Around Oz the First Time - Chapter 79 - Yallingup (Margaret River) to Albany

There is a smidgeon of confusion this morning. Wayne has arrived to say goodbye, after the marron feed he provided Silver Leader and Rosalie last night, evidently Forbsy did what we did crashed on the lounge from over indulgence. Caves House was a real thought for dinner but we couldn’t bring ourselves to another meal last night.

Now with Wayne here and ready for a chat, preparations for leaving ostensibly go on hold, and with them, any planning for the trip. Both Forbsy and I need fuel, and Silver Leader was hoping to stay adjacent to the coast all the way to Albany, as a scenic alternative to the highway. With Wayne here, those plans are shot.

Robyn gets a visit from the new friend, who wants a look through our van. This was suggested to him when we first met. Robyn is almost finished the preparations for hook up, so the van is pristine. Wayne is suitably impressed, comparing it to the others. Robyn tells him we are certainly happy with it.

I need to find the dump point and empty the toilet receptacle. There is work being done close to the point and I hear the banter between the park manager and the contractor. The contractor suggests he will be here all day, unless the surf comes up. I muse with the contractor, who suggests he just likes to gee up the owner. The contractor is building a park across drainage he has recently laid.

Just past the work, I find the dump point as well as lots of flowers, especially lilies, which I am yet to photograph close up. The dumping done, I reach for the camera, and remember it is sitting on the table in the van. Back I go and grab it, as I am really happy with the specimens I have found being particularly healthy ones, given their positioning. This done, I head back ready to hook the van to the Cruiser.

What was going to be an 8.30am head out, as we were hoping to have a look at a tree top walk along the way, has now become lucky if we make 9.30am. The visit has put Silver Leader and Rosalie way behind. Although Forbsy and we are ready, Silver Leader is yet to shower, and heads off as we pull our vans off our sites and park just outside the front gate. We contemplate getting fuel and meeting them out on the road, but that would mean relying on the Silver Leaders technology for us to get back together.

Finally we head out, having put Warpole in the GPS as well as our final destination in an attempt to assist the GPS in making us stick to the coast. Firstly though, Rosalie was very interested in seeing the actual Margaret River township. When we were here when we did the Nullarbor Golf Course, the town rubbed us up the wrong way. It’s a very Byron Bay type town, yuppified if you get my drift.

First order of business for my co-pilot is to photograph all the winery signs along Caves Road. There seems to be one, everywhere you look, and her arms soon become tired of holding the camera in position and taking photos.

As we get close to Margaret River township, the Tom Toms and the GPS struggle with the roads, and it won’t be the only time today either. Not relying on the evidence of the road signs, Silver Leader heads off in the wrong direction, on a bypass, clearly marked as so. Forbsy spies a chance to make a U-turn, our GPS is devoid of roads at this time, so we really need to follow, rather than lead, but in the end decide to play the game that is in front of us, following the signs.

This means we all hit Margaret River from different directions. Forbsy, first in, notes the modicum of parking available. He finds a back street with parking for everyone, no, someone just parked behind him, no, its OK, they just left. Silver Leader, still religiously adhering to the already shown to be useless technology, has gone past, thrown a U-turn and gone past again, while we have parked as suggested. Forbsy and I try not to laugh as Forbsy tries in vain to get Silver Leader away from the technology and see what is in front of him. It takes 15 minutes, but he finally arrives to the designated spot. Robyn guides him to the spot, which he overshoots, somewhat like an aircraft technician, Silver Leader works with.

Now, all together, Rosalie confides she just wanted to drive through the town, which she has now done four times. There is an air of frustration amongst the rest of us, but already having alighted, Robyn suggests a cup of tea might be in order. Thankfully there is a coffee shop in eyesight, actually adjacent to one of the landmarks Forbsy was using to guide the technologically blinded Silver Leader to the parking area, so we file down the road. There is a large wombat looking statue on the corner and I snap a draped Robyn on it. I also snap her looking at a T-shirt noting “Will trade husband for wine” on it.

Robyn’s cup of tea is very good evidently, the hot chocolate she has bought me, is awful. Whilst she was in the queue, I wandered through the adjacent bottle shop, looking for the Cullens “big drops” to see what the price difference might be from the cellar door. There is no difference, the prices are the same at $125. My interest in piqued in a grenache wine I spy. In earlier times, Robyn and I used to love a Margaret River Grenache. I grab 2 bottles from different wine makers, one because it is an interesting bottle and the other on the storekeeper’s recommendation.

