sixontheroad.com.au

After the Nullabor ends at Ceduna, it’s basically a cruisy drive home that you could possibly do in three days if you’re quick, double that if you’re slow. Mentally we’d finished our “holiday” in Perth, so even though we went through the motions of tourist stuff, our hearts were further East, already in Melbourne.

New Years Eve was fantastic. Many months ago we had visited the tiny village of Port Germain for morning tea on our way from Port Pirie to the Mount Remarkable National Park. We’d commented that it would be a fabulous place to return to in summer. So that’s what we did. We pulled into the last available site, cooked up some snags and then settled down to celebrate the end of a fabulous year, and the start of an even better one. One thing that travelling on the road has wiped out is any sense of shyness, so I was introducing myself to the group in the centre of the park and had my chair pulled up to their circle within minutes. Our kids had made friends with theirs in an even shorter space of time and were showing each other Christmas presents and testing them all out.

This was us on the Port Germain pier six months ago in the middle of winter.

Port Germain pier, middle of summer. Poor Ty isn't looking to flash. This was taken New Years Day and he was yet to recover from the previous evening's celebrations.

The group turned out to be three families from Marysville in Victoria who were on a ten day holiday to Streaky Bay. We hadn’t met many families on holiday (as opposed to travelling families) and they hadn’t met many of us. So it was great fun when they ooohed and aaahed over our tiny little caravan, and stood in awe of us when we told them exactly where we’d been. I was trying not to get all big headed, but it was kind of nice to have people admiring us. Most people we’ve met have been in the same boat, so don’t really have much to say. They aren’t interested in where we’ve been, because they went there too. So naturally much of the evening was spend regaling our hosts with tales of our adventures.

Inevitably the conversation moved onto the topic of the 2009 Black Saturday bushfires in which Marysville was wiped out. One of the families we were with had lost everything, but what grace they showed in their determination to look ahead to better times.

Talem Bend picnic area. Forgive me. I couldn't be bothered taking a photo, so I've inserted this one from when we were there a year ago.

Next morning was hot, hot, hot. The tide was out which meant we had to walk half way along the pier before we even reached the water. Now Busselton claims to have the longest wooden pier in Australia, but so does Port Germain. I guess they are both trying to use it as a tourist attraction and certainly one of these towns hasn’t let the facts get in the way of a good story. But which one? I’m, err, not interested enough to actually go measure them. I’ll leave that to someone else.

This is my father's childhood home in the small Wimmera town of Kaniva.

After leaving Port Germain we trundled along eastward stopping at some of the worst tourist attractions in the country. I’m sure they’re not all that bad, but we just couldn’t muster up enthusiasm for them when we knew we’d be home within days. Bigs are so 1980s. A heap of towns went and built a big something in order to attract the by-passing traffic and induce them to stop for coffee. What they neglected to take into account is that they actually need to know how to make coffee. Those silly vending machines where you press a button and stale dregs get poured into a cup at the bottom is not coffee – it’s a caffeine hit for desperadoes.

The Big Sheep Farmer, somewhere in South Australia. A modern looking sculpture, a bit like the artwork they have in modern cathedrals.

The Big Galah, in the town that markets itself as being half way across Australia, whatever that means. Not sure why you'd build a galah, but maybe all the interesting things had already been taken and a galah was the only thing left.

The Big Koala. Probably the most hideous of all the Bigs.

Because we couldn’t get coffee we decided to get wine and popped into the Seppelt winery in Great Western, a not-so-great town in Western Victoria. Fabulous sparkling and the best kids corner I’ve seen at a winery to date. It was a dedicated play room. A whole room for kids to muck around in while mum and dad stand at the counter quaffing the samples pretending to make intelligent conversation.

Our first view of Melbourne. You can just make out the skyline in the background with Albert Einstein in the foreground.

Then eventually we saw it. Our first view of Melbourne in nearly six months. Albert Einstein helped us too. Not sure how he came to be on our dashboard, but he was probably purchased in one of those random bags of toys that the Vinnies sell for a couple of bucks. Whatever. We could see Melbourne! We could make out the Eureka, the Rialto and a couple of others. The roadworks on the Westgate had finished. The Monash was as slow as ever. Yes, it was Melbourne!

As you come across the Nullabor Plain, you expect it to be, well, a plain of null arbor, ie no trees. So it’s a bit of a disappointment when you turn onto the Eyre Highway amidst a forest of gum trees. “OK you think to yourself, we’re not really there yet, we’ll see what’s further up the road” and you wait as you still see gum trees, which then turn to acacia trees and you wait even more and then three days later for 20 minutes you drive through a parcel of land with no trees, just some shrubs. Talk about anticlimax.

Road, Road, Road, As Far As the Eye Can See.

The Nullabor journey for the Six on the Road family meant driving, stop, pee, driving, stop, fill up with petrol, drive, pee, drive, eat, drive, sleep and so on for days on end.

Some claypan thing that we stopped at and walked out on while stretching our legs.

It wasn’t as boring as we had feared. Not with four kids in the back all demanding attention, although if you haven’t worked it out by now, that’s just code for “Jemima screamed a lot.” We stopped regularly, looked at things, well Ty and I looked, sometimes the kids got out, sometimes they stayed in the car with the aircon running. It was hot, damned hot.

Great Australian Bite. There are all these roads that lead down to the Southern Ocean where you can see whales in the Winter. No whales, only bugs can be seen in summer time.

