Yalgorup National Park

Finally, I moved from Dunsborough! I really liked it there and the rest did me good but I could feel roots growing so off I cleared yesterday morning. And as mentioned already, I was becoming a bit lazy and YHAing it. It started because it was cold down on the south coast, and continued because my back was sore, but now its all sorted, no more excuses and it's back to camping.

I genuinely like camping. No really, I do. But it is so easy to succumb to the relative comforts of a proper bed. But then again, once I'm in the tent, I wonder why I wander away from it.

So for two nights, it's back to real basics in Yalgorup National Park, on the coast and just south of Perth. A long drop toilet is the only facility here, and it's out in the wilds, right by a lake and it's beautiful.

There are about ten lakes here which make up a wetland system, the water coming up from the ground in the winter and then evaporating away in the summer. Its brackish water and a conservation area for migrating birds. There are also the usual creatures - wallabies, bloody possums, crows which sound like Kenneth Williams in Carry On films, and this little fella.

Turns out she is  a quenda, formerly known as a bandicoot but reclassified in the zoological stakes for some reason. A bit like the artist formerly known as Prince I guess. Anyway, she - Glenda the quenda- kept me company last evening, although I haven’t seen her today. 

However, I have seen this little devil - just caught him burgling my tent and stealing some bread. 

A possum of course, very cheeky, very sweet and surprisingly tame. After  a trip across the keyboard, he’s now sitting in the tree about 2 m away as I type this, watching me in case I have any food. I don’t and I wouldn’t give him any if I did as feeding wild things is not the way to go. 

I took a ride up the coast a bit today to Lake  Clifton to see the thrombalites. Well actually, what you see is the structure that they build, they being tiny microscopic creatures, too small for us to see, and this lot are about 2000 years old. 

They make little mounds that have solidified over the years, and look pretty weird.

They’re thought to be the oldest living organisms on earth and responsible for generating oxygen which encouraged the first sea creatures to emerge from the water. That was several million years ago of course, and these mounds are made  by descendants of the original thrombolites.

Further up the coast near Denham, similar structures             ( strombalites) live. I’m not sure what the difference is but I think its something to do with the actual structure of the mound that they create. But both places are two of the few  in the world where they exist.

I had a walk through the adjacent bush too, through the Tuart trees, which actually look more similar to European trees than gums but are still part of the eucalypt gang.

And these balga trees which the local indigenous people used to use for making spears. They mixed the fronds with roo poo and charcoal to make a superglue, which the early settlers also used to varnish furniture.

I was hoping to see some of the monitors which live amongst them but although I heard much shuffling and scurrying from the undergrowth, I didn’t see any. They probably heard me coming, what with footstep vibrations, and there was evidence of their recent diggings, but they kept hidden.

Tonight there will be a lunar eclipse, which will be a penumbral eclipse here - not a full blackout because the line up wont quite cut out all of the sunlight which reflects from the sun. but that's all academic now anyway because clouds have come over and its raining! Thanks nature, nice one; and there would have been a red moon too.

Stayed put today

Blimey I was sore this morning after that physio session yesterday. So rather than move on, I decided to stay here for another day and recover. As a consequence, I haven’t done very much ( again) other than walk on the beach this morning, tickle the cat’s ears, top up Gerty’s oil, then ride to Yallingup, where I sat on the beach and socialised with the fish again.

I’m quite liking the fish thing now and with the exception of the obvious few, don’t mind them in their own environment. There was a shoal of small fish - whitebait I think - swimming around me again, and some bigger ones later on. They just hang there in the water, riding the current and taking it easy. I so could have done with a camera though as there were quite a few old wives and a gang of garfish, plus abalone shells and those big long ones that look like Mr Whippy cones. I’m going to have to get a pair of flippers and a snorkel, but if I do that, I’ll have to replace the camera because under the waves is just too good to miss.

The surf was a bit tasty too, so I had a free show. And they were much better than that lot from last week who couldn’t stand up on any waves.

