the doors and turn off the lights when we left. We pointed this out, and she told us that we were not supposed to be in there after 9pm. We offered to leave, but she backed off from the whole argument as she realised that we had not been told about the curfew. We figure that “the Boss” would have copped an earful when she found him, and maybe made him feel like he was not the Boss after all…*chuckle*

Interestingly, we ran into the Swiss travellers from Monkey Mia again in the Bunbury Caravan Park, although their numbers were now depleted, with one of the girls leaving. Apparently she was not originally travelling with them, and they’d found her just standing crying in the Perth airport upon their arrival. She had been on the same flight as them but did not know anyone in Australia or on the flight. They recognised her as having been on the same flight and had offered her a chance to travel with them, because she expressed a desire to get straight back on the plane home.

After the drive to Monkey Mia though, she got them to drop her off at the Perth airport again and she flew home because she did not like the countryside. The main problem for her was that it looked nothing like Switzerland, which we thought was actually the point of travelling, as did the remaining Swiss travellers. Ah well, it cost her roughly $(AUD)3000 to see the dolphins in Monkey Mia, so we hope the dolphins were impressed by her visit, even if she wasn’t. Given she was in the country for only 3 days, we doubt she got her $1000 per day value…

Onward to Margaret River tomorrow…

Categories: Travel, WA 1999
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