BROOKTON (30 MARCH 2015)

This visit to Brookton was not our first. We had driven through here over a year ago on our way from York to Busselton, but we were then hightailing it out of hay fever territory and had not tarried. We took the opportunity of this brief sojourn for a quick pre-dinner stroll around what we found to be a typical wheat belt town. Let me share a few glimpses before we make our final run into Perth.

The Brookton recreation centre and adjacent tennis courts were very impressive. We were not at all surprised to discover that this complex has only recently been completed. It serves as the club rooms for various sporting bodies, including football, hockey and tennis, as well as indoor sports such as basketball.

And those who wish to thrash up and down a pool are not forgotten.  A short distance beyond the sports grounds we came across the very distinctive sign on the outer wall of the town pool,

a very inviting facility indeed and one which was open for the last evening of the season before it closed for winter recess.

As we walked several of the town's main thoroughfares, we were in no doubt that we were in a country town. Farm implements and infrastructure requirements were to be seen everywhere, both on the move,

and stationary, on display in large showrooms

and on several vacant blocks opposite. many of these machines were impressively large.  Out of sheer curiosity I later checked the prices on the net.....no change out of a quarter of a million dollars for for this red monster. 

I haven't focused much on country churches for some time, but Brookton rekindled the spirit.  Two proclaimed their services (I suspect there are two puns buried in there somewhere)  

in a most colourful manner.

The poor old Uniting Church seemed to be lagging far behind in the spiritual promotional stakes or is this a case of reverse psychology?







And whilst on the subject of signs we did come across another beauty. Let me firstly set the scene.

Brookton boasts a couple of covered sheds which are home to several old horse drawn waggons, and, believe it or not, a stuffed Clydesdale.




So far so good, but please note the upright grayish looking rock on the right of the shot.












Each of the displayed waggons (and the stuffed horse) bears a small, relevant plaque, such as this on the old brewery dray.







So why was I banging on about the rock?  I did wonder about its relevance in this exhibition area when I first saw it......and then all became clear when I looked more closely at the tiny brass plate on its face.  





Someone in Brookton, with obvious clout, (this would have been neither cheap nor easy to put in place) has a sparkling sense of humour. This made my day.









But Brookton is not all nostalgia and whimsy and like so many farming towns on a railway line, the line divides the town in two. From this angle the old station looks somewhat ho hum,










but what a difference one can find at the front where it abuts the main street. Here things become far more grand.







Just beyond the station building that side of the street presents locals and visitors alike 

with the lawns, shrubs and trees of this small but charming street park, complete with its own rotunda and










water feature















fed from this most imaginative water source, an old steam engine boiler filling gantry. Somewhere within Brookton 'city hall' sits at least one person with a sense of humour (a la the 'undonated' rock) and a sense of history and style as seen here at this railway station park.








Perchance all this creative juice had its genesis over a glass or two at one of the two 'locals' we spotted....and what contrasting pubs they are. This is the workhorse....The Brookton Club Hotel, fully operational as we strolled past (no, the Treasurer's will prevailed.....no pint for Pete), a genuine old country pub catering to the needs of the thirsty and peckish. 

The Bedford Arms, on the other hand, a hostelry of far more outward distinction, was shut, as it is each Monday and Tuesday. From what George, our local fount of all Brookton knowledge had told us, this is a pub at which highly questionable management has been steadily eroding both public and staff confidence and the provision of service. I have decided against the publication of a couple of George's tales on the basis of the 'legal precautionary principle', but if indeed they are true, the future of the Bedford Arms would seem particularly parlous.

What a shame this is.  Every town benefits from the competition between at least two well managed pubs. If I were a local, the concept that this very well found establishment (from our purely external observations) was falling by the wayside would be most annoying.





Brookton, from all we could gather, is a thriving town, but we did spot this relic of its past as we wandered about, one which so clearly told of a different era and economy.

What a contrast to this rather grand residence, one we suspect is of about the same vintage. I would loved to have been able to trace the histories of both and of those who lived in them, but time did not allow.










The road ahead of us was there for the taking...an early departure for Perth was the strategy. 

Every so often in this life on the road a short stay 'on spec' provides a very pleasant and interesting experience. So it was with Brookton where we were again reminded of that rather trite old adage, "You never ever know, if you never ever go!"





Let us depart for the big smoke with one last example of some Brookton humour, the sign on the rear of the van belonging to one of the park permanents. Simon's recent life summed up in three words....we hoped he was now happy again!

THE ROAD TO PERTH AND AN OVERNIGHT STAY IN BROOKTON (30 MARCH 2015)

And so we 'waved' farewell to The Rock (you had to expect something along these lines!) and began the trip northwest further into the southern part of the WA wheat belt, 

back into the bigger gum country of towns such as Kondinin

where, like so many of these relatively small farming towns, a major intersection demanded a decision. Ours was a right hand turn on the road to Perth through the next main town of Corrigin to our planned overnight destination of Brookton.

Another consistent feature we had noticed in many of the towns through which we have travelled in this part of the State was the width of most of the main streets. The road out of Kondinin was no exception.