Hot.

At one of the roadhouses we played golf. Well when I say golf, what I mean is, Henry, Bram and I rummaged around in the scrub and found some lost balls that we tried to roll into the pin but Jemima kept stealing them. Eventually Ty went and hired some clubs and hit them back into the scrub (admittedly he was aiming for the green). That’s golf according to us.

Golf on the Nullabor. Ty hits the balls, we go looking for them.

After what seemed forever, but was only a couple of days, we entered South Australia.

Finally we get to South Australia.

The time in South Australia. Yes this is the correct time. Yes this sign is correct.

I loved this clock. You see, South Australia is two and a half hours behind Perth. There is such a thing as Central Western time which occurs in Eastern Western Australia, but see, saying Eastern Western is confusing enough, let alone there being a time zone for it that calls itself Central Western. Kununurra is in Eastern Western Australia, but keeps Perth time. Since Kununurra is up North one must presume this special time is only for Southern Eastern Western Australia. Anyway, the point is, nobody knows about it unless they happen to notice the little sign on the highway. They all have their clocks set on Perth time two and a half hours behind. So it’s a great shock for us who travel Eastward to actually see what time it is now that we’ve crossed the border into South Australia. Obviously the staff get sick of syaing “Yes, that’s the right time” so have put up these signs. Even still a woman asked “Is that really the right time?” while we were there. So it would appear the signs don’t work.

The first helmeted bike to cross the Nullabor. That is this roadhouse's claim to fame.

Anyway, the exciting thing is that not long after the South Australian border we entered the “true Nullabor” which wasn’t very exciting to be honest. All it meant was that the same road loomed ahead, but now with the absense of trees. To be honest, I preferred the landscape around Pimba, up the Stuart Highway. That was also treeless, but even flatter, and well, just more magestic if you ask me. There is definitely something special about being able to see sky as in every direction as far as you can see. For people from cities where there are always buildings or trees or hills or machines in the way of the view, it is worth taking some time out to just stop and look up, when you find yourself in Outback South Australia, with nothing to see.

Posted from Kalgoorlie, Western Australia, Australia.

I know the more, err, efficient travellers will giggle to themselves upon discovering that the Six on the Road gang, despite leaving Perth two days ago, have only just made it out of Kalgoorlie, but that’s just the way we get about – slowly.

Breakdown near Southern Cross. Ty on the phone to RACV. I can't recommend them highly enough. Not only have they now twice had to come out and help us, but the over the phone support is brilliant.

Now to be fair, its not all our fault. We had another breakdown. This time the wheel fell off the caravan. We were just driving along a few kilometres out of a town called Southern Cross, having a nice time when BAM!!! It was easy to tell this was different to the flat tyre incident. Pull off the road and the wheel gone and the axle just kind of hanging there. “Oh no, an axle, we should start thinking about abandoning the caravan and just leaving here, and driving home!” I mean we love the caravan, she’s served us well, but it wouldn’t be the end of the world if we found ourselves in a position where leaving her behind was our best option.

The kids from Six on the Road find themselves off the road and on the Perth-Kalgoorlie water pipe for a few hours.

And this is the reason.

We call RACV who have a bit of a barmy with the WA equivalent (they don’t do caravans but our cover includes caravans) and out comes someone who had repaired it in a few minutes. Turns out the axle was still in good nick, he just needed to change the wheel. All those sharp and misshapen bits of metal that were hanging out belonged to the wheel. Quite pleased with ourselves we pull into the town of Southern Cross, locate the tyre store and pull up. Now we’d completely forgotten it was a public holiday and hadn’t realised we were in luck when we saw the door open. The owner was inside helping a mate who wanted to use the workshop for his own private vehicle. However it turned out they didn’t have the right sized wheel in stock. No problem! The owner has what we need on his trailer at home. He phones up his father, tells him to take off the wheel on the trailer and bring it around to the workshop. He then fits it to our caravan, we keep the older one and then only charges us $18 in labour. Unbelievably good service.

We only made it as far as the next roadhouse before the kids were exhausted and we called it a night.

Too exhausted to notice the sunset behind them.

This morning we were up early and on the road just after seven. Got to Coolgardie in time for morning tea and a lovely stroll up and down the main street. It was a lovely looking town, but it gives off bad vibes when the public toilets are closed due to vandalism, the Post Office will only admit people over sixteen due to constant theft and the ground is littered with too much broken glass. Regardless, it’s still pleasant enough for an hour or so of admiring the old buildings and some R&R at the playground.

One of a few great looking pubs in Coolgardie.

Kalgoorlie is lovely. Old but alive. Lots of gold rush prosperity allowed some magnificent buildings to be erected. Better still, Kalgoorlie is interested in tourist dollars and is prepared to preserve them because the people there know that people like me will come there to look at those old buildings. We had lunch at the Irish pub. Meals were so big we haven’t needed dinner!

Palace Hotel Kalgoorlie. We would have loved to stay in one of the rooms above this pub. If only we didn't have that blasted caravan!

They are so switched on in Kalgoorlie that they have even made prostitution respectable. This bordello has a daily tour for which a heap of middle class oldies turned up. Not the kind of tourist activity you can do with four youngsters though. Imagine the awkward questions!

