FAREWELL ALBANY (ALMOST) - SOME GENERAL REFLECTIONS, REPAIRS, REPLACEMENTS AND THE ANZAC CENTRE (NOVEMBER 2014 - FEBRUARY 2015)

Where to start? After three months in the one place there must be many tales yet untold. Strangely, no. During the eight weeks of Liz's stint at the hospital, our lives took on a daily, somewhat uneventful routine. It was just like being at home really. And the fact that I drove her to and from work for each shift made venturing far and wide impractical.

The festive season came and went and then we hunkered down during the mayhem which was the park during the first three weeks of January. We were both really glad when that was over.  What a difference in lifestyles there are between those who live on the road and those who are driven to make the noisiest most of their few brief annual 'weeks in the sun' in a caravan park.....no matter what! Believe me dear readers, I did my best to remain non-grumpy in the face of the onslaught, but my success in this endeavour was limited I can tell you. There were a couple of occasions when it was only the restraining hand of The Matron which precluded a fiery encounter or two. 

Her best efforts in this regard were in vain, however, when one particular family felt bound to barge through the edges of our site as they made their way to and from that of a nearby friend's. After gritting my teeth during several incursions (as I have mentioned previously...this is the height of caravan park discourtesy) I had finally had enough. My initially polite request that they use the nearby roadway (which presented a no longer trot to their destination) was met initially with a dumb kind of staring response as if I speaking in Swahili. 

Then the penny dropped that I was less than impressed with their constant unwelcome presence on my patch.  Well, that lit the fuse.  Mother responded with a type of sullen outrage, but her husband, a loutish and, from my observations, usually hung-over moron, puffed out his not inconsiderable chest and snorted that, "You don't own the land. This is Western Australia, mate. Get used to it!"  

When I rather foolishly (on reflection) responded with, "Yep, so it is, and a mate who told me that 'if I wanted to go unnoticed over here and fit right in all I had to do was leave all my good manners at the border on the Nullarbor' was dead right, if you are any example", things deteriorated somewhat.  Fortunately my ill-mannered protagonist decided against any escalation....to my later relief...I was challenged beyond caring at the time...and we maintained an uneasy calm until they departed some days later. He did make one or two token incursions, but by and large our site sovereignty was unsullied in the main.

As you might imagine the co-pilot was horrified. Her tolerance level for these things is much higher than mine. Mutterings of "get over it, shut your eyes, grow up, one of these days I'll be patching you up", and similar could be heard for days! Sorry, Liz there are times when a bloke just has to make a stand. Oddly enough, this juxtaposition of attitudes (hers and mine) seems to be universally reflected amongst all we have encountered during our travels. It must be a man thing!

All in all, we did escape lightly. Despite numbers, the park was generally quiet by 2200 hours, as expected, and the holiday period inevitably came to an end.  

In the meantime, life went on. My limited fishing excursions were generally productive and I did make the most of the nearby swimming area, but not as much as I had planned. The cool weather (I know, that's why we came here) and another damned chest infection severely hampered this endeavour, but I did bash out quite a few laps.

A long stay, we have both decided, is something of a double-edged sword. Day to day existence is made easier with an acquired local familiarity, but balanced against that is the inevitable emergence of 'it's time we were off seeing new things' feelings. And, quite coincidentally, as we prepare to leave Albany, we are doing so in the face of another serious onslaught by the wind, just as was the case in Carnarvon. As they say, "WA, windy always".

One thing is certain....the Albany economy has benefited significantly from our presence. We have been engaged in the 'Three R's' (of the caravaning world) since our arrival..... repairs, refurbishment and replacements, some planned, others not so. 

An anode change in the hot water service is a pretty standard event, one of the technical tasks I have actually mastered!  So it was out with the old,

a spot of plumbing tape around the thread,














and in with the new.








One replacement which was definitely unplanned was the washing machine.  Now this was a fun job.....NOT!  I guess it is fair to say that we have had very good service from the old unit and there is no doubt that these machines pay for themselves within a year in the savings made by not having to pour massive amounts of the coin of the realm into park machines, none of which are cheap and some, nothing less than exorbitant.

So I suppose if the old workhorse had to go, there could be few better places to do so than Albany. We initially scouted the net for a replacement supplier with little success.  A few days later, whilst in the very large Albany Retravision store scouting about for a new toaster, bingo....we almost tripped over the very model of washer we were seeking. We could not believe our luck.





But that was just the beginning of the saga.  As you can see, the washer sits in a very confined space in the heads. Fortunately the front panel comes off easily but there was still the task of lifting the unit up and over the toilet.  Thank goodness it weighs only 18 kgs. Once I had undone all the fittings I discovered that the base of the unit had been screwed to a keeper plate on the floor of the cabinet. Damn..why is there always a last minute hitch? Finally all these screws were removed and I managed to heave the old machine out.  




