Down Under: Perth

Perth is probably still my favourite city in the Antipodes. My view is biased, I must admit, it is the first place I visited abroad without parental or teacher supervision.

From the moment I clambered from the aircraft, felt the warm air engulf me, I was smitten. I had no idea what the all pervading scent was wafting across the airport apron, it was only later that I found out it was the rich eucalyptus oil exuding from every gum tree leaf.

It was to become one of the best years in my life, certainly the best to that point anyway. I am just going to touch on a few things we did in the city and its environs before moving onto the River Rhine.

Regular readers will know that I have a penchant for battlegrounds, castles and museums. In fact, I tend to like most things history and don’t mind a lighthouse or two.

We visited two little crackers, one down south and one on the island of Rottnest. The former was located at Cape Naturaliste which when approached from landward doesn’t look that significant, looking like it is suffering from SLS, Small Lighthouse Syndrome, but from seaward it is commanding, the light shining out from over a hundred metres up.

Back in the day, it was built in 1904, the small cottages were home to three families, the heads of the households taking their turns on the roster to keep the light working at maximum lux. Nowadays, it is easy just to stroll up to the front doors along a paved lane, back then, though, it was nothing more than a snake infested donkey track.

This way in had been used during the construction and continued in use to cart provisions to the small community. Once the supplies had been stacked on a donkey’s back it would take days to make the treacherous journey.

The wagons would have to make their way through hazardous trails, battle all sorts of weather and try avoiding snakebites. I don’t mean the deadly concoction derived from mixing lager with cider, but the venomous fangs of the dugite, or, if you wish to me more formal, a member of the Elapidae family of slithery killers. To be fair, it doesn’t always prove lethal although it probably isn’t wise to hang around to find out. It was probably more of a challenge back at the start for the lighthouse pioneers when the nearest antidote was miles and miles away.

Cape Naturaliste is not named for its diversity of nature in residence but, along with the nearby inlet, Geographe Bay, is named after two French ships, under the captaincy of Commodore Nicolas Baudin, who beached them here for a spot of careening.

What a gentleman this man was, a man of honour, for once he encountered the British had settled in the east, he popped in, shared a glass or two of wine, and went on his merry way.

There would have been nothing to stop him coming ashore in Western Australia and claiming it on behalf of the tyrant, Napoleon Bonaparte, but he didn’t, he had given his word, and I for one, think this is such a gentlemanly act we should celebrate this more than we do. Just imagine if Bonaparte could have established a military base in Australia, who knows what the world would look like now.

The other lighthouse, on Rotto, is of similar stumpy construction and although appearing remote, was possibly easier to access and construct as there was already a readymade supply of cheap labour available.

Rottnest was the home to a penal colony that specialised in the provision of accommodation for aboriginal prisoners. It seems absurd to us in 2025 but they had to be kept separate from the better class of prisoner, that is the white man. It wouldn’t surprise me if some of those held at Rottnest were only there because their only crime was to be born black. It is disgusting beyond any civilised comprehension.

Getting back to the point, the lighthouse, this one was thrown up in the 1870s and weighs in at 35 metres with its magnificent position affording it a commanding view over the Indian Ocean approaches to the ports of Perth and Fremantle, north about the island.

Whilst both of these provided plenty of employment locally, it is now a thing of the past as they have been replaced by automatic lights. I don’t suppose it will be long before lighthouses all over the world will be consigned to the dustbins of history as GPS becomes more reliable and ships don’t need old fashioned lamps to show them the way. It appears that the technology still has a fair way to go before it can be trusted absolutely. I rather hope it won’t be in my lifetime as the role of lighthouse keeper still has a romantic sound to it.

Sticking with history, especially the cruelty relating to WA’s formative years, we popped into the prison in Fremantle.

We often hear how today’s incarcerated can relax and serve their time in hotel style accommodation. This compared to yesteryear may well be true, but, back then, sentences were handed out for some frivolous activities. Some had to commit crime to survive. I am not condoning crime of any type but to receive a custodial sentence for stealing a loaf of bread or shooting a wild rabbit to put in the pot do seem a tad excessive.

Thing is, not only did the inmates have to serve their time, they were also condemned to hard labour, it certainly wasn’t for the fainthearted. I suppose modern day incarceration does appear to be comfortable when measured against these different times, but I would challenge any of these bar-room or armchair critics to spend a week locked in a cell for 23 hours a day and declare it a walk in the park when they emerge at the end of their time.

I was silly enough to have received an invitation from Her Majesty to spend two weeks at her leisure a while back, so I do know what I’m talking about. I can tell you that personal televisions and room service are not part of the everyday treatment, despite what some allege. To be fair one concession to modern day living is that the bucket and chuck it technique is not employed any longer, although privacy is not afforded to ablutions. It really was quite disgusting.