There were a couple of dogs on the beach, but one in particular who was having a great time chasing a string of plastic sausages. He was quite a fast swimmer too.

The hostel has been quite empty in the past few days, except for two Japanese wannabes who insist on strumming bloody Coombaiya,( or however you spell it) and worse still, Beatles songs. Stop it. It’s very annoying and you’re dreadful. Bugger off down to the beach and play it there if you really must.

But what is it with backpackers and guitars? Why? What’s wrong with a trombone or a didgeridoo or something interesting instead of a poncy guitar? And why would you want to carry one around anyway, especially if you cant play it? It seems to be a must have item for some of them. That and pot noodles for dinner.

And I discovered this morning that one of the older blokes who lives here is actually from Sutton, south London (like me) and lives across the road from one of my friends! Small world. He spends the UK winter here and goes back to London for the summer there. He came to Dunsborough for a wedding 12 years ago, liked it and so has done the yearly commute ever since. Good on him.

I really am leaving tomorrow, and am heading up to Yalgorup National Park. Gerty is due another oil change and a bit of baring greasing, plus a chain tweak. I adjusted her back brake today, something which I’d been meaning to do all week but kept forgetting about until I actually braked. The tail light bulb has blown too, so that’s also on the list. But considering how much I ride her, she is very low maintenance. Good old Gert.

Easy Day

I didn’t do very much today but I did get up early and go into Bussleton for an explore prior to the physio appointment. I wasn’t that impressed with it though; a bit of a sprawl along the shore with a few old bits here and there which all charged an entry fee - $2.50 to walk to the end of the jetty - apparently the longest timber piled jetty in the southern hemisphere -  $2.00 to go up a disused windmill tower to take a photo, and a whapping $29.50 to go into the underwater observatory at the end of the jetty. I would have paid an entry fee for that but that amount. So I didn’t bother, especially as it was only for something to do while I waited for my appointment.

So I wandered through the town for a while and stumbled across an old car rally - the National Vintage Cadillac show or something. About 50 old American cadillacs ( plus a couple of Buicks and Fords) all in show condition, lined up in a park, and open to inspection. 

There were some weird and wonderful creations among them, and all without exception were huge, probably twice the size of modern day European or Japanese economy cars like Yaris or Clio, Twingo, Micra etc. It’s funny how the American way was to make everything huge, just because they could. I know these were cars of days gone by, but even compared with European cars of the same era, they were much bigger and of course burnt  huge amounts of fuel. And really different ideas on style; wings and grilles and chrome. 

But it was a style, and before it went to ratshit in the 1980s; there were a couple of cadillacs from then and they were dreadful. Almost like family sized tissue boxes on wheels, and with brown or red interiors. Horrible.

The old pioneer cemetery is right in the centre of town too, so I went in there for a quick look. It was shut in the early 1930s because the water table is high around Bussleton and I guess its not good to have bits of dead people floating in your bathwater or kettle. The graveyard is now about 4 kms out of town, but the location of the old one does show how much even a small place like this has grown over the years.

Then it was physio time, not that I can recall much about it because I passed out. I do remember her sticking some acupuncture needles in my lower back and them stinging, and then vaguely a bit of painful thumbs between the vertebrae stuff, but that’s it. It took me quite a while to be able to ride, and then only after downing quite a bit of water. 

I was going to go back to Yallingup but stayed in Dunsborough instead. I had the beach to myself as well as the World Service on my little radio, and I listened to that for a couple of hours. I had a dip too but was very wary. 

This dog had no such qualms though but I made sure to stay  closer to the beach than him, just incase. They used to think that dog was the shark's favourite food, but I reckon that was probably because dogs went into the water more than humans back then and so got eaten more frequently.

There were a few small fish about and many small shells on the empty bed, plus a crab which nipped my heel. Bloody thing. 

But I did see an odd site; lots of small silver fish - I think whitebait - all jumped out of the water in a sort of murmuration type thing. I  just happened to be looking out to sea when they did it and thought I’d imagined it, but it happened twice more, but too quickly to get a picture.

