Sat March 6 Kalbarri to Fowler's Camp, Shark Bay, via stromatolites, Shell Beach and a flash.

Today was Monkey Mia day! – Or, at least, it was the drive to the peninsula that Monkey Mia is on. 13 or so years go, when I had been travelling with my windsurfing friend, we had gone as far as Geraldton. I was desperate to get to Monkey Mia, to see the clear waters, and also the dolphins that swim there. He wouldn’t take me. So, intrepid as I am, I booked a seat on a Greyhound coach, which goes as far as the turnoff at the ‘Overlander Roadhouse’, then another bus to the turnoff for the stromatolites and historic Telegraph station, then I walked with the flies to the telegraph Station, saw the strolomotites, then got a lift to Monkey Mia, had an afternoon there, then got the bus back to the roadhouse, got onto the greyhound bus again and arrived back at Geraldton about 22 hours after I left. Phew. Anyway, it was the walk to the telegraph Station I most remembered, because it was early morning, hot, and a LOT of flies. I had always wondered how far it was I walked…

5.2 Kms or 3.25 miles. No wonder I thought it a long walk! I drove there this time, and set the odometer to see how far it was. We got lost on the first attempt, as I took a turn too early, and we arrived at a homestead in a matter of moments in the car. Darren laughed cos he thought that my ‘long walk’ which I had described all these years, had really been only about a kilometre. I was pretty cross, but glad when I realised we had gone the wrong way, and weren’t anywhere near the telegraph station.
It was pretty hot when we eventually arrived, and trouped off to look at the stromatolites in the highly saline bay. These are the oldest life form on earth, being “almost identical to organisms that existed 1900 million years ago”. Somehow that makes the year 2000 not seem such a big deal! They look like piles of mushrooming rocks in the water, and we walked on the boardwalk over them. You could see wheel rut marks where carts in the late 19th Century ran over them to get to waiting boats further out to see.

While we were making our lunch at the telegraph station, another traveller (pretty, blonde, accent) approached Darren and asked if we had any petrol to spare. The dozy couple of females had not got petrol at the roadhouse, and wanted to get enough petrol to take them to Denham, the only town on the peninsula, but which is 100 Kms away. We were going to give it to them, as we had some for our generator, but then I told them to go back 30 kms or so to the roadhouse and buy some. We gave them enough to get them there. Foreigners hey?

After that it was on the road for us too. Fiona, Darren’s sister and tour guide of these parts, had drawn a map where we could stay on the famous Shell Beach. We dutifully followed her directions, down a faint track, don’t go up the hill, follow the dunes around and… soon found ourselves driving on Shell Beach, with totally no one around, only a few cars around the bay in the far distance. I wandered down to the water’s edge, only to turn around to see Darren dancing about with nothing on… Seclusion can do this to you. One minute normal, the next butt naked… Fortunately for all I will not inflict a piccie.
We decided it was too windy to stay where we were, and the water was so shallow, it would take quite a walk just to get to a depth where we could swim, so we decided to go for one of the official free camp spots further down the road.

We reached a place called Fowler’s Camp, which was also down a dirt road and was right by another beach, also very shallow, but with some shelter from a hill behind us. It was beautiful and we went for a swim immediately. The bay was about 1 km across, the depth of which did not seem to come much higher than my thighs, but it was clear and deep enough to be swimmable. The dirt road veered off to the right along the bay, so we thought we should follow it, just in case there was a better spot further down the road. We bumped along, sometimes coming tantalisingly close to the beach then suddenly turning and running inland. We were just beginning to think we were going to have to turn around and go back when we hit the main road again! Feeling pretty foolish we turned right and went back to our original entry point. Clearly the only place to camp was where we had swum.

After we had put up the caravan, we turned left towards the opening of the bay, to which we were very close. Darren snorkelled while I floated about in the very warm saline water, feeling like I was in a massive kiddie’s pool. Truly bliss.

That evening Darren went for an explore while I took some pictures as the sun went down. There was not a cloud in the sky, and as the sun disappeared it gave the sky an amazing glow of orange to red to blue to purple

March 5 - Kalbarri National Park – a MASSIVE walk

For once we had opted to stay in a caravan park. This was because our cheap camp spot had been on such a windy bit of headland we didn’t reckon we would have stayed on it overnight. Our neighbours put on their air conditioner at 6 a.m. It wasn’t even warm then. I lay there growling to myself for a while, then when I realised I was not going to get to sleep again, I decided I felt like a walk.

Not a small amble across to the beach, but a full on Hike (yes with a capital Aych). We had planned to explore the river, and walk tomorrow, but since Iwas up early today then the walk today was the better option. Darren was happy to do whatever I felt like – and let’s face it; I rarely want to actually do anything.

We drove to the National Park, where there is an 8km (5 mile) walk called The Loop. It follows part of the Murchison River gorge, at first high above it then down onto the valley floor beside the river. Hiking boots on, socks pulled up (see picture!),lots of water and a few biscuits in the back pack and we left the NP car park at around 8 a.m.

At the start of the walk there is a natural rock arch, described as ‘Nature’s window’, through which you can look down to the valley below. That is of course the first photo stop. Then we went around on the high plateau above the river, which was completely dry in parts, then had deep pockets of water along the river bed.

While we were looking down at the world we came across patterns in the rock left there by waves of sand in the sea from millennia ago. It is always amazing to think that these places, so high up now, were once underwater with enormous ancient fish and mammals swimming over them.