Then to the superpit. If Alan Bond has one legacy, this is it. He realised that little mining companies doing little mining operations were not as efficient as a big one. So he set about buying up all the licences and creating a single mine. He never got to see it through, but the superpit is his vision. To be honest, I look at this big hole in the ground, all the grey around it and as far as the eye can see, and I feel a bit sad that we are prepared to do this to our planet so that we can wear some nice shiny stuff around our necks. Not really worth it if you ask me.

The Kalgoorlie Superpit. All this damage to the environment, just for a show piece of jewellery.

Then checked out Boulder which is supposed to be the twin city of Kalgoorlie. See Kal isn’t just Kal, it’s officially Kalgoorlie-Boulder and in our naivety this made us think that Boulder must have something worth seeing. Wrong. Boulder is just a skanky suburb of Kalgoorlie with decaying buildings, aboriginals sitting around drinking and pubs proudly announced they have Emu Bitter on tap. Much like Wittenoom, this is a place to leave the windows up and keep driving.

You might remember the Nativity set from Fremantle that had Jesus missing. Well I found this one today in a Kalgoorlie shop. Mary, Joseph, three kings, a shepard and even a donkey all pay homage to the cow in the centre. Meanwhile up the back, Jesus is left all alone except for a singe sheep that keeps him company. What is wrong with shopkeepers these days? Have we forgotten the meaning of Christmas? Just a hint for next year - Jesus is the main guy. 1. Don't leave him out of the scene. 2. Make the others look at him, not some random animal..

Posted from Perth, Western Australia, Australia.

Happy Hannukah, Merry Christmas and all that stuff from Six on the Road.

Coffee after santa photos. They were so good this year. I expected Jemima to be scared given that she's nearly two, but she ran straight up to Santa and chatted to him.

We’ve remained relatively oblivious to all the usual end of year craziness. Sure, we had to organise a Christmas celebration, but apart from a few presents, our biggest difficulty was deciding which wine to drink on Christmas Day down at the beach. What a tough life we have.

A friend took me out to dinner down at Hillarys which is a harbour area with lots of cool restaurants. We chose the famous Little Caesars Pizzeria, winner of many pizza type awards. My chicken, prosciutto & pine nut pizza was to die for. Afterwards I tested the capacity of my poor little tummy by stuffing in as much chocolate sundae as could fit.

Is this the coolest Menorah you ever saw? Day three of Hannukah - the celebration of the long lasting oil.

Another evening we were invited to her house for dinner. A house! With walls, and carpet and, you know, house stuff inside. We hadn’t seen one of those since Darwin months ago. It was a great evening and we even got to light the Hannukah candles. Not being Jewish our kids don’t know the story of Hannukah and the Maccabees, but it has been one of my favourite stories ever since I lived in Israel.

The next day was a milestone for our family. Lydia got her ears pierced. I’d always said she could have them pierced when she asked. The funny thing was that I expected she’d ask as soon as she started school and hanging around with other girls with pierced ears. She didn’t though. It was only in Broome that she informed me of her decision.

So we had a girly day at the local shopping centre, picked a pharmacy, chose the earrings and then got them in. Brave little girl. Mummy was very proud.

Have I made the right decision? Trying not to look nervous.

OK, I'm not sure what's going on. What are they doing?

It's over! I'm trying so hard to smile and be brave.

Eventually Christmas Day arrived. We aren’t religious but we do celebrate Jesus’ birthday with all the gusto of a typical Aussie family. I awoke to hear the boys climbing up to the top bunk where Father Christmas has stored the gifts. “Arrghhh. Wait. Wait. Let the girls wake up. I need coffee!” We traditionally sing Happy Birthday to Jesus before presents. The kids received an assortment of outdoor toys, ride-on, scooter, skateboard, ripstick scooter. In fact I think every child in the caravan park received a scooter – they were out in force that morning. You couldn’t walk to the ablution block without being almost run over by someone testing a new scooter. Worst of all were the kids with the new, oversized bikes that they were having a hard time controlling. Lots of noise and fun and trying out of each others toys.

Saint Nick brought a plethora of outdoor riding equipment.

Most of the families in the caravan park are not long term travellers, but West Australians from the mining towns who’ve come to visit relatives in Perth for the Christmas – New Year break. They all piled out of the park by lunchtime giving us a chance to unwind and take a nap before we too headed out. Our destination was Scarborough Beach.

Scarborough Beach. A great place to spend Christmas Day if you live in Perth. Well great except for the crowds, the drunks, the wind and the waves.

WOW. What a melting pot of British backpackers, African migrants and Asian tourists all drinking frenetically. The waves were insane! Great for Ty and I to boogie board, but not much fun for the kids – too strong for them. When we’d had our fill of adrenaline we headed to a safer beach: Hillarys. Here we spent the rest of the day paddling, swimming, playing in the sand, and doing nice, family stuff.

Hillarys was much more sedate. Our kids decided to join a random family and play with their buckets and spades. Luckily they didn't mind and were happy to share.

In the meantime mummy got stuck into the sparkling sav blanc.

None of the restaurants were open at Hillarys. I had totally overlooked the fact that Perth is, well, Perth, and things don’t open on Christmas day. So my dreams of fish and chips on the beach were in tatters. Nonetheless I did get stuck into the bottle of Margaret River sparkling I’d been saving just for this occasion. Afterall it wasn’t my fault they weren’t open, and I’m hardly one to deny myself the pleasure of a glass or three of bubbly. The sun was getting low and we knew it was time to get in the car and try to find a fish and chip shop that was open or else head back to our caravan for baked beans on toast.

