Our final decision is to write a less detailed monthly blog, containing anecdotal tales from our meanders around Australia. This second phase has us retracing our steps, in some places, for the third time. Hopefully, it allows a new form of blog to evolve - possibly each of us writing up a particular account. Apart from the excitement of exploring new places, there is still much to be said for returning to the places we have particularly enjoyed, re-experiencing them in a different season.
October route map
We began our journey with a relaxed 4 days spent just outside Dunsborough with Sax, Paul, Talia and Harley-dog. Sax and Paul took the whale watch boat out to sea and caught wonderful visuals of whales on the Saturday and our little charges were perfect.
Believe it or not we discovered a bad leak on the water pump when Lea found the floor of a cupboard sodden. Another wretched plastic fitting to blame! George tried mending it with two different types of adhesive sealants over the weekend, but neither worked. Fortunately a plumber in the caravan park told us where to find a brass replacement. Done with ease, and hopefully sorted once and for all.
It’s sometimes tough growing old – the confusions that arise, crop up all too easily!
Back on the road after eight months away demonstrates this point quite clearly….
After our meal of spatch-cocks on the BBQ – Lea noticed George had moved the BBQ close to where Talia was asleep. He duly moved it to the opposite end of our campsite to cool down.
Next morning as Lea approached the bins to dispose of “doggy do” she was taken aback to find coals lying on top of the lid and scattered around the base… Thoughts of “our coals” immediately jumped to mind BUT an environmentally conscious old fellow wouldn’t DO THAT would he? For peace of mind, best check.
“Yes, I tipped them into the skip” and the righteous mere male came to see what the fuss was about, and then blustered “It was dark and it looked like a skip from this angle”…
Naturally, the evidence was swept up in the time it took for Saxon to fetch her camera.
Plans to go to different places over the weekend were so often thwarted by Dogs Prohibited signs! Hence we didn't get out to Cape Naturaliste to look for whales until the Gees left after an early lunch on the Monday. Driving out to the Cape proved a measure of distraction to the farewells. There we spent a good two hours scanning the ocean from the whale watching platforms and only near the end of our time did we suddenly see some distant spouting and then some breaching - which gave us a thrill. We’d much preferred to have been without binoculars though!
We returned to the super bush camp at Conto's Field in the Leeuwin-Naturaliste National Park that we'd discovered earlier in the year and spent two nights there. Again, we walked that superbly elevated section of the Cape to Cape hiking trail looking for whales in vain! However, the wonderful variety of wildflowers in bloom more than made up for the missing whales. We have never seen the bush around here looking quite so magnificent.
A cold front moved in on our second day confining us to Getaway as rain and wind battered us despite being in a relatively protected hollow amongst the peppermint trees, even they added to the chill with their tiny white blossoms making them look as if they had been caught in a snow flurry.
Shire run caravan parks invariably have the best location and the one in Augusta right on edge of Flinders Bay was no exception. An entrancing, brilliant blue fairy wren and his dowdy little wife flitting around outside our door was an added attraction for the two days we were there. Our next couple of days took us to Molloy at the top of the Hardy Inlet which is fed by the biggest river in the South West, the Blackwood. Our stay in this lovely environment where wild kangaroos and parrots visit unfortunately coincided with another cold front bringing gusty winds up the inlet and intermittent rain. By evening we were shivering and mighty grateful for the electric kettle and toaster that we’d looked at askance when Sax and Paul had initially given them to us. The excitement of the World Cup rugby final generated many email photos of green and gold supporters (dogs and children included) and did not lead to ethnic problems within the family. Sadly we missed any coverage being out of TV reception range.
During a work orientated visit to Perup Ecology Centre in the late 90’s George returned full of enthusiasm after his many encounters with woylies. Since the eradication of foxes, researchers were using this 100ha study area, buffered by a 50 000ha nature reserve to monitor the recovery of the State’s rarest mammals including the numbat, tammar wallaby and chuditch.