The good Retravision delivery lad took the old unit with him and it was then the task of 'plumber Pete' to replace it with the new.  I won't bore you with the details or any descriptions of the accompanying vocals.  My technical abilities are usually confined to something which requires a hammer and little else! Suffice it to say that we are now back in washing action again. Unfortunately we have no photographic evidence of the refitting procedure....it was all hands on deck for that and no time for cameras!

The next replacement was the TV. The sound on ours had been playing up to some extent for weeks. This time it was Harvey Norman who gratefully accepted our hard earned cash. And wouldn't you know it? No sooner had it been installed in the van than a test of the old set showed it had resumed it normal function. Murphy strikes again!  But this brought another bonus in that we could now watch the cricket and other critically important transmissions in the larger spaces of the annex. What luxury!

This was not the last of our list of replacements. I have spoken previously of the fact that our two caravan batteries had seen better days and that in our discussions with the good folk at Albany Autospark we had also decided to not only replace these (with larger 120 amp models), but to also have a 240 volt inverter fitted to enable us to use all our electronic equipment when out in the middle of the bush and operating on 12 volts only. All this, plus a charge booster (to improve the input into the batteries from the cruiser whilst travelling....don't ask...it's all too hard) was duly fitted the day before we left Albany. I have to say here that the staff at Autospark were outstanding in their provision of advice and the competency of installation. Mind you, none of this stuff is cheap.....a mere $2,500 later and we were on our way.  

But there was a real and unexpected bonus out of all this. Simon, the co-owner of the establishment has a shack in Bremer Bay. He'll be in residence there over our first weekend at this seaside paradise and has kindly offered to 'show us the local ropes'.  It doesn't get any better than that!

So, our final tally of new bits and pieces....washing machine, TV, toaster, fan, table cloth, cushions, batteries, inverter, 12 volt booster, fishing rod, walking shoes, swimming paddles and shorts.  The merchants of Albany had prospered by our visit.







Our annex has never been put to more use than it was during our three months in Albany. Once up, it provides a very welcome addition to the amenity of the van itself. Whilst I prefer to beaver away at the dinette table, Liz loves doing her thing in the annex, sometimes unsupervised, 







  




but on other occasions under the watchful and critical eye of his nibs.









As for your scribe....well what better way to spend a few hours than fiddling with fishing rigs whilst watching a One Day International, particularly when the Aussies were taking all before them.

The annex also became the centre of much of our social activities. We had several notable bashes with our good mates, The Wattos










as they spent a few days next to us en route back to Busselton from Melbourne with their new van in tow. We did raise a collective glass or two on more than one occasion. Hosting the bloke who had taught me how to catch a shark in Carnarvon was the least I could do.








Max loved the annex and the shelter at the front.  Being able to see without being seen is an essential in a cat's life, and the security of the annex was just the shot. A post breakfast sleep in the morning sun became an almost daily ritual.

And then, later in the day, when those silly humans left the sun lounge unattended for but a second....well, a cat is entitled to take it easy as well, you know! 

It is a fatal mistake to leave the Black Panther to his own devices when van lockers are open. "Now just how did I manage to get in here...or more to the point, how am I getting out?"










There were many times when life just all got too hard after a long night's work on patrol defending the patch











and others when there was nothing better than being part of the evening social life in the annex. There is no doubt that Max has fully embraced his life on the road. We often smile to ourselves when asked by incredulous neighbours how we cope with travelling with a cat!









Our departure from Albany was preceded by Australia Day, an occasion on which a few of the enterprising young locals take to the water in grand style. Liz and I had spotted an odd green and yellow (read gold) construction as it was being towed on a trailer past the park towards the Emu Point beach.  Further investigation was required. What a tale unfolded!

The assembly of disused agricultural product crates was in fact a raft, which I was later told (this is another story....stay tuned), this group of ex-Great Southern Grammar mates

have launched for the past few Oz Days in what is rapidly becoming a local tradition.

With the white sands and hillside houses of Middleton Beach as a backdrop, and the raft firmly tethered to the Emu Point beach breakwater,








these lads spent the day celebrating in style on their floating bar. We know....we could hear them from our park (the cabins in the background are at the front of it)...but they were all packed away by mid-afternoon. What a marvellously inventive bunch of real rat-bags (in the truest and most affectionate form of the word) they are. I almost accepted their shouted invitation to don bathers and join them as I took this photo, but the common sense of advanced years intervened.

But now for the clincher!  As I was making my way across the beach to the breakwater, I came across a woman with a large camera. My assumption that she must have been involved with these lads in some way proved correct. It was from her I gleaned the background information I have just shared with you.  