Lo and behold, a fish and chip shop appeared before us. Well not quite, but you get the idea. I’d had three glasses of champagne on an empty stomach so didn’t see things as clearly as the sober driver. In fact I believed it to be a miracle from above. Fish and chips! Fish and chips! Praised be the fish and chips! Yeah, I was totally over the top with my excitement.

Fish and chips at Trigg Beach Foreshore. Yummy too.

And so we headed down to Trigg beach to eat our dinner. The third beach today.

We watched the sun set, had a play at the park and then returned home, happy, tired, sandy, and, in my case, tipsy. We slept very well. Today we had planned to spend in the Swan Valley. Mainly because I wanted to visit Houghtons, but also because I wanted to make the most of our last day in Perth. Turns out the brochures were right, it really is only 20 minutes from town. Hardly a daytrip. Houghtons was open, but nothing else, so after trying in vain to get a coffee we had to head back to our caravan and make our own. Shrug. The Swan Valley wasn’t nearly as pretty as Margaret River, so I’m not too disappointed we only spent an hour there.

Houghtons. The oldest winery in Western Australia and the third oldest in the country. We picked up a six pack which we will now lug across the Nullabor. Not sure why when we could pick it up at any botlle shop in Melbourne. Still, this will taste more genuine, I guess.

Tomorrow we leave Perth and are making our way home. We’ve run out of money so we’re cutting short our trip by the two weeks we’d planned to spend in Adelaide. No big deal. We spent two weeks in Adelaide only last year, so it’s still fresh in our minds. Plus, having now experienced Margaret River, I now prefer that to the Barossa Valley or McLaren Vale anyday.

Posted from Perth, Western Australia, Australia.

What a lovely clean city. New though.

Frmantle Ferris Wheel. Would have had great views but they were going to charge even for Jemima so we passed.

We’ve fallen in love with Fremantle, but that’s to be expected. Every other visitor does too, so we are no exception to the rule. We’ve been there twice now. The first time we ate lunch at the famous Little Creatures Brewery. After that I never got around to taking any photos. I just had this crappy one of the ferris wheel. I don’t know if it’s permanently there or if it was erected specially for the Yachting Festival. Fremantle was host to some sailing championships and they were in full swing, so we got a free kids stage show which impressed them enormously – it’s been a few years since we’ve done the Wiggles. You know what? sometimes life just gets in the way of my aspiring travel photography, so I usually end up with the worst photos at the places I enjoy the most.

I don't know if it's because I live in the most multicultural council of Australia and they've all gone nuts over political correctness, but it's very difficult to find anything to do with Jesus at Christmas. We have decorations but only show Santa, never Jesus. Perth seems much more accepting of Jesus and nativity scenes are common especially shop fronts. This scene seems to have taken a compromise: a nativity scene without Jesus. Mary, Joseph, three kings, a shepherd, all look to a blank spot on the ground.

Back to Fremantle today though as I wanted the see the Hartog plate. It’s just a replica. The Vlamingh plate is ridgy-didge though. I have wanted to see these things since I first learned that Captain Cook didn’t “discover” Australia. I had a horridly mainstream education and that’s what we were told back in those days. “Captain Cook discovered Australia. Oh yeah, but there were some Aborigines here already” I was oblivious to Dutch exploration til high school.

Six on the Road inspect Australia II's winged keel.

The things you learn in Fremantle. Apparently our famed sporting icon, the boxing kangaroo drinks Swan Lager.

I got my maritime museums mixed up though and we ended up at the Western Australian Maritime Museum instead of the Shipwrecks Gallery but only realised we were at the wrong place AFTER we’d paid the entrance fee. No matter, we got to see Australia II and touch the famous winged keel. Ty was chuffed with that. Oh and the jacket that Bob Hawke wore is also there, so it wasn’t a wasted trip. They just need to have his “bum” comment on continuous playback so we Aussies can laugh at ourselves and horrify the foreigners that we have leaders like that. Plus I got a tour of a submarine. I’d assumed Ty would want to go and I’d have the job of minding Jemima – afterall he’s the one with the naval family history, but nope, he’s been in one before, and that’s enough for him.

The original Vlamingh Plate. In 1616 Hartog left a plate behind up north near Shark Bay, so in 1697 Vlamingh took it and put this one there in its stead.

We did get to see the plates at the other museum, plus bits of Batavia and other seafaring memorabilia.

A photo of Lydia and I with a giant mermaid.

Now I got a caning for saying that the West Aussies were grumpy souls so imagine how much I giggled when I picked up a booklet with an article by former premier Geoff Gallop titled “Does the ‘stroppy state’ really want to secede?” Gallop found ruling West Australia so disheartening he got depression and moved to New South Wales. On the other hand we did also meet Tazli Bowe the most energetic and enthusiastic woman we’ve encountered in a long time. She gave us a copy of her children’s book “Our Rottnest Holiday” after we’d told her of our plans to visit the island.

Tazli Bowe "Our Rottnest Holiday" written by one of the most bubbly women I've ever met.

So off to the island we headed. If I’d known how much there is to do and how beautiful the place was I would have liked to organise to stay a couple of nights there. Sure we had all read the book, but we still weren’t expecting it to be so ace. Now I only got two crappy photos before the camera ran out of battery, so you’ll just have to put up with them. The beaches are pristine, the views spectacular, the wildlife amazing and the snorkeling accessible. Jemima fell in love with the quokkas which gave us great amusement as she run after them attempting to tackle the poor mites to the ground. Fortunately they seemed well used to people and were immune to her antics.

