Why am I still Down Under? – travel is just so 2019; a mani-pedi moment; fleeing Perth – lockdown narrowly averted; York (again); sheep-centric Wagin; Durban and Umhlanga, the end of an era;  Elliot House, Albany – any port in a lockdown

While much of the world has been in  crisis, Roy and I have been living the good life in Western Australia. Aside from several months of restrictions from March 2020, it’s been relatively normal. (Relative, that is, to the questionable dismissal of basic human rights, albeit in slightly different ways and to varying degrees, in most parts of the world.)

Why am I still Down Under?

I’d been all set to fly to Durban on 10 February to meet up with my Londonite sister, Dale, in order to sort out our late mother’s affairs.  When South Africa went into full lockdown, and the UK did the same more or less simultaneously, I regretfully called off my trip. For various reasons – mostly to do with the improbability of getting back to WA and my husband – it was just too risky.

To take my mind off things, we booked a two-week trip down south, including a few days on the legendary beaches of Esperance.

Lockdown narrowly averted 

Were it not for the quick-witted Roy, our road-trip plans would have come to nought: instead, we’d have been confined to quarters in Joondalup, and I’d possibly have been working on launching a completely different blog, a blog about health – one that had nothing to do with travel. (I might just do that anyway. Travel is so 2019, don’t you think?)

Here’s how it happened. Around 1.30pm on Sunday, 31 January, I was indulging in a much-needed mani-pedi at Fashion Nails in Lakeside Joondalup shopping mall when I got Christa’s text: Much of Western Australia was going into a five-day full lockdown from 6pm sharp that same day.  (Just one security guard at a Perth quarantine hotel had tested Covid-19 positive, and WA Premier Mark McGowan was taking no chances.)

Disappointedly, I feared that we wouldn’t be able to leave the next morning.  No one likes to have their plans thwarted, however, and my Roy likes it less than most. Fortunately, our various destinations for the first week – the southern coastal towns of Albany, Esperance, Jeeramungup and Denmark – were all located in the Great Southern region, and therefore outside the three lockdown-affected regions (Metropolitan Perth, Peel and the Southwest).

There was still a chance, if Roy was quick. He was. By the time my fingernails had dried, he’d booked us a room for the night in York – just 90 minutes away, yet safely over the Perth Metropolitan regional border – and given me a 4pm deadline to be packed and in the car. That way, we’d be out of the region before 6pm. (It’s not often I admit it, but at times like this I’m glad to have long-term mated with an alpha male.)

 

31 January – Joondalup to York and the Imperial Homestead (again)

Little did I think we’d be back in York so soon. The historical Avon valley town of York featured large in my most recent blog, as you’ll see if you click on this link.

As already mentioned there, the four rooms at the Imperial Homestead ($130 a night), located on the other side of the pleasant and vine-festooned courtyard, were previously accommodation for lower order servants who would have slept on hessian on the floor. Now you get efficient air-conditioning – essential when it’s still 31° Centigrade outside at 9pm, as it was now; a comfortable Queen bed with good bedding; a small but serviceable en-suite shower; coffee and tea-making facilities, and a fridge for your wine and other refugee rations.

We dined once more at the Homestead Bistro. Sunday night is its last gasp before the whole hotel closes down for the early part of the week, to re-open only on Thursday. Again, the oysters were excellent, as was Roy’s generous hunk of moist and crispy pork belly and my duck confit with pea risotto and veggies. Once more, we had the Stella Bella Cab Sauvignon/Merlot blend. What creatures of habit we are. Yet again, the service was great, this time with cheerful Pauline at the helm.

Monday, 1 February – York to Albany, 405km

On this trip, I offered to share the driving for a change,  rather than leaving it all to Roy. (He’s getting on a bit*, as you can see in the picture above.)  Each day, I take the first two-hour shift, while he grimly grits his teeth and holds his tongue – metaphorically speaking, of course. The two activities would be mutually exclusive.

(*Objection duly noted, Roy.)

Because we’d come via York, we started by heading south on the 120, instead of on the Albany Highway (no. 30) – the more usual route to the southern coast. First through Brookton, then through Pingelly, which takes the prize for the prettiest settlement on this route.

Wagin – mostly about sheep

At historic Wagin we halted for a wee at its public WCs and a cup of crappy coffee at its Dom’s Deli.

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After that, Route 120 passes through several small agricultural towns and then a cluster of the salt lakes typical to the area before rejoining the Albany Highway.

Overnight in Albany

Albany is a stunningly beautiful place that we’ve visited several times (including by ship) – see here, especially. But now it’s just an overnight stop before heading east to Esperance.

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After a quick re-familiarisation drive to Albany’s old port, we headed for Middleton Beach and made a 7.30pm booking for dinner at Hooked on Middleton Beach.

Review: Hooked on Middleton Beach

This joint is still basking in the glory of its “Best Fish & Chips in Australia 2018” award *– admittedly no mean feat!

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We shared a portion of the exotic-sounding but ultimately bland nannygai ($20) and another of Spanish mackerel ($18), both deep-fried in a thin and crispy batter; a small portion of chips ($3) and a large Greek salad ($10.50, with a disappointingly high lettuce quotient and not much else). A $28  bottle of Ferngrove Black Label Sauvignon Blanc was hardly dented; we’re becoming ridiculously cheap dates.

*Verdict? Okay, but not great. We’re spoilt, however. Our staple barramundi and chips from Rocks Fish & Chips at Quinns Village Shopping Centre back in Joondalup is far better – and likely better than most out there.

On a personal note

These are emotionally fraught times. On this very day, 1 February, my bestie Sally was overseeing the packing up of our  home in Umhlanga, Durban, which we have just sold. Eleven stalwart Zulus were tenderly wrapping each item – ranging from a prized hand-carved Buddha head from Ubud, Bali, a couple of oversized Chinese urns from the Dragon Kiln in Singapore, and several items of rosewood furniture from Shanghai, to a motley array of IKEA glasses, a semi-perished yoga mat and a dodo-emblazoned beach bag from Mauritius, the last-mentioned crawling with contraband microbes and almost certainly destined for rejection by the Australians customs authorities.

On the same day, my sister was dealing with the clearing of our late mother’s flat in Musgrave, Durban. With such a double-whammy, I needed to treat myself gently – and to pour myself a very large gin.

Review: Elliot House Review – any port in a lockdown; Elliot House, 3 Harbour Road, Bayonet Head, WA 6330 ($135 per night)

Best part? A lovely garden with dew-wet grass for walking on in the morning.

Gracious touches, like a shared sitting-room with a free flow of hot drinks, delicious homemade choc-chip cookies and cupcakes, red or white wine, and port – an old-fashioned decanter surrounded by crystal glasses. “Any port in a lockdown,” sagely said the only other couple overnighting. Now playing a deceptively low-key game of Scrabble, they’d been in nearby Bremmer Bay when lockdown took effect. Elliot House is an old favourite of theirs, they said. “So civilised!”

I almost took umbrage at being allocated Room 6, whose bathroom is not quite en-suite but instead located on the other side of the corridor. Then I discovered it had a bath as well as a shower, and pulled in my horns.

Jill had welcomed us; her daughter, Nicky, was on duty for breakfast the next morning. (And it’s Nicky’s sister, apparently, who bakes the exquisite cupcakes.)

I’ve never seen such a perfect plate of fruit; it went beautifully with our coconut yoghurt. Not being breakfasters – me never, Roy no longer – we sandwiched our hardboiled eggs between slices of multigrain toast spread with butter and Vegemite, and ate them for lunch four hours later at a picnic spot on the road to Esperance.

Next, we head east to Esperance! Watch out for Part 2.