Welcome to my first newsletter. You are here because you paddle or are paddle-curious. Or maybe you just thought SUP has something to do with food or drink? I will try to satisfy all comers. Perhaps there are recipes we can share 🙂
I recently did a round up of some of my favourite standup paddle locations around Perth so I thought I would start with those. These are not the only places you can paddle in Western Australia; we are very lucky to have so many spots to splash, and I will continue to review and add places to paddle in future issues.
Claughton Reserve, Bayswater
Looking for a sheltered upriver paddle location. Claughton Reserve in Katanning Street, Bayswater is one of my favourite SUP launch spots.
there’s heaps of parking
a toilet block (in fact one of the funkiest toilet blocks I have ever seen!)
It’s a great place to explore up or down the river depending on the winds. A nice short paddle from there is up river and around Ron Courtney Island.
Ocean Paddling Perth
Perth’s southern beaches; Leighton, South Beach & Coogee Beach are wonderful when the conditions are right. It’s knowing when the conditions are right that is the tricky part.
As with most outdoor activities in Perth I always go out in the mornings – the earlier the better.
In the Summer months from November to March the morning winds are more likely to be offshore (Easterly) and light. Once the Freo Doctor comes in it’s too late and too windy.
Not only is getting up early to paddle good for getting the right or no winds, but also to avoid the hottest part of the day.
Perth’s southern beaches:
are easy to get to
have free parking – but can be busy the later you arrive (see, getting up early has other benefits!)
have great cafes
have showers and changerooms
you can sometimes see dolphins, whales & sealions
North Coogee has the Omeo Wreck – great for SUPing around but also a very popular snorkelling spot. Pack your gear!
Go with a group or a buddy if you are a first timer on the ocean, ALWAYS use a leg leash and don’t go out further than you are comfortable with. Be prepared to get wet and HAVE FUN!
Point Walter Reserve Bicton
You can paddle down river from the Point Walter sandbar, up past the cliffs at Blackwall Reach. Depending on the wind it can be quite sheltered through there.
Keep paddling down to Bicton Baths and turn around or alternatively (depending on wind) do the reverse.
Handy tip: always paddle into the wind on the way out so you get a free ride on your return. It makes a difference
parking is usually available closeby and if it’s not you can drop and park.
Freshwater Bay in Peppermint Grove is a beautiful spot to get out on the water. There’s usually sheltered waters close to the shore for those venturing out for the first time. Or for the more adventurous, a paddle along the cliff’s edge to the yacht club is a lovely paddle. Dolphins are common in this area.
the water is clear
the shore easy to access
parking not usually a problem
cafe close by for coffee and snacks
Some links to previous articles and websites of interest:
Giant whales drifting through wheat fields and wheat silos used as a backdrop for magical projections. What an incredible weekend of art and community in Goomalling!
A whale in a wheat field, a parade of delightful ceramic echidnas as far as the eye could see, fresh crop circles that may or may not have been created by aliens, and some of the finest humans in the biosphere all gathered one long weekend in September in a tiny country town where not much usually happens. The Biosphere Boodja Arts and Wild Things Festival in Goomalling has just happened and I was lucky enough to be there!
The tiny wheatbelt town of Goomalling was the locus for this incredible happening, or ‘creative uprising’. It was the brainchild of Internationally acclaimed Perth ceramic artist and the festival’s creative art director, Fleur Schell, who was born in the wheatbelt town of Goomalling.
She had a dream, or perhaps more of a vision, that she brought to life with some funding from Lottery West, major sponsors, private donors and the local community. Collaborating closely with Ballardong Nyungar Elder Tracy De Grussa and with the local community including primary school children from the two small primary schools in the town and with the Goomalling Op Shop behind her, Goomalling definitely had a happening!
The small town of Goomalling is under two hours northeast of Perth in the Avon Valley and the Western Australian wheatbelt. Like all wheatbelt towns, it’s all about the wheat and it’s the enormous grain storage domes that immediately grab your attention when you drive into town that formed part of Fleur’s vision for the Biosphere Boodja Festival.
The giant spherical silos are pure white and look like something you may find on Mars if the future of life in space ever comes to fruition. When Fleur was a child they were really buried dinosaur eggs. They were also the perfect canvas for the incredible Totem Story projections that were cast that Sunday evening.
As a clay artist Fleur saw an opportunity to invite visiting ceramicists in Perth for ‘Wedge 2025: The Australian Ceramics Triennale in Fremantle’ scheduled for the following weekend in Fremantle. Clay play and ceramics with clay provided by Midland Brick, formed a large part of the festival and the workshops available for festival goers. Throw in some of Perth’s premier musos, a sculpture exhibition in a wheat field, some dancing, yoga and a giant puppet parade and the experience was out of this world.
The festival was free to those who attended ; There were different camping options including glamping and family camping areas. We paid for bush camping on the decidedly rustic golf course. It was close to everything, including a million mosquitoes.
I’m a Tassie girl who grew up in isolated places and went to high school in a small country town so I have a thing for small country towns. While Western Australian wheatbelt towns are a far cry from the lush farming towns in Tasmania there is an essence that spans all country towns and ties them together. That essence is isolation and community.
For me, wheatbelt towns are not comfortably accessible all year round due to the extreme temperatures in summer. Not to someone who likes to spend time outdoors and camping anyways, so I try to get out there as much as I can during the cooler months. There is something magical about wide open spaces, random granite rocks and wheat silos.
This trip was my second foray into the wheatbelt this year; a couple of months prior I went and spent a day and night hanging in the Granite Way at Kwolyin Camp ground and Kokerbin Rock, one of my favourite places to explore. There really is nowhere better for star gazing!