Insert obligatory photo of quokka here.

When we come back to WA we will definitely plan to visit Rottnest again, and spend at least a few nights there.

As for us, we are making subdued Christmas plans. We have the awful task of deciding whether to spend Christmas at Cottesloe, Scarborough or Hillarys. Tough days ahead for the crew of Six on the Road.

Posted from Margaret River, Western Australia, Australia.

We have had such a wonderful time here in the South West corner of the country that I just want to keep raving on about it.

The Margaret River.

After our sheep farm experience we split up. Ty offered to take all the kids away for a few days to give me a break. I haven’t had a child free night in three years, so I was hardly going to knock that back. So we parked me at the caravan park near town and he took of to Albany. I had three luxurious days all to myself. I got to catch up on sudoku, get a Bowen treatment, sit down and actually appreciate a good coffee and then in the evenings I drank wine, ate chocolate, painted my toenails and watched DVDs, all without interruption. Simple, everyday stuff for some, but heaven for me.

The best coffee I've ever tasted. Yahava Zumo Koffee (without children). Normally I'm not into places that can't spell coffee, but this is an exceptional exception to the rule.

Ty and the kids loved Albany and Denmark and the other towns they visited. They saw the big karri forests, pristine beaches, blowholes, national parks and whatever else there is to see there. They got to stay in a cabin in the caravan park – it was almost like a house to them. Only problem was that the kids kept forgetting there was an inside toilet and they didn’t have to ask to go. I was interested to see how Jemima would go without me, as she’s till breastfed a few times a day. She wasn’t worried, she just asked her older sister for “boobie” and tried to suckle her. Funny kid.

Albany or therabouts. Ty's time with the four kidlets.

Just another shot of the four kids taken by Ty on Lydia's camera. Taken somewhere near the blowhole of Albany.

Yesterday Ty got to have his “day off” which he wanted to spend taking a wine tour. Yes, we’d already seen a lot of the wineries, but for him, it was more about the experience of having a day to himself and being able to let his hair down. He came home with a big, drunken smile and a box overflowing with goodies. He’d been on the famous Bushtucker tour which takes you not only to some wineries, but also to the Margaret River Cheese Factory and the Margaret River Chocolate Factory as well as cooking a national emblem lunch. Of course we were unable to restrain ourselves and broke into the cheeses immediately while Ty regaled us with tales from his day. He’d met the three most amazing women in Western Australia with whom he’d just clicked. They talked sensibly about Aussie Rules footy which left him in awe and “and and and … Guess what? One of them even follows Collingwood!! and and and and …. Guess what? They are moving to Melbourne! and and and and ….. Guess what? I’m going to take them to the MCG!” I’m sure Ty would consider me the perfect wife if only I’d just get that glazed look out of my eyes when he tells me about the rookie and preseason draft (whatever that means).

Oh and then there were the three Swedish sisters on the tour too. Poor Ty. What a tough day he had.

Jewel Cave. Now if you've been following this blog for a while, you know what a flake I am. This was an amazing experience for me because I have a guided meditation at home that gets you to imagine yourself going into a cave with stalactites all around. Talk about deja vu.

To back it up today, what do you think we did? We went out to even more wineries. Apparently Ty forgot to get his big boss Mark a bottle of wine, so we just HAD to go out and find him one. Oh, except I got handed the keys. “You don’t mind driving do you darling? It’s just that he’s such an important man I feel I really must taste every sample of wine before I decide which one to buy him” So we did two wineries, a magnificent lunch at the Bootleg Brewery and returned to the cheese factory for more nibblies. I can’t tell you how much I’d love to come back to this area without kids. Not so much because they are a pain, they were perfectly behaved today, it’s just the logistics of getting four kids out of the car, back in the car, toys, drinks, making sure seatbelts are secure and then praying the double tie in Jemima’s belt will force her to keep the straps over her shoulders. Arrgghhhh the frustrations of living with an eight kilo almost two year old (That’s way under the charts for normal kids, she weighs as much as a nine month old).

Six on the Road gang enjoy lunch at Bootleg Brewery. Highly recommended.

Sure, she might be scrawny, but she's damned cute. This is Jemima in her first pair of training pants. Yes, she is finally understanding what toilet training is all about.

So this will be our last post from rural WA. We head to Perth tomorrow and will be there until 27th December. We have revised our plans somewhat. We have made the decision to head home straight from Perth for financial reasons. We had intended to hang around in Adelaide for 2 weeks so Ty could watch the test match against India and I could get to experience the Tour Down Under. Being the massive cycling fan that I am, I was half wishing that I wasn’t on this trip of a lifetime when I saw that Cadel Evans had come to Melbourne for a victory parade after winning the Tour de France. I’m such a groupie that Cadel has even replied to my Twitter questions a couple of times. That is my claim to fame. Yes, I know, Ty is no doubt wishing I’d take that kind of interest in the AFL, but hey, he’s got his new girl friends to chat AFL with.

Margaret River fires. I'm not sure if these got much coverage back in the Eastern states, but the fires down here have been devastating. Prevelly in particular has been gutted. Many homes were lost. Being Victorians we have enormous amounts of empathy for those affected.

Prevelly Beach - Famous for surfing

Posted from Margaret River, Western Australia, Australia.