We had travelled pretty much alone along the upper part of the walk, but when we reached the valley floor we met with a lost Swiss family who must have all been partially deaf, as they shouted to one another as they walked together. We pointed them in the right direction (they had missed the whole start of the walk and had clambered down to the valley floor by themselves) and let them pass while we stopped for a ration of water and biscuits.
After we could hear them no more we moved on. Now we were walking on the river bed itself, which was encrusted in salt which sometimes hid a thin layer of black mud under it. The carcass of a loan fish lay in a dusty bowl. Yes, it was enough to make you thirsty looking at it.

We rounded a bend and there was a section of deep deep water against the colourfully eroded gorge wall. It was so tempting to swim, but the salinity of the water made us stop. The family we had met earlier had stopped to talk to another Swiss walker (would you believe), and we hurried past.

As we moved on, I spotted 2 small red kangaroos who bounced away into the bushland. Darren and I were quietly trying to follow and spot them again, when the Swiss Family Loud came up behind us and destroyed all hope of seeing them again.

I was getting really tired by this stage, and walking slower and slower. Poor D had to keep waiting for me. I was at that stage when I really could not think what had possessed me to think an 8km hike a good idea. What part of 8km had I not understood? If we were ambling on the beach – no problem, but this was over rocks, down valleys, across stony river beds…WHAT HAD I BEEN THINKING?
To cheer me up, Darren suddenly said he could see the car. That sounded pretty good and I hurried to a snail’s pace to see where he was pointing. The car looked about 1mm high. It was a LONG way away.

Still, I had got us into this, so unfortunately I couldn’t complain. I dragged myself along, all the time somewhat dreading the climb back up to the car. We eventually stopped at the bottom of the rocky climb to the car park. I was just gearing up for a happy 10 minute rest, when other walkers came into view walking towards us. I had to go now. I could not be over taken.

Before I knew it, it was over. Somehow it was not as painfully high as I had expected, and we were back at Nature’s Window. The Swiss Family Loud was there, and although I took a couple of pictures they rudely did not offer to move from their vantage place just beside the window (I did it to see if they would).

Back at the car park we devoured the leftover pasta from the night before. Mmm carbs.

An hour later I was asleep.
Zzzzz

March Forth (sic) to Windy Geraldton, Kalbarri and a pink lake

Geraldton is over 700Km (437 miles)north of Perth on the coast, it is famed for its strong winds and is a major holiday spot for windsurfer dudes. as a result the trees famously grow at a rather extraordinary angle. We knew when we were approaching it.

It also has all the major shops. Darren managed to find ‘Tackleworld’, and spent a good half an hour happily browsing, hoping I was going to let him buy something. One filleting knife, a trip to Woolies and a trip to a charity shop for a rashy*, later, and we were off to Kalbarri. Yup, I am now the proud owner of a child’s rashy; bright green with purple sleeves and completed by a picture of ‘The Lion King’ on the front. For $3 I can’t complain.
*lycra sun top you swim in

About 60km South of Kalbarri there is a lake that is described as a ‘pink lake’, apparently because of the beta carotene within its waters. I was sceptical, and not too excited – until we saw it. It was SO pink! We were driving past it, and had to turn around to stop, get a closer look and a few pictures. Disappointingly the pictures do not show the colour at its full vibrancy, but believe me it was pinker than a tickled pink thing going to a pink dance with new pink pumps. Ok, just take my word for it.

3 March North Cliff Head camp site, A Burned Wasteland and the Mystery of the Found Camera

After the pinnacles we drove through Jurien Bay, stopping to send off (at last) Darren’s application for compensation for his assault. Our plan was to get as close to Geraldton as possible, and we chose a camp site on the beach about 100km south of it.
30km before the camp site there was evidence of a bush fire to the west of the road. As we went on it was very clear there had been a serious bushfire, which had even crossed the road in places. The area was desolate and blackened, with little vegetation left. Driving through such devastation really silences one, and we left each other to our own contemplations about what we saw. With the fires in Victoria almost exactly the year before, still fresh in all our memories, it was a sombre drive. The ash swirled up in eddies in the wind, but there was also evidence of the occasional area still slightly smouldering, and the last vestiges of smoke still lifting from the charred remains of the undergrowth.
Evidence of the fire had eased off when we reached our camp; clearly this was a small bit of land that did not get hit by it. It was a great spot, with large shady trees and the sea just metres away.

In the evening Darren came back from a wander with a camera he had found on the beach. Neatly nearby to it were a ladies’ and a men’s pair of thongs (flip flops). Darren said it was rather weird just finding them lying there facing out to sea. The owner, however, had brilliantly engraved his driving licence number into the side of the camera. We decided to contact our mate Dylan, a police officer in Queensland, who could track the owner down and ask them to call us. We hoped against hope they had not met with a sticky end – there aren’t meant to be man eating sharks in the area…but with the sea and the thongs, and no one about, it was a bit strange…

Weds 3rd March – Day 173 The Pinnacles, at last!

I have been waiting to get to the pinnacles for nearly 15 years. The last time I was travelling up this coast line I was with a friend from Hong Kong who had come over for a spot of windsurfing. He was the driver (I couldn’t drive in those days), and he completely refused to take the teeny, tiny detour of 138Km round trip so that I could see them. Big Meany! Well, needless to say, he blew it and is around no more, and my lovely husband, happy to do anything that will make his little wifey happy, drove me all the way there with a smile.

Cervantes lies 53Km west of the highway and a few kilometres after the turn off, large banksia trees lined the road, with coral coloured flowers. Beautiful and unexpected. The banksia is named after a botanist from the Endeavour who travelled with Captain Cook on his mapping of the east coast of Australia, Joseph Banks. Nice bit of useless information for you and ‘not a lot of people know that’.