I'm off northwards  a bit tomorrow, heading for Bunbury but I need to find alternative accommodation as the YHA there is full - unless I want to pay double for a single room. Nope, I do not, not just to sleep thanks. The school holidays have started and this is a holiday area so places will be full. I've booked it for Monday and Tuesday, but I'll see how I go. If I find a good camping spot which is cheap or free, I will stay there instead. About time I got back into the tent habit but while its cooler down here and camping is on a par if not dearer than the YHA, I might as well have a proper bed.

Back to Dunsborough

It was a full house in the Pemeberton YHA last night. Nine in all, six of which were in my dorm (including me). A couple cycling, two Italian lads looking for holiday work and a Belgian who was wandering with a bit of work here and there.   An English bloke on his own, and a couple, but they didn't speak to anybody at all, not even a hello or goodbye, which was a  bit odd in such a small place. And for some reason, the two Italian boys kept asking me how things worked; the washing machine, the drier, the shower, the microwave. Must be my mumsie vibes or something.

I got going by 0900 this morning, desite only having about 100 kms to go. A cool morning but it smelt hot and as I rode, I could smell the grasses drying out and the oil from the eucalypts wafting up on the still air as things warmed up.

I passed a duck pond not very far out of Pemberton. There were hundreds of ducks on it, a real duck central, but of course, most upped and cleared off as soon as I stopped. But the noise! Those that flew, landed in the field but all of them were making duck noises like there was no tomorrow.

There is alot of bait in the forests that I rode through today. I guess its because of foxes, feral cats and dingos, all of which are a pest here, although dingos are not per se, just when they interfere with sheep and cattle. And there is some disease going on, only I don’t know what. I’m assuming its flora  related but it might be animals instead.

It only took me about three hours to get to Dunsborough, Where I dumped my stuff back at the YHA and headed off to Yallingup for a swim, via a shop to buy swimming goggles - just like those you use in a swimming pool; the full on snorkel stuff is too bulky to carry - and what a good call that was.  The water is clear, just like its come out of a tap, and the sand is pristine white and acts as a giant reflector, so it is very light under the surface. 

And that of course means vegetation and creatures are clearly visible The reef means no sharks, but smaller, non eat you fish in the sheltered water.  It wasn’t spectacular like the reef we explored in Hawaii, but it was still pretty interesting.

The current was surprisingly strong and it was hard work to keep in one place, but looking underwater, it was as if a gale force wind was blowing, especially when a wave passed overhead.  Fish got pushed backwards, plants billowed and bent, and particles of sand were picked up by the water, and sparkled in the sunlight as light passed down to the seabed and back again. 

It was quite magical really, a hidden world, sort of windy garden scene with Christmas glitter like sand and fish darting about, albeit backwards. Monty Python meets Gardener’s World. Not much in the way of shells down there, but a few bits of broken off coral, which I had take onto the sane to photograph as I couldn't risk my phone in the water.

I spent a couple of hours doing that and taking pictures but my camera gave up. I’m not sure if its just an exhausted battery or some water got in but it stopped working and I couldn’t use it to photograph the shoal I suddenly found myself in. I was just there, floating and looking at what was going on, when I became aware of things moving around me and there they were: fish. All the same sort, just coasting on the current and not minding me at all. I guess they were each about 30cms long, but I have no idea what they were. 

I sat on the beach for a but half and hour after my jaunt, watching the gulls argue over nothing, but had to leave as I was falling asleep. 

My hair was pretty special too, wild and wave swept. But different to the usual helmet hair I guess.

I don’t know why I’m so tired but its 2032 and I can hardly keep my eyes open. Ridiculous. And I have physio tomorrow, which will make things even worse, but hopefully, the session with her tomorrow will fix what needs fixing.

Around Pemberton

I was in the tourist info place this morning, getting a local map( the tourist info places here are really excellent. Very helpful and friendly people and lots of good local info and maps) and a voice said:

“ are you riding that postie bike?” 