So when Biosphere Boodja came up on my radar, I jumped at the chance, found a festival buddy and headed back into that wheat belt that I just can’t get enough of.
The drive out was ethereal; green wheat fields on either side and the fading flowers of the remaining canola, almost finished flowering. As drifted into towns surrounded by modest hills incredible mists filled the valleys. It was all I could do not to pull over every 10 minutes to take photos.
When I reached Goomalling at 8:30 that morning (yes I had got up very early to leave) I was the first bush camper to roll in and register. We were camping on the golf course and being a dry wheat belt town the golf green was not how you imagine a green in the big city. Nevertheless, they wanted to protect their fairway so we camped in the bush on the side of the daisy-covered fairway with about 10 million mosquitoes.
The town volunteers were all incredibly friendly. They popped me down at the end so I could drive out easily the next day and they saved a space for my friend Elaine who had a rooftop tent. Turns out we were first to arrive and last to leave. That’s how we roll.
I set up camp and Elaine arrived via the Goomalling Op Shop with a trawl of treasures and set up her rooftop, then we set off to explore the town. Right next to the golf course was the wheat field ‘crop circle’ exhibition – literally a wheat field with cleared paths and some incredible sculptural art works, including Fleur Schell’s ‘Wheat Whale’. So we diverted into the field.
The sun was up and the wheat swayed in the soft breeze; quite magical. Next we wandered to the markets and the main oval to see where we could expect to be based for the next couple of days. The markets were a collection of local artists stalls. I made a few small purchases, including a cap printed by a young girl who had created a selection of t-shirts and hats with her designs.
With eats never far from my mind I was happy to note a variety of food trucks and a couple of bars set up on the oval, and we soon found the stage which would be the centre of our weekend escapades, when we weren’t having a drink in the Boodja Bar or the bowls club. I was excited.
We settled in for Aunty Tracy’s Welcome to Country and a string of fabulous Western Australian bands including Lucy Peach and some incredible acts from the area.
The rest of the day was spent wandering about checking out the workshops all facilitated in huge white dome tents not unlike the wheat silos, and pausing for drinks from the comfortable Boodja Bar with Op Shop chairs and cushions, to the Goomalling Bowling Club bar. The rain came but it wasn’t the soaking type so we stayed mostly dry.
We decided a final visit to the town Op Shop was in order, seeing as I hadn’t been yet, and headed into the wide streets of Goomalling for another walk about. The Op Shop was on the main street, just past the hotel, the post office and Bendigo Bank, and it was heaving! Most of the good stuff had been bought up by the bargain-hungry visitors. The Op Shop manager was very happy with her day’s takings declaring it ‘the best day of takings she had ever had.’
I found nothing but enjoyed the browse before we went back to camp to prepare our clothing for the coming evening. Back for another drink or two at the Bowls Club before the children and festival goers began congregating for the puppet parade and song performance by the children.
What followed brought me to tears! The giant paper mache whale and Koomal possum that we had seen sheltered in the tent earlier that day came to life with lights and a group of young people moving their parts as they circled the area in front of the stage accompanied by a drumming group. The children sang a song about the disappearance of the Koomal possum, written by Fleur and then we all set off towards the silos as the sun set and darkness fell.
There was a real sense of being part of something so unique and important as we all stopped in front of the silos and all the lights were extinguished. The Totem Story projected onto those crazy dinosaur eggs and narrated by Aunty Tracy and children was just incredible.
Totem Stories on Goomalling wheat silos
When it finished we all strolled slowly back into town feeling like we had been part of something beautiful. It was clear how much work had gone into every part of the weekend from the involvement of the local schools in the incredible art projects to the local businesses and volunteers who made it all possible.
The remainder of the evening was spent having food and listening to the music by local and Western Australian acts; finishing on a funky note with a boogie to Odette Mercy and the Soul Atomics before we stumbled back to our golf course camp for sleep.
I was woken at 5:00 am by the sound of the hot air balloon that had been sitting on the oval the day before, being inflated on the oval for a sunrise flight; the steady hum of the generator and then the huge huffing sounds of the flame being shot into the full balloon. I just had to get a photo so I braved the mossies and got to the railway line as it lifted into the cloudy skies. I got my pics and climbed back into bed for another hour.
Day two started with a sausage sizzle right outside our tents as the local P & C cooked us up a meaty breakfast of sausages, onions and sauce (onions and sauce for the vegetarians). I scoffed down a sausage but Elaine passed on the onion in a bun. So we dressed and headed into town. It was pretty chill as we found coffee and a space on the grass for the remaining acts. The festival ended with the Rose Parker Trio and a whole lot of thank yous and congratulations.
As we walked back to our cars, the only two left on the golf course, we reflected on our experience and decided it was one of the best weekends we could have had. Thank you to everyone who made it happen.
Dry bags for wet situations! A look at ways to keep your stuff dry when on the water.
I have used all types of waterproof bags in my paddling life. As a rower, kayaker and SUPer I have worked my way through dry bags, phone cases and plastic bags. I’ve tried waist clips, shoulder clips, board clips and a string around my neck. I have more dry bags than handbags.
Of course it will always be up to personal choice and comfort so there is no perfect solution for everyone. The perfect solution is the one that works for you.
Dry Bags
The good old dry bag is a sure thing. It’s purpose built to keep your stuff dry, and provided you fold the top over correctly (at least 3 times) it will work. I use a dry bag to carry things on my board because I have straps that I can clip onto.
Who doesn’t love an Aldi bargain?