We arrived…
The pinnacles are the weirdest things. They are made up of hundreds of limestone pillars, some over 12 feet tall, some less than two, all protruding from a sandy desert. Not much is known about them, and there are 2 main theories of their origins. One is that they are part of a petrified forest, and the other…well the other has something to do with erosion and water – which makes a lot of sense, but was not too understandable to me.

There is a road around which all cars can drive. I didn’t realise this, thinking we would be able to walk around them, but driving around was pretty surreal. There were lots of stop off places along the way, and we were able to park and look at them more closely on the drive. We took turns to drive and look, and then went to the information centre and shop.

I was still completely awed, and by no means disappointed, by this quiet forest of natural obelisks, so went for a walk around them for a little way while Darren made lunch. There was a little wind and no one about as it was beginning to get hot to be out there in the desert, so I wandered around, taking pictures of the formations. A few were grouped in what looked like a circle, and others just rose out of the ground alone. It was recommended being there for sunset, as the sandy floor of the desert is a golden custard colour, however we had been too tired to get all the way here the night before, so we were there for a morning viewing that got hotter and hotter as we neared midday. As I walked back I felt strangely peaceful and somehow, clean; not hot, dusty and bothered as you would expect!
It was $11 to get in, and worth every penny (if that makes sense!). That place is a definite ‘go again’ place. Wonderful.

Camp spot 25 Km before Cervantes turn off, and the broken down car (March 2)

We were too tired to make it all the way to Cervantes on the first day, and spotted a track going off the main highway, that ran along the edge of a mining property amongst the shrubs and bushes. It was pretty sandy, but clearly no one had been down it for a while, there was another track that ran just off it for a few metres, and we decided to park there for the night, and set up camp.
We were by no means the first, as just round the corner of our spot, someone had broken down and left their white 1974 Toyota Corolla sedan by the track. It was in a right old state, but Darren of course had to open it up and find its manufacture date, and see if the oil cap would fit ours etc. He has such faith in Toyota he even reckoned he could get it started if he tried. Fortunately he didn’t try. Also nearby was an old broken tape recorder on the ground, bizarrely almost completely free from dust – haven’t seen one of those for a while!

PS – I discovered today, Thurs 25 March, that Darren is now the proud owner of a rear view mirror (circa 1974, manufacturer: Toyota), which he uses when shaving… Now I WONDER where he got that from?...

Tuesday 2nd March – the travels begin again – lunch with friends from Kalgoorlie

Off again. No more bathrooms, no more ice in drinks, no more hot running water, no more big beds… Still always exciting to be up and doing, so after an early morning at Megan’s collecting and sorting out all our stuff. Saying a fond goodbye to Megan and Ashley, jumping for the last time into their lovely pool, we left Perth.

We had arranged to meet some friends we had met while travelling down in Victoria on the Great Ocean Road. They were a couple from Kalgoorlie, who were travelling in a very luxurious campervan, think truck. They had been staying at Aire River when we had been there, and we had shared a wonderful meal of rock lobster and fine wine and salad, one afternoon out of the blue. At the time they had just started their travels, and Butch was deciding if he liked it. Well, it was now 3 months later, and they were talking about doing more – it gets addictive like that. They were visiting their children in Perth, so we met up in the Swan Valley, at a vineyard for a spot of lunch, before the big drive up to Cervantes and the Pinnacles.

It was hot, hot, so we sat inside and enjoyed a tasting of 6 different wines while we lunched- all very civilised, we always seem to have such good meals with them.
Remembering an incident about me and having the right mug to drink tea out of, they had bought us beautifully wrapped gifts of stainless steel thermal cups, which we have been using ever since. We had nothing to offer them, but when the conversation turned to abalone (as it tends to), we discovered they had never had it, and having some ourselves we happily gave them some. They have been so friendly, it was great to be able to give them something to remember us by – even if it was a one footed slimy gastropod.

Sat – 27 Feb – In Which the Car is Broken Into – South Beach, Fremantle (B@$/@RD$!)

Darren and I went for a wonderful afternoon swim, I think Fiona had gone back to work on this day. Because it was Saturday it was pretty busy around the place, and we wallowed in the clear water with all the other punters.

As we walked back we stopped for a rinse in the shower provided, not far from our car. Darren (who is always 10 steps ahead of me) went first and then as I rinsed off, started to walk quickly to the car.
He had heard a loud crack, and had looked over to see a girl opening our passenger door. She must have seen him coming because she jumped into the back of the car that was parked next to ours on our passenger side, and clambered over to her front passenger seat.
I was blissfully unaware, and started to wander over to the car to see Darren leaning into what looked to me like a very nice vintage car. I immediately assumed he was chatting to the driver about the car, but as I got to our car, the driver had reversed out of his spot, with Darren still leaning on his window, but with his head well away from it, and he suddenly shouted “ Call the police, someone, call the police”
I stood there dumbfounded, as the guy drove away from Darren, past me, with Darren running after him, calling out,
”Take his number plate, he broke into our car…”
Without saying anything else he called to me to get a pen and was repeating the number plate over and over. Still not really understanding what was going on I scrambled for a pen, but Darren had gone around to some people who were sitting by their car, behind ours, who were waving to him with pen and paper already to hand. They had also seen these two, and had apparently seen them try to get into another car near ours. They had sneakily got pen and paper ready, in case they saw these characters do anything truly dodgy, to get the number plate down. Darren was very grateful and explained what had happened out of their site around the side of our car. We got the name of the guy who had witnessed them trying to get into another car.