“ Yes I am” 

“ bloody hell, I met somebody a few days ago in Perth who’d spoken to you on the road. Somewhere down in Esperance I think. You’re getting around a bit”.

“ Yep, well that’s the whole idea. See as much as I can see while pottering along at a stately pace”

“ your name’s not Belle is it?”

“ maybe”

“ Ha ha. I met the walking woman yesterday and she said she’d met you too. Must be crazy women week.”

Charming. And from a man riding a pushbike across WA for his holidays!

But I guess it's not that small a world really when you consider although bloody Australia is bloody massive, and there are actually very few people out here, those of us who wander, tend to wander along the same routes, primarily because there are so few alternatives.

Anyway, after the usual chat, I went for a ride through the karri forest, and had a proper look at those massively tall trees. Every trunk is dead straight and about 40m or more high. And because they’re gums the foliage is at the top so there is quite a lot of light low down. But it is a bit like riding through broccoli; all stalk and rounded green stuff at the top.

I took a second trip down the old Vasse highway too, unloaded this time, and met the same grader again, coming the other way. It was even more dusty today but a lighter ride and less slidey without the panniers.

An older French couple stayed in the YHA with me last night. Lovely people from near Nice. They left this morning heading towards Perth via a couple of places I told them about.

Highlight of the day though was finding the Yeagarup dunes. They’re the largest inland dunes in the southern hemisphere and they’re creeping inland at a rate of about 4 m per year.

I had been told they are only accessible by 4WD but as I read that in tourist bumph, I didn’t really believe it because they want you to do their tours. So I trawled through the net, eventually finding a thing by somebody who reckoned he’d walked there from  a nearby lake, after driving down dirt tracks in the bush. So I followed his instructions and it was easy; the lake was where he said it was, and the track leading to the dunes was right by it. 

But I rode Gerty up there a bit until the sand became a bit too soft giving no grip on the slopes, and parked her up on one side.

Then I walked for about 600m on the sand, turned a corner, and there was a massive great wall of sand. Right there in the bush. Massively massive; white sand just rising up from track level, piled 40 m above the tree line. 

It was an incredible sight, and I climbed up  to the top and the sand stretched away as far as the eye could see. It was like a snow field, only warmer, complete with poles marking the road, and road signs.

I did wonder though, what lay buried under all of it. There must be trees and rocks and lakes under there, all swallowed up as the sand encroaches. 

I stayed up there for about an hour, gawping and taking pictures. It was a desert but in the middle of a thriving green forest. Very weird.

So tomorrow, I’m back off up north towards Busselton, where I am going to see the physio again just to sort out these back tweaks. Then after that, it’s Perth.

To Pemberton

It's is always difficult when I have a short ride planned. Not difficult because of things I have to do but difficult because of lack of time pressure. It's that whole thing about not having any deadline, so I faff about and just don’t get going. And I reckon that’s the hardest thing I’ve had to learn overall; that there is no time pressure on me and things don’t have to be done at certain times just because I’ve always done them then ( usually because of work, picking up kids, cooking dinner etc)

I’ve now got into a routine of when I know I’m going somewhere particular and there is accommodation available - YHA or the like - I book it in the morning. Then that takes the pressure of me having to ride somewhere, do stuff then look for a place to sleep. It gets dark by about 1800 hrs here, so if I have to ride then find somewhere to sleep, I need to think about that by about 1600 at the latest. So this morning, because I booked the YHA in Pemberton for two nights, I had all day to potter about and stop at things that interested me without having to press on.

The first bit of the ride today was along highway but passing tree farms. That sounds so much better than ‘plantation’. And being a tree farming area, there were quite a few logging trucks about.

Because the trees are planted in rows, shafts of light shine through them and light up the tree trunks. Sounds a ridiculous thing to say but as the day progresses, the light changes colour as it climbs up the tree. And there is always a certain eucalyptus zing in the air by the tree farms, especially after rain or early morning dew. Its something that I really notice on a bike, and one of the things that I love about being out there in the open air.

