Cabins and kangaroos in Jerramungup; power (and coffee) to the people; weather philosophy and the rejigging of Roy’s internal thermostat; Denmark’s tradie tavern; pelican brief and apostrophic catastrophes in Augusta
Esperance to Jerramungup
“We have a nice caravan park,” the cashier at the local IGA supermarket had said, when we stopped in on our way east to Esperance. And it is nice, as far as caravan parks go – it’s spacious, has plenty of shrubbery, and when I went for a walk around the perimeter I had my first-ever encounter with wild kangaroos.
Jerramungup has a motel, but, for whatever reason, we’d booked one of the nine cabins at the caravan park. “We survived that cabin on Rottnest,” Roy had said– “how bad can this one be?” It wasn’t terrible, but of course it wasn’t fantastic either. (My only question: why do they have that ghastly fluorescent strip lighting? I find it unbearable.)
Today was a high of 17 and a low of 12 degrees Centigrade, with chilling rain during the night. Our thin-walled abode had little or no insulation, but it did have a heater.
Philosophy on weather
Weather may be one of the main factors that make or break a holiday. Another? Your attitude to it.
Remember American theologian Reinhold Nieburh’s famous prayer for serenity to accept the things we cannot change, the courage to change the things we can… and the wisdom to know the difference? He was probably talking about the weather.
Before Roy lost all that weight, he used to mock me for being cold. “You’re just nesh”, he’d say, maliciously turning up air-conditioners and callously refusing to turn on heaters. Now, with his new slimline form and rejigged internal thermostat, he feels the cold as least as much as I do. (Did I mention that he bought a pair of warm slippers last winter? I never thought I’d see the day.)
Next morning, there was no power. That meant no hot showers, no internet, and no kettle for tea. The whole of Jerramungup was down, explained Esko, the caravan park’s Finnish owner-manager, with what sounded like a gloomy sort of Scandi-noir satisfaction.
He was right: the IGA supermarket hadn’t even bothered to open. But at the coffee shop, the barista was heroically and inexplicably making coffee from an espresso machine – powered, perhaps, by the communal force of caffeine addiction.
Jerramungup to Denmark via Wellstead
Hoped to stop for a coffee at the Whisper Café at Wellstead – having been seduced by this internet story that the 100-strong local population had stepped up to save its community resource centre, several of them training as baristas; and that they offered free hot showers to visitors. After all that, it wasn’t open.
Instead, we had a machine-made version at Wellstead’s general store. (Roy made them go around the back and heat up the milk in their microwave.)
You have to love these general stores. They stock everything from bait to ice cream, and from magazines and DIY paraphernalia to wine, beer and greeting cards.They’re depositories for postal parcels, and they’ll sell you a well-thumbed Danielle Steele paperback for $5 or $10.
Accommodation review: Christina’s@Denmark
Christina’s@Denmark (25 Christina Crescent) is a spacious two-bedroom unit attached to the home of Gloria and Russell. Charmingly, they ask you to recycle your teabags (?) and your food scraps, leaving various small containers for that purpose. (They feed the scraps to their chooks, who show their gratitude by laying eggs for the household – but not, alas, for guests.)
There’s a full kitchen, with a selection of teas, a capsule coffee machine and some tasty toasted granola for breakfast. Russell was excited that several of his avo trees were bearing young fruit; and there were plenty of small tomatoes ripening on the vine.
Review: Denmark Tavern
A five-minute walk down the hill from Christina’s@Denmark is Denmark Tavern. Most people walk down there and stagger back, according to our host, Russell. Roy being so abstemious these days, and the weather so grim, we dared to go by car – even though, earlier, we’d seen a breathalyser road-block in the middle of town, sneakily targeting customers returning from the Denmark Brewpub, part of Boston Brewing Co.
One review I read refers to Denmark Tavern as a tradie tavern, for whatever that’s worth. (Translation: In Oz, tradie is short for tradesman.)
The tavern wasn’t too bad. We started with half-a-dozen Albany oysters ($20): having seen a tank of live ones at the Supa IGA up the road, we gambled that these would be fresh.
Roy had the shark ($25), which he ordered grilled and served with extra salad instead of chips. I had the calamari ($27) with chips and salad. It left me feeling slightly sick for at least a day, a salutary reminder to avoid stuff deep-fried in cheap seed-oils.
It rained and blew incessantly throughout our one full day in Denmark. Feeling we had to do something or go somewhere – and there are literally dozens of wineries to choose from – we opted for the Lake House, less than ten minutes from Christina’s.
