There is something magical about the ocean. The deep unknown, the vastness of it, the remoteness. Staring at the sea it always feels like anything else can’t possibly matter, when there’s so much turmoil already happening. I once read that we know more about outer space than we know about the deep sea. This fact has instilled a fascination within me that I simply can’t seem to satisfy. So for the last week, we spent a lot of time on the coast and on the water, and it has been fantastic. I think it’s safe for me to say that the most content I’ve felt, was when I was out on the water, scanning for those little patterns breaking the surf, indicating a sign of life in a massive canvas of blue.
But let’s start at the beginning of the week. I was pondering the above as I walked along the beach in Albany, where I last left you guys. I truly liked that place – the cottage was outdated, there were sand flies everywhere, but walking along the beach all by myself meant I could belt out as many Adele songs as I liked (I mean, Someone Like You is a Tune with a capital T), wonder about the large things in life (what does consciousness even mean?) and some of the smaller things (I really wonder if I could ever pull off those crop tops).
Albany is also home to the Anzac Museum. I thought they taught me everything there was ever to know about WWI back in school, but this museum was an incredible surprise. Not only wasn’t I even aware that both Kiwis and Ozzies fought in the Big War, but I was also painfully unaware of the suffering that happened around the globe, including in places like Egypt and Turkey. The museum takes you on a personal journey – upon arrival, you are presented with a soldier’s ID. You follow his (or her!) story throughout the war, from enlistment, through battle, and life after if there was one. It really brings it closer to home. “My” soldier was an English Navy Captain sent to guide the soldiers through enemy waters into battle. He survived the war, moved back to England where he wrote a book, and later succumbed to cancer. He was considered one of the lucky ones. Personally, I’m not so sure.
After Albany, we drove to our next destination of Walpole, situated in the middle of the Walpole-Nornalup National Park. It’s home to the Tree Top Walk, in the Valley of the Giants. Many names, but a simple idea: build a massive walkway in the tops of massive trees. Normally I have no issue with height (but then again, who does? It’s falling we have an issue with), but the 40m high walkway definitely gave me shaky knees. But I can’t recommend it enough – not only gives it spectacular views, once you finish the tree top walk you can finish by walking through the forest itself. And honestly, those trees are far more impressive from the ground. It looked like it came straight out of Jurassic Park.
In Walpole, we stayed in this tiny cottage out in the sticks. Driving up its gravel driveway, we were surprised by a large gathering of “roos” (i.e. kangaroos. I totally have the local lingo down). As we arrived at the cottage, there were dozens more. After seeing only a couple of live ones (dead ones are aplenty on the Australian highways, we must’ve seen at least three times as many dead ones), this was a huge surprise. So I relished both the kangaroos as well as the many other inhabitants, such as the amazing kookaburra and the beautiful splendid fairy wren. And I truly relished the private room I was kindly given by my family: a double bed, shower, and a jacuzzi with a corner window overlooking the grounds. I enjoyed the back massage from the jets as I watched the night sky settle over the cottage like a dark blanket. Amazing.
But if I thought that would be the best place we’d stay, I was mistaken. The next day we swiftly continued on to Margaret River. Known mainly for its wines, we drove straight past all the wineries into another tiny cottage in the middle of fifty acres of private land. More kangaroos greeted us as we drove up, as well as a very friendly miniature Schnauzer called Ozzy. I felt straight at home. It is here that I was truly able to relive my African memories.
Let me explain. For those of you who don’t know, I spent the last summer doing nocturnal research in Africa. Every night we’d walk through vast stretches of savanna, encountering everything from bushbabies to wildebeest, and hyenas to giraffes. As someone who’s not particularly fond of the dark (hell, I usually even leave the light on), this was a particular challenge. But let me recommend it to you: exploring nature in the dark is a tremendously exhilarating experience. And it was no different here. Going out with my head torch, hearing the sounds of the night, looking carefully for reflecting eyes in the shrubs and trees, it was like I was right back there. The first night I found some possums, spiders, frogs, and a bandicoot (which looks nothing like Crash Bandicoot, rather disappointingly). But it was the second night things got interesting – going much further into the forest this time, Tim and I were surprised by a kangaroo jumping out from behind a tree. It genuinely seemed to come out of nowhere, and a kangaroo is so strong when it sets off for its jump, it makes the ground shake. For a brief second I was terrified (i.e. I bricked it). Again we found a possum, which was kind enough to let us watch it for a good while. Many spiders were seen and barely avoided, whereas the crickets provided the background music and bats echolocated wildly around us. Wherever you are reading this, do yourself a favour. Go for a walk tonight. Wait for darkness to fall, and go explore. Take a torch, be safe (if you’re in, say, central Africa or Salford, maybe don’t go!), and just explore what’s around. It is astonishing.
I was truly sad to leave this beautiful place. Having dabbled again in night photography and hiking, I hope I’ll find other places in Australia where I can go on my nocturnal adventures. It seems that for someone who’s really rather scared of the dark, I also seem obsessed with it. This is maybe why, the next day, we went to the Mammoth Cave. The drive takes you through some of the most beautiful, dense woodland I’ve ever seen. It stretches for miles and is more lush than most UK forests I’ve seen. The cave itself owes its name to its enormous caverns. As you descend further into the depths of the cave, fossils are embedded in the walls, from creatures both extant and extinct. And as the path winds its way back out, you have to ascent nearly 200 stairs out of a hole, where the cave first collapsed and gave entry to its early discoverers. It was easy to imagine a T-Rex munching on some unlucky chicken-like dinosaur, and pterodactyls flying over. Australia has so many sides to it, and this was perhaps one of the more surprising.
But alas, all fun things come to an end. Our time in the outback of Western Australia has finished and today we arrived back in Perth. However, to make the transition a bit easier, we did stop off at a place called Penguin Island. As the name suggests, its home to a large colony of little penguins (and little they are! Tiny!), as well as many breeding sea birds, the endangered Australian sea lion, and numerous bottlenose dolphins. On a small boat we observed all these animals, and Bowie the bottlenose dolphin joined us for a large part of the ride.
So here we are, back where we began. Perth has welcomed us back once more and I’m sure there’s still plenty to see. But in three days, mum and Tim will fly back to the Netherlands, and I will move on to Sydney by myself. Tune back in next week to see if I’ll manage. As I said, this is Australia after all…
Faye Vogely 