In the course of our conversation she mentioned that she had lived for a time in Burra, South Australia. "Yes, I know the town quite well. My wife and I have visited on a number of occasions....a lovely place."  And then, in response to asking where we came from, to which I invariably reply, "Glenelg", because almost all of Australia has at least heard of it, things became quite eerie. My informant was very familiar with Glenelg.  As she explained, she had spent a number of her childhood years at Brighton. "Oh, in which street?" was my immediate question. "Smith Avenue," she replied.

So what, I hear you ask. Well, dear readers, number 11 Smith Avenue was the address of my first house which I bought in 1978. We concluded that we may well have been neighbours at some stage, although, given that she is considerably younger than I, I had no way of recognising her from those days. But I certainly remembered her house and knew the folk who subsequently bought it from her family quite well. Now this was a meeting which, to date, takes pride of place on the 'guess who I ran into' coincidence list. I am still shaking my head at the statistical enormity of the probability involved.

No visit to Albany these days is complete without a jaunt up Mount Clarence to the Desert Mounted Corps Memorial (otherwise and commonly known as the Light Horse Memorial) and then to the most excellent, recently completed, National Anzac Centre.







But first the climb to the peak of Mount Clarence which begins at the car park.

It is quite a climb up steps and pathways through the scrub of the mountain.













On either side of the path stand numerous upright plaques bearing various and often very poignant quotations from some of those involved in the Gallipoli and other WW1 campaigns.





Let me share an example.  One Walter William Goodlet, a member of D Company, 11th Battalion, is quoted as recalling what was said to him and his companions as they they hit the beach at Anzac Cove, and, I suspect, were attempting to dig in against the murderous shell shot, machine gun and rifle fire being rained down on them by the Turks on the hieghts. Clearly one of their officers was unimpressed.

"He pointed out it would be better for us to die fighting on the ridge than to be butchered like sheep on the beach."

The quotes have obviously been very carefully selected.  It was amazing to us to find just how well they 'set the scene' as we made our way up the pathway.







Half way...and a breather whilst we looked back down the hill. and took in yet two more plaques.












The final stairway beckoned.












Here we weren't the only ones taking a break.  This reptilian local was obviously used to human traffic up and down the pathway....he remained totally unconcerned about our presence as he 'fired up' for the day.




The last climb and there we were.  What a spectacle this Memorial is, and what a location!

And what a story. Let me now both acknowledge and quote directly from the 'Monument Australia' website. 

"The Desert Mounted Corps Memorial commemorates Australian and New Zealand soldiers who died in Egypt, Palestine and Syria during World War One.

The statue is a copy of one originally forming part of a memorial erected at Port Said in 1932, and which was destroyed during the Suez War of 1956, salvaged and re-erected in Albany in 1964. (copy also in ANZAC Parade, Canberra). More commonly known as the Light Horse Memorial, this memorial commemorates the men of the Australian Light Horse Brigade as well as the New Zealand Mounted Rifles, the Imperial Camel Corps and the Australian Flying Corps who lost their lives in Egypt, Palestine and Syria between 1916 and 1918.

It is a replica of the original memorial which stood at Port Said in Egypt depicting a mounted Australian Light-Horseman defending a New Zealand Mounted Rifleman standing beside his wounded horse. It is said to be based on an incident in the charge at El Arish in 1917. On 23 November 1932 it was unveiled on behalf of the Australian and New Zealand Governments by the Australia`s war time Prime Minister W. M Hughes who was on his way back from a League of Nations meeting in Europe. The proceedings were broadcast by radio telephone over the 15,000 miles (24,000 kilometres) between Egypt and Australia, the first such direct broadcast between those two countries.

On the night of 26 December, 1956, during the Suez conflict, an Egyptian crowd attacked the Anzac monument, smashing it with hammers and large stones. Egyptian newspaper Al Akhbar reported the memorial would be blown up with dynamite. Police were posted beside the memorial to protect it and forbade the use of explosives but took no steps to prevent youths defacing it. It was pulled from its base and smashed beyond repair. The mob tore off the legs and tail of the New Zealander`s horse, smashed away the legs, tail and half the head of the Australian`s horse and sawed off the head, arms and legs of the New Zealander. The figure of the Australian light horseman disappeared. When peace returned to the area the United Arab Republic agreed to the request of the Australian and New Zealand Governments to release the damaged memorial and its polished Gabo Island granite plinth which were then shipped to Australia."

And here it is, high on the peak of Mount Clarence, overlooking the waters on which so many AIF soldiers left these shores, many never to return.



With all this history behind it, and given the number of visitors who make the trek up the hillside to look at both the Memorial and the views, we were particularly unimpressed to see that the Australian and NZ flags which fly on either side of it could best be described as 'tatty'. Frankly, this is just not good enough.





