It's a warm sunny morning in Perth and my mood matches the weather. Dave texts me to meet him at the bike dealers to the east. Kirsten is there and it's great to see a familiar face. She's buying wet weather pants and I'm reminded of a conversation with Tony back in Canberra. He once tried to convince me that rain pants were essential equipment. I foolishly didn't heed his advice then and subsequently got soaked rotten in a thunderstorm. But that won't happen today: it's such a bright sunny day!
After heading north for roughly an hour we spot a sign for the Gravity Discovery Centre. It's an odd location for a tourist attraction because there's nothing but wild scrub for miles around. The main exhibit is the Leaning Tower of Gingin; a steel contraption 45 metres high where kids can recreate Galileo's famous experiment at Pisa. The centre is obviously aimed at kids so we don't stick around for long. We instead chat with the gardener who has recently bought a Rebel 250. He drools over the bikes we're riding and he clearly desires a bigger bike. I remember that feeling; just yesterday I wanted to upgrade to 1000cc.
Back on the road again the inevitable happens; it rains. I'm soaked through and it's terribly uncomfortable. I recall this morning's missed opportunity to buy wet weather pants and I can just imagine Tony chuckling away at my predicament. I hate it when I'm wrong.
We're coming up to one of the few attractions on this coast; The Pinnacles. They're a collection of odd rock formations rising out of the coastal sands. It's a fair detour from the highway and above The Pinnacles there's a seething mass of dark storm clouds that menace the skyline. The clouds are releasing rain in dense sheets that blot out the horizon. Dave turns to me, looking as wet and miserable as I feel, and says "I'm not ****ing riding into that ****ing ****". I'm in complete agreement.
With the light fading fast we make it as far as Port Denison before calling it quits. Kirsten must be questioning what she's signed herself up for because today was unpleasant.
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
This Is Your Captain Speaking
Today's first activity is something I really enjoy; flying around in small aircraft. I've booked a helicopter flight around Perth. Today's weather is just perfect for flying; almost no wind and no clouds with clear visibility to the horizon. I've never been in a helicopter before and I'm giddy with excitement as it flies into Burwood park. It's a Bell 206 and the pilot puts it down gently on the helipad.
Joining me are two other joyriders; Bernie and Sue. It's Sue's 60th birthday and she's never been in a helicopter before either. However whereas I'm barely able to stop hopping up and down, Sue looks a bit nervous. The young man who took our credit card details and gave us the safety brief doesn't help when he tells a story that involves a helicopter crash. He quickly realises his mistake but too late! It would be funny if it wasn't so cringeworthy.
The heli flight is the ducks guts. I think it's the best way to see a city. The pilot has a well-honed banter to go along with the flight and the entire cabin feels relaxed. When it's over Sue can't wipe the grin off her face and I'm sure I look the same. It's a magic start to the day.
I don't particularly feel like being in the Perth CBD today - too many people - so I get on the bike and head for the coast. The bike is free of baggage and it roars with delight. I head up to North Beach where there is a scenic road. The drive winds gently along the coastline, always in view of the beaches and ocean, with perfectly maintained roads. I feel relaxed already.
After lunch in Fremantle I decide I need something a bit more challenging. I've heard Toodyay Road is popular with the locals. It's a high speed ride through hills to the northeast of Perth. There are motorcycles everywhere... but it's a weekday, why aren't these people at work? I lean into a corner, going far too fast, feeling pretty pleased with myself, when a Duke hurtles past me like I'm standing still. Now I feel inadequate. I need a bigger bike.
I reach Toodyay all too quickly and it's getting dark so I head back to Perth. I picked the return perfectly; it's 5pm and the Perth streets are chockers with people returning home. The streets are three lanes wide, cars disappearing into the distance, and everybody is crawling along at 40kph. Oddly it's kind of relaxing. Unlike the feeling I get in Sydney and Melbourne (ohmigodimgoingtodie) this is far more sedate. It's a comforting end to the day.
