Jo & Cam's home became known as Hostel JoCam due to the amazing number of people that were passing through. At different stages there was me, Cam's cousin and her friend, Lina (the daughter of a Swedish friend), an old work colleague of Cam's from Kuala Lumpur and Jo Bole. All this whilst the roof was being replaced by Jude, Cam's sister's boyfriend. JoCam dealt with all this chaos as if they were just making another cup of tea (although they didn't drink tea). Amazing.
I took a week to rent a car (I mean I rented it for a week, not it took me a week to figure out how to rent a car) and go on a wee solo road trip down to the SW of Australia; a place called the Great Southern. It was certainly southern and it was quite great. I rented the car from Bayswater Car Rental whose company slogan is 'No birds!' There was meant to be some more subtle meaning to this other than the bare faced obvious but I couldn't work it out. Only in Oz.
The Great Southern is a place of rugged rocky coves with beautiful secluded beaches (bit like Cornwall); old whaling heritage; home to tingle trees, the largest trees in Oz, in fact only beaten in height by the Giant Redwoods of the western US; the meeting point of the Indian and Southern Oceans; lobsters; dolphins; great white sharks and one of the best sandwiches I've ever eaten in my life (and that's a big accolade).
First stop Albany, an old fishing and whaling town on the southern coast. Here's a typical view of the rugged Great Southern coastline. In those waters lurk great white sharks (are you getting the impression I'm a bit obsessed with GWS?). There's an old whaling station turned whaling museum in Albany called Whale World. No, it is. Me and four rather amusing lads from Tamworth (whom I gave a lift to) visited it. It was fab. I mean, I'm dead against whaling of course but as an historical record of what went on, it was fascinating. The best bit was seeing a film about the relationship between whaling and the GWS, naturally. The cinema was in an old whale oil storage tank that still had the pungent, lingering odour of whale oil about it. When they were bringing the whales in (right & sperm whales) the sharks would follow the bloody trail in the water and attack the whale carcasses yards from the jetty ripping off great chunks of blubber (I mean, just doing what they'd do in the wild to a whale carcass). The whalers would shoot the sharks and cut them open to retrieve the blubber from their stomachs it was that valuable. I've just realised, I'm probably the only person interested in all this. Move on.
Next was the Valley of the Giants further west. Shortly after I set out for Walpole from Albany I realised I was going to expire if I didn't eat something so stopped at the most unpromising looking petrol station in the middle of nowhere. But what was my choice? There I was greeted by a giant of a man in greasy overalls, a shock of red curly hair and hands like two JCB buckets and just about as clean. Oh dear. I asked if he had any sandwiches and he said he could make one, what would I like? Oh dear. Presented with a surprising list of ingredients I opted for chorizo, cheese, tomato, cucumber and lettuce, a little mayo and a hint of mustard (what a pretentious twat!). Well, he asked! He disappeared behind scenes and a few minutes later emerged with a brown paper bag for which he charged me $2.50 (about a quid). It felt heavy. He says: 'You look hungry, I made it a triple!' Peering into the bag back at the car there presented itself the most lavish looking triple decker sandwich on hand cut brown bread, busting at the seams with all those fine ingredients aforementioned. It was a taste sensation! Yer man there was clearly a connoisseur of the fine art of sandwich making. After devouring it with a mayo covered grin firmly fixed to my face, I felt compelled to go back in and compliment him heartily on and add further thanks for the wonderful sandwich. He looked at me rather oddly. I left.
Right, enough of that. Here's a tingle tree called the Grandmother. Don't know about you but my gran never had a giant unicorn like horn sticking out of her napper!
Valley of the Giants tree top walk. Some 40m above the ground you walk amongst the upper canopy of the giant tingle tree (all said in dramatic film advert style voice). It was belting with rain, which was quite refreshing given Perth's inferno temps.
The most SW tip of Oz, Cape Leeuwin and the meeting point for the Southern & Indian Oceans.
Bay near Augusta (by the way, if you're not sure where these places are and you can be arsed, look them up on Google Maps).
It was at this bay near Augusta (forgotten exact name) that I was watching the lobster (or crawfish) fishermen bring in their catch. Waiting on the jetty was a government inspector checking they had caught within the size limit and within their quota. At this point I was offered two lobsters for free by one of the more shifty looking incoming fishermen, perhaps identifying a potentially embarrassing situation and looking for an easy escape route. I have to say I accepted although I paid for my accomplice role and haste in having to figure out how the heck I was going to transport two live lobsters back to my hostel in Augusta without a bucket with a strong lid. I opted for leaving them to roam free in the boot and hoped that the vast quantity of sand that was mounting up in the car, the salt stains on the seat from driving with wet swimming shorts and now the distinct odour of oceana wasn't going to cause too much alarm with Bayswater Car Rental. No birds, right, but what about crustaceans? Cooking them was another story!
OK, this has droned on far too long so let's wrap up with the traditional wildlife pic. On the way back north to Perth I stopped at Bussleton pier. It has an underwater observatory where you can view all the fish (and divers as it happened) under the end of the pier. The fish look in the windows at the people inside. Does that make it a humanitarium? 
4 comments:
What about the lobsters?! Were they delicious?
Whale oil beef hooked!
The lobsters were delicious. Got a hand cooking them from a couple of Canadians in the hostel. We opted for stir fry. Perhaps flying in the face of the lobster devotee's choicest cooking method but that way they fed six of us. I shan't go into the pre-stir fry boiling aspects as this is (usually) R15.
Wheel aisle bee fluked!
"the daughter of a Swedish friend" - is that another desperate attempt to up the number of hits you receive from google searches?
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