I had been riding for about an hour, when up ahead, I saw somebody walking along the highway. Then I realised they were pushing something, but I couldn’t quite comprehend what it was or what they were doing. You see, people just don’t walk out here, not because they are lazy but because of the distance between places. But here was somebody out in the middle of nowhere, doing exactly that, walking.

I rode past but then circled back, and was so glad that I did; there was this woman - Terra -  pushing along a trolley which she’d designed, on a walking journey around Australia, raising money for Lifeline. It’s a Samaritans type thing, a telephone help line for desperate people with desperate issues - suicides, depression, can’t go on sort of stuff. The sort of thing that I guess you never really think about until you need it, and sadly for many people, its not there when they do, or they don’t know about it. 

I was dead impressed with her. Walking! Bloody what?! 32000kms too. It’s hard enough for me on a little bike, pottering along from place to place, trying to plan getting water, food, fuel and a place to sleep, but she’s walking it! And she reckons it will take her seven years. 

She designed her own trolley and had it made, all her stuff fits in it, and she spends her days walking, chatting to people, raising awareness and money, and then sleeping wherever she can. I so love people who just get on and do stuff. Many talk but not many actually do more than that, but she has; good on her.

The dog is called Winston, after Winston Churchill and his black dog ( depression) And there is also a Black Dog M/C ride which helps Lifeline. I'd actually seen some of the riders a few weeks ago when I stopped at a servo and there had been no electricity to pump fuel.

Meeting her really perked me up, not that I was down or anything but it really appealed to me and my mojo went up a gear. I stopped off at the falls some falls ( cant remember what they’re called though but the water flows over the edge of the Darling fault and a dodgy rope bridge crosses the gorge thing). 

I tripped as I stepped onto it and the whole thing swayed from side to side rather alarmingly.

Then I read something about a disformed tree that was painted 135 years ago by Marianne North, an English artist whose carriage had broken in half alongside it. Twice. She was one of those intrepid English woman who also just got on and did stuff, and wandered the world painting pictures of flora. The picture of the tree - a kurri gum, one of the huge white trunked things that tower above you round here - is now at Kew gardens. But the actual tree, I discovered, was not far away, so I went to find it.

Easier said than done though. It was down the old Vasse Road, a dirt track which has now been bypassed by a sealed highway. I love riding on dirt and do it as often as possible, but this road was a bit of a bugger, although it looked quite nice.

Fairly deep dry dusty soil, being whipped up by the wind, and in the process of being graded. It was a bit slidey with some quite steep descents, so I took it slowly as I really didn’t want to come off, and  picked my way along until suddenly, there it was: Marianne North’s tree.

It is massive, and distinctly disfigured. No wonder she decided to paint a picture of it. I just took a photo.

Not far down the road was the Dave Evans Bi centennial tree. No, I didn’t know what it was either, so I went to investigate. The trees in the Great Southern Forest are massive. Really huge, and there is no way of seeing over them to spot fires etc. So a bloke called Dave Evans (born in Wales apparently) came up with the idea of using the tallest of trees as lookouts,  and pegged them. Literally, metal pegs spiralling up the side of the huge trunk to a platform at the top. 

This tree was pegged in 1988 - bicentennial year - and is the tallest at 59m. It was quite hard work getting up it and not for the faint hearted, but my back started to tweak a bit as I reached about 30m and it was either down was the same way as I’d gone up or jump, I decided that was far enough. But I guess jumping from that height would have cured the back ache.

I called in at the Cascades after that; another waterfall thing, very pretty. There was nobody about so I rode Gerty onto the viewing platform just because I could. 

It was worth a quick look before riding into Pemberton where I was  confronted by a huge pall of smoke. 

Not what I wanted to see in a small town surrounded by bush and full of wooden houses, while I was riding a slow bike, but it turned out to be a farmer doing something or other and we’re still alive and kicking, so it was all good.