You can buy affordable dry bags anywhere. My faves are a set I got from ‘the aisle of dreams’ at Aldi. I also have bags from Sea to Summit which are more lightweight but just as effective. I have used the heavy-duty bags from Red Equipment – the 30L Waterproof Roll Top Dry Bag Backpack is great for using on your board or on your back.
Dry bags all the way when on the ocean!
Phone Cases & Bags
Since the dawn of the smart phone we have been seeking ways to protect them from getting wet, getting cracks, or getting lost!
Like everyone, I have purchased every new phone case known to woman. I had a great one that used to clip around my waist but the seal eventually gave up the ghost and I resorted to dry bags.
Disclaimer:I am an affiliate for Red Equipment but this doesn’t influence my opinions. While I believe in their products, my reviews are my opinions only.
This 7L bag is the ideal size for carrying your phone, keys and a piece of clothing. I carried my lightweight puffer jacket, phone, snack, keys and glasses on my latest hike. I used it as a crossbody bag for a while, before changing it to my waist. I found the waist placement much more comfortable and easier to access.
When I carried it on my SUP board last weekend I used it as a crossbody bag which was better than I thought. I had thought it would get in the way of the paddle but it was snug enough to keep out of the way. In future I will use it on my waist as that is my preference.
I persevered with using it in the crossbody style because that’s what it’s marketed as. It is better as a waist or shoulder bag in my opinion.
The bag does have a separate zip pocket inside for your phone and keys which would keep them dry, but I’m not convinced that your other gear would stay dry if fully immersed in water for any length of time. It has the roll down top used on dry bags which works better the more you put in the bag (if that makes sense).
I am an experienced paddler so falling in is not (usually) on the cards for me (if I chose not to) so I feel comfortable using this bag to protect my gear.
Were I to be out on the ocean or in a situation where falling in was a certainty, I would probably opt for a dry bag on my board or extra protection within the Red bag.
The bag itself is a nice looking bag and it comes in three different colours. It has an adjustable crossbody/waist/shoulder strap, and outside zip pocket, straps for bike handlebars and an external bungee system for extra items.
It is hardy and feels like it would survive almost anything I could throw at it or in it. This bag retails for $78.95 – if you use my link you get 15% discount.
So I guess it’s dry bags all the way for me on the water. They are good in most circumstances due to their reliability and cost. If ,like me, you love a good ‘fanny pack’ , ‘bum bag’ or whatever you call them, the RED Equipment Waterproof Crossbody bag is a pretty cool addition to your bag wardrobe.
Living on the lighthouses was sort of like that TV show, ‘Round the Twist’ in more ways than you think!
Forty South Tasmania
When I finished my 3-day Three Capes Track hiking experience earlier this year I realised after pitching to many publications that I probably needed to tell this story in the land it was set. So the lovely people at Forty South Magazine, a magazine I have long admired and read, took me up on my offer of tourism travel blog with a side of memoir. Enjoy 🙂
Under the Milky Way we camped. On the site of an old town in the middle of the Western Australian wheatbelt.
The Western Australian Wheatbelt is so unassuming from the outset but so rich when you dig deeper (or in this case: climb higher).
A camping trip to Kwolyin Camp site in the middle of wheat and canola country was the perfect weekend getaway for three adventurous women. We arrived mid afternoon on Friday to set up camp on the old Kwolyin Town site around 40 km from Bruce Rock and 7 km from the nearest shop in Shackleton.
The camp site was spacious and the sites are not marked so it’s first in best pitched. We chose a spot not too far from the toilet block (flushing loos it might be said!) but far enough away so as not to be disturbed by comings and goings.
I had already been distracted on my way in, by a sign saying ‘Kokerbin Rock’ not far from the campsite turn off and had made a detour to check it out. So when I arrived I was full of stories. ‘Monlith this, monolith that!’ Incredible, in case you were wondering. More about that later.
We pitched our tents and helped Lainey hoist up her fancy camp trailer with everything (and the kitchen sink) included. Chairs were placed strategically around the fire pit and then we prepared for dinner as the sun set behind the trees. Fire lit and bubbles in hand – all was good with the world.
The night sky was incredible. The toenail moon the milky way pulled us into the void – this trip was going to be the trip I finally sorted out my camera settings and got some astro shots. But not tonight – we ate, chatted and enjoyed the serenity before tucking ourselves into sleeping bags. There was a definite chill in the air!
The next morning I emerged from my tent to find our camp site enveloped in mist – the sun struggling to push though. The nearby sheep (that had impossibly long legs) were obviously distressed about something (maybe the mist) because we could hear loud baaing across the camp ground.
We sparked up the fire and brewed some coffee and tea. A cook up breakfast was on the cards – eggs, mushrooms and tomatoes with toast. Incredible! We had already discussed our plans for exploring the Granite Way the night before and decided to head straight out to the furthest rock, Mount Stirling, first up.
We hit the gravel road where rock after rock sprung from the flat wheat country. Most rocks were on private properties so access was limited. Mount Stirling was incredibly striking – rising from the newly planted crops – deep green and lush. A drive around the side of the rock took us to the shell of an old church and some strange person-made rock structures that had the hallmarks or sacrifice? My wild imagination thought so anyway. They were probably someones attempt at a picnic table – nothing sinister.
The grass was long and hard to walk through – mosquitoes were everywhere (I regretted my choice of wearing shorts) but we managed to get fairly close to the base. There were some Picnic at Hanging Rock vibes – Mirandaaaah!
Because most of the rock was on private property there was no access to the back end of it. We discovered a sign at the entrance where you could climb the rock. The ascent looked quite steep.
Next we did a drive by some of the other rocks on the trail before heading back to Kokerbin Rock (the one I had explored the day before) because I knew it had walking trails and summiting the rock was relatively easy. The sun was out and warming us up by this stage. We walked around the edge of Kokerbin Rock and climbed part of the way up. The views were spectacular – yellow, green and brown.
