Southern hemisphere record-breaker

Our time in Western Australia is nearly up. We've driven almost 1,000 kilometres in the last few days, looked out across the Indian and Southern Oceans, and twice visited the Dome coffee shop in Bunbury. If holidays are about making memories, then this fortnight has been a resounding success. Here are a few snippets from our exploration of the south-west corner of Australia. To re-cap, our base camp was in Walpole - the home of Harold Luxton.

First stop along the way was Conspicuous Cliff. I'm sure you'll agree that it merits the title. We had to veer off the beaten track and drive along a dirt road to get there, but it was well worth the detour. Harold later told us he had attended to a shark attack victim on this beach, but the surfers we saw walking back towards the car park each had four limbs intact and smiles on their faces. With these waves, it was easy to see why.

The magnificent panoramic view at Conspicuous Cliff merited the inclusion of a second photo. Apart from a couple of fishermen, the beach was deserted. To reach this lookout platform, we had to climb a flight of steep steps akin to the cup winners' walk at Wembley Stadium.

Further along the coast was this bay, sheltered by the huge rocks you can see in the background. My Singapore football shirt blended well (sort of) with the two-tone sea water.

After driving through Denmark (yes, really) and Albany, we retraced our steps and called in to do the Valley of the Giants treetop walk. We felt a bit like Ant & Dec on I'm A Celebrity (see photo), only without the Geordie accents and million-pound contracts. A family from Singapore recognised the flag on my shirt and we shared a nod of acknowledgement 40 metres above the forest floor.

There is a brief story behind this photo. I decided a back-to-back shot on the fallen log would be a good idea, so balanced the camera in a nearby tree and set the 10-second timer. Unfortunately, I couldn't turn and scramble into position on top of the log before the time had elapsed, so we gave up after three attempts. This was the closest I got.

Harold and his cocker spaniel agreed to pose for a picture before we said our goodbyes. We were well looked after during our time in Walpole, which featured a strong episode of Miss Marple on TV and a fish pie which had us all coming back for seconds.

Rachel spotted, and photographed, this wayward emu on the forest road. It loitered, momentarily, in front of the car, but as soon as I slowed down it skipped to the safety of the verge.

It was a long drive back to Rockingham, given that we ventured west to Margaret River, up to the jetty at Busselton (see below) and then through Bunbury before rejoining the Perth-bound freeway. Australians are used to covering those sort of distances in a day, but when you consider that we drove almost the length of England (I worked it out as Maidstone to Newcastle), it was hardly a run-of-the-mill journey for us.

This exhibit shall henceforth be known as 'The Northern Hemisphere's Most Over-Dressed Lady on the Southern Hempishere's Longest Wooden Pier'. Rachel, in fairness, was well protected from the strong sea breeze that buffeted us on the two-kilometre walk to the end of Busselton's famous jetty. Although we felt travelling by train was unnecessary, we didn't dwell too long in front of the plaques halfway along the jetty, commemorating fishermen who had died after falling into the sea.

From the city into the wilderness

This is the Perth skyline. It may not be as famous as Sydney or as imposing as Melbourne, but it really is a beautiful place and we've loved being tourists in the city so many Brits now call home.

Talking of tourism, we had to make a stop at the Perth Mint, famously robbed in 1982. We sat through a gold pour demonstration, listened to a decent history/tour of the place and looked into endless glass cases containing gold jewellery, bars and souvernirs. Everything on display was worth a huge amount, but I couldn't see the attraction in owning it. Selling gold you've discovered makes perfect sense, but splashing out on golden ornaments just seems like a bit of an ego trip. A pyramid of Ferrero Rocher would be better. And I can't even eat nuts.

From the Mint, we drove on to King's Park with John and Cilla. You get great views over the city and the Swan River from up there, and another tourist kindly snapped us on this viewing platform.

The War Memorial, which will be the centre of attention on ANZAC Day. If that means nothing to you - as it didn't to me before leaving England - please Google it.

Sunset at Shoalwater Bay. Say no more.

I have been told that this blog revolves around sport, food and friends. That triad accounts for much of my life, so I'll take it as a compliment. The cookie and iced mocha you see here were purchased from Dome - Rachel's new favourite coffee shop - in Bunbury. From our holiday base at John and Cilla's, we have embarked on a mini road-trip to stay with Harold Luxton, John's younger brother. After the Bunbury stop, we refuelled the car and ourselves in Manjimup before completing the drive to Walpole, in Australia's south-western corner.

We took no pictures of the journey, so I'll have to paint one with words. Thousands of slender trees towered above us on either side, for kilometre after kilometre. The road was a corridor carved out of the thick bushland, a slither of asphalt laid on the sandy forest floor. A black carpet bordered wth orange. We climbed and fell, twisted and turned, sped through the wilderness. Trucks laden with logs flashed past. Like Mole emerging from the Wild Wood in Wind In The Willows, we eventually burst out at the far end. We had arrived in Walpole, an oasis in this woodland desert.

Harold is a keen walker and we joined him for a stroll around the bush before tea. We saw no snakes ("there are loads around here, but more people have been killed by lightning") but did come across a few of these giant trees, burnt inside but still going strong.

