Exploring the region

The current abode is the old Margaret River guest house. It used to be a nunnery and we’re in the Mother Superior room, which is very luxurious and spacious and somehow we still manage to make it look small by strewing countless pieces of luggage around the floor. Travel light? Could be interesting on a future leg of the journey. In the meantime though the heavy drapes meant sleeping in way longer than normal and we just managed to get to the formal breakfast sitting for the house guests on time.

And what a breakfast it was, with homemade cereals, local fresh bread and cooked eggs benedict it was all we needed to charge us up for the days adventures. Somewhat bloated we jumped into the jalopy and headed off westwards in search of swimmable water before the weather turned. It was a very pleasant drive through rolling hills and significant forests with the large gum trunks seemingly glowing in the mid morning sun.

Arriving in Hamlin bay our hopes of swimming with the rays and sharks were pretty much dashed by the strong wind which was whipping up the surf into a confusing cloudy mess. No one was going in and so we just went for stroll down to the point and was suitably awe struck by the formations of the cliffs adoring the beach.

Very high, pale, fragile and obviously capable of donging people on the noggin has led to the authorities writing some interesting warning signs…”leave this area now” is not the sort of wordage normally used on public notice boards. Welcome to WA, come and see the real thing… and now get out! We didn’t, instead wandered around a bit more like everyone else and took some more pics of the surreal landscape defined by the rich blue sky above. Nice place – just a bit to windy to really appreciate it. Suspect the calm sereneness of Eagle Bay has raised expectations a bit much.

Still feeling the effects of an over indulgent breaky the drive continued southwards and ended up in Augusta. Interesting neck of the woods. Chatting to a local dog walker down at the river mouth was very insightful. From toxic Sea Hares killing dogs to the rivalry between here and Margaret River, we heard it all. Then headed to his uncle’s old haunt, the lighthouse.

Recently refurbished into a top money spinning tourist attraction it sits majestically on the most south westerly point of the mainland. So another compass point of the county’s coast gets ticked off. Two oceans join forces here in order to whip up some seriously strong winds, high seas, extremely noxious shipping hazards and some really tough isolated pioneering efforts over the 200 odd years. Now of course the modern world has turned it into a comfortable place for the hordes to visit for an hour or so, their gleaming white hire beasts filling up the freshly paved muster yard within easy reach of the gift shop.

Thinking it was time to do what is meant of us whilst we’re in the region - we headed north again to try a tasting or two (or three, or four). Passing through the inevitable up’s along the way we arrived where there was once a cattle station. Leeuwin is now a sprawling multi-million dollar estate which is so fancy pancy it’s almost another world.

Nice wines of course. Around the corner at Red Gate it was a more down to earth realistic experience. The only place you can get these wines is from the cellar door – that seemed more worth the while going there. Still, it’s fairly easy to see why the spittoon becomes a necessary item for the serious connoisseur. Day in, day out consuming the stuff would pickle anyone’s insides long term. Pretty disgusting though when you think about it. Just not putting it in there in the first place seems to be a more practical way than expelling it and then having someone cleaning out the mess in the bottom of the bucket afterwards. We didn’t reach that point and gave up after the two vineyards for the day and instead drove the short hop back to Maggot Creek (as named by those down south in Agutter) for a refresh before heading out for dinner.

The local Brewhouse is a long 13 minute walk to get there and a short 13 minute stumble back. Crossing Margaret River was creating conundrums. Thinking the name was for the town, now it’s for the river, or is this actually Margaret River River ? – if so why don’t they say so on the sign? It’s these sorts of complex logical situations one finds oneself in when one spends too much time in a local brewhouse.