5 July 2013 - Riverview Tourist Park, Margaret River, Western Australia

Chris had set the alarm early enough to get us out of bed at a decent hour, given the busy schedule I had planned for the day. But this did not allow for the fact that the thermometer dropped below 3 degrees and we dallied beneath the duvet as one must on such a morning. Despite our tardiness, we were still on the road before 9.30 am, heading back across to Cave Road and south toward Augusta.

The Leeuwin – Naturaliste Ridge runs the length of the cape to cape coast, a complex and fragile karst system where the water flows here in the south west have sculptured a number of amazing caves. I appreciate the craft of nature in the creation of these features, however my claustrophobia discourages personal exploration.

The Augusta Margaret River Tourism Association operates three of these caves and the Department of Environment and Conservation the rest. Lake Cave can be accessed through the Caveworks Centre which has an excellent interpretative centre, a café, a shop and a door that leads to three hundred steps down into the Lake Cave.

Understanding that the Margaret River area was not really open to anyone apart from the timber getters until the early 1920s, I was very surprised to learn that tourists were visiting these caves soon after the turn of the previous century. 

About 1900 the Yallingup Caves, up near Dunsborough, were a draw card to tourists transported by horse and cart from Busselton. The cave had been first explored in 1899. Of course the words “discovered” or “first explored” disregards the fact that Aboriginal people had been using these caves for up to sixty thousand years, however, at the risk of upsetting some readers, I shall continue the misuse.

One of the three caves administered by the Tourism Association is the Mammoth Cave, so named because of the fossils discovered there, revealing the amazing extinct mammals that once lived in the South – West, including the Tasmanian Tiger or Wolf, three species of echidnas, two species of wombat,  a Zygomaturus, to name but a few. And of course archaeological explorations have uncovered clear proof of the presence of the first Australians.

Lake Cave was discovered by Fanny Bussell in 1867 but not explored until 1890. Young Fanny was out on horseback searching for cattle and found herself on the edge of a great crater, the horse not willing to move another inch, which was lucky for her. Later when she married, she shared the knowledge with her husband who with a couple of others climbed down into the doline and found the entrance to the cave. I guess that is how many caves are found. They described their discovery as a “white fair land”.

The Caveworks Centre has a mock-up of a cave, filled with skillfully fashioned stalactites and stalagmites; shawls and helictites, straws, pendulites and moonmilk, all as beautiful as the fungi I have been discovering on our walks. This exhibition alone is worth calling into the centre for, as we did.

We had never intended to venture down the caves however were interested to learn how much it would cost had we been of a mind to do so; entry to each cave costs $22, or you can get a package deal for all three, for $50.

Our next stop was the Boranup lookout which the woman in the Information Centre had kindly marked with a highlighter on our map. We were unable to find any such spot, however on closer scrutiny of the map, I found it to be on the Boranup Drive, some distance from her cursory marking. We turned back up this dirt road into the karri forest, part of the Leeuwin-Naturalist National Park watching for the sign to take us to the correct point. We soon found it although the words “Lookout” did not appear on any sign, only a symbol of a couple looking faraway with binoculars. So we turned onto a narrow track that should have been restricted to 4WD vehicles only, and drove up and over great lumps and bumps, mounds and slabs of rocks, up and down steep inclines, and squeezed through the scratchy branches of the encroaching scrub. We met another vehicle and as we squeezed past them, parked up tightly in the scrub at a wider part of the track, I wound down the window and asked if the effort was worth it. “Oh, yes!” they exclaimed. “Soon the track goes over some rocks but you should be okay in that,” indicating our Toyota workhorse.  “The views over the beach are wonderful!” Well they would say that wouldn’t they, this blond youthful couple who would not look out of place of surfboards.

We pressed on a little further, closing on the rugged coast, soon realising that this would not be the views over the glorious karri forest we were seeking, so we turned, a many pointed turn, on the very narrow track.

Back on Boranup Drive, we decided to continue north for a couple of kilometres; we could not believe the tourist authority would really encourage the average tourist to take on such a track. Sure enough, we soon came to the correct lookout, clearly marked and easily accessible. We were however disappointed. The views over the forest and coastline were expansive and distant, not a more specific opportunity to enjoy and appreciate the absolutely wonderful karris.

Beautiful Karri trees

The karri tree is the third tallest tree in the world, reaching heights of ninety metres and although pronounced ka-ree, and should not be confused with the magnificent New Zealand kauri tree. Most of the karri forests are found between Nannup and Denmark, still to be visited, apart from pockets such as this.

Today with the sunlight shining through the canopy, this forest was one of the loveliest we have ever seen, and that passed through on Cave Road were as lovely as those we saw on the Boranup Drive.

Our next destination was Hamlin Bay which was a real surprise. I had expected a small seaside settlement however there is little here but the caravan park. It is all part of the National Park, although it would seem the caravan park is run privately. Once upon a time it was a port for the timber milled from the area. The jetty onto which a timber railway once extended, was built in 1882, extended further in 1898, but now long deserted. In fact the tides and storms have destroyed it and now only a few piles remain, relics of a different past.

Hamlin Bay

It was not until we saw the sign describing the stingrays that frequent the bay that we recalled being told in Busselton about the daily feeding of these otherwise dangerous fish. Those that inhabit the shallow water of Hamelin Bay are smooth stingrays, black stingrays and eagle rays. We spent some time gazing put into the bay but were unable to spot any of these “tame” creatures; we had obviously come after feeding time and the rays had gone off to do whatever they do when they are not here.