If there was any doubt as to the fact that we were passing through grain growing country, this was soon dispelled by the sight of grain trucks hauling into one of the many grain receiving 'bins' (as they are called in the West) which are also a constant feature of these landscapes.

But just before we reached Corrigin, the comfort of the day's travel thus far suffered a decided setback. "What the hell is that, ahead of us, Lizzie?  It looks like smoke."

It was, thick cloying smoke, an accumulation of several days of stubble burn off which had obviously been trapped in a temperature inversion.

There was no escape for many kilometres. The only thing which altered was the density. In a number of spots safety demanded a speed reduction to no more than 30 kph.

Looking out over some of the passing paddocks one could be forgiven for thinking we were in the depths of a foggy winter's day. We were just very glad we knew that the source of all this smoke was not an approaching bushfire.

Finally, after quite some distance, we drove out of this horrid pall of smoke and emerged into clean air.  The majestic stand of gums lining the highway on the outskirts of Corrigin was a welcome sight.

Another 100 kms to the west along the Brookton Highway and our destination hove into view. This had been a relatively easy day's driving notwithstanding the challenge of the smoke screen and we were looking forward to seeing what Brookton had to offer.

Within no time we were negotiating the Stan Wall Memorial Entrance to the Brookton recreational grounds, the location of the Shire owned Brookton Caravan Park.

Obviously at this point we did not stop to read the plaque, but when I did so later I was quite surprised to find that this significant memorial was built to honour the service of the officer in charge of the Brookton Police District for 20 years.

I'll let the words of the plaque speak for themselves.  Naturally I was delighted to find that the good folk of Brookton had gone to the effort to acknowledge a real pillar of their community, unlike so many others where the good work of the local bobbies often goes unrecognised and unheralded.  Of course, I have to admit to just a touch of professional bias in this regard! 

Past the memorial entrance we drove, on towards the impressive buildings of the Brookton rec centre and our overnight lodging spot, which, at first glimpse was less than entirely inspiring.....

all bitumen no less.

But as we have learnt over the months, we take what we can get, and in this case it turned out to be much more than first appearances promised. Our site was level and there was no need to unhitch. The weather was mild so we did not suffer from reflected heat, and,

this quaint, practical little park boasted one of the best ablution facilities we have ever come across. Individual bathrooms, fully equipped with a shower alcove which would grace any home, toilet and washing basin of equal standard, and all spotlessly clean....a traveller's delight. What a totally unexpected and delightful  surprise this was.

The resident caretaker, George, a retired merchant navy seaman and local ambulance driver (amongst many other things) lives on site in a van surrounded by a very impressive above ground veggie garden and brilliant splash of bougainvillea colour.  We and George got on famously. He is a real wag and a bottomless pit of interesting local yarns.

George is also a man of a decidedly colourful turn of phrase. In the late afternoon of our stay Liz spied what she described as the 'ugliest woman she had even seen'.  I roused myself from whatever I had been doing at the time...."Er, Lizzie, I think you'll find that isn't a woman." "But she/he, is wearing a skirt and blouse......and stockings"  I quietly shook my head......what a sheltered life my dear spouse has led, and this after most of it spent in the nursing game.

When later chatting to George about the vagaries of at least one of his permanent park residents, he rolled his eyes and commented, "Ah, you've seen the 'cock in the frock' have you?" Somewhat crude as this description may have been, I cracked up. There are very few Australian turns of phrase with which I am unfamiliar, but this was a first.  Liz tells me it was actually first used in the film 'Priscilla Queen of the Desert' but I had no recall of it.  Our man would have fitted right in......each to his - her (?) own!

I'll share our later walking tour around Brookton with you in my next missive.  

For now, it was time to enjoy glimpses of a brilliant crimson sunset through the park trees, reflect our our day, break out our pre-planned pasta meal and retire for the evening. 

THE NOT SO MAGIC LAKE, THE RESORT AND THE INEVITABLE TOURIST TRAPS OF WAVE ROCK (29 MARCH 2015)

Lake Magic. The very name promises something special. Unfortunately, for us, the promise and the reality were quite different.

Only a couple of kilometres north of Wave Rock, the highly saline waters of this lake lie over a bed of gypsum surrounded by a sandy shoreline. To quote directly from one of the brochures...."Perfectly reflecting the sunset clouds, this picturesque salt lake provides an ideal spot for relaxing. This is also the site of several idyllic swimming holes and the Wave Rock Resort where 14 self contained cottages are near the lake." 

As you saw in my last missive, we had see the surface of the lake shimmering in the distance from our vantage point atop Hyden Rock

but when we arrived lakeside we discovered that the remaining water was covering but half of the normal surface area of this pond, and the 'sandy beaches' were brown, muddy flats. The forlorn looking canoe at the water's edge did not hold any appeal as an aquatic plaything given that just reaching it would involve wading across metres of mud.

I am sure that had we been here a week or so later, after the area was inundated with something in the order of 100 mils of rain, the lake may well have presented a completely different picture, but as it was we did not bother to attempt to watch a sunset reflected in what was left of its waters.