Within the camp site is Coarin Rock – walking distance from our tents. We missed this one even though it was so close.
We stopped and chatted to a Kellerberin local who runs the fruit and veg shop – out for an explore on her day off. Back at camp a group of ‘detectorists’ had gathered and they scoured the land for old pennies. They wore gaters, head phones and boots, carried small collapsible shovels while their metal detectors let out a constant high pitched beep when they discovered ring pulls, tin cans and the occasional piece of history. I had an overwhelming urge to shout ‘what r u got?’ – a line from the Tv series “The Detectorists” but I think I was the only one who had seen it.
Instead we asked them questions about what they expected to find and it was all very interesting! I had an urge to buy a metal detector and join in the search for treasure.
The detectorists retired for the afternoon and the whole campsite seemed to have a siesta. Flies buzzed and the breeze washed softly over our camp. I think we all fell asleep.
Time for afternoon drinks and nibbles followed by dinner prep. Lainey delivered the goods and wrapped every conceivable vegetable known to womankind in foil. We set up the fire to produce coals and then placed everything strategically into the coals. Everything was perfectly cooked and incredibly delicious!
There is an air of Saturday night celebration in the air as the camp site became more populated. Groups of people chatted around fires while listening to music and dancing under the Milkyway.
I had written down some instructions on how to take astro photos before leaving Perth so I was ready for nightfall and the promise of clear skies. After our veggie feast I set up my camera and played around for a while. At last something ressembling Astro photography emerged on my playback screen. I had photographed the universe! Not bad for a first effort.
We were tucked up in bed around 9:30 pm. Then, up the next morning to pack up camp and head back to Perth. What a grand adventure!
Numbat stalking in the Dryandra Woodland National Park in the Western Australian Wheatbelt
April 2023
Is there anything more delicious than a service station egg sandwich? The white bread fresh and sinfully soft with egg mixed through with mayonnaise, so creamy and so right. Pop the packet and reach for the sandwich with one hand while guiding the car with the other.
Damn you, egg sandwich, I missed the turn. Glance in the rearview mirror and slow down to savour the eggy goodness of a service station sandwich. Then back on track covered in crumbs.
I am on my way to the WA Wheatbelt for a couple of nights of numbat spotting and woyley watching with my friend Elaine. Numbats are diurnal so it will be numbats by day and woylies through the night.
Arrive at camp and brush off the crumbs before making my home for the next two days. Spend the afternoon chatting and relaxing – the sun is shining.
Burn-off smoke hangs low and obscures the sun turning it red – the same red as the breast of the Scarlett-capped robin I sighted earlier. The robin had flitted into view tantalisingly close but not close enough to get with my big lens.
Ash falls like snowflakes onto our tents and rests on our sleeves before moving onto the next surface. The burn-off season is here. Ravens cry far off, and parrots squabble in the trees behind. The air is thick, so thick it tickles your throat. Still no numbats and no sign of echidnas. Do they really exist in WA?
A generator bursts into life, cutting through the silence like a message from home. Lawnmowers on a Sunday afternoon?
Day Two
Numbat safari – driving at snail’s pace, eyes scanning the bush on either side of the gravel road. Foot hovering over the brake pedal. Not sure what I am looking for, but I will know it when I see it. “There’s one!” I press the brake and glide to a halt. 5 km/hour, hardly the stuff of screeching halts.
I fumble for my camera – lens cap off, turn on the camera. Numbat, small, striped and oh so delicate. I was expecting them to be bigger, but there it is, 20cm in length, mouth filled with leaf litter. She stops on top of a fallen log and looks around before scampering into the bush. My only photo shows a whisp of tail disappearing from view.
The second numbat and I am ready. Camera is on, lens cap is off and my finger is ready to focus and shoot. I capture her twice. Again, this one has leaves stuffed into her mouth and she poses for the camera and turns tail, stopping a short way away for a second shot, perfect camouflage.
Satisfied we complete the remaining 10 km of the 23km circuit slowly but not as slowly as the first half.
Back at camp, hail falls as the clouds charge overhead, black and looming, carrying fresh ice and fresh wind across the treetops and over the campsite below – our temporary home with plastic for walls and foldable furniture inside. Camping lacks substance but is substantially satisfying.
Another layer of clothing to warm against the impending weather. Will my tent leak?
Campers arrive and set up their temporary homes. Click clack, ladders up to houses atop cars. Chairs released from their bags, ready to receive bodies tired from travelling. Most people keep to themselves.
So still, now the storm has passed, and the local birds emerge to peck at the bark and retrieve grubs. Small birds, flittery and fast. Stop still while I press the shutter – click whir – got you, little one.
Camp food – always the simplest ingredients that taste the best. Salad and roast veg – leftovers from last night’s cook-up on the coals. Pumpkin sliced and placed on freshly warmed wraps. Cheese, pickled onion, salad and Japanese mayonnaise. A sprinkle of sea salt with pepper berry from Tasmania and a scattering of fine black pepper – Saxa. Balsamic glaze to finish off this fine meal. I could live on wraps (and service station sandwiches).
Still no echidna despite my scanning the land for the tell-tale round forms moving back and forth. Waddling awkwardly on clawed feet that extend sideways from prickly, furry bodies with a strange bill not unlike a bird’s beak. They freeze when discovered and bury their beaks into the earth not unlike a 3-year-old child hiding behind her hands “I can’t see you!” Echidna where are you?