We went back to the car, and there did not seem to be anything missing from the front. FORTUNATELY, I had locked my purse in the glove box; before we went swimming, as we had our week’s money in there + $70 that Fiona’s flatmate had given us, to buy some beer for her. Thank goodness that didn’t go.
We went round to the back of the car, the back door of which, opened. Fortunately all Darren’s million dollar rods were still all there: send a girl on a man’s mission, and she won’t knick fishing rods! But I realised that my orange rush basket, which I use as a beach bag, had gone. It had my turquoise rashy in it, and after I said that to Darren, he remembered he had seen that on the back seat of their car. The bag I guess they must have managed to cover up.
Darren was slightly shaken, but determined to go at once to the police. He said that he knew that since his assault last year, he couldn’t risk letting his head get hit, or he might have been more aggressive with the bloke who was driving. He had been a rather burly fellow, and I am glad that Darren was cautious about his head.

We went straight to the police station, stopping on the way, to ask directions from a chap sitting outside a café. He gave such excellent directions, that we arrived without a hitch – THANK YOU Man. It’s times like these, that you wish you could find them again to thank them personally for relieving some of our stresses to find the place.

The police were glad to hear from us, quite a number of cars had been broken into there, and we were the first ones able to identify the culprits. The driver had had a tattoo, which D had described, and with the number plate, they knew exactly who it was. The stuff they told us was probably long gone.
I couldn’t remember much of the contents of the bag, except that it had at the top, a bottle of vodka and ginger beer in a gift box, that I had bought for Ian and Megan to thank them for looking after me so well. Imagine what a find that would have been for the thieves. I mean you take your chances when you knick stuff from a car, but a 700ml bottle of vodka has got to be a great day’s work in their book. (B@$*@RD$!)

Anyway, we got the incident number, and went home, via the bottle shop for Shas’ beer. Fortunately she was having a bit of a gathering, and had invited us along, so we had the most delicious food cooked up, and chatted with persons previously unknown, and had a lovely evening, which went some way to healing the wound of the day – thanks Shas.

Unfortunately in the middle of the night, I woke up with the remembrance that my English credit cards with my library cards had been in the bag. So I spent the middle of the night hunting for them, then the morning chasing up the UK for new ones and letting the police know. Other things that had been in the bag slowly had come to mind overnight, so I had to let them know about them too. GRRRR.

Still, considering the amount we usually have in the car and the fact it was fortunately still all at Megan’s, we got off very lightly. Though the bag had been given to me, in happy times, by my friend Niki Pont, who has now moved to Melbourne, so the loss of the bag itself was the greatest.
(B@5*@RD5!)

Feb 24th – 2nd March – Staying with Sister Fiona Jol in Fremantle W.A.

Darren’s sister lives in Fremantle, in Hamilton Hill (or as the locals call it – Hammy Hill). She works as a tour guide taking bus tours up and down the coast of WA, sometimes for 10 days at a time. Fortunately when Darren got back to Perth, so did she, and kindly took a few days off to spend with ‘big bro’. Not only that, but she gave up her bedroom to us, her room mate being away at work while we were there.

She had another couple staying for the 1st night we were there, and we all went out in the evening for the birthday of one of her guests. Many of her friends are tour guides, so it was gold picking their brains about all the good spots we should be visiting as we travel up the coast. It was also gold to be out on a Friday night in a bar, overlooking Cottesloe beach, with clean hair, in my brand new $4 charity shop dress, complete with wedge sandals. I almost looked civilised.

We went for a few great swims with her at South beach in Fremantle, in the evenings all the locals, it seems, go down for a dip. It was so calm and clear we took to floating serenely on the top of the water, in between laughing our heads off! Darren and Fiona are definitely 2 peas from the same pod and it is always fun to see them together. (Awwww, bless!).

Feb 23rd - The Intrepid Fisherman Returns! A tender reunion?

You would imagine after 14 days and barely any contact by phone, the reunion would be a thing of beauty and tenderness.
But wait, remember the protagonists; remember that Darren will be delighted and excited, but that Victoria will be grumpy and bumpy. She will have had to drive the ambulance around for over half an hour waiting for the plane, illegally waiting in side streets of the airport environs, wondering if he has remembered their telephone number. Remember too, that the ambulance barely fits into the airport pick up/ drop off point, so adding extra stress to the anticipation of picking her husband up. Then remember that apparently helpful words from the passenger, to tell the driver how to drive after the pick up, would be neither tolerated, nor acceptable to the driver.
If you remember all that, you will have a better picture of the tender reunion!

Yup, I was hot, grumpy and stressed when I went to pick him up, and then we managed to argue in the car on the way home, when Darren told me how to change gears, when I had managed quite well without him for 2 weeks, THANK-YOU! Not the auspicious start we were both hoping for.

Feb 17 – Feb 22rd A few days at Mandurah, in an apartment, then camping

I booked 3 nights at the Quest Apartments in Mandurah on Wotif.com. I had decided that if Darren was going to swan around having a holiday from a holiday, then I would blow some of our savings on 3 nights in a hotel. Then I was going to go and stay at a caravan park and camp for a couple of nights there, sleeping in the back of the car ( I couldn’t be bothered with a tent).

I was rather sad to wave Megan goodbye, but it was fun to be off on an adventure alone, just me and the ambulance. Rebecca was going to come and visit me down there, so I wasn’t going to be alone all of the time.
I arrived, the room opened out onto lush gardens, the pool was a stone’s throw away, and was empty, large and sparkling. There was cable television with a variety of film channels, and a large bathroom with 5 pristine white towels all to myself. MMMMMMMM!

Needless to say, the time flew by. One evening I went for a long walk to see the sun set on the coast – but managed to get there after the event, and realised I was facing North not West anyway. Mandurah has a large harbour and the sun set and sky were spectacular behind all the masts, it reminded me of Cowes and Bembridge in the Isle of Wight.

