Johnny Rotto

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Rottnest Island - or Rotto, as it is known with typical Australian brevity - lies off the coast of Fremantle and is famous for its large population of quokkas. Quokkas are small marsupials with rat-like features, and the Dutch sailors who named the island initially thought that they actually were rats hence the island's name, which is from the Dutch for "rats' nest". Rotto's accommodation was undergoing some major refurbishment so I was forced to stay in a cabin rather than a dorm. The cost wasn't prohibitive but it did mean I had more beds than I needed - though if I'd had the foresight to plan a sixsome then everyone would have had their own place to sleep afterwards.

The journey there involved catching a ferry to Fremantle then changing to another one for Rotto. Since the earliest you can get to the island is about 10:30AM, and the last ferry back is at about 4:30PM, you really need to spend a night there in order to see the place properly. Not to mention that night-time is when the quokkas tend to come out in force.

Apart from the numerous beds, the cabin is equipped with a bathroom and kitchen, plus all cutlery/crockery. Slightly more confusing is the lack of sheets (though there are pillows and blankets), tea towels, washing up paraphernalia, and matches (for the gas hob), though the well-stocked general store was able to rustle up the latter.

Rotto is fairly flat and has virtually no motorised traffic, so travelling by bicycle is the most obvious and pleasant mode of transport. I hired a mountain bike, which was the first time I'd ridden in ages, and had a thoroughly enjoyable few hours doing a circuit of the island, with the beaming sun offset by the cooling sea breeze. Though there were no sights with an enormous wow factor, I liked Geordie Bay and Lake Baghdad (no idea ...) for their names.

I encountered a number of quokkas during the day. They're clearly used to humans, and the ones living in the area near the main settlement seem especially unconcerned. In fact, many of them hang around the restaurants looking for scraps, often hopping around under the tables unbeknownst to the diners. Dusk is when they're at their most active. The residents of a neighbouring cabin were having an evening barbecue, and an army of quokkas could be seen lurking at the fringes of the barbecue area, expecting dinner. I tried to get some ground-level shots of one of the little quokkas, but it clearly assumed that my camera was actually a tasty treat and kept approaching faster than I could focus on it.

I should probably have mentioned this earlier, but better late than never. Banana prices in Australia are at an all-time high, courtesy of Cyclone Larry destroying most of the Queensland banana crop back in March - this meant that more than 80% of Australia's total crop was ruined. As a result, especially with bananas being Australia's most popular fruit, prices have risen to 4 or 5 times their pre-cyclone levels. Banana-growing areas such as Carnarvon in Western Australia, which previously were only producing a small percentage of the total crop, have now taken on massive importance. There have been tales of banana theft from plantations, and even rumours of shops in cities putting up signs saying "No bananas are kept on premises at night." For the usual pest-related/protectionist reasons, Australia doesn't allow imported bananas, which is why this wouldn't be that big a deal anywhere else in the world.

The following morning, I was shocked into full wakefulness by noticing that a massive cockroach had joined me in the shower, clinging to the curtain. An accurate flick with my towel got it on the floor, where I was able to grind it up enough with my flip flop to get it down the plughole.

The island provided a complementary luggage pick-up, so I didn't have to worry about my rucksack for the rest of the day.

I explored some of the island's interior, with my first stop being Oliver Hill, site of a 9.2" gun battery from World War 2. It's the only battery in Australia still in existence - all the others were sold for scrap after the war, but this one was too unwieldy to easily get off the island. I then visited the highest point on Rotto, which not surprisingly was the site of the Wadjemup lighthouse.

I spent the afternoon sitting in a cafe writing postcards. A quokka sidled up to my table, clearly looking for some leftovers from my lunch. I thought this was cute until, after it moved on, I noticed a couple of freshly-laid turds inches away from my bag.

The ferry back to the mainland appeared to be full of French secondary school students. After briefly pondering why this was, I plodded wearily o'er the city to the Rainbow Lodge hostel in East Perth, which I'd chosen for the night because of its proximity to the Greyhound station. I was informed by the guy on reception that it was a young hostel but shouldn't be too noisy on a Sunday night, which made me wonder just how old I look (presumably my age). It's the cheapest dorm yet ($15) and a surprisingly spacious 8-bedder, however the facilities are strictly YHA - the 1 men's toilet has a ludicrous pair of saloon-style swing doors.

The reception warned me not to get food nearby, as apparently there were gangs around and there had been a couple of "incidents", so after a frustrating 20 minutes on the treacle-like free Internet I headed back to one of my usual haunts in Northbridge. A couple of football matches later, including a barely deserved victory by Brazil over Australia, I was in bed, with my bus adventure up the west coast due to begin in the morning.

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Photos

You are here
And this is how your bum feels because you haven't cycled for years