Perth, living it down - 7th-11th September

I'm a little embarassed about this. My first night in a dorm, my three roommates all hardened construction workers, I hadn't eaten since breakfast and a few drinks later (well, a lot of drinks later) I had thrown up on the balcony. This is not something I plan to repeat, especially as we nearly came to blows, as apparently I hadn't been that quick in offering to clean up. Clean up I did, though, and since then I think we've all got on ok. Not to be repeated in Alice or Darwin I think. This did make 7th prety uneventful, but when I walked into town for dinner I saw they were setting up a tarmac rally, and got some lovely photos of all kinds of cars. Perth is very pretty at night too.

8th September I wandered round some of the museums, and was particularly impressed with the Aboriginal exhibition at the Museum of Western Australia. The rest of the museum was geology, natural history and a vague amalgamation of the three above areas specifically focused on Perth. All very nice, but nothing special, but the Aborigine section was fascinating. I spent a good 45 minutes in there (a long time for me, ask anyone) absorbing all sorts of information about early conflicts with the white folks, the 'stolen generation', Aboriginal rights in Australia. One particularly touching moment was when a father told his 5 year old daughter "Well, they were taken away from their parents when they were younger than you". I don't think I'd realised the enormity of it until then, and that it was all so recent, in the Fifties. I understand a bit more about all of the reconciliation and National Sorry Day and why that's so important, where I was a bit cynical before, as I didn't see what it would do. Another quote on the wall said "Black men know that when white folks find gold, black men have to leave, and the white men stay". I think that's been true one way or another all over the world.

The state art gallery is well worth a visit too - being out of my depth where art is concerned I won't go into too much detail, but it was nice to see mainly recent, mainly Australian works, instead of the Renaissance and classical oil paintings that seem to dominate the NSW art gallery. The glass sculptures were a particular highlight.

9th September This morning I booked my ferry and bike hire for Rottnest Island, and headed out to Fremantle. Arriving at 11.30am meant I had four hours to kill, so I headed to the markets for an hour or so. Fremantle Markets are a hive of activity, with all sorts of things on sale. Highlights for me were the kite stall and the Bratwurst, but I hadn't eaten since the previous afternoon, so I was pretty peckish. The Roundhouse seemed to suggest itself, so I headed up there for the time ball and time gun talk at 1pm. The man explained that the ball fell so that people would have the right time even on ships some kilometres away, as the shot would take time to travel there, and a few seconds translate to several kilometres when you're using the clock to navigate. That's where the phrase "keep your eye on the ball" comes from, in fact. The shot rang out with ear-piercing intensity - the little girl who had volunteered to press the button could barely contain her delight!

The Maritime museum was the next building round the coast and my cousin Jabez had given the Sydney one the thumbs up, so I had to go. I got straight on the submarine tour, which was full of fascinating stories about the dead man's bunk (right by the battery vents, where a malfunction would poison that man in 30 seconds) and Frankie breaking into the grog cabinet (only he knew that the bolt with the padlock on it was the only one that unscrewed, and betting $50 with each new crew member that he could get them a beer made him a fortune). If you go, ask for Ron's tour - he's a Scottish ex pilot who strays from the prepared script and has a chip on his shoulder about the management, but he knows his boat.

The museum itself is ok if you have an interest in that area, and there are improvements and renovations going on to improve it. It's an inexpensive way to pass a few hours but not worth the journey on its own. With the sub tour though, I felt I'd had my money's worth!

The voyage out to Rottnest left me checked into a hostel and on a beach alone waiting for the sun to set. I strode out to the island's one settlement as the last of the light was leaving and then a moment of panic when I thought I'd lost my keys turned into twenty minutes of panic when I realised that I had lost them. I didn't want to be stranded here with no bike and no access to my room! So I hurried back along the beach in the fast fading light, swearing to myself and scanning the sand for the red tag on my key. Five minutes more and the rising tide would have swept them into the Indian Ocean, but I found them, and calmed down a bit.

The Quokka Arms Hotel was the only place still open, so a burger and a pint of Swan Draught (the local brew) served as dinner. The quokkas wanted their share though, and wouldn't leave me alone once the food arrived. Again, photos later! For the uninitiated, they're the reason the island is called Rottnest (literally "Rat's Nest" in Dutch). They're small, furry marsupials, something like a cross between a wallaby and a beaver.

10th September Waking up, I chatted to the French surfer in the bunk next to mine. He'd been in Australia one day, and was looking forward to getting out on the water. We watched Sesame Street over breakfast (my choice) and I jumped on my bike.

The island is surrounded first by sandy beaches and rocky outcrops, and secondly by a rock ledge just below the water. It's a paradise for scuba divers and swimmers alike (and a little dangerous for surfers, but they're hardcore and don't care). All in all I must have seen 20 coves and bays that ordinarily I'd have walked over broken glass to swim from, but here I was spoilt for choice. I rode the length of the island and at the farthest point saw two galahs on a handrail. I got a couple of good photos and then they flew away. "Damn," said someone behind me "I'd just got my camera ready." Well I'll email you this one? I said. She laughed, and I said "No, really, what's your address?" We chated for a while and I discovered she was there to show her daughter where she had scattered her late husband's ashes. He had fished from Rottnest Island for forty years, she said. I told her a bit about myself, and her friend said "Pity my daughter isn't here, she's a beautiful girl". I laughed and said something about being spoken for.

The lighthouse was a treat too, though the ride up to it makes it well earned. Many of the roadside verges contained lizards and snakes (the latter of which I gave a wide berth) and pelicans and wading birds cover most of the rocks on the edges of the island. Eventually I did settle on a beach and dip in the water, with not a soul in sight and beautiful clear water in front of me. Half an hour later, though, I headed back to the main settlement for the ferry. Somewhere between tying up my bike and getting the ferry, I lost my bike lock key - this time, seemingly for good! I explained to the guy at the desk back in Fremantle and he said "We'll call and let you know what we had to do, and how much deposit you'll get back". Which is fair enough. Before I left I told the lady at the visitor centre it was a shame it was so remote from Sydney or London, or I'd be back again. She said "You'll come back anyway, everyone does, it's something in the water". I think that sinister prophecy might well be right, if just to find a beach more perfect than the one I settled on this time.

11th September I think it'll be mostly spent in the hostel. My tour leaves on Wednesday morning, very early!