Tingling and whaling

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Taking my cue from a map in the hostel depicting interesting sights in the area, I made a beeline for Mount Frankland, a modest peak (~400m) about 30km north of Walpole that apparently offered a commanding view of the countryside. It didn't seem as though anyone had done the hiking trail that circled its base for many moons, judging by the amount of vegetation that had grown over the path. Not for the first time, I was to regret not bringing my machete from home.

The view from the top consisted of trees in all directions.

I then paid a visit to Circular Pool, into which some gentle rapids flowed, but it was otherwise roundly unremarkable.

There was a big thrill of anticipation, a massive frisson in fact, as I approached the Giant Tingle tree. Many tingle trees have a hollowed out base, either due to fire or attack by insects or a virus, and this one has such a large hole (created by fire) that in times gone by it was a popular photo opportunity to park one's car in there. Subsequent advances in biology determined that the tingle has a very shallow root system, hence driving motor vehicles around its base was unlikely to prolong its life, so cars are now banned though people aren't.

I was quite taken with tingle trees, mainly because of their name, and it was something of a disappointment to find out that the name comes from the Aboriginal rather than any particular sensation caused by the tree. However my next destination, the Valley of the Giants, gave me the opportunity to see a lot more of them.

The most famous item in the Valley of the Giants is not actually a living thing - it's the Tree Top Walk, a set of connected metal walkways through the tingle and karri canopy that enables you to see forest life 40m up in the air at close(r) quarters. The whole complex cost $1.8 million but there had already been over a million visitors (paying $6 a pop) in its first 6 years, thus demonstrating its ability to pull in the crowds. A favourable write-up in Bill Bryson's "Down Under", something of a set text for Australia-bound Europeans, probably helped too. The walkways were deliberately designed to sway with the motion of the walkers, so mirroring the way the trees move with the wind, producing an effect that is slightly disconcerting for those of us not enamoured of heights. I didn't actually see any birds or animals but it did provide a different perspective on things, especially via the see-through walkway floor.

Right next to the Tree Top Walk was the ground-level Ancient Empire trail, a forested route taking in a few more hollow-based tingles. I would have bought some postcards from the Visitors Centre but every single one depicting trees also included a gurning holidaymaker or two (presumably for reasons of scale comparison).

Further stops at Green's Pool (a very pleasant sheltered cove that belied the fierce breakers at the mouth of the inlet), Elephant Rocks (some large rocks clustered together in a vaguely pachyderm fashion), and Denmark (biscuit way-station) broke up the journey to Albany, which was to mark the furthest east I would come on this trip. Albany seemed like a sprawling city compared with the places I'd been passing through recently - it was actually the first colonial settlement in Western Australia, though currently only has ~33,000 inhabitants.

My chosen hostel was more of a lodge than a hostel, which sure enough translated to it being cheap, clean and well-maintained, as well as devoid of other backpackers. They even had a TV with SBS, which boded well for some World Cup football watching, especially when I was told by the lady at reception (who turned out to be one of the other guests doing a favour for the temporary receptionist, who herself was spending her holiday standing in for the usual receptionist who was a friend of hers) that no-one else in the place generally used the set. Apart from a bunch of English backpackers who turned up for the second night I was there, the only other resident was a sour-looking lady who paraded around the lodge wearing what she presumably called clothes but what I would have called a negligee.

After an evening (eating) in the local pub, I returned to the lodge to attempt to watch the World Cup opening ceremony and first match. Unfortunately, through the window of the TV room, I could see that person or persons unknown was/were watching a video, which continued well into the following morning. It's a bit annoying that someone chooses to spend their Friday night/Saturday morning watching "Coyote Ugly" when more important events are afoot in the world.

The next day dawned dull and chilly, with occasional rain. There were a host of attractions laid out on Frenchman's Bay Road that I spent much of the day exploring. The Gap and the Natural Bridge would have been interesting except that I've already seen similar things elsewhere in Australia. The Blowholes had more potential, and did in fact sound like an approaching jet from 50 yards away, but the sea wasn't heavy enough to add any visual to the audio.

Shortly before Frenchman's Bay was Whaleworld, a converted whaling station (the last one in Australia, closed down only in 1978) that's now a museum and memorial to all things cetacean. I must say it was extremely interesting, with many of the whaling station buildings having only been slightly adapted to effect their reincarnation as exhibits. The guided tour (included in the ticket cost but you can explore the site independently) had been imaginatively created, with the guide's commentary being augmented by tape-recorded descriptions at different locations in the complex as well as sound-effects of various whale-processing activities.

As I think most people might suspect, the processing of dead whales was a pretty grim business all round. Photos from the era show workers in just a pair of shorts and cleated boots, clambering over whale carcasses on a platform awash with blood and whale bits. The stench was apparently something else. When the whaling ships were towing carcasses to the processing factory, packs of sharks would often move in for a free feed. Since each bite taken out of the whale could be worth in the region of $100, the workers would shoot the sharks then cut them open to retrieve any undigested pieces of whale.

The whaling fleet at Albany had been 3-strong at the finish, and one of the vessels - the Cheynes IV - is beached in the middle of the complex and can be boarded. I was surprised to find a connection with home - 2 of the 3 whalers in the fleet were built at Smith's Dock in South Bank near Middlesbrough, where my (late) Uncle Eric used to work.

I saw an interesting newspaper article about situations that the whaler sonar operators had encountered. Sometimes the whales would respond to the sonar just out of curiosity, other times they would realise what was happening and, when they were beginning to run out of air, would "swear" at the operator because they knew what awaited them when they surfaced. There were other instances of whales not surfacing for over 3 hours, even though 2 hours was supposedly the maximum time for which they could hold their breath. Similarly, there were tales of whales being cut open and (dead) creatures found inside them that lived at lower depths than whales were supposed to be able to dive. I also learned that whales that surfaced quickly from a great depth would have corrugated skin as a result.

In a display about the history of the station, there was a macabre story about the harpoon operator on one of the ships accidentally taking his leg off at the knee. In what must pass as a schoolboy error in the world of harpooning, he stood with one foot inside the coil of harpoon rope, fired the harpoon, then fell over. I can't even think what would be the equivalent mistake in the software engineering domain.

My favourite item of whale trivia concerned the fin whale. It is apparently one of a very few species of mammal that are consistently asymmetrically coloured, being white on the right hand side of the lower jaw but black on the left. This is thought to be associated with the way that fins like to "herd" fish into a school before feeding.

Naturally the town had something of a pro-whaling slant, and there was significant local resentment when the station was closed down. It's not recorded what the whales' view on this was but, in the 26 years that the station was active over 14,500 whales were processed, so I suspect they were glad to see the back of it.

My final stop of the day was at Misery Beach, mainly because Misery was one of my work nicknames (presumably ironic, given my bubbly nature). I have no idea why the beach had earned this name, as it seemed pleasant enough.

An evening of tedious football ensued, with the only possible reaction to the England-Paraguay and Sweden-Trinidad & Tobago games being an immediate march towards the bedroom.

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Photos

Humpback whale baleen
Close-up

Mount Frankland
The ascent

Mount Frankland
The ascent

Tingle tree base
Hollowed out by either a virus or fire

Giant Tingle tree
In which people used to park their cars