Margaret River 2 – Karri Trees, a lighthouse and a disappearing apple

After a fall yesterday Fo was feeling more than a little disjointed today. She'd gone back into the house to retrieve my medication and pick up some apples for lunch. As she headed back to the car, holding an apple in each hand, and almost at the same instant that I mouthed "don't slip", she went base over apex on the steep, gravel-covered drive. She got back up gingerly, dusted herself down and showed me the remaining apple. We know not where the other one went, and I haven't stopped teasing her that she must have sat on it. Well, it's usually where I find the TV remote at home.

A romantic but flawed notion. And as for the sign
on the left....

Shaken but not unduly stirred Fo insisted that we stick to the plan so we headed south today to visit Cape Leeuwin, the most south-westerly point of Australia. I'd heard about this point in a recent travelogue about a journey around the Indian Ocean. The presenter, Simon Reeve, spoke about the meeting place of two great oceans, the Indian and the Southern and this struck me as a fascinating place to visit. In reality it's an amusing fiction. Cape Leeuwin is at latitude 35s and most oceanographers regard the Great Southern Ocean as being that body of water below latitude 60s and circling Antarctica. Still, why let several thousand miles of ocean spoil a good story?

One of them has had too
much to drink.

Unfortunately, it’s not possible to access the point as the owners of Cape Leeuwin Lighthouse, a charitable body, have fenced it off and now charge $8 a head to get in (it's $20 if you actually go into the lighthouse). You get headphones and a commentary about the site thrown in, though we needed these more to keep the wind out of ears than for the historical content. The lighthouse is particularly exposed and we had picked the coldest and windiest day in ages to visit it. It was exhilarating though.

We spent a gusty but happy hour wandering the grounds and learning about the poor souls whose ships had floundered in the treacherous waters off the point. One of the more tragic tales was of the HMS Nizam, an Australian destroyer patrolling these waters towards the end of the Second World War. The ship was engulfed in a sudden squall and as it listed to one side a freak wave swept 10 unfortunate deckhands overboard. None were ever recovered and the average age was only 19. Such a waste and a reminder that the sea can be a harsh and unforgiving place. Just what I need before a dolphin swim next week.

These bloody cows get everywhere.

 

We left the lighthouse and headed inland a little to Augusta, a small place that seems to exist solely as a service town for lighthouse tourism. Apologies to anyone from Augusta who might actually read this but it was another linear town built along a road that is never more than a block deep. We had snapper and chips at a burger bar and wondered where everybody was. It felt like an abandoned film set. In fact, as I ate my chips, I sketched out a plot line in my head about a tough, world-weary, man-with-no-name traveller fetching up in a seemingly empty town and eventually saving everybody and the town by taking out the local crime syndicate, vampire coven or alien invasion (take your pick). Yes, I know. It’s all been done before but who cares? People have short memories.

Karri trees in the Borunup Forest

After lunch we joined a scenic tourist drive that took in many of the local limestone caves as well as vineyards and art galleries. My antipathy towards all things arty is already well documented in these pages but, on this occasion, it did not surface. Indeed, I could have spent a considerable sum of money in the Borunup Gallery, a mix of ethnic and modern art & furniture housed in an unassuming shed in the midst of a beautiful karri forest. Instead we refurbished our flat in our imaginations and only the horrendous shipping costs prevented a purchase.

Karri tree

Karri trees, by the way, are an ancient hardwood species, native to south west Australia, that grows to tremendous height, up to 80m and allegedly the tallest hardwood in the world. It’s a member of the eucalyptus family and can live for an average of 300 years, though none in the region are older than 200. They're magnificent trees in isolation but when experienced as a forest they are epic. We passed one lady, standing atop a huge fallen tree, who looked for all the world like she was in a state of nirvana and wanted nothing more than to spend the rest of her days meditating with the towering trees.

By late afternoon my driving patience had exhausted so we went in search of a vineyard cellar door to get a good red to accompany that night's steak. We happened upon Cape Mentelle, supposedly one of the oldest and most prestigious wineries in the area. A boisterous party of Kiwis were well into what must have been a lengthy tasting session, judging by the somewhat pained expression of the sommelier. We jostled the Kiwis and found a space at the counter, whereupon we asked to try some robust reds. The lady kindly gave us tastings of a number of shiraz and merlot/shiraz wines. Despite a minimum $32 price tag per bottle, none of the wines even came close to being drinkable! Now we are not pretentious about wine and it normally has to be really bad or corked for us to pour it away or spit it out; which is exactly what we did with each and every taster. So if you ever find yourself in the area, give Cape Mentelle a miss, they've got a wildly inflated idea of the quality of their wines.

We eventually picked up a $12 wine at the bottle shop in town that was superior in every way – including its name, which made Fo very happy. This doesn't bode well for tomorrow's wine tasting tour!

There is to be no working during drinking hours.