Tervets at the AFL

The Australian Football League (AFL) season is only a few weeks old, but already I'm an addict. Having opted to support Geelong - they wear the same colours as Tottenham - we watched their first two games on TV, including a pulsating contest with Fremantle Dockers in the opening round. Geelong lost narrowly and I was impressed by the Dockers. Our holiday schedule threw up the chance to watch Fremantle on their home patch and I grabbed it. Brisbane Lions were the visitors and Rachel joined me for a train ride to Subiaco's Patersons Stadium, via a stop for lunch in Perth city centre.

So... we arrived quite early. That's the journalist in me, I expect. We caught the latter stages of a youth game between New South Wales Dockers and Doncaster, which allowed for a re-cap of the rules before the main event.

I presumed - rightly or wrongly - that any Lions fans in attendance would be based in WA rather than having made the trip across Australia. After all, Brisbane to Perth is a round-trip of almost 9,000 kilometres! Either way, there were some good outfits and hats on display. Of which more later.

Brisbane go through their stretches in the blazing sunshine. The nets, which caught most of the pre-game shots, were removed in time for the first bounce, thus bringing the 'cup of tea smashed out of hands' hazard into play.

Like father, like son... Two generations of Aussie Rules supporters, from both sides, seated just in front of us. There is no segregation in the AFL, unlike the Premier League, which has its pros and cons. The friendly vibe attracts a comprehensive cross-section of society, as opposed to English football's male-dominated crowds. Great to see. On the other hand, though, there was virtually no atmosphere despite a healthy crowd and a strong display by the home side. Football's tribal nature, and the separation of home and away fans inside the stadiums, tends to generate much more singing, chanting and volume in general. That's something even the biggest AFL games lack.

Almost every 'Freo' fan inside Patersons was wearing something purple, so I fitted right in. Ish.

Something arty while we waited for the teams to emerge.

Here come the Dockers, bursting through the club banner. This will be mended and rolled out in time for the next fixture.

Although it's 18-a-side, the oval is still a vast area to cover. When play gets as congested as this, there are huge vacant areas of grass.

Bosh! Fremantle notch another six points. They conceded the first goal of the afternoon but never looked back after getting back on level terms and then getting their noses in front.

Sunglasses and a woolly hat: a strange juxtaposition but it seemed to work. Baseball caps were everywhere, especially in our section of the ground as the sun dropped ever lower.

Aaron Sandilands (31), the AFL's tallest player, leaps for the ball. Sandilands, the Fremantle ruckman, is hard to miss at 6 ft 11 in, four inches taller than Peter Crouch.

This kick skewed wide but the Dockers were pretty comfortable as they closed out a 64-35 win over an average-looking Brisbane. The home fans left happy and I'm already itching for another taste of the AFL. Next stop, Geelong in Melbourne...

Island idyll and Test cricket's most remote outpost

More photos and less chatter for you today, as we've had 48 pretty action-packed hours on the Western Australia coast.
Ready, steady, scroll...

Caught the train from Rockingham into Perth. Found a nice spot in Queens Gardens to eat our packed lunch with Cilla and John. Long overdue use of the self-timer function on the camera.

Took a tour of the WACA (Western Australia Cricket Association). It may not be as big or as grand as the Melbourne Cricket Ground or Sydney Cricket Ground, but the WACA has heaps of character and our superb tour guide brought the place to life. In the most remote city on earth, Test cricket has a fitting home for many years to come.

What a great way to chronicle cricketing history. A spliced stump from every Test Match played at the WACA, signed by the players of both sides. England's record there is poor and they even lost in the recent triumphant Ashes campaign.

We were allowed to lead our tour party from the home changing-room onto the hallowed turf. Here we are pictured in front of the old scoreboard, still manually operated.

John casts a critical eye over the off-season square.

The following morning we were up before dawn to catch a ferry from Fremantle to Rottnest Island, which lies 18 kilometres off the WA coast. Upon arrival, our first thought was food and Rachel took the chance to show off her London 2012 hoodie over the breakfast table. Another cafe patron did float the question of whether she was part of the Great Britain team.

We hired bikes and cycled round the island, which offered us great views around almost every bend. There was initially talk of a tandem but separate machines always seemed the sensible option.

Not many people ventured beyond the commercial hub of restaurants and shops surrounding the ferry docks, so it wasn't a great surprise to find this stretch of beach completely deserted once we had pedalled for a few kilometres.

The island was named after these little fellas, quokkas, who people originally mistook for rats. Hence 'Rattenest' and now 'Rottnest'. We came across several of them by the side of the road; they are about the same size as rats but they hop like kangaroos.

My new swimming shorts got an airing. Stopped for lunch on another beautiful beach and went in for a dip. Needless to say, there were no games of bat-and-ball at the water's edge.

Great view. And look at the ocean...

Of course, we couldn't leave without a round of mini golf. The course was a bit scruffy, however, and we weren't on top of our game. To compound matters, we found ourselves stuck behind a group of 'youths' who insisted on playing music through their phone speakers as they went round. When exactly did headphones become extinct? I almost smirked when their playlist reached Chris Brown's 'Turn Up The Music' but I think the irony may have been lost.