It’s a shame we weren’t yet ready for lunch. The menu looked good, and certainly they did a good coffee and almond chai latte.
Their wine-tasting was free, and the wines were fine. We especially admired the labels on the He Said She Said range, and can recommend the premium white blend.
The Lake House also does Vinofood – a range of pickles and preserves that you can taste on the premises. Our favourites were: the orange, ginger and chardonnay marmalade; the fig, apple and chardonnay chutney; and the beetroot and shiraz relish – all three of which are now reposing in my pantry.
After that, sight-seeing duty done, we bunkered down indoors for the rest of the day. Even a walk did not appeal. Among the guest house’s treasure trove of games and such, Roy found a couple of vintage DVDs to while away the wet evening.
Denmark to Augusta
It’s less than 400km from Denmark to Augusta, where we’d booked a two-night stay.
I seemed to remember Augusta town being prettier than it now appeared. Granted, our previous visit was probably on a lovely summer’s day; we d stopped for coffee at The Deckchair, and the town then was heaving with holidaymakers.
It didn’t help this time that it started off wet, windy, and even frankly cold. No matter that it’s still officially summer – apparently, this region can be wintry even during the height of that season. (In fact, I overheard a couple of twenty-somethings at Wellstead claiming that they hadn’t had a proper summer this year.)
But Augusta is not really about the town – it’s about the beautiful Augusta River, the estuary and its pelicans and other waterfowl. Close to the town centre, yet on the beach, is an attractive caravan park. It looked about half-full.
On the long and lovely foreshore path, dog-walking locals stop to chat to one another; and glance across to greet you, the foreign jogger, with faintly frosty condescension – which is exactly as it should be.
I saw a man down here on the estuarine beach throwing a ball for his dog, some sort of retriever. At one point, the animal caught sight of a pelican and doggy-paddled off in full pursuit of it. No one seemed too perturbed – even the pelican merely hunched its shoulders and back-pedalled a few metres while keeping one beady eye on its pursuer.
Review: Augusta Escape
Our two-bedroom cottage at the conveniently located Augusta Escape was basic, but comfortable enough for a couple of nights.
Pros:
1) Augusta Escape is in a good location. A short downhill walk from here takes you to the waterfront where river cruises leave from.
2) Places like this that offer two bedrooms are great value, whether for a family, or for a couple like us who enjoy some room to spread out.
Cons:
1) Cheap fluorescent strip lighting in the living area, and meanly providing only two wine glasses. The pots and pans were of decent quality, though.
2) A barely functional shower room with only a small wash-basin in one corner, and a washing machine dominating the space; no dryer, though. By this stage, I was dying for a bath.
Where to eat… or maybe not
I hadn’t planned on having to cook, but Augusta offers typically slim pickings on a Monday night. (The same goes for Tuesday, and also Wednesday – you have a better chance from Thursday through to Sunday.)
Right next door to our accommodation was Gustys* Woodfired Pizza and Meats, inconveniently (for us, not them, clearly) open only from Thursday to Sunday.
[*When in doubt as to where to put the apostrophe, the rule here is to leave it out completely. On the other hand, published material is liberally sprinkled with redundant apostrophes, especially in plural nouns ending with vowels: think potato’s, avocado’s, movie’s and cheese’s .)
At times like these, having an apartment with a kitchen comes in handy. The butcher down the road came up trumps with half a dozen delicious local lamb chops, while directing us to the location of a nearby bush of wild rosemary. Complete with a heap of garlic and potful of veggies from Augusta IGA supermarket, that took care of the first night.
For the second night, it was homemade salad with some tasty barramundi and chips from Blue Ocean Fish and Chips – also just a couple of hundred metres down the road from us.
We breakfasted once at Thousand Suns Café on the high street. Roy ordered his fried eggs over-easy; by the time the French chef had redone the order, he knew what that meant.
It’s not much more than an hour’s drive from Augusta to Yallingup, so on the Wednesday morning of our departure we were in no hurry to leave – especially as the sun was emerging and the town was visibly reopening for the week.
Opposite Turner’s Jetty on the Augusta foreshore we found The Colour Patch – open today in honour of it being Wednesday – and stopped for coffee with a glorious view of the river and estuary. It can’t have been open long, and it’s clear they’ve spared no expense on the finishes, furnishings and even artwork.
In retrospect, we should have given the Hungry Pelican a go – it had been open on the Monday night. It gets good reviews, and is located smack-bang in the middle of town just behind the servo*. (*Oz for service station).
Next up is the final instalment of this four-part post – we’ll be Glamping in Yallingup with our friends, the Sadlers.