Rebecca came to visit, and we had a lovely lunch looking at all the boats, wondering what everyone at work was doing. Afterwards we went for a swim in the pool and then sat in the spa – bliss!

On the Saturday I checked out and went to the beach for the day. The trouble with this coast is that it gets v.v. windy, so I managed to put up my little beach tent (UV Protection 50), but after a while the wind got more and more, and I was the only thing that was preventing it blowing away entirely. So had to dismantle it again, trying to look as though I had meant to have it up only for an hour or so, and that the wind had also been in my plan.

I then went to Mandurah campsite, which was pristine. I had put one of the mattresses in the back of the truck, which was empty as everything had been put in Megan’s garage before Darren went away. I had my box of clothes, picnic set, electric lamp, computer. I was set! I booked a powered site for a couple of nights and to my delight was told they had masses of videos I could borrow for free, so I was happy as. The pool was great too, and I spent a blissful couple of days there, really not doing much at all.

Feb 10 – Feb 17 a week in Perth with the Grants, and a UK visitor, an unexpected meeting and Ashley stars walking

How relaxing to be in a house. No one can under estimate the power of running water. Because Megan has a (just) one year old, happily for me she is not working, so I had company the whole time.
Visited Fremantle, went to the Art Gallery of W.A, and went to the cinema, all in the 1st week with her. On the weekend Ian went with me to the Western Australian Museum. It really is the museum OF W.A., and has loads of pioneering history, geological history and indigenous history, which was fascinating to us and the other children there. Upstairs on a mezzanine level there was a small display about Darwin and the Beagle. From that a gallery ran around the whole room, looking down at the main section of the museum (very V&A). The gallery was roped off, but all along it on shelves, were hundreds of weird and wonderful stuffed animals. It looked like something out of a Victorian exhibition, that I wished I could explore further.

Coincidentally, another good friend from days at Wiley was also visiting Perth from London. Rebecca used to work with Megan and I as the Perth rep, and now she has moved to London, she was sensibly over here getting her February sunshine. I met up with her on Thursday in a pub in Fremantle for lunch. (Mmm wine in a glass!)
Suddenly out of the blue Darren’s sister, Fiona, came and sat next to us. She had just got back from up north and we joined her friends while we finished our drinks.
I have met up with Rebecca once in London, and on that occasion too, in the Strand, I bumped into someone I knew. Consequently she now thinks I know everyone! (Which of course is true..)

It transpired that Fiona has a room mate, who would have had to move from the room if I had stayed, so rather than oust the poor girl, I decided for the 2nd week, to go back to Mandurah for a few days.
We left them in the pub, and went to Cottesloe beach for a classic tourist’s sunbathe there. So great to catch up, and Rebecca would be around next week too, and come to visit in Mandurah.
I went home by bus, having decided that I wasn’t going to drive the ambulance around town if I could help it.

Mon 15 Feb – Weds 17 Feb Ashley starts walking!
It has been amazing to watch a child develop just in a week. When I arrived on Tuesday Ash was very much crawling everywhere. By Friday she was levering herself up and trying to hold on to furniture and move upright. By Monday the next week she was standing alone and swaying a lot, maybe 2 steps than bumped down again. By Wednesday she was standing often and managing quite a few steps! It was lovely to be there when it was all going on

And so we reached Perth!

Apparently the drive from Adelaide to Perth is similar to that of London to Moscow. Well Moscow looked good!
We arrived at Willetton, about 20 minutes East of Fremantle, easily enough, the GPS for once coming into its own. There was Megan, baby Ashley, a lovely big house (with running water and ceilings!), and shimmering in the back yard was a fabulous pool. We had arrived!
Darren off fishing? Yeah, whatever, see ya! I was happily in the pool, looking at the bathroom, contemplating my lovely bedroom. All good! Later Ian, Megan’s hubby, came back from work and we all had a swim together, then drinks by the pool then dinner. How civilised.
I reluctantly drove the truck (ambulance as I call it) to the airport that night. With the boat on top, we barely made the height restriction for drop off at the airport, but with Darren out of the car checking, and the blokes working on the road noisily cheering us on, we made it – just (how embarrassing).
We waved to each other, and he was gone. No contact expected during the boat trip at all. ‘Twas gonna be a long 14 days..

9 Feb Day 151 Darren befriends an octopus in Mandurah, we reach Perth and Darren goes off for a 2 week fishing trip in Cape York (Gt. Barrier Reef)

This was our last day together before Darren left to go on a fishing trip in Cairns that evening. A holiday from a holiday is how I described it. He was deserting me for 2 weeks to go out on a 64ft boat from Cairns, up to Cape York for a total of 10 days fishing. How could I have possibly refused him? He had booked it last February, while he was off work after his accident. How could I have told a chap who could barely speak that I didn’t want him to go and have fun for 14 days? I couldn’t. But that did not mean I was happy about being left in Perth for 2 weeks. FORTUNATELY my dear colleague from Sydney, Megan, who now lives in Perth, had said a year ago that we could put the caravan in their driveway while D was away. So we did this, and I put myself in her spare bedroom for a week, with a view to staying with my sister-in-law for the other week. But I get ahead of myself. We still had a day to enjoy, and after awakening at Martins Tank Lake in Yalgorup National Park (a heavily saline, very warm, muddily shallow lake with little to recommend it), we headed back to the newly opened Perth Bunbury Highway that now goes from (and this will surprise you…) Perth to Bunbury. It was fun watching our GPS having confused attacks as we, according to it, drove across fields and over rivers towards Perth. We soon realised we should have taken the coast road, however, as we decided to go back to the coast, to Mandurah, for a swim and hopefully a shower. Mandurah is on the coast, but is also built on a large estuary, and we bathed by the old Mandurah bridge. Darren went for a snorkel and later emerged from the river carrying a small plastic oar. He put it up on the grass and when we went back to it, there was an octopus beside it, which must have been living within the hollow of the oar handle! Darren took it back to the water, and then proceeded to torment it by filming its every move while he chased it in the shallows with his snorkel on. And people ask why we don’t have kids… You know when you arrive in a place and you just get it? Mandurah was like that for me, and it was fairly reluctantly that we left to get to Perth by the agreed 1 o’clock.