Monday, June 30, 2008
Indypendence Day
Dave needs to drop his bike off in Perth for a service so he's up early, but I enjoy a late start. We're actually going different ways for two days while he entertains Kirsten. This means I no longer have the benefit of Dave's GPS and I'm relying solely on my map-reading skills. Oh crap.
Fortunately Perth is well sign-posted and I eventually find myself there. I'm staying in a hotel in the middle of the CBD and the traffic is overwhelming. After the past several weeks where I might pass half a dozen cars per hour, I'm finding myself gasping for air in Perth. I'm also frustrated by the maze of one way streets. I'm relieved when I eventually park at the hotel.
Dave jogs over from the BMW dealer - where does he get all his energy? - so we wander around the CBD. He's spotted a Da Vinci exhibition in a marquee at the local park and that puts a grin on my face. I studied engineering at university and Leonardo Da Vinci is possibly the most famous engineer of all time. The exhibition is brilliant. There are dozens of working wooden models constructed from his notes and drawings. Dave spots one model that works exactly like a constant-mesh gearbox. It's hard to believe all these ideas came from one man. And he did everything with such primitive materials! I can't imagine what Da Vinci might have accomplished if he'd lived in the Steam Age.
Dave has to go get ready for Kirsten so I'm left to my own devices. The CBD was bustling at lunchtime but it dies down pretty quickly at dusk. I've been told Subiaco is better at night so I wander over to the so-called Cappucino Strip. It doesn't disappoint. There are restaurants, bars, cinemas and theatres as far as the eye can see. I get myself into the right frame of mind to watch the latest Indiana Jones flick. As the credits roll I think to myself I needed more liquid preparation; what a silly movie.
Fortunately Perth is well sign-posted and I eventually find myself there. I'm staying in a hotel in the middle of the CBD and the traffic is overwhelming. After the past several weeks where I might pass half a dozen cars per hour, I'm finding myself gasping for air in Perth. I'm also frustrated by the maze of one way streets. I'm relieved when I eventually park at the hotel.
Dave jogs over from the BMW dealer - where does he get all his energy? - so we wander around the CBD. He's spotted a Da Vinci exhibition in a marquee at the local park and that puts a grin on my face. I studied engineering at university and Leonardo Da Vinci is possibly the most famous engineer of all time. The exhibition is brilliant. There are dozens of working wooden models constructed from his notes and drawings. Dave spots one model that works exactly like a constant-mesh gearbox. It's hard to believe all these ideas came from one man. And he did everything with such primitive materials! I can't imagine what Da Vinci might have accomplished if he'd lived in the Steam Age.
Dave has to go get ready for Kirsten so I'm left to my own devices. The CBD was bustling at lunchtime but it dies down pretty quickly at dusk. I've been told Subiaco is better at night so I wander over to the so-called Cappucino Strip. It doesn't disappoint. There are restaurants, bars, cinemas and theatres as far as the eye can see. I get myself into the right frame of mind to watch the latest Indiana Jones flick. As the credits roll I think to myself I needed more liquid preparation; what a silly movie.
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Little Taste of Freedom
It's a sunny day and the luggage is safely locked away in a cabin, so Dave and I hoon around Fremantle on our suddenly nimble bikes. It's fantastic to lose the weight of the bags; the bikes handle so much better. I think for my next holiday I'll hire a roadie to drive my luggage around.
We stop in at the Fremantle Prison, one of the top attractions of Fremantle. We don hard hats, life vests, and start with a tour of the tunnels that are hidden 20 metres underneath the prison. The history of the tunnels is kind of boring although the tunnels themselves are nifty. Nineteenth century Fremantle had insufficient supplies of clean water. They discovered they'd built the prison above a natural aquifier, so they set their prisoners to work building an extensive array of tunnels to collect the water. We get to paddle canoes around in the waist deep water. To be accurate, Dave does all of the paddling while I make splashing noises and enjoy the free ride.
The second tour is above ground and we get to see the conditions the prisoners were forced to endure. I comment that the place reminds me of my primary school in Sydney; the bitumen "playground", the high stone walls, the depressing and utilitarian concrete corridors. Dave thinks I'm exaggerating but later the tour guide says exactly the same thing. The Australian government obviously modeled the public schools after the federal prisons. Says it all, really.
