Go West

Shaney Hudson had a whale of time exploring the south west tip of Australia.  

The boat idles in the bay, bobbing rhythmically with the tide. I’m scanning the choppy water around the catamaran, perched precariously with a leg weaved through either side of the guardrail. The swell knocks my ankles and calves into the rails and it hurts.   

Suddenly there’s a yelp and fifty heads whip sideways. Three humpbacks surface in unison, calm black shapes rolling in the water. It’s humbling to be in the presence of such ethereal creatures and, embarrassingly enough, I have to dry my eyes.  

My trip to the south west region of WA left me with bruises all over my legs and reduced me to tears - for all the right reasons. And I know what you’re thinking right now: WA’s just too far. It’s too expensive to get there. And what’s so special about it, anyway?  

Western Australia is the super-sized state. But its geographic isolation is the key to understanding why it’s worth visiting. Protected and preserved by desert on one side and ocean on the other, the south west region provides a living window to a natural environment not found anywhere else in the world.  

And the whale watching isn’t that bad, either. On the day we go out, there are at least 50 whales splashing in the bay off Augusta. Located at the tip of the country where the Indian and Southern Oceans meet, Augusta pays host to the whales for three months during their annual migration.  

For two hours we’re treated to displays of tail fluking, flipper slapping and spy hopping, with the whales surfacing just metres from the boat. In the background another pod of attention-seeking juveniles leap, desperate for recognition.  

Eventually we head over, much to the delight of the backpacker next to me, who’d been out whale watching 12 times in 6 days in search of the elusive “breaching whale” photo.  A full breach is the spectacular moment when a whale becomes airborne, leaping out of the water like an obese acrobat.   

Just as we’re about to head back to shore, it happens. It only takes seconds, but as the whale launches himself out of the water, we’re both ready with our cameras capturing the moment in digital glory.  

It’s hard to imagine, but Augusta has gone from whaling to whale watching in less than 40 years. Given that 50 humpbacks will be hunted and killed for scientific purposes this summer in Antarctica, it sends shivers down my spine that the whales we’ve seen today might not return next year to these waters.  

Our legs jellied from the swell, we drive north along the coast. The south west is quite spread out, so it pays to hire a car to properly explore all its nooks and crannies. A short drive from Augusta is Jewel Cave, one of four major caving systems open to the public in the region.  

Missing the 2.30 pm tour turns out to be a stroke of luck as we have the chance to walk around the giant Karri tree forest that exists above the caves. Karri trees grow to over 70 metres high and are only found in an area near Augusta a few kilometres wide. 12 metres of earth, mulch, reconstituted seashells and Karri tree roots separate the ground from the cave below.  

Now, I don’t know my stalactites from my stalagmites but I do know I was speechless when I entered the cave. Some of the formations were the size of trees and the shape and colour of cauliflower that’s been left at the bottom of the fridge for a bit too long.  

As we descend the steel walkway the formations changed to look like frozen streams, caramel-coloured jellyfish tentacles and washed-out sandcastles. We pass a camel and what looks like a screaming face stuck in the wall. Obligatory girlish giggles greet the very distinct human shapes that penetrated the cavern at suggestive angles, long before the guide cracks jokes about them.  

With a little warning, our guide hits the off switch and we’re left in total darkness. Ever the wise guy, he turns the lights back on quickly, and we all look like lunatics waving our hands frantically in front of our face.  

Discovered in 1967, Jewel Cave was originally flooded with water, but nowadays is almost completely dry. In a more serious tone, the guide explains that farming, forestry, drought and tourism have all contributed to putting extra pressure on the water table. Instantly, I feel guilty for lingering under the hot water at the YHA that morning.  

The fact that this cave has dried up in less than 40 years completely shocks me. For the first time I’m able to physically see just how much our planet is labouring under its human weight.  

Back in the daylight and further up the coast, we take a Cape Tour with Dave from Dunsborough YHA.

A keen conservationist with a genuine love for the region, he explains that the south west of WA is one of only 35 biodiversity hotspots in the world. This classification means that this small area hosts species of plants and animals found nowhere else on the globe. Unfortunately, the classification also recognises that 70 percent of the natural habitat has already been lost. 

Being a keen surfer, Dave also knows all the breaks worth paddling out to. The surfing spots between Cape Naturaliste and Cape Leeuwin are some of the best in Australia and include the world-famous Margaret River break. On the day we’re out, there are enough 8-10 ft liquid tubes to make a surfer melt his wax.

Back home, I think to myself, there’d be fifty guys in the water jostling for them. Here, the waves are empty at break after break, save for the occasional pod of dolphins. Dave explains it casually with a shrug, “The surf’s just better somewhere else”. 

Apart from legendary waves, Margaret River is best known for its wine, so we forfeit our car keys the next morning and head inland on a Bushtucker tour of the area’s vineyards. The region only accounts for about 4 percent of Australia’s total wine production, but produces 20 percent of Australia’s premium wines. 

We swirl, sniff and swallow our way through 15 tastings following the recommendation of our driver Sylviano that “if you keep looking - and drinking - you’ll find what you like”. I heed his advice until I mistake a wine cooler for a spittoon.  

Any wine region worth its grape has decent food to match and “The Marg” is no exception. Still running on red, white and sticky, I enthusiastically raise my hand to try the witchetty grub brought out as an entrée. The wiggly little grub doesn’t taste that bad - rather like crunchy creamy hazelnut. More substantial and tasty fare follows, including smoked kangaroo fillet and wild bush turkey breast with lashings of pesto, chutney and pate.  

The following night the gourmet trend continues as I have one of the best meals of my life at the 140 year-old Rose Hotel in Bunbury. The fish and chips are so spectacular that I come back and have them again for lunch and dinner the next day.   

Bunbury is an old port town experiencing a trendy revival, filled with gourmet cafes and art installations. Whilst the milk-carton shaped high-rise that punctuates the CBD can be a bit off-putting, at heart this place is still a little seaside town.  

The Dolphin Interaction Zone at the Dolphin Discovery Centre is the best place to get up close to the wild dolphins that call the harbour home. The specially managed strip of beach in front of the centre allows visitors to wade in and interact with dolphins in the shallows. 

On the day we call by, Flipper and his friends are a no-show, but the centre itself kept our attention with its discovery room and displays. During summer, swim tours with the dolphins in the harbour are available by special arrangement with the centre. 

As I leave the south west, taking the coastal road back up to Perth, the unbroken blue ocean sits on my left whilst canalled McMansions increasingly invade the landscape to my right. As if on cue, Joni Mitchell’s Big Yellow Taxi starts playing on the radio.  

In a world where travel is increasingly being shaped by eco-tourist mantras and carbon offsetting, the south west region of WA was the first place I’ve visited where I was able to physically see and understand just how fragile our country is.