We drove back to join Caves Road and continued on through farmland, seeing mainly sheep and cattle rather than the vineyards that were more numerous closer to Margaret River. At the intersection with the Bussel Highway, we turned south and soon found ourselves in Augusta, home to just over a thousand people. This Augusta is not to be confused with Port Augusta in South Australia, the point which will complete out figure of eight tour of this continent. 

Settlors arrived on the shore of Flinders Bay in 1830 thus making it one of Western Australia’s earlier settlements. Knowing that, I was surprised to find little in the way of old buildings. In fact every building, commercial or otherwise, did not look much over fifty years old.

 The town is situated on the banks of the beautiful Blackwood River and Hardy Inlet where it meets the Southern Ocean. I say “beautiful” Blackwood River mainly because of our subsequent exploration, but more of that later.

We drove on through the small town, past the landing point of those hardy pioneers and on out to the Cape Leeuwin lighthouse also administered by the Augusta Margaret River Tourist Association. The lighthouse, built in 1896, stands 56 metres above sea level and is mainland Australia’s tallest lighthouse. Twenty two ships were wrecked in the vicinity of Cape Leeuwin before the construction of the lighthouse and only one later, giving justification to the cost.

Cape Leeuwin Lighthouse

Access to the grounds can be gained on payment of $5 a head; tours of the lighthouse itself somewhat more. We wandered about in the wind, stood on the lookout platforms from where we could see the meeting of the Southern Ocean and the Indian Ocean, today a fairly quiet affair. The plaque showing direction and distance to far off places told us that if we sailed west 13,646 kilometres in a straight line, we would reach Montevideo in South America. That is an awful long way. The conditions were excellent for whale watching and far out to see we were able to see whale spume; whether it was the one whale or a pod, we were unable to detect. The wind was cold and we had failed to don our hats and jackets, so retreated to the landcruiser fairly promptly, and then drove the short distance to the Water Wheel on the more protected western shore.

Old Water Wheel

The wheel was built in 1895 to supply water for the builders of the lighthouse and later to the lightkeepers’ cottages. Limestone for the lighthouse was taken from nearby Quarry Bay while the water wheel provided water to mix mortar. The water was supplied to the wheel by a natural spring in the wetland adjacent. Water was conveyed along the wooden flume which is still more or less intact. As water flowed over, the wheel revolved activating a ram pump, which piped water to the lighthouse. It operated day and night delivering about one litre at every stroke.

The water outflow from the spring has dropped over the years and is now pumped by an electric motor to keep the wheel moist and prevent drying and cracking. It, the wheel, is now encrusted in calcified lime, but the whole mechanism can still be appreciated for the wonderful work of engineering it was.

We dined in this lovely spot beside the crashing waves, marvelling at those far out to sea, triggered by the meeting of the oceans rather than rocky reefs. The white top of the waves sped along some distance like jet skis riding high and fast. Lunch complete, we walked out over the rocks and delighted in the coastline and the view back to the lighthouse. 

Returning to Augusta along the same route, we stopped at a memorial to Matthew Flinders who had sighted this southern bay in 1801, the bay now bearing his name. We continued on back through Augusta, not bothering to stop and change our ambivalent impressions.

The original Alexandra Bridge

Eleven kilometres north of Augusta, we turned onto the Brockman Highway and drove ten kilometres we will duplicate tomorrow, crossing the Blackwood River and pulling into the Alexandra Bridge recreation and camping area. Here we found about half a dozen caravans parked up under the trees near the river, all set to pass some days without the mod cons of electricity and television. It is such a delightful setting;  I almost regretted our preference for electric heating at this time of the year and my husband’s passion for the major sports events currently being played out on the world’s stage. Had we a kayak, I would have forgone the comforts of being on caravan park power and insisted we stay here for a couple of days. We are, after all, passing this way again tomorrow and could just as easily stay here as continue on to our next planned destination. The river is truly beautiful here, however the campsites, while cool and private in the summer, do look rather cold and dismal in the winter shade.

Back out on the road, we turned north on to Warren Glen Road, passing through sheep and cattle farms, and the odd pocket of grape vines, until we again intersected the Blackwood River where it is joined by the Chapman Brook. Here, in the Chapman Pool Blackman River National Park, is another charming recreation and camping area, not on the Blackman River but on the smaller tributary. We stood by the Brook for some time in the company of a couple of gorgeous little Red-Winged Fairy Wrens who were not at all concerned by our presence and it was just marvellous to have them so very close. After they flew off, we took a twenty minute walk along the Brook, a narrow track with signs telling us about the uses of different plants by Aborigines. We have seen these so often as we have travelled about and alas, my ability to hold this information is zilch.
 

Red-Winged Fairy Wren

On the way back out to the road, we detoured down to the confluence of the two waterways and were again greatly impressed with the beauty of the place. Today we were in one of the best galleries we had visited for some time, Nature’s Own.

We continued on north, turning on to Rosa Glen Road, the dirt section of this soon becoming bitumen, and then sweeping back on to the Bussel Highway just south of Margaret River.

It had been an excellent day; we were glad we had decided to stay a full three days and will leave tomorrow well satisfied that we have given Margaret River our best, something I would not have thought possible a week ago when we were almost of a mind to give it a miss altogether.