Earlier this year we attempted to get permission to visit the woylies from the Dept. of Conservation and Environment only to hear it was closed. Back to try again, we struck lucky. Access is by arrangement only. This beautiful facility constructed of rammed earth and renamed The Perup – Nature’s Guest House offers “an environmental and ecologically sustainable nature based experience for the community” and as word spreads – tourism in general. Although not set up for caravans, Glen Batty the caretaker, was a most considerate host inviting us to join his talk to a group of 70+ Senior Citizens out for the day, supplying us with a strong torch for our night spotlighting walks and ensured we were comfortable in our little spot. We had a wonderful time with good sightings of tammar wallabies yet nothing of woylies. It seems the earlier successes with woylies are unravelling for reasons unknown.
Woylie Walk, one of four trails, wound us round the reed swamp and led us away into the woodlands when a strange sound caught Lea’s ears. On alerting George well ahead of her, he seemed to think it was an alarm call from a parrot. Somehow the sound seemed more of distress or upset and reminded Lea of the tree frog we’d heard in Kakadu last year – in the time it took for Lea to catch up with George the sound was ongoing… Together, we continued up the path straining to ascertain where the sound was coming from and moments later realised we were standing close to the tree but could see nothing as we scanned the boughs – almost simultaneously our eyes caught the gleam of a snake’s tail high-lighted by the sun at a broken off rotten fork near the base of tree. Binoculars were hurriedly raised to check whether we could believe our eyes. In the heat of excitement George passed over the binoculars saying “tiger snake”. That immediately sent a ripple of fear as Lea peered down the lenses to see the now magnified snake reverse slightly from the obvious hollow. It appeared so big that the gasp and leap backwards Lea made didn’t stem the drama that was being played out in front. “Get a photo” and to her consternation, instead of George doing just that he began sneaking up to the tree, moving to the left. This further agitated Lea as that seemed far too close to the head of a venomous snake and she swiftly moved up the path to see what view was to be had from that angle. Nothing! Dying was taking oh so long a time, but the final death rattle seemed to be in progress. Hoarsely Lea told George to move - he took steps to the right and began his time honoured procedure of composing the picture. Lea watched in dread, with adrenalin racing in case the disturbance should have the snake tumble out at George’s feet – the distress sounds resumed. A flash went off and then, in an effort to see more clearly, the mad man began using his watch face to create light within the hollow. He beckoned Lea over but nothing would induce her to venture closer. Eventually he returned to the path and related that the snake had disappeared from view by the time he had stepped right. No snake but he could see two possums towards the entrance of the big cavity that spread downwards into the trunk of the tree. Thinking about it later, we realised a tiger snake wouldn’t be searching for a meal in this habitat it was probably a carpet python. That evening we returned to the scene of crime and peered down to see a sleeping possum – only one!
Can you spot the possum?
The flash photo revealed a snarling possum, but no snake. So where did it go? Did it slip past the parents and in doing so create all that shamozzle, or was it squeezing one of the youngsters for breakfast?
Out of interest we are giving George’s written perspective –
Examining the tail through binoculars suggested its owner could be a tiger snake. If so, then the noise coming from within what we assumed was a hollow in the fork of the tree, must be its prey, now taking its last gasp? Instead of taking a photo there and then, George could not resist trying to get closer – and with that, the snake’s tail disappeared into the hole. Convinced that he was about to be bitten by an angry snake Lea kept her distance – quietly having kittens. Peering into the hollow George could see the face of a brush tailed possum staring back at him, but the hole was too deep to see whether the snake was in there as well. His first idea was to see whether by taking a flash photo – the flash may illuminate what lay within. This didn’t work too well so his next trick was to remove his watch and using it like a mirror, shine a ray of light into the hollow, thereby obtaining a clear view of two possums within but still no sign of the snake. His invitation to Lea for her to come and see them was refused.