The tours take all day and it's soon dinner time. We stop for a beer in one of Fremantle's worst kept secrets; the Little Creatures Brewery. My impression, stepping through the front door, is like Charlie entering the Chocolate Factory. There are hundreds of people, pumping dance music, crazy trick lighting, and two-storey stainless steel vats of beer lurking in the shadows. The whole place has an industrial feel and it's jumping with activity. Pinch me, I must be dreaming. They serve the best food I've eaten so far on this trip, and also the best beer. What an awesome brewery.
We stop in at the Fremantle Prison, one of the top attractions of Fremantle. We don hard hats, life vests, and start with a tour of the tunnels that are hidden 20 metres underneath the prison. The history of the tunnels is kind of boring although the tunnels themselves are nifty. Nineteenth century Fremantle had insufficient supplies of clean water. They discovered they'd built the prison above a natural aquifier, so they set their prisoners to work building an extensive array of tunnels to collect the water. We get to paddle canoes around in the waist deep water. To be accurate, Dave does all of the paddling while I make splashing noises and enjoy the free ride.
The second tour is above ground and we get to see the conditions the prisoners were forced to endure. I comment that the place reminds me of my primary school in Sydney; the bitumen "playground", the high stone walls, the depressing and utilitarian concrete corridors. Dave thinks I'm exaggerating but later the tour guide says exactly the same thing. The Australian government obviously modeled the public schools after the federal prisons. Says it all, really.
The tours take all day and it's soon dinner time. We stop for a beer in one of Fremantle's worst kept secrets; the Little Creatures Brewery. My impression, stepping through the front door, is like Charlie entering the Chocolate Factory. There are hundreds of people, pumping dance music, crazy trick lighting, and two-storey stainless steel vats of beer lurking in the shadows. The whole place has an industrial feel and it's jumping with activity. Pinch me, I must be dreaming. They serve the best food I've eaten so far on this trip, and also the best beer. What an awesome brewery.
Saturday, June 28, 2008
The Long Walk
The tents are soaked this morning but at least the rain has eased. It's a late start because we're only going as far as Fremantle. The ride out of Margaret River is superb; the countryside is so green. Farm animals lazily munch away at grass. It's hard to believe only a week ago we were in the barren wasteland of the Nullarbor.
Dave wants to see another lighthouse and I'm cool with that, not because I care much about lighthouses but it means riding along the coastline. Unfortunately the ride is very short, much like the lighthouse. Located at Cape Naturaliste, it's only 19m high. It's still active so we get to see the lens spinning which is kind of impressive. We stand right beneath it and I get a real sense of the weight.
We travel onwards to Busselton to see the Busselton Jetty. It's an 1841 metre jetty and you can catch a lift down into an underwater aquarium at the end. This sounds great. Sadly the reality is kind of a letdown. The aquarium is closed because underwater visibility is poor. It takes an hour to walk to the end and back with a cold wind howling the whole time. It's an unpleasant experience and the view at the end didn't justify the effort.
The rest of the ride is on decent highways and it's not long before we're in Fremantle. It's late so we find a caravan park and call it a day.
Dave wants to see another lighthouse and I'm cool with that, not because I care much about lighthouses but it means riding along the coastline. Unfortunately the ride is very short, much like the lighthouse. Located at Cape Naturaliste, it's only 19m high. It's still active so we get to see the lens spinning which is kind of impressive. We stand right beneath it and I get a real sense of the weight.
We travel onwards to Busselton to see the Busselton Jetty. It's an 1841 metre jetty and you can catch a lift down into an underwater aquarium at the end. This sounds great. Sadly the reality is kind of a letdown. The aquarium is closed because underwater visibility is poor. It takes an hour to walk to the end and back with a cold wind howling the whole time. It's an unpleasant experience and the view at the end didn't justify the effort.