DAY 150 of our trip - 8 feb – First Glimpse of the Indian Ocean

Just before we went to the last free camp spot before Perth, we drove to Preston Beach. It was crazily windy, so we didn’t swim, but we had at last got to the Indian Ocean. The last time Darren saw it with his own eyes he was in Africa. I thought that was pretty cool.

8 Feb Last day before Perth DAY 150! Hansel and Gretel get lost in the woods.. (damned GPS)

There were various ways for us to leave the campsite and get to our destination. We could go back south the 3 Km we came, hit the bitumen road then do a wide half circle northwards to get to the main road that was lying north of us. OR we could go from the camp site and head North on small unsealed roads in the midst of the forest, slowly meet larger unsealed roads and eventually meet the main road lying north of us.
We took the second option (mistake number one).
We put on our GPS and headed it in the direction of the main road we wanted to reach (mistake number two).

The GPS passed the first test by turning us right from the camp site northwards. Then we hit a crossroads. After that we were at its mercy. It took us left, it took us right. Down a smaller road, then left down what looked to us like no road at all. (Turn left in…300 metres. Turn left in …50 metres. Turn left in…10 metres. Turn left, then turn right…).
We seemed to be getting deeper and deeper into the woods, we felt like a modern day Hansel and Gretel, but without the breadcrumbs, and only a deranged GPS to help us out. The gingerbread house would appear any minute…

“Turn right in…50 metres…” This was ridiculous. There was NO right turn, maybe a bicycle track if you were lucky. Our poor car and caravan were already trailing enough brush and vegetation to make a good sized bonfire because of the low branches and side bushes they had collected as we went down the narrow trails (at least that would save us collecting fire wood). Not to mention the poor boat on top of the car, that had truly copped it from the low branches. I had had to close my window after getting a slap in the head from a branch that jettisoned through the window as we drove past a little too close to it.
At this pointless ‘left turn’ we were on a fair sized road, so Darren made the executive decision to switch off the offending GPS and keep going forward, which eventually fortuitously met a T junction, and proper sealed road! What was to have taken 20 minutes, took us a good hour or so.

Later we were facing another disappearing road (see photo), when we stopped at beautiful Bridgetown to make a few calls. While Darren talked, I hummed, “We’re on the road to nowhere, hmmm hmm hmmm hmmmmm” By that time we had found our way back onto the map, but from the look of the photo we didn’t know where we were…

Greens Island Camp spot – somewhere down a lot of rough roads

We followed the signs to our camp spot which was only about 3 kms away from where we had had lunch. It was a massively wooded area, with a mix of state forest and private land. Eventually we came out to a clearing with a football pitch, of all things, on it. A track went around the pitch through the trees, and off this were individual camp sites looking out onto the grassy area.
There was another group of campers there, in their early 20’s, one of whom had a motorised buggy/go-cart. They were taking it in turns to drive it around the track, so every few minutes it would roar past – not very peaceful! Still, we were all youthful once, and goodness knows how much noise pollution Darren has made in the past, and we figured they would stop eventually. They did; some to have a game of golf on the green (a ball nearly hit the caravan, much to Darren’s annoyance, so when they came looking he didn’t tell them where it was!), and some to fire tennis balls into the forest with a home-made rocket launcher! I thought it was quite funny, except when I was trying to snooze and a loud ‘BOOM!’ would suddenly wake me up.

When they had settled down to cook food etc in the evening it was wonderfully quiet and peaceful. This was one of the 1st places we had been that allowed barbeques, and there were concrete bbqs at each camp spot, and wood piled up. A log fire is such a treat, as everywhere we have been since Adelaide had a fire ban. The other campers told us the council for the area were one of the few that allowed them. Strange as this was one of the most forested areas we had been in.
We were not on an island per se, however we were in a bend in the Donnelley River that almost went back on itself creating the illusion of an island. We were in the middle of a tall forest, and the sound of the wind in the trees made for a peaceful evening.

The Man from the Bibbulmun Track, who had walked hundreds of kms, but who we didn’t feed

(sounds like someone Coleridge would be interrupted by; “the man from Bibbulmun”)

We wanted to go and look at ‘One Tree Bridge’ which used to span the Donnelly River. It lies about 40km as the crow flies from Pemberton and the gigantor (Karri) trees, and is fortunately just near one of the few free camp sites of the area, called greens island. The area is heavily wooded and we stopped at the bridge (which has now been replaced by something a little more sturdy), and I made lunch at the open picnic area below the bridge where to guys were fishing in the river. It was extremely beautiful there. A lone walker was also resting there.
I started to talk to him while I made our sandwiches. He was following the Bibbulmun Track, which starts 20km south of Perth and winds its way through the bush to Albany via Walpole, covering 963 km. He had started at the start and been walking for just over 2 months and covered about 500kms (?) He said it is well organised, with water tanks and camp sites every 15 Km or so. The camps mainly being 3 walled shelters.

