Fremantle – Australia

I felt like a new man waking from an eight-hour coma in a bed which was spacious, didn’t move around, was in large room, and didn’t have a train manager informing me over an intercom that breakfast was being served in the dining car. I said previously that the Indian Pacific had been a special treat but I had one other hidden up my sleeve, a fancy top floor apartment overlooking the Indian Ocean in Fremantle complete with huge hot tub and a fantastic outside area with BBQ, comfy chairs, hammocks, and plenty of decking and fairy lights. Facing west out to sea meant the prospect of beautiful sunsets and our first night promptly delivered, although we missed it while in pursuit of groceries. The pancakes and fresh fruit made up for it the following morning but after a few relaxing hours we had to head out and carry on with travelling stuff. I had arranged to meet with two more Aussie friends that I had travelled with in South America back in 2012, and whose wedding I attended in Perth a few years after. Thankfully they chose Kings Park as the meeting point and suggested a little picnic under the sun as Perth had decided to be kinder to us with the weather than a few weeks previous. A 30-minute walk got us to Fremantle train station, 10 minutes on the train got us to within another 30-minute walk of the park and we arrived at 2pm bang on time, an important matter as we wanted to be home by 6pm to watch the Lionesses in the World Cup final. I had even gone as far to buy a couple of travel cards so we could start making life a bit easier for ourselves by using buses. A lovely afternoon was spent with Kerry, Wilko, and their two tiny people, another example of great people making time for Rut and I whilst in Australia. I’m particularly bias because they, like me, have a soft spot for Perth and WA, and I was more than happy for them to try and convince Rut that maybe it would be a great place to settle.

We left on schedule and made a much shorter walk to a bus stop that would deliver us more speedily back to Fremantle. Amazingly the bus with ‘Freemantle’ clearly plastered on front rocked up just as we did, we tapped our shiny new travel cards, sat down in a glow of success, and watched the world pass by as we drove off in completely the opposite direction to where we hoped to be going. I nervously kept checking Google maps assuming the bus would start turning towards Fremantle, but it continued to head away and after 30 minutes Rut lost her patience with me and went to have a chat with the driver. Turns out the bus was on a circular route and wouldn’t be getting to Fremantle for another two hours. We hopped off, waited for the bus coming from the other direction and finally got to where we needed to be after an extra hour of unnecessary time spent on a bus. I hate buses, they always seem to require a doctorate in bus scheduling and payment options in order to use them. Trains meanwhile make much more sense even though they may require a little more walking getting to and from them. We arrived back to the apartment having missed the sunset and the first half of the World Cup final, but I was convinced we could watch it from the start on iPlayer if only the internet would work, but it didn’t want to and so we were forced to switch on the actual telly and watch it the old-fashioned way. Not that it mattered because the Lionesses had decided to play like the men’s team, disappointingly underwhelming. Something that had bothered me for the whole time in Australia were the Matildas. I can only assume that the ladies football team were named after Matilda in their unofficial national anthem Waltzing Matilda (write to the usual address if I’m wrong). Never mind the simple fact that the Matildas sounds a bit rubbish compared to the Lionesses, if they are indeed referencing the famous song then they are referring to themselves as a bunch of sleeping bags as Matilda is slang for swag. Anyway, just an observation.