Having come this far, we were determined to continue to the top of the mountain where a grated pathway surrounds the hard granite knob of the peak and provides the most wonderful views of Albany.









From here we could take in another view of the Memorial, this time against the backdrop of the pines of Middleton Beach, the waters of King George Sound, the bulk of Bald Head and the dark lumps of Michaelmas and Breaksea Islands.









Panning left we could see right over the 'dog leg' of land which is the Vancouver Peninsula and Ataturk Entrance 











and the Port of Albany itself with the shallow expanses of Princess Royal Harbour in the background.












Even further to the left and here we had views of the green sward of the Anzac Peace Park, the peaked edge of the Entertainment Centre, part of the main Albany CBD and, way in the distance on the far ridge, the white towers of the Albany windfarm.

And, in the opposite direction, was the white stretch of Middleton Beach, ending at the entrance to Oyster Harbour overlooked by the heights of Mount Martin.....'our end of town'.






This is all quintessential Albany. We cannot recommend a climb to the peak of Mount Clarence too strongly for any who want to grasp the way in which Albany is laid out around the peaks and valleys of the granite humps on which it stands, and the vast expanses of the three harbours for which it is renown. 




And, as a quick aside, lumps of granite can also be seen throughout the town itself. The locals do not let these stand in their way when it comes to building. Here is a prime example of how they have just built around two of them.  Now that's a garden ornament!








But back to the business at hand. We retraced our steps down off Mount Clarence and drove to the car park of the National Anzac Centre which abuts the buildings of the Old Forts on Mount Adelaide.

One of these is now used as a somewhat up-market restaurant, complete with typically up-market WA prices, 










whilst the lovely stone structure which is the Old Forts Store is now home to the souvenir shop where, of course, Liz just had to have an Albany stubby holder. After spending three months in the same spot, she was beginning to suffer 'stubby holder withdrawal symptoms'. We can count our supply of them in the dozens..from every corner of the country!


So off we went to the piece de resistance.....The National Anzac Centre, standing as it does in all its glory overlooking King George Sound in what must be one of Albany's finest scenic locations.

This magnificent building and its event more impressive contents was opened during the weekend of the Albany Anzac celebrations, about which I have written previously. 

We chose not to visit during the crush of that weekend, nor venture there during the school holidays, a decision vindicated by the advice we received from the receptionist that over 600 people per day were crowding through the many exhibits at a snail's pace during that period.




At the reception desk, where, as a 'senior', my entry fee was reduced from the normal $24 to a more modest $19...thank you....we were provided with a small dictaphone, akin to a very large pen, and a small card bearing the name and picture of a WW1 Digger.




As the charming and informative receptionist explained, the tour through the exhibits of this centre is interactive.   Dotted throughout the various stands of exhibits,

shown here in a photo (which I must acknowledge as taken from the National Anzac Centre website and reproduced with the permission of that acknowledgement) are a number of small, brass coloured buttons affixed to the front of the glass. The dictaphones we were given were activated by scraping the metal point at the bottom of them across these buttons when we were then provided a verbal story directly associated with the experiences of the person who was the subject of the particular exhibit.  This is stunning stuff.




As for the cards we were given.....these are placed in receiving posts, also dotted throughout the building and shown here in this rather poor photo I have to acknowledge as my own!  Once slotted in, the cards then bring to life an interactive panel of documents which detail the war time history and exploits of 'our soldier', including his post war life (if he was a survivor). What an incredibly moving way in which to bring to life the experiences of this selected group of Aussie and Kiwi diggers as they fought from Gallipoli against the Turks to the fields of Flanders and the horror, misery and suffering which was the trench warfare against the Germans. 



Other interactive screens, such as this chart of King George Sound and the town of Albany allowed us to call up various scenes, including a moving depiction of the manner in which the troop convoy departed the Sound.

I am running out of superlatives!  And, but the time three hours had elapsed, I was also running out of 'brain space'.  The one regret we harbour about this marvellous Centre is that they do not, as we experienced, for example, at the Qantas Founders Museum in Longreach, allow for a return visit on the one entry ticket.  Frankly, there is just too much to really absorb fully in the one excursion.





In the grounds outside the centre I came across another slightly disappointing aspect of the area. Here is a collection of all sorts of warship weaponry ranging from large deck guns to anti-aircraft guns









and  a group of torpedoes....but none of them carried any descriptive plaques or any sort. This exhibit would be so much more interesting if this (in my view) relatively easy addition was made. It may be a 'work in progress'....let's hope so.



But whatever you do, dear reader, do not take these tiny gripes as indicative of poor reflections on a visit which did nothing but inspire, enthral and educate us both. We have read that the National Anzac Centre is now listed as one of the top tourist destinations in Australia....we have no difficulty understanding that. It is truly spectacular.

This was to be our last 'outing' but one in Albany.  More in my next.