There is a rather sinister side to all prisons in this era, which is to be found in the execution chamber. Hangings were common place back then and, so as not to place local officials at risk of revenge, the hangmen were brought in from the east. One hanging played on my mind for days after our guide retold the tale.

By the way, a little interlude here, the guide, dressed in an old fashioned prison warder’s outfit, a lovely lady, was so enthusiastic about her role that every aspect of prison life was hammed up to such an extent that it would put any sane person off ever committing a crime of any sort.

She seemed to relish in the retelling of some of the more gruesome executions that it made hairs on the back of my neck stand up. She knew how to calculate the correct drop for prisoners so much so that I think if Western Australia were to reintroduce the death penalty she could step straight into the role without the need for training.

She admitted that she loved her position and relished learning even more about life as a warder, a prisoner or, even, a visitor. Much of her reading stuff at home was about the history of prisons and their effect on society.

I had to ask her what her partner thought of her keenness on the subject. I don’t know why, but her answer didn’t really surprise me, she didn’t have a partner. I don’t think you could, could you? She also knew more ways that murderers have committed these crimes, that if I were her partner, I wouldn’t be confident of waking up every morning after going to bed!

Anyway, back to the worst of the worst of the hangings, if there can be such a thing. Following the sentencing to death of a malnourished 15 year old boy, for a crime he was posthumously pardoned, the executioner discovered that the boy did not have the decency to die when he dropped through the hatch, he was so light that his neck wouldn’t break so he was left gasping.

Nothing, and I mean nothing, must stand in the way of justice, so it was only fair to start all over again. In a bid to ensure his swift despatch they stood him on the trapdoor with heavy chains wrapped around his ankles. That’s better, that did the trick. It made me sick to the core.

I for one am glad that the death penalty is assigned to history for I cannot stand the thought of one wrongful conviction going all the way through to the gallows.

Another little must do in Fremantle is the Maritime Museum. Apart from the standing display of sunken ships, sea life and working at sea, there was a temporary exhibition of the Roman Empire. It was on tour in Australia and was fascinating. Don’t let critics tell you that the only interest in culture found there is under the lid of a yoghurt pot, it simply isn’t true!

One thing that Western Australia should be applauded for is the rewilding of old industrial areas. One such place was the Jarrahdale Forest, a former bauxite quarry.

It is now an award winning example of taking the environment seriously and returning these scarred landscapes to their former glory. After a false start, they decided to plant oak trees which promptly died, they used local species which, well, believe this or believe it not, took to their task like ducks to water.

It is now a beautifully regenerated area full of walking, running and cycling tracks. One could spend hours and hours communing with nature in this fantastic wildlife park. Once again, if you find yourself in the area, you really must visit, you feel all the stresses and strains of modern living just drop from your shoulders and slip from your mind. A word of warning, watch out for snakes.

It is my belief that such schemes should be the minimum requirement for our destruction of the environment, even if it does add to the overall cost of the end product, despite what certain world leaders might say. No names mentioned. Drilling for oil or digging for coal are not the most beautiful things, they are nowhere near up there with the natural environment, you cretin.

Another potential scar on the landscape is the construction of reservoirs. Like in the Uk some of these water storage facilities are now mega important to the survival of many animals and have become attractive habitats for the survival of some threatened species.

One such place is Serpentine Dam, just outside the metropolitan area. It is very attractive. I had forgotten how good it was. As we left the restaurant, a must if you visit, cracking coffee, we descended some steps, followed by more steps before we took even more steps to the dam itself. The surface of the water was still miles below but due to WA’s incredible water management scheme, which, incidentally, now includes the provision of three desalination plants, they never seem to run out of water.

When removing salt from seawater to make it potable it does require huge amounts of energy but, so I am told, they can make the waves into an energy giving source, so it seems like a win-win situation. Well done. Can this be put in place in the UK? After all, we are surrounded by sea.

Next week, we shall visit Australia for the last time, when we will drop in on a shucker, see one of the world’s premier rock bands at the fabulous Optus Stadium and wander around one of the most breathtaking urban parks in the world.

After that we will be floating along the Rhine, starting in Basel and alighting in Cologne. When here we will visit some amazing sights, taste some incredible food and sit in the bar listening to some wonderful tales from our travelling companions.

You will find that the retelling is only enhanced by the addition of a little Reisling wine, a drop of German beer, some schnapps and Asbach brandy. Keep an eye out for the story of a man trying to cash a toad at a post office and Stevie Wonder’s flying experience.