Today marks the 65th birthday of my husband, the age in most countries for respectable retirement and receipt of the pension, however for us as itinerants, this is not the case. So be it. We all make our own choices in life.
We celebrated with a return to Freo and the Australian iconic parmi for lunch. Note I say “iconic” because all along our travels, we have passed pubs and restaurants offering “Parmi nights” or “Parmi and a handle of beer” and we have wondered what this might be. Now we know, although we did take a rain check on the beer.
Had we not set the alarm this morning, we might well have missed the best of the day, however we were on the road down to Freemantle before 9.30 am and parked up close to where we were on our last trip, always seeking the free spots if at all possible. We walked up to the Shipwreck Museum housed in the 1850s Commissariat building along the foreshore.
The museum’s reputation is well earned; it is indeed a must-see when visiting the area, however it is very comprehensive and a couple of hours is more than one can absorb in one visit. For that reason I prefer the Geraldton museum which concentrates on the Batavia and only briefly covers a few of the other wrecks.
Here in Freemantle there is a whole galley memorialising the story of the “Batavia” and another very interesting section on the early navigation of Europeans, mainly since 1600, with special emphasis on the VOC, Verenigde Oostindische Compagnie, the Dutch Trading Company which operated out of Batavia (now Jakarta) from the years 1602 until its bankruptcy in 1799. At the height of its operations, it was the greatest monopolistic trading concern in the world.
There are countless artefacts rescued from excavated wreck sites and a very good gallery explaining how this excavation and conservation is handled. But as I said, it is all too much for a morning’s viewing especially when one is looking forward to a birthday lunch.
While the mechanics of the archaeology do tend to leave me cold, I do enjoy the survival stories and one did particularly tickle my fancy, if such details are allowed to do so. One such was the demise of the Austrian Barque Stefano in 1875, when there were only two survivors, the third having died and been eaten by his fellows.
The barque sailed from Cardiff in Wales in the July, bound for Hong Kong carrying coal and seventeen sailors. On 26 October the ship was wrecked six kilometres from the coastline of Western Australia. Nine made it ashore and were rescued by a party of Aborigines who had limited English, having worked as pearlers further north. Alas the sailors were Croatians and unable to communicate intelligently with their saviours. Soon the party were reunited with a tenth survivor. This is all good so far?
The Aborigines had rescued charts from the wreck, which again is almost too good to be true. Thus armed, fed and watered, the sailors set off on their own southward however their skills at surviving the wilderness that is Australia was not as that of their brown friends, and soon two died, followed by a further six soon after. Finally the third to last succumbed and the remaining two, starving by now, tore their dead confrere’s body apart and began to eat him. It was not too long after this, Aborigines found these cannibals and nursed them back to health and escorted them northwards to the Exmouth Gulf in the hope of making contact with one of the pearling luggers. On 18 April 1876, the Croatians were delivered to Captain Tuckey and the Jessie. Of course there is much more to this story, but those are the juicy bits.
It is interesting to think about those Aborigine people who brought the survivors back to the area of pearling where they no doubt had been used badly themselves. There are far too many stories about the abuse of indigenous pearlers to consider that their memories would have been happy ones. And so it says much for these Aborigines. But then I guess if any of us were in their shoes, we might have done the same. Probably.
Other stories, more of the feel-good variety, include tales of survivors making their way in unwrecked tenders all the way to Batavia, and then returning to salvage the cargo, such as those on the English East India Company ship Trial in 1622 and of course the Batavia.
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| Waiting for lunch |
From the museum, we made our way through to the now bustling streets in the centre of Freemantle and wandered up and down past the many cafes and restaurants, finally deciding to give Dome an opportunity to cook for us. We have noticed many under this franchise all about the city so this managed to satisfy our curiosity. As I have already said, we ordered chicken parmigana with chips and salad, which proved to be both filling and delicious. Yet we still managed to squeeze in desert; equally delicious apple and blueberry crumble with custard and ice-cream followed by coffee. While we sat out on the sidewalk, waiting and then eating, we watched the throngs of folk wandering past, the show of classic cars and motorbike riders wearing Sesame Street hats over their helmets, and a horse and cart bearing a buxom bride and her team to the church for her big day. And big she was, taking up the entire rear seat, oozing out the top of her strapless gown and making the horse work for his keep.
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| Bronze Bather |
Barely able to walk after eating far too much, we made our way along the streets to the Freemantle Wharf markets where we found nothing to interest us, then on to the WA Maritime Museum where we hoped to buy tickets for a tour of the retired Oberon class submarine, HMAS Ovens. Alas, the afternoon was booked out so we came away with a telephone number to call should we choose to return to Freemantle during the next week.
The museum assistant suggested we take in the exhibition in the side gallery while we were there, a free exhibition titled ANZANG Nature Photography, stunning studies of wildlife and landscape images from the 2012 competition. The photos were absolutely fabulous and made my own pathetic attempts exactly that; pathetic.
From there we wandered down the shoreline, past Bathers Beach where once upon a time, a whaling station stood, just for a few years between 1837 until the 1860s. We passed through the tunnel carved through the hill to facilitate transport of the whale oil, but not before looking back out into the harbour to see a multitude of yachts making the most of the excellent sailing conditions.
Today we joined the tourists at the Roundhouse at Arthur’s Head and wandered in and out of the small stone cells of this heritage building, the first permanent structure in Freemantle, constructed in 1831 which served as a gaol, not for transported convicts but for those sentenced for crimes here in Freemantle.
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| The Roundhouse |
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| Freemantle fisherman caste in bronze |
The gaol had eight cells, toilets and a two story section for the entrance and warders quarters. In 1837, there were forty three men held in the facility. In 1839 the greatest number held was twenty five, so this demonstrates the numbers fluctuated depending on the delinquency of the population.
The path follows on down to the waterfront along the side of the Fishing Boat Harbour, past the many more restaurants and bars in the area. This afternoon all were busy and it was a joy to soak up the environment and enjoy the many sculptures about. In fact both Perth and Freemantle are full of wonderful sculptural works.
Then it was time to head home before the dew started to descend and threaten a relapse of improving health. It has been an excellent day even if it did not entirely go to plan.
And for the record, if you were ignorant as we were, chicken parmigana is in fact an Italian dish comprising an egg, breadcrumbs, boneless chicken breast and too much cheese to be a weightwatcher dish.
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