4 June 2013 - Advent Park, Maida Vale, Perth, Western Australia

Today marked the nineteenth anniversary of us being an item, and I leave that definition to your own imagination. What particularly amazed me anew was the fact that our children would have then been 16, 14 and 5 respectively and they seem to have been grown up for so long. It is almost a lifetime for the youngest one and here he is with a family of his own, one already at school. Such is life and such are the ever accelerating wheels of time. And of course we have not changed at all, on the inside anyway, although in the old days Chris would not have let a little cold virus create the caution he is still exercising.

Despite all that, we set out for Kings Park after breakfast, allowing Tomtom to take us across untravelled territory including through the undercity tunnel on the Graham Farmer Freeway. We had been advised at the city Information Centre that parking at Kings Park was one option to avoid exhorbitant parking fees, because there, generally one was able to find a free space and then catch the 37 Bus into town, again for free. Indeed this morning could have offered just that however we decided to take advantage of the good weather and explore the park on foot.

Kings Park covers 400 hectares and show cases the uniqueness of Western Australian plants. Approximately 12,500 plant species are found across the state, 75% of which exist in the south-west of Western Australia and nowhere else in the world. Kings Park and the Botanic Garden are dedicated to the conservation of the State’s native flora.

The Park was originally established in 1872 and known as Perth Park, but was renamed Kings Park in honour of King Edward VII after a visit to Perth by his son, the Duke of York in 1901.

It is also home to the State War Memorial. The 18 metre granite obelisk was unveiled in 1929, the Centenary of the founding of the free colony of Western Australia. The internal walls of the crypt list the names of more than 7,000 men and women who died in WWI and other conflicts. Bronze plaques on the outside walls list the names of nearly 4,000 people who lost their lives in WWII.

Not only are the dead memorialised in this fashion,  but there are also about 1,300 memorial trees lining the Honour Avenues, the roads that run through the park.

The War Memorial is situated in a stunning position; we sat on the steps eating our lunch, carefully finding a position to show no disrespect, and looked out over the river and across both the Perth CBD and South Perth. It is from here on Mount Eliza that one really does have the best close up views, as opposed to the distant views gleaned from the zigzag rail line in the Perth Hills we drove in our first few days here.

Swan Brewery from Kings Park

We have read in many places about the city, how the British Captain James Stirling is considered father of the city in that it was he, accompanied by Charles Fraser, first Colonial Botanist and Superintendent of the Botanic Garden in NSW, who arrived to inspect the Swan River with a view to establishing a future colony. They climbed Mount Eliza, named for the wife of New South Wales’ Governor Darling, and decided that this was all “particularly grand”. This disregarded the fact that the hill and the escarpment behind the city named after Darling himself, had been named by the residents long long ago. However such was the way of the Europeans.

But interestingly, even before Captain Stirling got off his boat for a walk, Europeans had been to the top of the hill long before. In 1697 Dutch explorers, led by Willem de Vlamingh, arrived on these shores and climbed to the “high ground” of Mount Eliza. They were followed one hundred and forty years later when in 1801, a French scientific expedition arriving on the “Naturaliste” explored the Swan River and climbed the hill to view the country. It just took a long time for them all to decide that the lower Swan River was a fabulous spot for a city, today with 1,670,000 residents.

We certainly enjoyed our wandering about the many pathways, admiring the plants and trees, many of which we had seen during our travels. We delighted in the Red Wattle Birds and the numerous Butcher Birds, but did not spot the Black Cockatoos that apparently also inhabit the park.

There are several Boab trees growing on the hilltop, not a patch on those that grow naturally through the Kimberley, however we were interested to read the story of how one of these came to be in the park. This Boab or Gija Jumulu tree, estimated to be 750 years old had to be moved for the construction of a new bridge on the Great Northern Highway up near Warnum. It was carefully uprooted and transported on a very large truck an amazing 3,200 kilometres south to Perth. Surely that has to be a record?

View over the CBD from Kings Park

We also learned that the grass trees, which I have in the past un-politically correct called, Blackboys, are known here as Balga by the local Nyoongar people. Here in Perth they are everywhere, as a celebration of their fascinating form. In their natural state and out in the bush, they possibly supplied the most resources of all plants used by the Nyoongar. The flowering stems provided both edible nectar and structural supports for shelters. Dry stems were used for fire sticks. The trunk exuded a resin, which the Nyoongars made into glue, with charcoal and kangaroos dung, useful for bonding parts of tools together. The flowering spike made a fishing spear or soaked in water from the flowers, the nectar made a sweet tasting drink. These are to name but a few of the uses. And most of all, I just love these quaint plants.

We visited the Aboriginal Art Gallery situated in the side of the hill, with fabulous views out over the city and admired some beautiful work, however all was very highly priced and again we regretted not picking up pieces when we were in the north.


After satisfying our need for exercise, we drove around the roads through the park, marvelling at the extent of the green space here in the middle of this very large city, then came on home, having enjoyed the day’s activities and ready to celebrate one of our many anniversaries in the age old manner.

And here, before signing off, I should make mention once more, and finally, about Rottnest Island. It has been on our list of Must-Does, popping up in Lonely Planet and every other Bible we carry on board. The island boasts a colony of quokkas, unlikely to be encountered anywhere else, no traffic but tour buses and tourists on bikes. From the west coast we gazed across the sea toward the island, saw the flat splot on the horizon and checked out costs on google. The best deal for ferry and bike hire would cost us $200 for a day’s excursion; we have decided to give it a miss. And let’s leave it at that.