But there is no doubt the Wave Rock Resort is nearby as told. Its buildings can just be seen here at the far right of the shot (look closely!)

As we drove into the resort complex, we gained the distinct impression that this is very much a 'work in progress'.

Some of its fourteen cabins which line the bare dirt roadways have grass laid at the front, many others are yet to be so graced.

And, looking at the rear of the group, there is no doubt that this is a place 'to get away from it all', preferably in a 4WD if the weather was wet.

But, at the risk of having sounded perhaps just a touch sniffy, I should point out that, in typical Hyden style, this project is being driven by three local farmers who have pooled their funds and are developing this resort to complement the existing Wave Rock infrastructure. Good on them! 

And then, another real surprise.....an amphitheatre and covered stage area behind the cottages.  We were even more surprised to discover later that this is already the venue for karaoke evenings in the bush. Now that's enterprising and something really different!

We had read earlier about the construction of the local airport to cater for those with the wherewithal to fly in to visit The Rock. This too is obviously undergoing a make-over, with impressive results. The new airport terminal building would not look out of place in a much larger country town.

But there are still the reminders of the more than humble beginnings of the Wave Rock tourist venture to be seen, even in the new terminal building. The faded sign over the windscreen of this dated Dodge announces 'Waverock Tours'.  What fun it must have been banging across the tracks of the area in this old box of a bus. This was a fascinating reminder of just how far the development of the local tourist infrastructure has come since 1964.

The landscape between The Rock and The Resort is nothing if not stark. 

Like so much of Western Australia, the widespread removal of trees as part of the farm based land clearance schemes has resulted in a dramatic rise in the water table and resultant salt damage to the soil. These vast and dreary salt plains, devoid of all but the hardiest of vegetation, might have a bleak beauty of their own, but they are a testament to the foolishness of much of the earlier farming practices.  In fact at the moment salt degradation covers over 11% of the WA wheat belt lands. This is expected to rise to a staggering 30% before the natural equilibrium can be restored. The potential cost of the resultant lost production is mind-boggling.

As a part of the overall efforts to redress this stupidity, an intensive restoration programme is currently underway to redirect water flows and revegetate the Camm River area around Hyden Rock.  Part from the commonsense in doing so, this is actually the outer edge of the Avon River catchment, the river which eventually becomes The Swan.

After our venture out to The Resort, it was time to see what was on offer much closer to home.

Opposite the entrance to the Wave Rock caravan park, is the large sign announcing The Resort (with appropriate directional arrows) The Wave Rock Cafe and other 'tourist attractions', all of which, oddly enough, require the payment of an entrance fee.

This row of buildings along the small roadway which runs parallel to the main entrance road, 

houses the Tourist Information Centre with its fascinatingly cluttered interior

and the tables and chairs of the Wave Rock Cafe.

From what we could see on offer at the sharp end of the cafe area, its reputation as a purveyor of fine food at reasonable prices seemed reasonable, but we did not need to avail ourselves of their services. Our larder was well stocked and the treasury was not overflowing. Can anyone put in a word to the Reserve Bank Board about interest rates?

It is from this building that those so inclined may access the adjacent Wildlife Park.

From what we had seen from the perimeter fence, this did not hold much appeal for us despite the claims that it had been recently upgraded and that the newly installed "special animal homes allow visitors to interact with wombats, white kangaroos and see native animals in their native environment". Mind you, we had no difficulty imagining the draw card  this would be for those visiting from foreign shores, particularly those suffering from the disappointment of not having seen kangaroos in the main streets!

Similarly we were disinclined to visit the limited collection of 'old stuff' in Pioneer Town, nor were we particularly interested in the "largest collection of lace in Australia" to be viewed in the Jarrah cabinets of the Lace Place.

Nor did we feel the need to part with our coin of the realm to ogle at the "over 10,000 pieces that have been collected over the past 80 years" in the Toy Soldier Collection which is housed in this Military Display building alongside a toy train and doll collection, an early classroom and the Rabbit Proof Fence display.

We are great believers in the concept of value adding, but could not help finding it odd that folk who come to see Wave Rock are obviously inclined to then toddle off and spend time and money looking at displays which are available in so many other parts of the country. I guess for those with limited disposable holiday time, this does mean that they can leave The Rock informed and entertained in more than one way.

Again, I have no intention of being be harshly critical of this endeavour. It is yet another demonstration of the enterprise of the local tourist development group, folk who clearly know how to 'get off their butts' and get things done, but it all seemed just a touch incongruous located as it is alongside one of the great natural phenomena of this country.

We had enjoyed our time at Wave Rock. The excellent caravan park, the magnificence of the nearby granite outcrops, The Wave, and Hippos Yawn had all more than met our expectations. And we had been able to watch the Aussies winning the World Cup...on a big screen no less!  

What a weekend it had been, but it was now time to think about our return to the 'big smoke' before retracing our steps north along the coast to reach Cararvon for Anzac Day.