A nocturnal tour of Barna Mia. Red torches so as not to harm their eyes. Small hopping marsupials, some that no longer exist in the wild, surround us. Cheeky possums (hardly endangered) join in and feast on chopped fruit. Families of restless children surround the animals preventing the shy Bilby from appearing. A glimpse of her from behind, big ears and a fluffy tail – like the Easter bunny – elusive. Then gasps as travelling “stars” appeared to cross the nightsky in a row. False alarm it was only Elon Musk.
The next morning is so cold it’s hard to get out of bed. Birds everywhere – the sudden appearance of the Rufus tree-creeper – a menacing name but they look so fluffy and sweet-natured. Little fat feathery bodies topped with small sharp beaks and soft brown eyes. They sit on damp logs absorbing the sun and occasionally pecking at bugs. They creep up the tree trunks just like their name suggests.
Pardalotes, Scarlett capped Robins, Djidi Djidis, Wattle birds and Shelduck swoop through camp posing left right and behind – cheeky glances over their shoulders.
Packing up under the threat of a looming shower. Neatly folded chairs, tables and tents slide into spaces and bags not made for the return of their occupants. Doors slam and hold everything in for the trip home. Fire extinguished to prevent the spread and firewood abandoned for the next inhabitants.
A fulfilling two days. Now, where is the closest service station?
A version of this post has been published on the We Are Explorers website.
What’s the skinny?
Egg sandwiches are best when made with soft white bread and lots of mayonaise (imho)
When bookclub decided to go bush we didn’t expect to be treated to Mother Nature at her most rock n roll.
March 2023
All in a Day #6 could be more aptly titled “All in a Night” but to maintain continuity the title remains!
“It’s not going to rain much,” – were the words I heard just before I rolled over to go to sleep on night two of our bookclub camping trip.
The day had been idyllic. We woke that morning to the sounds of Currawongs, Ravens, Kookaburras and black cockatoos, while the soft rays of sunshine filtered through the Jarrah forest onto our tents at Charlies Flat in Lane Pool Reserve. After a hearty cooked breakfast of scrambled eggs (the best Doci had ever had!) mushrooms and tomatoes washed down with lashings of coffee and tea, we decided on a walk and a swim.
Doci and I set off to walk to Island Pool while the others opted to drive. Island Pool, about 1.5 km from our camp spot at Charlies Flat, is the widest expanse of water in the currently still Murray River. It is a popular swimming spot with deep clear water and rocks for basking upon. There is a small island of rocks in the centre, hence the name.
Doci and I first heard the rumbles of far-off thunder while walking and decided that it didn’t seem close enough to be of concern. The clouds had cleared and there seemed to enough blue sky for us to assume that all was going to be well weather-wise, that and Doci’s bones said it was not going to rain. Little did we know that Mother Nature was merely sound-checking for the main event!
We floated in the not too cold waters of Island Pool for about half an hour – waiting for our fingers and toes to take on wrinkled “granny hands” and for the peaceful surroundings to sooth our bones and minds. Water is certainly the great healer.
The remainder of the day was punctuated by rumblings and we had the occasional discussion that rain might ensue, but not enough to stop us from heading for another welcome dip closer to camp after lunch and a small glass of bubbly! The five of us set off for the river with pool toys and a blow up mattress and slipped into the cool waters for a second swim. Our swimming souls sated we headed back for more snacks and further alcoholic offerings – after all being outdoors makes you ravenous (and thirsty)!
Snack time merged into dinner time where we all ate our body weight in cheese and nibblies and enjoyed the sounds of the evening. The sounds we had heard the night before and thought to be recalitrant birds was actually microbats – so we recorded their high pitched sounds for future reference.
It was starting to get dark when we decided the rumblings were closer and the sky looked slightly more ominous than before. We had a discussion about whether or not we should batten down the hatches or not worry too much. It was Elaine who said “Imagine how we would feel if we did nothing and the storms took us by surprise” .” So we sprang into action. It should be mentioned at this point that we had no phone coverage so we were very much relying on Doci’s bones and the general vibe of the atmosphere to accurately predict the weather.
Doci’s bones were still communicating with her and she assured us that she didn’t think anything major was going to occur weather-wise. We decided to err on the side of caution and scurried about putting things away and making sure that everything was out of the weather.
The thunder and now lightning was circling ever closer as we played a game of Bananagrams and had final drinks before bed. A spot and then another spot gave us reason to congratulate ourselves on our timely battening down of hatches. I was the first to go and tuck myself into my tent and I listened to the drops increase to a pattering and the voices of the others still discussing the likelihood of us being washed away.
Doci’s words “It’s not going to rain much” were still ringing in my ears when I woke to what can only be described as a surround sound vortex of continuous rumbling circling above our camp site punctuated by lightning flashes and, by this stage, torrential rain.
To say I felt vulnerable is an understatement – protected by a couple of millimetres of tent fabric and the massive trees looming above me, I asked that Mother Nature at least be kind and if I were to be struck by lightning, make it fast and painless. Needing to pee added to the anxiety – nothing like the sound of flowing water to make that thought never leave your head!
I hoped everyone else was faring ok – Jill in her swag, Nat in her newly purchased Aldi tent, Doci snug in her Getz and Lainey up in her roof top tent (closer than all of us to the elements). I lay there watching the lightning and made up my mind that it was sheet lightning and not the dangerous forked variety. I am not sure if that made me feel better, or if sheet lightning is indeed the safer version of its cousin, forked but I did eventually drift off to sleep only to start dreaming about forked lightning, and once again woke with a start!
I don’t think I have ever experienced such a storm like that before. The rumbling didn’t stop. I can only liken it to a surround sound speaker system where the sound moved from left to right. Nature at its finest and most awesome (in the true sense of the word).