I had seen markers for the Bibbulmun Track at Parry Beach, in the Walpole NP and other locations, and was fascinated to talk to him. He was sitting at a different picnic table to us, and as we talked I made 3 sandwiches. We didn’t have much filling to put in them, and were at the end of the bread, and D likes to have two…so you know what I did – or rather, what I didn’t do? I did not offer him one. How completely terrible is that. I have been thinking about it ever since. There he is, carrying all his belongings on his back, watching a girl make sandwiches at lunch time while she chats to him, and she doesn’t even offer him a piece of bread. I could have given him one, and given Darren something else to eat as well. But I didn’t, I didn’t want Darren to go without. In truth it did not occur to me that I could have given Darren something else as well, until after he left. Stupid. Stupid. Selfish.
This is my penance. To tell you.
There was a café at the bridge, and as we started to eat he left with friendly farewells to go and buy a coffee. After he left I told D how bad I had felt, but that I hadn’t wanted to give his sandwich away. It was very blinkered thinking. I remain quite shocked at myself. Later I realised we did have another loaf of bread, which made me feel even WORSE!

Now I am constantly on the lookout to feed a traveller.

Sun Feb 7 We are hurrying towards Perth and missing so much!

As I have already noted the S / SW coast of WA is amazing. There was just too much for us to see in the time we had. What a great driving holiday it would make from Perth: Mandurah, Bunbury, Busselton, Margaret River, Augusta, Bridgetown, Donelly River, Pemberton, Walpole coast to Albany… A smorgasbord of fine wines, foods and vistas.
We just had to tell ourselves, “Next time. Next time.”
With a bit of money, and around a month, the wine tasting, culinary delights and walks of the area would make for a really special holiday. We had decided to give Margaret River a miss, as we would have tried a wine or two and then we would have wanted to buy some and our budget does not really reach buying fine wines in the regions of wine excellence of Australia. But that’s OK, it will make for a great holiday in the future.
We pushed northwards, after much discussion about a visit to Busselton. I had seen a beautiful picture of white beach, blue sea, and the ancient and picturesque longest timber jetty in the southern hemisphere. Somehow we talked ourselves out of visiting it. I am regretting it already.

So where did we go for our last 2 nights? Hmmmm, where INDEED?

Sun 7 Feb. Parry Beach to Greens Island and Darren climbs the Gigantor Tree

With all these tall trees about, there had to be one or two to climb. Further west from the tingle trees, near Pemberton, are the Karri Pine forests. We were headed there today. I had read about the fire trees, which are climbed to see which direction forest fires are going. The most famous is the Gloucester tree, a mere 60 metres to climb, using a metal spiral stairway – essentially steel rods hammered into the bark that are used as steps, and nothing else. That sounded great, but I had read on and found that the tallest of the fire trees is the Dave Evans Bicentennial Tree, with 68 metres of climbing, found in the Warren National Park. That was the one I decided Darren should climb. Quietly bypassing the Gloucester Tree, I directed him to the Bicentennial one. I reasoned that there was not much point in climbing the second tallest of the trees, when the tallest was right ….here.
We arrived. I looked up, and promptly decided I didn’t want Darren to climb the tree AT ALL. I had been full of BIG TALK. Climbing was for FOOLS.
I peered up through the branches to the platform surrounded by a safety cage at the top, which, I am informed, weighs two tonnes itself and can sway up to 1.5 metres in either direction. No way did I want my dearest one anywhere near there. I felt dizzy just looking up.
Darren agreed on a compromise that he would only climb to the first level. This looked quite high enough, but I was grateful for his understanding. (I am sure he did really want to go all the way to the top?)

At the time there was a girl at the bottom waiting for her boyfriend who was somewhere up there in the branches. Once Darren started to go up, she too decided she was going to join her partner up there. Mad! I was barely able to watch Darren go up higher and higher – about 40 metres up. He stopped at the 1st rest platform and peered down at me, while I anxiously peered up at him. Then she passed him and disappeared up the tree. The foot holds are not all winding around the tree, towards the top some vertical climbing is involved. She made it. But we didn’t wait to see them come down.

Darren said coming down was harder than going up, as expected I suppose, when he happily got to the bottom he said his legs were aching and felt a little jelly like. Imagine feeling like that on a descent from the top!
I didn’t even put my foot on the first rung.

True Story: We later met a Swiss chap up near Monkey Mia, who told us he had climbed the tree, and at the top his teacher from his 8th grade had greeted him! And he had his 11 and 9 year old children with him.
Good Grief.

Saturday 6 February – Touring – Valley of the Giants, Rainforest Walk, Circular Pool

The problem is, that we are surrounded by National Parks. From Parry Beach at 12 o’clock is Mt Roe National Park, at one o’clock Mt Lindesay NP, at three o’clock is west Cape Howe NP, at nine o’clock is Walpole-Nornalup NP, at ten o’clock Mt Frankland south NP, at eleven o’clock Mt Frankland NP. Oh, and at about 12.45 is the tiny William Bay NP. From three o’clock to nine o’clock is the Southern Ocean, otherwise there would probably be more.
You get the picture? The place is beautiful. Beeeaauuutttifuuuullll. So much to see, so little time.

We opted for the most famous attractions of the area and then what else appealed. Parry Beach camp had been chosen for it’s proximity to the Valley of the Giants Walk in the Walpole-Nornalup National Park. So that was our first stop of the day.

The Valley of the Giants Walk is a walkway up in the tree tops of the rare Tingle trees found in the area. This is an ancient forest. At its highest point it is 40 metres and as I looked down to the forest floor I could feel every metre. The walk is 600 metres long and goes up at a fairly gentle gradient so that you suddenly find you are higher than expected when looking down. It also has the added joy of swaying in the breeze. Lovely. While I was up there I was stopped by a Dutch couple who thought I was the French girl whom they had given a lift to the day before, when she was hitch hiking. They were amazed when I said I wasn’t and were both quite adamant how alike we looked. It was a somewhat surreal feeling to know that my double is out there somewhere hitching the roads.
After the walk we joined a tour of the forest floor, called the Ancient Empire Boardwalk. Here we learned that the trees we were looking at were about 500 years old, they were growing in Elizabeth I’s era, amazing. They hold an enormous amount of water, which means if a forest fire hits them, they do not burn as easily.