I love Margaret River. Love it! The only problem I have is that it’s in Western Australia and Western Australians live here. Weird people, but I’ll get to that later. You’ve probably guessed by now that the reason I haven’t updated is that I’ve been out at the wineries and you’d be correct for the most part. There’s more to see and do in the area though.

Yallingup Bakery - Organic wood fired bread. We watched the baker cooking it.

Mostly it has been about the food and wine though.

What I didn’t mention last time was the fires. Another deciding factor in staying so long in Donnybrook was due to the fires. We don’t know the area and it just felt safer being well out of the way. We did make our way down here once things had settled down to a working sheep farm about ten kilometres out of town. We loved the farm, easy-going owners, easy to use ablution blocks, good camp kitchen. The only downside was that we had to drive everywhere – and we are the types would would walk if it was an option. Oh, there was one day they were slaughtering some sheep for their own use and the boys stumbled across them in the process of it. I thought they might be traumatised but they seemed to take it in their stride. I’m figuring from their point of view it is almost the same as taking them fishing and telling them “now grab this worm and stick the hook right through him like this, then again like this, and once more for good measure.”

Busselton Pier - the longest wooden pier in Australia - so they claim. Has a train running along it - so is good fun for a family outing.

Dunsborough - It was supposed to be the heart of "schoolies" week, but we found no evidence of them the day we were here.

The Margaret River wine region is relatively new, but boy is it great. There are rustic wineries, swanky wineries, basic wineries and over the top pretentious wineries. We just don’t do opulence like this back home. West Australia is becoming the Texas of the Southern Hemisphere. Forget that. It already is! We went to Voyager, supposedly one of the “nicest” wineries here, but the grounds were so ostentatious it would have been impossible to take the wine seriously. Do you remember Drax from Moonraker? The billionaire baddie who buys a French chateau and transports it to America and then surrounds himself with minor European nobility in the hope he’ll be able to buy class? No, you probably don’t. Only diehard Bond fans remember it, coz it’s rated one of the worst 007 films in history. Anyway, that’s what Voyager reminds me of. Terribly tacky. But then I suppose all these mulitmillionaire mining executives need somewhere suitably splendiferous for their daughters to be married, and Voyager fits the bill.

Voyager - over the top swankiness. The kind of thing I would probably have loved in my twenties, but now that I'm in my thirties and so much more mature I find it distasteful. Hahaha.

Immaculately kept gardens. What you can't see is the eight groundsmen they had working this day.

Voyager 1996. Cape Dutch style architecture. Now if I was a mining magnate with more money than taste, I'd love my daughter to get married somewhere this wanky.

Don’t get me wrong, they might very well have good wine, we just couldn’t taste it as they have the smallest tasting bench in the Margaret River. When we saw people standing two deep to be served and only two attendants working, we figured they probably didn’t need to make a few bucks from us. Wise wines was good though, as was Brookwood, and Stella Bella, and Watershed and……

View from Wise Wines - and what a nice sparkling they have.

Now about these West Australians. What is their obsession with water theft? I just don’t get it. Every caravan park issues you with keys for the toilet blocks so that “outsiders” can’t come into the park and jump under the shower and steal the water! Port Hedland had signs up everywhere ordering us to never let anyone in behind us, even if they come up with the best excuse you’ve ever heard. Nope, if two women walk into the block at the same time, instead of the first holding the door open for the second, she is supposed to shut the door firmly in between and make the second woman prove that she is a paying customer by opening the door with her key. Heaven forbid, she might be a water stealer.

When you have three toilet trained kids who can’t open the door themselves because they don’t have the strength to turn the keys it becomes extremely frustrating having to escort them to the toilet each time. We moved closer to town to the Margaret River Tourist Park (the family friendly park) to find they have declared war on the Koreans who were daring to give friends the toilet code back in the days before keys. These friends would sneak into the park and steal water by standing under a shower and washing themselves. They sometimes even stole water when they flushed the toilet. Those Koreans. Tut, tut.

You’ll remember the obscenity thrown my way when we confronted the old codger at Donnybrook. He was so paranoid about the water he was stealing that he tried to swear us out of the park before management noticed.

Feeding the Sheep

West Australians are rude too. They’d give the Israelis a run for their money. The odd thing is that I know heaps of Western Australians in Melbourne and they’ve never given me cause to think they are any different to the rest of us. It seems it’s only the Western Australians who are living in Western Australia who have the massive chip on their shoulder. The owners at the Margaret River Tourist Park would only give me change for three loads of washing, not the four I asked for. She refused to print out some paperwork I needed to fill in. And then refused to refund when we decided to leave a day early, rolling her eyes each time she saw me.

And the lambs.

While she’s an extreme example, it still seems that people are much more angry here than any other state. I get that a lot of people work FIFO in the mines, they are tired, their families are tired. I get it. But people who run the trains on the Busselton pier don’t need to scream at happy tourists, service station attendants don’t need to accuse paying customers of stealing mangoes and motorists don’t need to flip the bird at cars travelling more slowly. At first we’d think “Wow, what an angry person” and “Oh, another angry person” “Oh, another!” until we realised that it is something about the people here.

My guess is that the mines are producing irritable dust as a byproduct which has been spread by these horrid West Australian winds. Irritable Dust Syndrome. Too many Western Australian are suffering. Help them find a cure.

We have finally arrived in the land of the living. The land of milk and honey. The land of the tastebud.

