Perth to Albany on the Southern Ocean

With one night to kill in Perth before we collected the campervan, we arrived in Perth airport requiring a room for the night.Shocked that the average nightly fee in Perth was 120 pounds, we felt virtuous checking into the Perth city centre YMCA, convinced by the picciesand the fact that a room was not exactly a snip! Said 'family room' was the winner to date for the grubbiest room. Kneeling on the floor to remove Owens shoes had Hayley reeling as the floor was really sticky! Having paid up and to be honest all of us a bit moody, we investigated the beds, they seemed ok, so headed out, leaving moody instructions with the receptionist to fix the fans. A few bits of shopping (Hayley finally pleased to be able to buy a pair of shorts as even the XXXL in Asia was too small!!) and finally a glass of wine. Spirits lifted, if not a little stunned at how expensive Perth is (we had to curb the number of times we said 'but it's more expensive than London) we decided we may waste money, check out of the YMCA, the thought of which was making us very itchy, and check into one of the other, blow the budget hotels. The gods shined on us, as the YMCA hadn't fixed the fan, so we got our money back and ran with speed to a clean hotel!!

Campervan collection day. Campabout oz were such a lively, friendly bunch - they were very proud of the newly designed van we were about to live in! Stock up day and our first night at a campsite. Naturally first night novelty was great -it was actually great to be able to cook - sure that novelty would wear off! We headed 50 metres to Myalup beach. Apart from a few chaps fishing and two swimmers we had the beach to ourselves and what a beach! Owen was in heaven playing the waves and slept soundly!

We had no set plans - we thought we would spend one week in the Margaret River region south of Perth before heading the 3000 km journey north to Broome. Our only plan was to stop and spend a few days in eachplace so we're not always on the move! Two days at Bussleton beach was marvelous. A sand dune between us and the beach and superb starry nights. A family of stingrays graced the beach each evening and Owens serious induction into the art of cricket began and the sandcastle building which will be a major part of our lives for thenext 7 weeks was underway!

Any dreams to visit wineries at Margaret River were put aside - not the most child-friendly of activities. Instead we headed to the west coast which is breathtakingly beautiful with surf beaches at Margaret River that would scare the hell out of any parent due to the scarred rock reefs lying beneath! We enrolled on a canoe trip up Margaret River which exhausted us particularly as Owen's paddling efforts were diametrically opposed to ours! Lovely river, surrounded by ancient forests used by the original ( or do I mean aboriginal) inhabitants as a holy place. Quick stops for, variously, a cave trip and a swim, then a race back home. Having started promisingly the Gerrys managed to steer into a sandbank ( has to be said J was steering! ).Back for swift stint on beach then off to next campsite. Verdict was.... great canoeing, v.good native lunch ( J ate part of a speciality - the wichety grub.....never again!! ).Kangaroo and Emu sarnies were the main course with all sorts of herbal type salady things. Highly enjoyable but financially came under the "rip-off" heading.

Pedalled the Campervan further south along the coast to a small town called Augusta,where we indulged in fish and chips washed down with several bottles of strangely named beer ( one was called naked blonde....but the subsequent dream disappointed ( J ). Following morning off to Cape Leeuwin Lighthouse where the Southern Ocean meets the Pacific Ocean. Disappointed not to be able to see the join but great views nevertheless.

The next stage of our trip, along the south coast, was remarkable for the forests of karri trees, wonderful structures up to 60 metres high. Inspired by this phenomenon of nature, the intrepid Gerrys decided to go really native and stay in a rangers camp deep in one of the said forests near Pemberton. We had read in the Lonely Planet ( what a load of crap that book includes! ) that Pemberton wines rivalled the good Burgundies, so treated ourselves to a tasting and a couple of purchases to drink in our pastoral hideaway. Tentatively driving our van down several miles of bumpy dirt track and praying for the axles, we finally made it to the site deep under the trees. The only people there were the camp "hosts", a lovely couple about 110 years old. We were given the choice of sites, then proceeded to prove what pussies we really are by being terrified of the myriad of March flies ( they bite like b*****y! ) and fleeing ignominiously back to a coastal camp.