Later we took a drive to ‘The Giant Tingle Tree’, this in the past has been photographed with cars, horses and carts, people, inside its hollowed out trunk. Now no cars can get to it, and we had a meandering walk on more board walk to take a look.
When we got to it, I realised this is not a tree you could hug to much effect.

Next we drove to a place called Circular Pool, and had lunch in the empty car park before the walk to the pool itself. We had expected this to take a while, but after only a couple of minutes we were at the water’s edge. Parts of it are said to be 5 metres deep, and apparently cars used to be able to get to the water’s edge, until one car nearly rolled in, and it was decided perhaps parking further away was a safer option.

After that we were tuckered and treed out, so we headed back to our camp town.

Fri 5 February - ALBANY, W.A.

Today we spent in Albany. Being a ‘Last of the Mohicans’ Super Fan, it is hard not to associate the Albany of Australia with the Albany of that esteemed book and film(s).
It is a wonderfully historic town, and we did the guided walking tour with the leaflet we got from the info centre. We also visited the Anglican church there, and was given a tour of that by a lovely lady volunteer, while her husband coughed in the back of the church, poor chap. This church was built by the same person who built the Perth Cathedral. I am sure there is some link between that church and that which my parents and sister were married in, in London. I became more convinced when I looked at the aisle tiles, which reminded me of All Saints in Margaret St, W1. I have to get on the internet before I can check… will add an addendum to this section.
Did you know the first dawn service on an Anzac Day was performed here at Albany? Also that it was here that many of those WW1 troops saw their last bit of Australia mainland as they were taken off in war ships from Albany to fight at Gallipoli. Sad sad times.
The church was wonderful, it had had additions built onto it as the congregation got larger, as the town grew. Good to hear of congregations growing rather than dwindling. There were also coats of arms of the various diocese to which it had belonged throughout the years – Westminster, Portsmouth, Bombay, Perth, Bunbury, all very interesting to this vicar’s daughter.

There were no free camp spots at or near Albany, so after a few hours exploring, then making our lunch at the car outside a café with everyone watching us, we pushed on to Parry Beach Camp Spot.

….Which was like a town! I think we had one of the last spots, furthest from the sea, but also furthest from the sea of people. We tucked ourselves into a tiny spot with bushes all around us at the end of the loop road of sites. When we walked to look at the beach there were people camped every few metres. This is a camp ground that was only $8 a night each, and had showers and toilets – an unheard of bargain in the world of camping, so we understood why it was popular.

So here they were, all the grey nomads, all probably out for a practice run of their camping equipment before the giant migration North in April. It was like a scene out of Chitty Chitty Bang Bang – no children (have you seen this film? I was freaked out for years). Clearly the terrifying child catcher had got them all and pushed them into school.
Yup, school holidays have ended and the geriatrics are reclaiming the beaches.

(Rounded off a great day by watching Last of the Mohicans. Sigh.)

Friday 5 Feb – My sister’s birthday – HAPPY BIRTHDAY BENEDICTA! – Miller’s Point through Albany to Parry Beach Camp Site (235 Kms / 146 Miles)

After we had, a little reluctantly, packed up to get on our way to Albany, we had been told that about 45Kms along the road there was a tiny petrol station with a toilet block with – wait for it! Free showers!
This was too good to be true so we went to investigate. Sure enough, at Wellstead, (apt name), the tiniest blip on the map, there was a petrol station, near it a fresh water drinking fountain (gold), and a public loo block, with a perfectly clean shower room, the size of our bathroom at home, with hot and cold water. Tra-la-laaaa! Dance and boogie for we shall be cleeeeean!
It is an odd thing to do, to get your shower things in the middle of the day, find your shampoo and comb, while watching trucks go by just metres away. But on this trip a real shower with walls and a ceiling is too good to pass up. In fact it is unthinkable to pass up.
People ask what I most miss on this trip – answer: my bathroom.

While Darren was transforming himself from Neanderthal Man to Metrosexual Man I was watching a bunch of black cockatoos that flew by screeching and landed in a nearby tree. There were loads of them, and the noise was terrific. Then another lot flew over. All I needed now was Tippi Hedren to come out of the Petrol station and drive away in a Chrysler Valiant. I would not have been surprised.

Thursday 4 Feb – Still Miller’s Point WA – An Eerie Cave and a beautiful evening

Today we took an expedition up the river to see how far we could go. The river got narrower and narrower, and at one point we nearly beached ourselves on a sandbank. There was mainly pastoral land on each side, and we would occasionally see a four wheel drive track. At one bend there was a steep sided rock face down into the water. The cuttings into the rocks were straight, making the cliff face look like it had been built with square and oblong building blocks. The river looked as though, at some point in past time, it had undercut the land creating a cliff with a huge cavern area under it. Darren got out to investigate, and climbed up; I (bravely) stayed in the boat. Suddenly Darren gave a screech and a huge white owl flew out from just above his head within the undercutting. The river was completely still there, and the rocks had eroded to display amazing patterns on their smooth sides. I could imagine this being a very sacred or special place for the aborigines way back when. It was almost eerie – I was glad, and had a bit of a shiver when we moved off again.

That evening was our last evening there, and we were treated to a beautiful sunset, with many birds on the water. Very peaceful… Zzzzzz