The rest of the ride is on decent highways and it's not long before we're in Fremantle. It's late so we find a caravan park and call it a day.
Friday, June 27, 2008
Hail To The Bus Driver
I awake to the patter of rain on wet fabric. I groggily poke my head out of the tent and I'm greeted by a moat. A good half inch of water surrounds the tent. Bloody hell, doesn't it ever stop?
Rather than waste the day moping around the campsite, Dave has booked us on a bus tour of the Margaret River wineries. I'm apprehensive because I've observed similar tours in other regions and what I saw looked dreadful. Tourists would silently exit a coach, the driver watching them like a prison warden. They would go through the motions of tasting wine, stare with disinterest at the scenery, silently get back onto the coach, and depart for the next nameless winery. There was a zombie like quality to their behaviour. I'm not looking forward to becoming one of the living dead.
My discomfort increases when the bus arrives. There is a young couple already seated who briefly look at us before returning to stare at the dismal weather. The next pickups are two girls who immediately retreat into their mobile phones. I can feel the fog of boredom descending already.
We reach the first winery and the guide begins his spiel. He is a dancing ball of energy. He cracks jokes, tells stories, describes the wines, gets everybody talking, and even has the whole bus singing along to cheesy 80s pop music. I was completely wrong; this is heaps of fun. That I'm slightly mashed might also be helping.
The tour takes us to four wineries, a cheese factory, and a chocolate factory. There is a "bush tucker" lunch in the middle although I don't think pesto and olive bread are authentic bush tucker. However I did confirm my suspicion that witchetty grubs have a disgusting texture and taste. The tour ends at a brewery where Dave demonstrates his talent to burp loudly after sculling a pint, much to the amusement of the undergrad girls who joined the tour at the first winery.
Rather than waste the day moping around the campsite, Dave has booked us on a bus tour of the Margaret River wineries. I'm apprehensive because I've observed similar tours in other regions and what I saw looked dreadful. Tourists would silently exit a coach, the driver watching them like a prison warden. They would go through the motions of tasting wine, stare with disinterest at the scenery, silently get back onto the coach, and depart for the next nameless winery. There was a zombie like quality to their behaviour. I'm not looking forward to becoming one of the living dead.
My discomfort increases when the bus arrives. There is a young couple already seated who briefly look at us before returning to stare at the dismal weather. The next pickups are two girls who immediately retreat into their mobile phones. I can feel the fog of boredom descending already.
We reach the first winery and the guide begins his spiel. He is a dancing ball of energy. He cracks jokes, tells stories, describes the wines, gets everybody talking, and even has the whole bus singing along to cheesy 80s pop music. I was completely wrong; this is heaps of fun. That I'm slightly mashed might also be helping.
The tour takes us to four wineries, a cheese factory, and a chocolate factory. There is a "bush tucker" lunch in the middle although I don't think pesto and olive bread are authentic bush tucker. However I did confirm my suspicion that witchetty grubs have a disgusting texture and taste. The tour ends at a brewery where Dave demonstrates his talent to burp loudly after sculling a pint, much to the amusement of the undergrad girls who joined the tour at the first winery.
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Go Climb A Tree
It's a great morning. The birds are chirping, the sun is shining, and the remainder of that fantastic winding road lies ahead. To think I could be stuck in some dreary office in Canberra instead of riding a bike in Western Australia. It doesn't bear thinking about.
We eventually reach Pemberton, home to the Gloucester fire-spotting tree. Rangers used to climb and sit in trees like this one to look for signs of bushfire. Now it's open to the thrill seeking public. Dozens of two foot metal rods have been driven into the trunk like pins into a pincushion. You climb the rods to a platform 61 metres above the forest floor. I have grave concerns about climbing the tree. I'm not afraid of heights but physical exercise scares the bajeezus out of me.
But I want to see the view from the top so I start climbing. With Dave right behind me shouting encouraging words such as "hurry up" and "we don't have all day", I eventually reach the topmost platform. The view is great so I soak the scenery in while listening to the drum solo that my heart is performing. Looking down it doesn't seem all that high. My tolerance for heights is probably better than most people.