Bridgetown Hotel

After Geraldton we spent a week in Perth getting stuff done to the car.. It was well overdue for a service, needed tyres and a few other finnicky little things. Can I also send out a big cheerio to the people at Ty’s workplace. We have been blessed to have received such wonderful support from them, and it is only due to their flexibility and generosity that this trip was made possible.

Lavender Farm - Sure beats a cattle station in the outback

And then onto the South West. We had been aiming for a small sheep station in the Margaret River region, but we never made it. The car wasn’t coping very well with its new tyres and kept trying to swerve us off the road, plus there was a heap of other cars around, otherwise known as traffic that kept trying to cut us off and into the ditches beside the road. A mighty wind picked up and had the same idea: get rid of those bloody Victorians. Not such a fun time for Ty.

Boyanup Brook Guitar Family. We took a daytrip to Boyanup Brook and found this was the only thing of interest in the town.

At 4pm we’d travelled less than 300km for the day, and had very little chance of making it to our destination. Thus we ended up pulling into the small town of Donnybrook and calling it a day. Would have been nice to pull in, grab a quick dinner and unwind from a stressful day, but it was not to be. We had another run in with a grumpy old man. We did the usual: check in, get the keys and head around to our alloted site, only to find a bus on it with an old couple sitting, quaffing wine. I got out of the car to ask if we’d been double booked but the grumpy old man was on the offensive from the word go. Before I could open my mouth he was telling us
“Move on, get another site. It isn’t that difficult you morons”
“ Huh? We have the key for this powerbox though.”
“Just f**k off would you.”
“Oh man, you really are a freak.”

Donnybrook Cricket - The view from our van - Nice way to spend a Saturday afternoon.

Now it turns out that the man had paid for an unpowered site, but didn’t want to park where the unpowered people park. Nope, he wanted to park himself on a powered site. He didn’t have the key for the power box, so he couldn’t take electricity, but he’d hooked up the water. So all this aggressiveness was because he was trying to cover up that he was stealing a bit of water? Are you kidding me? And he hasn’t even met the kids yet! Wait til we unleash those on him.

Gnomesville: A hundred thousand gnomes just sitting on the side of the road. Ace fun for the kids!

Now I’m a big believer that it isn’t so much what happens in your life that makes it good or bad, it’s your attitude towards it. We are taking the attitude that if we really love a place, then chances are that grumpy old men will also love it, hence we’ll come across them every now and then. No need to avoid places because they might be there, no need to try and change them. Just accept that grumpy old men exist, but for every one of those, there are ten happy, helpful and generous old men.

Now Donnybrook itself is a place that has gone out of its way to endear itself to us. They have built the largest free playground in Australia. It is massive. We spent many happy hours there on swings, slides, gym equipment, climbing walls and more!

Donnybrook Playground - The largest in Australia

The town itself is rather quaint, but it is what surrounds it that enraptured us. Orchards, vineyards, and little villages. Spent a lovely Sunday morning at the Mullalyup art and craft market. It’s one of those little places where people go to live with nature, grow horrendous split ends and wear silken caftans. You all know the type.
With a wealth of hand made toys to chose from, my children all went straight for the cheap, Chinese plastic. Insert a roll of the eyes here.

Then the real fun started. We went to Ballingup and got coffee. Real coffee. Drinkable coffee. It is a sad indictment on Australia that we couldn’t get coffee once we’d left Victoria. I was able to produce something better with my little plunger and powdered milk than anything I received in the outback. Occasionally they even dared to call Nescafe coffee! Unbelieveable, but true.

Cafe au lait, pain du chocolate, music in the background, now this is my type of tourism.

Ballingup French Cafe - This brings a smile to the face of a weary traveller.

Just when we thought we were too travel weary to get much enjoyment from the remainder of our journey, we have a newfound enthusiasm, mostly revolving around food. Not such good news for our wallets or our waistlines but we have certainly perked up since entering the South West.

Henry wanted me to show you all this. Ty and I were doing a workout DVD and the kids were forced to entertain themselves for half an hour. This is how they chose to spend their time. Nah, really, this is how we keep the peace when we are driving.

Posted from Geraldton, Western Australia, Australia.

After the novelty of Hutt River we headed south to Geraldton. The road back to the main highway was unsealed, but boy was it smooth. We have been used to unsealed equating with four-wheel-drive only, but this road hardly had a bump on it. Delightful. We’d left early, not having any particular interest in doing more royal spotting. Despite this, we met one of Prince Leonard’s sons who’d come to do some farm stuff. One tip I would recommend to the government of The Principality of Hutt River is that they ought to seriously consider free dental care. Can’t have an heir to the throne with no teeth.

Now where was I.

HMAS Sydney Memorial. It was 70 years to the day since its sinking.

Oh yeah, we stopped at Northhampton for brekkie. What a picturesque little place that is. You know how the spy came in from the cold? Well we were the travellers who came in from the outback. We had finally reached a place that looked familiar, it felt like a place we could relate to. It had old houses, old churches, gardens, parks, atmosphere, community. The old ladies of the op shop rolled their eyes when we mentioned we’d spent the evening at Hutt River and the old lady at church had a giggle. She then gave us a free tour of the church, built by the famous architect come Church of England priest come Catholic priest John Hawes. Mass hadn’t started because the new Filipino priest hadn’t turned up yet.

Moving bronze statue of woman in wartime fashion looking out to sea, awaiting the return of the HMAS Sydney.

I have a passing interest in architecture and I’ve been bereft the last four months in the outback. At times I’ve wondered if we were better off being in Europe, but I know from experience that there are only so many 11th century gothic cathedrals that one can appreciate.

