Kiwis and Kangaroos

(I managed to delete my photos from today so you’ll have to settle for some images stolen from the internet)

Today I tackle Rottnest Island. The first ferry leaves Fremantle at 7:30am, and due to the overpromptness bred into me by my early bird family I arrived at the C Shed terminal well before check-in opened. The ride out to Rottnest, just under 30 minutes in length, was a rough one as the winds whipped up a serious chop. After arriving, I claimed my rental bike, grabbed a map and set off to explore. A bit of history first. Back in the late 1800s and early 1900s Rottnest was used as prison colony, mostly holding aboriginals and the worst of the worst white criminals. Its strategic location caused it to be transformed into a military base during WWII. Since that time, the island has blossomed into a tourist destination for both daytrippers and weekenders alike, as the old barracks and officers houses have been turned into accommodations. A number of townhomes have been built in Geordes Bay, as well. The main allure of the island, next to its nearly infinite number of small coves and beaches, is the almost entire lack of cars, a few maintenance vehicle and the police aside. As such, it is a haven for bikers who can take advantage of the many miles of roads built during the military days.

I was one such biker today. After landing

Rottnest Beach

at 8am I struck out and circumnavigated the island in a counterclockwise manner, stopping for numerous photo opportunities and at the various historical sites along the way. The roads are in very good condition and the terrain can only be described as undulating, so it isn’t too hard to make good progress. By lunch I was back at the main village where I enjoyed a foot long Subway sandwich. Strange that they still call it a foot-long here in the land of metric. I would think you should be able to choose between a 14cm and a 28cm sub. Strangely, as I finished eating lunch two very attractive young girls approached me with a proposition; that they give me money and I buy them alcohol. I always told myself that I would do such a thing for younger people as many kindred souls did the same for me years back; however, something about it just didn’t seem right. It wasn’t even noon, the drinking age is 18 so surely they could find some young guys to do, and they were just a little bit too good looking. I am sure it wasn’t a police type sting, but I declined anyways. What an old codger I’ve become.

After lunch I biked up the lone hill on the island to the lighthouse. From there it was all downhill to one of the secluded coves for a nap and a swim in the ocean. My ferry departed at 4:30 and the ride back was much choppier than the ride there. The swells were approaching two meters and the workers were scurring about handing out vomit bags to needy passengers. I calmly watched a cricket game on the television, enjoying the rough seas like a veteran sailor. I am convinced that in a previous life I was a first mate on a ship with the likes of Vasco de Gama or Leif Erikson.

Again I went down to the beach for sunset. This time it was a cloudless sky and I added one of the essentials that I had forgotten from last night; the bottle of wine. Apparently beautiful girls are a bit harder and most expensive to come by.

What I Learned Today: Why haven’t I read more Timothy Leary?