And through the tulgey wood it came...
Granted, I didn't see any jabberwocks, but I felt sure they were there as I walked up the road to the Valley of Giants. I had traveled from Perth to Albany, a small town in Western Australia, to traverse the famous elevated walkway through the tingle tree forest. In Albany, I rented a car to and drove the 100 km to Walpole-Narnalup National Park only to find it closed. Gasp! What terrible planning on my part! But, unwilling to admit defeat after venturing so far, I ventured yet further and trespassed in a national park. I know: my new-found rebel status shocks me sometimes, too. My thrilling life of crime may be late-begun, but I think the Australian authorities saw it coming considering certain events that day.
Earlier, at the airport in Perth, I was randomly selected to be screened for bomb materials. A middle-aged man flagged me down and led me to a cash-register-sized machine on a folding table; I could sense the seriousness of this procedure as he handed me a laminated sheet and stowed away the Krispy Kremes. (Aussies are crazy for Krisy Kremes!) The instructions explained that I was suspected of being a deviant and only a thorough poking with a bomb-detector would prove my innocence. I consented and he cheerfully commenced the prodding. I passed. But something still didn't sit right with the law because on my way to the park I was pulled over (on the left side of the road) to participate in a random breathalyzer test. I don't think these policemen had ever met anyone so excited to be pulled over! The whole experience added charm to my bizarro-world driving adventure, and they let me keep the mouthpiece after I blew a 0.0. (Clarky* the swimming saftey platypus says "Good job, Sarah!")
So the Aussie cops had the right idea about me but the wrong crimes. My villainy came later, as the sun set and I walked through a forest I should have paid $8 to see. The tingle trees towered above me, painted pink by the setting sun; the air was sweet with the taste of them. I crawled inside a particularly large tree with a gash in its base and listened to the oceanic rumbling of the wind through the leaves. The world was so quiet that even the rustling of my backpack was startling; the trees whispered, always seeming to fall quiet when I turned to look. This place definitely gave me tingles! The complete lack of humans combined with the company of such an imposing expanse of woodland was powerful and precious.
However, the tranquility morphed into spookiness about the same time that the sun set...go figure. So I scampered back to my rental car and drove to the "town" of Walpole. My hostel turned out to be little more than a glorified trailer park; sadly, I did not rank a double-wide. All facilities were outdoors, and I appeared to be the only guest. When I asked about food I was directed to the local gas station which "should be open if [I] hurr[ied]." After stocking up on delicious junk food, I returned to my trailer to enjoy the one luxury it could offer: a space-heater! For the first time since returning to Australia I was blissfully warm and ensconced in my own room with comfort food. Ah, joy!
The next time I awoke at the mythical time of 5am and drove back towards Albany. Who knew people could do that? Huh. Along the way I pulled off to a beach called Peaceful Bay to watch the sun rise. It was, as promised, quite peaceful. I crouched on a shadowed sand dune while the sturdy roots of beach grasses dangled from above. The massive carcasses of seaweed monsters lay beached along the shore; seaguls fought over their bodies and drunkenly dipped and twisted through the air. Slowly, the sun began peeking over the clouds.
I realized then that I had touched every ocean except those at the poles. How did the Indian Ocean compare to the sunny Pacific or the yawning Atlantic? From where I sat, I was at first inclined to say it was more peaceful: the waves at Peaceful Bay were breaking far out from the beach making the waters more like caresses than waves. But that was just the lay of the land in this area. What was the character of the whole ocean? The more I thought, the more I noticed that everything touched by the Indian Ocean is exotic, feral with its own beauty. The scented shores of India, the wilds of the African coast, and the green splendor of Western Australia all made the character of the Indian Ocean something truly unique.
All told, I spent a little under a day in the Albany area. But in those few hours Western Australia became my favorite corner of the continent, and I can't help feeling that I will return someday.
*Clarky can be seen in public service announcements on late-night television (in between the one phone sex ad that keeps repeating).
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