Needless to say we all survived the night – everyone emerged from their respective accomodations with wonder and awe in their voices and a different perspective and personal experience. Everyone’s tents held up under the heavy rain and our battening down of hatches was welcomed as most of our belonging were dry and protected during the night.
We returned to the city where it still appeared to be dry and storms had not happened with the same magnitude that we we expereinced. When describing the night to my family that night I realised that you really had to be there to even fathom what it felt like to be an insignificant dot in the universe while nature raged and rumbled above.
The five of us will never forget the night nature turned it on.
What’s the skinny?
Lane Poole Reserve is in Dwellingup – One hour + 20 minutes (114 Km) from Perth.
Camping must be booked ahead of time for most camp areas.
There are 50 000 acres to explore – for hiking, mountain biking, horse riding or kayaking.
Take everything you need including potable water.
Always check before lighting a fire – fire restrictions apply.
Mobile coverage is hit and miss. Download maps before leaving Perth.
When festivals all but ground to a halt in 2021 and 2022 there was a part of me that wondered if we would ever return to normal. 2023 has rolled around and festivals are back!
Nannup Music Festival 2023 – Festivals are back! March 2023
Festival companions: Anthony, Elaine, Leanne & Helen
Nannup Music Festival is an annual tradition – the music festival falls on the long weekend in March at the start of Autumn. It’s that time of the year when the sun keeps shining, and the humidity is hanging around, making everything and every one slightly sweaty.
I have been going to Nannup Music Festival for many years with a group of friends who camp together on the banks of the basking Blackwood River, just a short walk to the heart of the festival. We usually volunteer (well, some of us do) and get free entry to the festival. The last time I volunteered it was as the bus driver – I circled Nannup in a mini bus until the late night hours!
This year was the first festival to be held in two years. Last year the festival was cancelled due to Covid restrictions, but we went and camped sans music. But in 2023, it was back on, and we were pretty excited to be there!
Nannup is a beautiful town set in the forest about 3.5 hours from Perth. The town hosts the music festival like a well-oiled machine. The pub is open to everyone, even if you don’t have a ticket. The other venues require you to have a festival ticket.
You can wander at will and enter any venue with the volunteer or ticket wristband. The locals turn it on for the 4000 festival goers as they churn out marron pies from the bakery, beers, and counter meals at the pub, and even hold a Saturday morning market at the local chapel.
This year we volunteered behind the bar. We had applied for our RSAs (Responsible Serving of Alcohol) online the year before, so we were ready to pour beer and make idle conversation with punters. The bars are situated in most venues inside a gated area. The drinks selection is simple and easy to serve – no fancy cocktails or difficult requests.
So, let’s start at the beginning… Saturday
We had arrived the evening before (some of us a night before that) and set up tents, pop-top sleepers, chairs, and camping paraphernalia. The banks of the Blackwood in March are still lush, and the water throws up reflections of trees.
One tree, in particular, sits opposite our site – its roots cling tenuously to the bank. Every year there seems to be more soil washed out. The teens love to swing from the rope attached to a high branch. The more daring climb to the top and bommie down into the water – depth unknown. While we sit on the bank, peering through fingers not wanting to watch.
We awoke to the sound of cackling Kookaburras at dawn. So first up, put on the coffee pot and the kettle for tea. We slowly rose, groaned, and stretched as we waited for coffee or toast to cook. It was Leanne’s 60th birthday, so we had planned to give her a surprise lunch at midday.
We checked our programs for the music we would like to see/hear, and Anthony, Leanne and I set out for an early show while others lingered to set up the table with tasty treats and cake. We started our Saturday music feast with a band at the Amphitheater – a lovely way to ease ourselves into the festival.
Coffees in hand, we sat in the shade close to the stage. Once the band finished, we meandered back to the camp browsing the stalls for trinkets and clothing we didn’t require. I stopped and booked a reflexology session with a good friend set up in the trees. Sunday 10:00 am for a relaxing foot massage –I will need one by then!
Back at camp, the others have put out boards with a delicious selection of cheeses and dips, fresh tomatoes from the markets, and a cake purchased in Perth. We popped a Prosecco and settled in for a feast, conscious that we had a bar shift looming at 2:30 pm. Birthday gifts were exchanged, and birthday songs were sung before we decided to rest briefly before our shift started. Chairs, akimbo, and mattresses aloft, we surrendered to the location.
Much discussion was generated around the colour of this year’s volunteer attire. The shirt was an insipid cream colour that we decided was oatmeal (after photographing it and using Google Lens). The last time we volunteered, the shirts were black – way more rock and roll!
2:15 rolled around quicker than we expected, so we quickly donned our oatmeal and set off for volunteer central to sign on for our shifts and pick up our lanyards. I had never volunteered behind the bar – despite being a bar chick in my 20s for many years. Just like riding a bike, I decided. I had a shift at the Tigerville bar while Leanne and Elaine headed for the Amphitheater.
The shift was fun, with some great bands backgrounding the session. Taking money, popping cans, and chatting to happy festivalgoers was easy. Most people came and thanked us for volunteering, and the locals were very appreciative. Before I knew it, my first shift was over, and we headed back to camp for a cold beer and feet up before dinner.
Everyone converged on camp simultaneously, where we shared our various afternoon experiences. Those who didn’t volunteer had been out seeing bands, while the bar tenders had tales of beer cans and bluster. Everyone was hungry and ready for dinner from the food trucks on the festival grounds. We ripped off the oatmeal shirts and dressed in warmer clothing as the weather had cooled considerably since the afternoon.