St Francis Xavier Cathedral, Geraldton

On to Geraldton where Monsignor Hawes designed his masterpiece, the St Francis Xavier Cathedral. Now Francis himself was an interesting bloke, he was a Jesuit missionary who spent much of his time converting the heathens of Asia. I’ve actually seen his casket and his robes which are stored in a church in Goa. Interestingly, not his whole body is in the casket though. It was common practice way back then for loyal Christians to chop up holy men and send them to other places, thus only some of Francis’s corpse is in Goa.

Obviously John Hawes disapproved of such practices, and has made a point of punishing the Catholics of Geraldton for the sins of Middle Ages evangelists. While designing a seemingly stunning exterior: twin towers, large central dome, percehd on top of a hill overlooking the rest of the city; it is the interior where the monsignor let his fury unfold. Stripes, stripes, and more frightful stripes. Stripes in grey, stripes in white, stripes in orange. I was too dumbstruck to take a photo so I’ve had to steal this one from the Catholic website: http://www.geraldtondiocese.org.au

Interior of the St Francis Xavier Cathedral

I hope God forgives me, not for stealing the copyrighted photo, but for subjecting you all to a view of this monstrosity. May your eyes recover soon.

Jemima was so overcome with religious fervour at the St Francis Xavier Cathedral that she kissed its walls. I suspect, however, that her eyes were blinded by the stripes of the interior and she was leaning on the wall for support, not being able to stand up straight.

There was other stuff to do in Geraldton too. We saw the monument to HMAS Sydney which visited Geraldton several times during the war. That’s not the right word is it? Docked? Came in for supplies? Sorry, I’m not sure what the correct term is for when a war ship comes to a town and has a rest. Needless to say the whole town was distraught as everybody knew at least one man on the ship. Not because the sailors originated in Geraldton, but because the town organised football matches, cricket matches, dances and so on when the sailors came to town.

Turf Club

We also checked out the turf club because Ty’s mate Simon told us to and then spent an afternoon looking for a stubby holder for him. The pubs of Geraldton are real drinkers’ pubs, not the types to be selling gimmicky souvenirs. We eventually got one at Tourist Information so consider yourself lucky Simon!

Posted from Ogilvie, Western Australia, Australia.

After almost four months in Outback Australia, we’d had enough. We decided an interlope into a foreign country could just be the antidote we all needed. The kids had never been abroad before so they were very excited to learn we were going to another country, except it wouldn’t be overseas. They didn’t understand.

Welcome to The Principality of Hutt River Province

So for those that don’t know, the Principality of Hutt River is the private property of Leonard Casley, aka Leonard the First, and his family. Back in 1970 this humble wheat farmer was doing what he’d always done; growing wheat, when along came the West Australian government and told him he could only plant 100 acres of wheat. All very well for a government to say that, except he had already planted 10,000 acres and it was ready to harvest. Not the government’s fault, they just make the rules. So after vigorous protest he was threatened with compulsory acquisition. Heck the guy just wanted to grow some wheat and sell it. He decided the only option was to secede.

My kids have no respect for royalty. That's Lydia climbing on Leonard I's head while Jemima trys to pull apart his metal skelaton thingy.

Due to a few loopholes and red tape blunders, the situation has resulted in the Commonwealth government refusing to recognise the province, but declaring Leonard and his wife Shirley to be non residents for taxation purposes. Now to put a spin on it and draw in the tourists!

For what its worth I think there’s a lesson to be learned here that big government isn’t necessarily good government. Why should governments, and more particularly pen pushers who work for the government, be allowed to determine how much wheat a person grows on his own land. Would they come after me and my kikuyu grass? Should I have Sir Walter Buffalo lawn instead?

Prince Leonard meets the Six on the Road gang.

So it turns out I’m not such a big fan of Bob Brown afterall, but please don’t let Bernie know, he’s still in hospital with a catheter up his you-know-what having doctors and nurses poke and prod him every couple of hours. And I don’t want my friend Dave to know either. He’s secretary of some wanky North Shore Liberal Party branch and he’ll want to take credit for my conversion. Plus he’ll force me to admit I was wrong about Karl Marx, and then it will just be uncomfortable.

Back to Hutt River. Princess Shirley herself checked us in – $15 for a powered site! By far the cheapest we’ve paid anywhere, maybe because they don’t have to pay tax. Had to move the caravan a couple of times though because we came under bull ant attack. Prince Leonard gave us a personal tour of the official buildings (um, that would be the souvenir shop), and then we pretty much had seen all there is to see in Hutt River, except we’d already paid for the night. The kids set up a flying fox for their toys and I caught up on some sudoku, it was a nice time.

The Prince and Princess live modestly. This is their old fashioned fibro home - not exactly the castle Henry was hoping to see.

What I liked most about Hutt River though, is the landscape. I’m a Victorian. Even more than that, I’m a McCracken of the McCrackens from Kaniva. My spiritual home is in the wheatbelt. So when we finally left the desert, the tropics, and the mulga trees behind and found ourselves in undulating wheatfields as far as the eye could see, I could feel my body physically relaxing. It’s a bit like when you return home from Europe and you look out the plane window over Tullamarine and you see all that dead, dried up, brown grass and your heart skips a beat. You didn’t even realise you’d missed the dead grass until that moment. That’s how I felt about Hutt River and its surrounds.