The mystery of the missing snake remains unexplained. Assuming that the sound we’d heard had been the possums volubly objecting to the snake’s presence, why hadn’t they come shooting out of the hole as soon as the unwelcome intruder slithered into their den? If the snake hadn’t represented a threat, what species would it have been? Would possums be prepared share their den with a snake?
Remember how we fell for Boyup Brook? WELL, discovering that Harvey Dickson was hosting the WA State Rodeo Final - weekend 27th October had us mulling over the idea of attending for a good couple of weeks. Permission for Perup made it possible and back to Boyup Brook we went to await it. We grimly sat out the rain and wind all Friday hoping it would be over and done by Saturday – not so! George felt sure it was rained out. Easily forgetting that like England, weather doesn’t always dictate at long awaited events. Watching competitors, camped along the river with their ponies, at the Old Flax Mill Caravan Park, prepare to leave for Harvey’s rodeo grounds– we wondered what we were expected to endure and rugged up warmly. Saxon had bequeathed her old police boots to Lea and for the first time they came into their own.
To come over the rise and look across the Dickson land dotted with campers, caravans and tents regardless of the weather was an amazing sight and somehow we just knew we were in for something good! This place we’d loved in its emptiness had rightly come alive. Seeing this essential Australian scene of folk, kitted out in akubras and drizabones looking the picture of wet weather elegance captured our imagination and will forever epitomise these iconic garments. Adding to the occasion was the country music with its inclusion of riffs that were popped in at appropriate moments of introduction or drama during the bull riding, calf roping, steer wrestling and bucking broncos.
Harvey Dickson's Rodeo
All kept us entertained throughout the day as wave after wave of low grey cloud driven in by a bitter wind had us huddled under our rubberised picnic blanket in a desperate effort to remain dry and warm during these onslaughts. Just when we thought we could not tolerate another moment the sun would appear with empty promises and our attention would be diverted by humorous incidents. On a couple of occasions, an enraged bull held the arena to ransom, turning it into a mini bull-fight by refusing to leave the ring. Butting and chasing the horses, charging the clowns, scattering cowboys up and over barricades within an inch of their lives, pawing the ground and casting an evil eye on the spectators’ just beyond. Twice during the day we returned briefly to Getaway at the Flax Mill to add warmer layers and double up on warmer socks - even digging out our hidden long-johns and George’s beanie.
The final time was necessitated when George, shaking with cold and involuntarily and noisily hissing through his teeth, quite sure he was suffering hypothermia. Yet, determined to attend the after show party, we returned home to change his wet socks and have his feet bound in clingwrap to ward off the damp chill of his one and only pair of vellies. Gulped down hot soup as we watched the news and weather and learnt that not far off on the Stirling Range it was snowing. Then eagerly returned to Harvey’s Country Music Party moved from the rodeo grounds into his famous music shed to escape the inclement weather. We love The Shed with its history hanging from the rafters - a wonderfully eclectic collection and it made our day to end up witnessing a country music concert in here - packed! Three bands taking turns over the night we squeezed onto the dance floor amongst all the young folk, as it was the best place to warm up and immerse ourselves in the music and atmosphere. The spontaneous reaction of a young woman catching our eye, approached us quite overwhelmed and said “this is my first visit and it is unbelievably special” matched our feelings entirely.
With no let up in the weather we returned to the coast and found a perfect camp site at Cosy Corner. A free bush camp tucked away under peppi’ trees with the waves pounding close by.
Weather was the chief conversation amongst fellow campers here, as the gales and hail had upset the salmon fishing and the vineyards. Christmas 1998 was spent two beaches East and we walked there before breakfast on our second day scrambling over the rocks and reflecting upon the memories of that camping Christmas, joined unexpectedly by Jamie & Emma and wondering how fate finds us here almost at the 6th anniversary of his death.
When George came to get an updated photo of the beach – calamity struck! The power button had jammed and that was the end of camera number 2! No Paula with back up… As Albany is our last big town for a good month or more we decided to leave our “cosy corner” to do camera shopping. A camera is like George’s right hand he cannot exist without one!