Every now and then Rut shows actual excitement and borderline desperation to go somewhere, usually driven by something on Instagram. This time it was the Quokka infested island of Rottnest which in all honesty should be on anyone’s ‘bucket list’ when visiting Perth and Fremantle. The weather had continued its good form as we caught the ferry over to the island, collected a couple of pedal bikes and began a circumnavigation of the island. Being a Monday, it was relatively peaceful as we cruised along a nicely paved road up and down gradual inclines passing stunning beach after stunning beach. The number of buoys in the water gave some indication as to how busy the place can get and despite the day and time of year, busloads of people took the easy option to hop on and off around the island. Rottnest means rat nest after early Portuguese sailors made landfall on the island and mistook the little Quokkas as giant rats. The term is rather applicable today only the rats could refer to tourists. The island has undergone many guises in its time from aboriginal hunting ground to army base, and now a nature reserve and tourist hotspot. But once again people can’t stop themselves. There’s little need for buses as the vast majority can pedal the 18 kilometres around the island more than easily. There’s than the airport offering skydives and a place to land for those too good for the ferry, helicopter scenic flights, a golf course, and luxury accommodation. None of it is needed. It could be the perfect day out without any of that and the wildlife would be far happier for it. After a picnic, a swim, and a siesta on a deserted and possibly one of the best beaches I’ve ever spent time on, we pedalled back to the main settlement. Here we finally stumbled across a Quokka, which actually does look strikingly like a large rat. It looked a bit tired, possibly because although nocturnal it was wide awake at 3pm, or maybe because it was on the edge of a new development and its home had been recently destroyed, who knows. All of Rut’s respect for wildlife went straight out the window as she demanded a selfie with the giant rat but unluckily for her, her principled and grumpy boyfriend refused. We rode a few hundred metres further into the settlement and there were Quokkas everywhere, most followed by annoying groupies of tourists all fighting for the perfect selfie. It was a bloody disgrace, and the tourist board are to blame using Quokkas on Instagram to promote the island and attract too many visitors which they then have to put signs up saying not to harass the Quokkas. Insta-fuelled tourism gone mad carried out by a country that should know better. It even became too much for Rut who suddenly had a change of heart and felt sorry for the fuzzy little buggers and so we headed to a quiet spot and waited for the ferry. We all know where this is going. Rut went to the bathroom (wait for it) leaving her rucksack and a plastic bag of food next to me and within minutes a loan Quokka had ambled over, climbed on her rucksack, and grabbed the plastic bag of food with a grip akin to that of Megan’s on Harry. Of course, after lecturing Rut earlier that we’re better than wildlife harassing tourist’s, the first thing we did (after wrestling the bag back) was take heaps of pictures. Such is life.

Rut fell asleep on the ferry happy to have had her moment with the Quokka. In fact it had been one of our best days travelling, but I was holding out for the crowning moment and the little creatures much closer to my own heart. Little Creatures is a small brewery by the harbour in Fremantle, a place I discovered 15 years ago and one I make a point of returning to whenever I can. As with Perth in general I was anxious for Rut’s approval and finally I got it. Not only do they serve great beer but also great food, especially pizzas, and all in a magnificent hall set within the brewery itself. It’s so good that they automatically provide mayo with fries and don’t bother with the ketchup. One of their winning achievements though is their ability to wait on you like they actually mean it. Like many restaurants these days they have a menu app where food and drink can be ordered, and all these apps will ask if the customer wants to add a tip. Why would I pay a tip to someone whose job I have just done myself!? More so when travelling, there is usually a faff trying to get internet access when the server could have just taken my order there and then and in half the time. But not Little Creatures. I ordered on the app, and I tipped when prompted, despite tipping not being a cultural thing in Australia. Why? Because they still waited on us, they asked if we needed anything else, they delivered bottles of water and cutlery without being asked, they were nice to us, it’s almost like they used the time saved from taking orders to actually offer a better experience. Who would have thought it? 

Our penultimate day in Fremantle was spent heading into Perth on the train and taking a river boat cruise down the Swan River back to Fremantle. The day was overcast and so we scrapped Cottesloe beach, did some shopping, and made the most of our final evening at the apartment. We never did see a sunset from the hot tub. This is the problem with nice accommodation, it’s irrelevant if most of your time is spent out doing stuff. We did our final day in Australia complete justice by filling it with a fantastic tour at Fremantle prison, a few hours on sunny Cottesloe beach, and finished up in Little Creatures for a fourth and final time with a couple of rounds of beer and a pizza. It’s not often I say this, but I was genuinely sad as we sat on the train heading to the airport. After years of setbacks and reorganising trips and accommodation, I was determined to make this trip happen and Australia didn’t disappoint, she delivered on every level. The perfect balance between a crowded UK and a small-town New Zealand, I may just have to give up everything and apply for a job with a certain brewery.