I thought that would be enough but Dave hears about an even taller tree and he wants to climb that as well. The Bicentennial Tree reaches 71 metres above the forest floor and it's only a short detour. When we reach the tree it's obviously a harder climb; there's a resting platform halfway up and the rods are spaced less evenly. I consider making the ascent but my heart threatens to go on strike so I sit this one out.
We continue along the coast until we reach the southwestern tip of Australia at Cape Leeuwin. There is another lighthouse here - honestly it looks the same as the last one - but this one is special because it marks the point where the Indian and Southern oceans meet. The lighthouse is locked tight and it's not very interesting from the outside. The sea is putting on a decent show instead with huge waves crashing onto the rocks.
We're heading towards Margaret River to make camp when we spot a sign for the Jewel Caves. The last guided tour for the day begins in 10 minutes; the timing couldn't have been better. Dave has been spelunking before but I have no idea what to expect.
The descent into the cave is easy. The owners have blasted an entrance and installed stairs and lights. After climbing down approximately one million stairs I finally see the cave in all its glory. The sight is jaw dropping. The ceiling of the cave is completely covered in stalactite crystals. Gigantic tree roots emerge from the ceiling, curl down through the void, and then disappear into the floor. Bulbous crystals cover the walls and there are sheets of crystal like stained windows between surfaces. The crystals are in a natural state so they don't refract light into rainbows like polished stone. However the crystals do glow from within when light shines from behind. It's an alien world.
After an exhausting climb out of the cave - I thought the Gloucester tree was bad - it's getting late so we dash into Margaret River and erect the tents. It's going to rain again; I swear we are cursed.
We eventually reach Pemberton, home to the Gloucester fire-spotting tree. Rangers used to climb and sit in trees like this one to look for signs of bushfire. Now it's open to the thrill seeking public. Dozens of two foot metal rods have been driven into the trunk like pins into a pincushion. You climb the rods to a platform 61 metres above the forest floor. I have grave concerns about climbing the tree. I'm not afraid of heights but physical exercise scares the bajeezus out of me.
But I want to see the view from the top so I start climbing. With Dave right behind me shouting encouraging words such as "hurry up" and "we don't have all day", I eventually reach the topmost platform. The view is great so I soak the scenery in while listening to the drum solo that my heart is performing. Looking down it doesn't seem all that high. My tolerance for heights is probably better than most people.
I thought that would be enough but Dave hears about an even taller tree and he wants to climb that as well. The Bicentennial Tree reaches 71 metres above the forest floor and it's only a short detour. When we reach the tree it's obviously a harder climb; there's a resting platform halfway up and the rods are spaced less evenly. I consider making the ascent but my heart threatens to go on strike so I sit this one out.
We continue along the coast until we reach the southwestern tip of Australia at Cape Leeuwin. There is another lighthouse here - honestly it looks the same as the last one - but this one is special because it marks the point where the Indian and Southern oceans meet. The lighthouse is locked tight and it's not very interesting from the outside. The sea is putting on a decent show instead with huge waves crashing onto the rocks.
We're heading towards Margaret River to make camp when we spot a sign for the Jewel Caves. The last guided tour for the day begins in 10 minutes; the timing couldn't have been better. Dave has been spelunking before but I have no idea what to expect.
The descent into the cave is easy. The owners have blasted an entrance and installed stairs and lights. After climbing down approximately one million stairs I finally see the cave in all its glory. The sight is jaw dropping. The ceiling of the cave is completely covered in stalactite crystals. Gigantic tree roots emerge from the ceiling, curl down through the void, and then disappear into the floor. Bulbous crystals cover the walls and there are sheets of crystal like stained windows between surfaces. The crystals are in a natural state so they don't refract light into rainbows like polished stone. However the crystals do glow from within when light shines from behind. It's an alien world.
After an exhausting climb out of the cave - I thought the Gloucester tree was bad - it's getting late so we dash into Margaret River and erect the tents. It's going to rain again; I swear we are cursed.
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