Rottnest was well worth the visit. The beaches in the quieter corners of the island could have been postcard spots in the Caribbean, although the more heavily populated areas veered closer to a Butlins or Center Parcs atmosphere. Still, you expect that in the school holidays: the price to pay for marrying a teacher.

Jellyfish, sharks and crocodiles

Here is a giant jar of jellyfish at the Aquarium of Western Australia (AQWA). After snakes and John Terry, jellyfish are probably my least favourite thing in the world and I totally concur with Karl Pilkington's sentiment that you should "give them another three per cent and make them water." By contrast, as we observed their creepy propulsions, Rachel said we should get something similar at home as "it would be relaxing to look at." Never going to happen. In fact, I reckon that's what Meatloaf meant when he sang "I would do anything for love but I won't do that."
The trip to AQWA involved driving 70km up the WA coast from Rockingham, with John and Cilla, to Hillarys Harbour. It was well worth it as the aquarium was packed full of fascinating sea creatures, all found relatively close to Perth.

The weather continues to live up to my expectations of this beautiful state: nudging above 30C again as we tiptoe further into autumn.

Everything seems perfectly normal here, Rachel pictured on the moving underwater walkway which gave us great close-up views of fish and stingrays. Oh wait, something's looming overhead...

...SHARK.

Three of these little fellas were laid on top of each other, happy as Larry. When the top croc woke up, he posed perfectly for our photos. Say cheese... snap.

At the heart of every good aquarium is a fine coffee shop and AQWA did not disappoint. John and Cilla showed more adventure than us with their drink choices, both opting for a spearmint milkshake.

Once we had bought our overpriced tat (sorry, tasteful fridge magnets) in the AQWA gift shop, John drove us further north to where Cilla's brother lives, in Mindarie. WA is an affluent state, largely thanks to its rich reserves of gold and minerals, and this was well illustrated by the mosaic of towering, gleaming properties we passed in the car. Each house along the seafront seemed to be competing with its neighbours for prominence. Millions of dollars have been spent here and the building sites on the perimeters of the metropolis tell of growth that isn't about to slow down. This was the view from Cilla's brother's house, overlooking the marina but facing east - away from the ocean - so as to stay cool when the afternoon sun glares down on Perth.

We encountered heavy rush-hour traffic on the way back. The stop-start freeway journey was the closest we've come to English motorway madness on ths side of the world.

I never thought the M25 would spark nostalgia.

Easter weekend in Western Australia

Easter has arrived, which means we are a quarter of the way through our year in Australia. For Rachel's first two-week holiday from teaching at Albury North Public School, we have travelled all the way across this vast country to spend a fortnight in Western Australia. While the temperatures are starting to dip elsewhere, we're enjoying awesome sunshine and glorious views out onto the Indian Ocean. What a sunset this was.

Before we left Albury, I did two days' work at the Danone yoghurt factory in the brilliantly named town of Tangambalanga. This was set up through the recruitment agency I joined most recently. Although the job, stacking and packing, was pretty straightforward and repetitive, I was really pleased to be working, doing something useful - and earning a few dollars for the holiday. Hoping for more of the same when we return.

After a Good Friday lunchtime picnic in the Albury Botanic Gardens with friends from church, we drove down to Melbourne and met up with the Jacksons, who were on their way to Tasmania for Easter. We spent another night at the Bells' house and caught our flight to Perth, which took between four and five hours. After that amount of time on a plane, it's hard to comprehend still being in the same country when you disembark, but that's Australia for you.

During our time in WA, we are staying with John and Priscilla Luxton in Rockingham, south of Perth. John is Rachel's dad's cousin. I know I will not remember the names of everyone we meet, and apologies for that, but I did want to include this pic of Rachel taken at a family gathering on Easter Sunday afternoon.

The sun beat down and the adults sheltered under sun shades while the youngsters splashed in the pool. My lifeguarding duties turned soggy when the kids discovered the hose and water pistols, but it was a thoroughly enjoyable visit.

John and Cilla live close to the beach. Around here, everybody does. A Sunday night stroll (which also yielded the sunset shot) gave us a glimpse of this pelican hunting for its evening meal. The fisherman on the shore had less joy.

The four of us rose early on Monday to draw up our schedule for the fortnight. My blogging will only scratch the surface but the camera will go everywhere with us and I will take notes as we go along. Superlatives cannot do justice to the colour, magnitude and vibrancy of the ocean, which surrounds us on three sides.

Archie (the dog) joined us on this walk around the Point Peron area of the coastline.

We were taken out on a boat to see Seal Island. Its inhabitants lazed on the sand and frollicked in the shallows around us. Special.

The boat sped off at pace and we were instructed to hold onto our Team GB caps. The two guys driving the boat stopped on the way back to inspect their crab pots, marked by white buoys on the surface. There was a crab in one of the cages, which we threw back - although we did have crab meat for lunch.

Loads to look forward to over the next few days. Watch this space for more WA blog action.