It’s a short walk back to the vehicles. We are parked on the other side of the road to our other team members, meaning we are going to need an alternative to get back in the “right” direction. Here in the middle of town the GPS is useful and directs us to a roundabout which will make getting back on the highway easier than what the others will, who have to negotiate a give way sign onto the busy street.

All back on the road, the fight with the GPS and Tom Toms continues. Ours wants to get us immediately to the main highway south, whilst Silver Leader is following the Tom Toms alternative. All of a sudden, the Tom Toms powers of direction, end us on a very tight road, then attempts to take us to a dirt road. He relinquishes directional leadership to our GPS, which has not especially wrapped itself in glory either.

Warpole, and lunch, and a sigh of relief that we have made it, given the conniptions of the technology and here again there are issues. Let’s not bash them again. Let’s talk about the pie shop, it is a multi-gold medal winner for its pies. We are a little late in the lunch period and some of the medal winning pies are sold out. The latest award winner, the Jack Daniels and Coke flavoured pies, sold out less than 5 minutes ago – bugger. I settle for a peppered steak, the others join us, Silver Leader and Rosalie have decided on some chocolate eclairs, filled to the brim with cream for dessert.

My left has been troubling me with the cold, and the temperature gauge all morning has not left 15 degrees. Robyn is going to drive the rest of the trip, about 200 kilometres while I look to keep my hand elevated, and take photos of course.

Not far out of town and in one of the many state forests, we are pulled to the side of the road for a random breath test. Initially we wonder why here, then we are in the middle of a wine area and it is Friday afternoon. We all pass successfully of course and head on.

The contrasts around every turn, whilst not like the arid wilderness of the north, is just as interesting. Wildflowers invade the vista, there is water in not only every river, creek, brook and culvert, there is water laying on the side of the road in places. The green of the grass in the farmed areas, is deep and even. Many farmers harvesting and baling grass as well as crops. Now and then there are what appears to be volcanic rocks protruding from the ground, then there are swamps where the trees don’t grow.

Where the trees do grow, they are tall, very tall, in fact in places, they have been allowed to grow adjacent to the bitumen. I take pictures incessantly, there are blossoms on the ground and in the trees, and then there are contrasts of olive green and bright green as differing bushes flash by.

First Denmark and then Albany, our final destination, and the tribulations of the technology are at it again. Our GPS is telling us to turn right, but Silver Leader has turned left, very confusing. Silver Leader then calls it, after we are well and truly “lost” in a residential area, and we branch off and follow our GPS. Whereas though, we originally were going to hit the main drag of Albany at a roundabout, we now are faced with a stop sign and a busy intersection.

Finally, Robyn negotiates it and we are off, with the others nowhere to be seen (or heard). We pass recognisable places from our memory of our last visit here, including the motel we stayed in. As we close in on the Van park, the UHF springs into life again. As we get close we hear Silver Leader is in the park but there is insufficient room for everyone to park behind him for the moment. Forbsy has done a “blockie” hoping the guests in front of Silver Leader have finished by the time he returns, and he hopes before we hit the park. Forbsy just beats us, and the other guests have gone, but there is still only enough room for 2 ½ vans, and Robyn is left with the last half of the van in the roundabout at the entrance.

The reception staff have seen this all too often and send us directly to our sites, leaving us to return to fix up the fees. Smart move on their part. Because our van is the longest, the staff have put us on a corner block which should make it easier to negotiate. It does but not before the front wheels of the Cruiser rip the grass on the other side of the road. We are in and we head back to settle the fees. There are flowers in bloom everywhere and on my return, I take lots more snaps.

It has been a challenging day, and we all settle down to beer o’clock at our van. Robyn has suggested she will turn the pumpkin we bought in Kununurra at the Hoochery into pumpkin soup and everyone, except me that is – I am not a pumpkin soup fan – is wanting some. I break out one of the grenache bottles I purchased this morning, ready to savour a flavour from the past.

The wine does not let me down. Once everyone has tried some, some more than others, I decide to open the other one. It’s a bit “oilier” than the first one, which was almost drunk like water. It was the one recommended by the liquor store owner, good call. Not that the second one is bad, just different and goes down just as easily. The pumpkin soup is a very large batch, meaning seconds and perhaps thirds will be the order of the day.

The soup disappears as quickly as the wine.

Discussions turn to the Nullarbor crossing, and our strategy. Nothing is really decided, except that Adelaide will not be on the agenda anymore, nor will we be heading into Victoria, nor apparently will Forbsy. It sounds like Whyalla might be the last day we are all together. We might head for Renmark and then Echuca for the baby viewing, then Condobolin and home. We have friends from Melbourne who will be holidaying in Coffs Harbour we wouldn’t mind catching up with before they head home.