We had dinner of Nasi Goreng from the Indonesian truck and consulted our band schedules as we made plans to enjoy a couple of hours of music and entertainment. Most of us were tired, but we stayed up until 10:00 pm (not a bad effort!)
Helen wanted to linger and see Liz Stringer at 10:30, but we decided it was too late, so we left her to see Liz alone and made our way back under the bridge to our campsite. There was laughter and banter as we slipped and tripped on the gravel path, trudged through the clean river sand, and tramped across the boardwalk.
A final glass of wine back at camp, as a nightcap, had us falling into our tents. As I jammed my earplugs in and drifted off to the muted sounds of music and laughing campmates, I was filled with anticipation for the following day. Nannup never disappoints.
and a poem to end…
Raising the Bar – a bar vollies lot.
JUICY is my pale ale can I have two on card please? I bought some Harry Angus merch Can you help me find my CD s? Sparkling wine and bundy rum Can I have a stubby holder for free ? Give me a can of your crappiest beer It’s for my mate, not me! SSB by the bottle and keep cups filmed with dust I want some bottled water please Security guards look nonplussed Managers are AWOL Can i take your all your fifties? Open the till hand over cash Just press down one of the shift keys Before we know it the bar is closed Wine and beer to pack and stack Off with the oatmeal vollie shirt Next year we’ll be back!
The camping grounds for the festival are situated on the town golf course
Riverbend Caravan Park (where we camp) requires a booking 12 months ahead
The Blackwood River is usually very still at this time of the year.
The nearby Barrabup pool is a forest pool not far from Nannup and the perfect place to cool down in Summer.
Volunteers can register interest from October each year. There are many roles you can apply for including bar work, set up, rubbish collection and ticketing.
Week 2 – All in a day 2023 – a roadtrip to the east coast of Tasmania
Tassie Roadtrip – Northeast to Ansons Bay January 2023
Travel companions: two enthusiastic travellers from the West
With Mt Barrow looming, we left Myrtle Bank in the Northeast of Tasmania/lutruwita for the East Coast – Tasmania’s Bay of Fires. A convoy of two. Three adventurous women from Western Australia!
Ansons Bay, remote paradise (as the entrance sign declares) is on the Northeast coast of Tasmania. The Bay of Fires, situated on the land of the Palawa people, was described as such by the early explorers when they arrived on Tasmania’s shores to see fires burning. The eye-catching orange lichen that covers the coastal rocks in this part of the world contrasts directly with the wild blue seas and green coastal scrub.
Eddystone Point Lighthouse/lutruwita is the closest sentinel that keeps ships from the treacherous rocks of the area. The lighthouse is just inside Mt. William National Park and is accessible by a gravel road.
Our first stop was Scottsdale – around 40 kilometres from Myrtle Bank. Scottsdale is the small town where I went to high school, spent weekends with my best mate, and got up to all sorts of mischief—being an “out of towner,” I more often than not spent entire weekends in Scottsdale.
A stop in Scottsdale always entails a curly pasty at the Scottsdale Bakery, a browse in the op shops, and shopping for stores at Woollies. So, our op shop haul packed in the back, ice in the esky, food shopping done, and wine and beer purchased, we set off towards Derby, the mountain bike capital of Tasmania.
Derby was an ex-tin mining town with no future and cheap real estate before it became the darling of the Mountain Bike scene. Tasmania now boasts world-class mountain bike tracks, and people come from all over the world to travel the trails. It was here we used to go in the 80s to watch or compete in the Derby River derby – homemade craft set sail in the freezing waters over a weekend where Derby came to life for a moment only to go back into hibernation for the remaining 360 days of the year.
We stopped here for firewood and to call the Tasmanian Fire Department to get permission to light a fire on the block. The town of Derby was buzzing with bikes and people. A block in Derby that could be bought for next to nothing a decade or more ago now sells for six figures.
Gladstone, the last petrol station/shop/hotel before Ansons, was advertising a music festival that looked like it was heavy metal inclined for the coming Saturday night. A mutual agreement to bypass this particular musical offering was made without any discussion required.
The drive from Gladstone to Ansons Bay is via a gravel road and passes through some lush farming country where fresh-cut hay assaults the senses. The occasional copse of bush punctuates the trip. We had our eyes peeled for wombats and echidnas and were sad to observe roadkill that included wombats and Tasmanian Devils.
After around 30 minutes, we crested the hill and entered Ansons Bay. The view of the inlet and ocean beyond always takes my breath away. The inlet on this day was dark blue, and the ocean aqua – remote paradise indeed!
My block is a bush block sitting on the hill overlooking the bay, a mere 100 metres from the bay. Once the gate had been wrestled with, and we had given the caravan and shed annex a quick once over with the broom, we unpacked food, clothing, knitting, notebooks, novels, cameras, and games.
The beds could wait; it was time to go and check out the bay, where the local fishermen, pelicans, and dogs greeted us like long-lost friends. The water felt warm and was relatively clear, and the locals were curious.
“Where you from?”It seems everyone has a link to Western Australia, knows someone, or has lived there at some stage.
Our stroll took us past shacks and caravans of varying sizes – little, it seemed, had changed since my visit eight months earlier. Ansons Bay is like the holiday destination that time forgot. Electricity is available, but some properties, including mine, are not hooked to the grid. There is no petrol station, no shop and very little mobile coverage. The telephone tower was placed tantalisingly close but not close enough.
The locals have signposted an area just before you head down the hill into the town named “connection cove,” where you can pull in to answer emails and messages and update your socials. So close yet so far, and dare I say it – One Job!
