Well, my writing is getting way behind, and as I write, we are Margaret River, and about to decamp for Busselton in the morning. So how did we get here? Wait – no longer in Margaret River – try Bunbury!
The South West of Western Australia is a place of great diversity in its landscape, coasts and botany. It is an ongoing journey of discovery and delight.

From Hopetoun, we drove north to Ravensthorpe before heading south west for Albany. The plains roll on endlessly but the striking shapes of the Stirling Ranges loomed on the horizon and promised some great viewing. The mountain peaks seem to lean backwards at awkward angles leaving the impression of a massive rocky saw. We would come back to the ranges for a further examination.
On Saturday, John and Anne headed off for Perth en-route to Melbourne for John’s mother’s funeral. One of John’s many virtues is that as a retired accountant, he is very efficient and likes things to be organised and planned within the generally relaxed scheme we have for our trip. He is also a retired auditor with the mantra that “nothing is missed,” so our trip so far has been without drama. Now we were left to our own devices, resulting in a few missteps, but nothing that left us too damaged.
We decided to go to church on Sunday, and foolishly thought that the sign on the nice looking building in the main street that said “Uniting Church Service, 10.00am” would be a reliable indicator of what we might encounter. Instead we found ourselves among a tiny congregation (8) of nonagenarian Baptists who sang unaccompanied hymns about meeting again on distant heavenly shores. Now, good on them, in Scomo’s words, for “having a go”, but apparently there are two other Baptist congregations in Albany, so why they go it alone is a mystery. The preacher spent half an hour telling us that the world hates us because we are righteous! Still, they were a friendly crowd, and mightily impressed to have visitors from distant parts of the country. We shared a cup of tea before we left on our day’s outings. As we drove away we went past the real Uniting Church that looked a lively place with lots of people.
Later we went for a stroll down to Emu Point where we were assured there was a nice café. It was just a short walk of about 600 metres along a path set behind the long Middleton Beach that connects Albany with Emu Point. For some reason, the return walk home seemed much longer, but I was assured we had not come to the little path we needed to access our van park. After some time, our faith in Jen’s inerrant navigational skills began to abate and we realised we had overshot our destination by a few kilometres. We finally got home with the sun setting and in need of another coffee.
We took ourselves back to the Stirling Ranges and Porongorup National Park. The countryside was extremely pretty through the forests and with massive rock formations. It would have been nice to spend more time there and to go on some of the bush walks.
Back in Albany we were able to attend to a few chores such as washing 4,000 kilometres of dust from the car, restocking provisions, getting spare keys cut and getting our hair cut. I have a 50mm “bald” patch from some surgery a couple of years back, and the young girl shaving my head asked about it. I said I had been given a brain transplant. “That is amazing!” she gasped. “well, yes,” I said, “but the trouble is you lose the memory and knowledge you used to have and now have someone else’s.” She seemed astonished at that, so I did not go any further.

Albany has lots of treasures – both natural and human. We could not manage everything, but with John and Anne now returned from “over East” we visited the old Albany Whale Station, and some of the wonderful coastal bays and cliffs. I have very mixed feelings about visiting whale centres and looking at the history of this gruesome industry. A bit ironic is the happy whale in the children’s play area, given the grisly fate that awaited him if caught.

From Albany we ventured further into the delights of the South West with soaring karri forest, dairy farms, grapevines. The little village of Northcliffe has a forest walk where artists have created all sorts of structures and sculptures in the bush. Many of the sculptures use the wounds of trees caused by fires to carve heads and faces. It is a journey of discovery along the walk to find these gems hidden among the trees. Many of the sculptures are much more overt and “modern” but in any case, it was an absorbing experience to wander along the paths, among the trees and bush and find the artwork.

At Walpole there was the Walk among the Giants – an elevated suspension path that led through the canopy of these colossal trees at about 40 metres high. The trees were tingle – Eucalyptus Jacksonii – that despite their huge girth and great heights of over 60 metres for mature trees, have shallow roots and quite vulnerable to damage. Which is why the walks are either elevated or along board walks to protect the trees from damage. We saw some pictures from earlier years where people had used the hollowed-out buttresses for their cars. It looks like John managed to sneak his Jeep past the bollards and rangers.

We had a night at Walpole and then were on to our next destination for a couple of days, Pemberton, with its karri forests and the famous Gloucester Tree and the Bicentennial Tree that can be climbed to about 60 odd metres.

We could not go to the Gloucester tree without climbing it. It is a fantastic climb albeit the aching limbs and fighting one’s fear of heights, with steel bars driven into the tree providing steps, and hopefully enough room for people to pass. The view from the platform at about 63 metres is amazing. When I say “we”, I mean that in a collective sense. Only Anne did the actual climb, the price of aching calves she paid on the following day. Down below, we admired her determination and took delight in the wrens that hopped about on the ground. We loved the beautiful earthy smells of the forest – the air thick with moisture, the lizards and birds, the flowers and shrubs as miniature art balancing the towering spires of karri.

A more prosaic need was to find a place to see the Geelong Cats v West Coast Eagles game. There was a wonderfully equipped Sports Club just near our park. I bravely wore my Geelong scarf but kept my participation to a fairly subdued level. Fortunately, the Cats won so next Friday we play in the Elimination Final against John’s team, the Richman Tigers.

And that is a pretty good place to end this yarn. Our next steps along the way are Augusta, in the deep South West, Margaret River for a few days, Busselton and Bunbury.