We were feeling a bit warm, so we decided a swim was in order, and the nearby Policeman’s point was beckoning. The road out to Policeman’s Point is gravel and takes you to the inlet, where the brackish waters of the bay meet the pounding waves of the Tasman Sea. The tide was on its way out when we arrived at the popular camping site, exposing the vast sand flats, a popular fishing spot for campers and locals alike.
We immersed ourselves in the clear blue water, dodging blue bottles and rushing seaweed. The water was deliciously cooling without being too cold. It massaged our skin and washed away a week of business and travel. All that fresh air and salt water excited our senses, and suddenly all we could think of was nibbles and drinks. So we started back for camp only to discover Elaine had lost her phone. A trip back to the beach and the phone was right where she had dropped it!
The sun was still beating down at 5:00 pm, so we found some shade and set ourselves up with beers in hand and a tray full of delicious morsels. Never had anything tasted so good.
Even though it is nowhere near cool enough for a fire, we thought we should light one as we had permission to do so. The fire crackled at a distance, and our senses were loaded with everything that is good and fine in a remote paradise.
A day to remember and one of many to come.
What’s the skinny?
Ansons Bay is situated on the “remote beaches” region of Tasmania in the North East.
If travelling from Launceston allow a good two hours and a couple of stops – 165 km.
One of those stops has to be the Scottsdale Bakery for curly pasties and scones. Supermarket shopping can also be done here.
Derby (Mountain bike capital of Tassie) is worth a stop to soak up the mountain biking vibe. The Blue Derby Mountain Bike Trail is world class.
Gladstone is the last petrol/booze stop before Ansons Bay where this are no shops and the Gladstone Hotel does a super counter meal.
Camping is only available in the designated camping area of Policeman’s Point (15 minutes drive from Ansons Bay) or further towards St Helens.
Check with the Fire Department before lighting fires.
2021 saw the comeback of the music Festival following a year of uncertainty. Fairbridge Festival 2021 – Rocking out with the kids.
Every event that goes ahead these days is a triumph. I am feeling incredibly lucky to have attended my second music festival in as many months. Once again, I attended as a volunteer and found the festival very rewarding and loads of fun.
Fairbridge Festival is an institution in Western Australia. In 1992, two committee members of the WA Folk Federation, Max Klubal and Sally Grice, decided to investigate the possibility of a folk festival on the Fairbridge site. In 1993, the first festival was held and the rest, they say, is history. https://www.fairbridgefestival.com.au/about/
In 2020 the festival was cancelled for the first time due to Covid19. Ticket holders were asked to hold onto their tickets and volunteers guaranteed a volunteer position the next year.
My friends and I have been attending Fairbridge Festival for over 20 years. In the early years our children grew up with Fairbridge being an annual event. Loading up children and tents in tiny cars was an art in packing. Marie Kondo would have been impressed. As they became more independent teenagers we would all converge for giant cook-ups in the mornings only to go our separate ways during the day. Showers stopped being a thing and the drive home was always a stinky, dusty experience. Now we go together, mostly without our kids. Adults now, they occasionally make an appearance. In recent years we have all started volunteering and it’s a great way to be part of the festival.
In previous years I had volunteered in the “Woodshed” with the little tikes. The Woodshed is run by Tracey Laird of Perth Kids Shed, who provides workshops for school-aged children. https://perthkidsshed.com.au/pages/about-us Fairbridge’s Woodshed is probably not the destination for you if you have issues with your hearing, your nerves, or you are hungover. 30 plus children all wielding hammers, saws and electric drills! What could possibly go wrong? Each year I worked the Woodshed I would swear I was going to “try something different, next time”. Each year, I would forget the pain and the ringing ears and once again put my hand up for the job. I liken it to childbirth, you must forget the pain over 12 months.
Following the appropriate amount of time required to forget pain I was prepared to assault my ears and senses in 2021. Two years had gone by, which meant I was positively waxing lyrical about “working with the little ones to unlock their creative woodworking potential.” So you can imagine my disappointment when I was informed that the Woodshed would not be running in 2021. I was given the job of “Stage Manager” on the Kaleidoscope Children’s Stage. Two shifts of listening to children’s music and children’s entertainers. A pretty cruisy gig.
The entertainers were all brilliant and I found myself belly-laughing on more than one occasion. The Saturday night kids disco was the place to be. The dance floor was bouncing, and not just with children. Adults YMCA’d, Moved it Moved it and generally had a great time. When Sam the DJ dropped Primal Scream’s Loaded, parents flocked to the dance floor, not a child in sight! It it hadn’t been 7:00 pm and 2021, AND I wasn’t stone cold sober I could have been back on the dance floor of my favourite 90’s club.
My job, as Stage Manager? A piece of cake. I had to make sure the artists had everything they needed, move some chairs around, and occasionally report a lost child or parent. All while looking important with a “walkie talkie” and a clipboard. I think the kids stage was the least stressful of all the Fairbridge stages.
The rest of the festival was brilliant. The acts consisted of mostly local WA artists. Highlights: Seeing my good friend, Leanne get up and perform her own song at the morning jam session in The Loft; Carla Geneve at the Backlot; and a good old Beatles singalong on the last night. It’s great to see that musicians are getting out and gigging again. Its been a tough 12 months for the performing folk. The dust storms followed by torrential rain made it a very muddy affair. But, what is a festival without a bit of mud and dust?
Post Script: When I arrived for my first shift at the kids stage I was surprised to see a Woodshed set up right next to the stage tent. I admit to feeling slightly miffed. Was it something I said/did? Following some investigation, I found out it was a last minute inclusion and the Men’s Shed were running it. From all accounts, I think they found it quite challenging. I predict that I will be back in the Woodshed next year.
there’s heaps of parking
are common in this area.
All in a Day Adventures 