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Published: December 20th 2010
With a tent under our arms and a handbag stuffed with underwear we arrived into Fremantle station. The liberation of leaving Britannia Backpackers still surging through us. It was 11pm and a dark station and empty streets greeted us as did a sense of excitement. The clarity of the moment enhanced by the fact we didn't know where to go or where we would sleep. This was us again. We had just agreed to buy a car and had left the daily cycle of Britannia Backpackers. We were travelling again.
We had heard there was a campsite around 'Freo', as the locals call it, but at this time of night there were no buses and we had no idea where it was. We asked a 'hippie' looking lady where we could camp who replied "I just used to camp in the dunes". Brilliant, I've had enough of paying for things, let's just go and camp in the dunes. So we took a taxi to South Beach, where the lady had advised, and scuttled off to the dunes. We pitched up in view of the sea and out of view of everyone else, under a blanket of stars. Too bad the
blanket wasn't on us as, despite sleeping in all our clothes, we had a freezing cold night curled up together. We gratefully woke with the warming sun and as we unzipped the door of our tent we were greeted by a perfect beach scene. People jogging up and down the long white bay. Neighbours passing each other on their brisk walks "G'day Jeff"..."How's it going". And cold blooded old people swimming in the icy sea. It was like we had woken on the set of The Truman Show. Could they see us?, we could see them, but not an eye was batted at the sight of us packing our tent away. Crazy but brilliant.
I was full of spirit that we had camped for free but couldn't face another night that cold. We would have to find a duvet.
Still cold and sporting a 'socks and flip flops' look, we walked through the quiet, very early morning streets of 'Freo'. With bags under our eyes and scattered hair we felt rather dirty for the experience but with the tent safely tucked under our arms a mischievous inner warmth came from the fact that we had done it. We
may well look scruffy and be carrying a tent around at 6am but we could go about our day as normal citizens now. Hell we could even afford to buy a few things.
Bouyed by coffee and cake at a small cafe, and still trying to warm up, we walked the rather long four kilometres into the town centre in no time. The port town of Fremantle, twenty minutes by train from Perth, had instantly endeared us. There was a relaxed, playful atmosphere created by its cafes and bars dispersed around green parks with the sea in touching distance. Almost like Aldeburgh but a lot hotter. They even sold fish & chips from the harbour.
Having bought a thick, queen size duvet from the supermarket we had completed the look. Han had the tent and I carried a huge duvet under my arms, shameless in the knowledge that it was most certainly needed to spend more nights free camping. Looking more homeless than home's best we partook in a Friday night in Fremantle. Fish & chips on the beach for sunset and then a beer at the heaving 'Little Creatures' brewery. All the rage at the moment in
'Freo' the brewery served tasty beers, but at $9 a pint we couldn't stay long. It was then time to walk the long walk back to South Beach where a free camping bliss awaited us.
With a duvet to warm us we were able to have a good nights sleep. By mid-morning it was hot enough to be sunbathing on Bathers Bay beach where we spent most of the afternoon. It was hot but the sea was not. We both had very brief dips in the Indian ocean but we wouldn't be getting back into the Australian sea until we were a lot further north. We had a picnic lunch in the shaded park, where by chance a football came to me. The recipient of my pass back commented on my Norwich top that I was wearing. He was from Suffolk and the conversation got narrowed down to the fact that we both went to Debenham High School. He said "you'll probably know Chris Marais, Seth Saunders, Lewi Youngson". "Lewi Youngson...that's me!". Turns out he was in year seven when I was in year eleven and remembered us for wedgy'ing him and his friend. "Ah Lewi Youngson...always wore Helly
Hansen jacket and played football". I still couldn't remember who he was. "Will Ray...who was that". It wasn't until later I faintly remembered him as a small kid. We were both a lot different now. "Lewi Youngson...but you've got a beard?". A small world!
After three days in 'Freo' we became acquainted with the free CAT bus that shuttles between South Beach and around the town centre. We then used it to ferry us and all our sleeping possessions to the various ATM's, supermarket and then back to South Beach. It was a hot Sunday afternoon and with a picnic and a cheap bottle of bubbles we decided to go to 'Southy' (Aussies love their abbreviations) as we had only seen it as our quiet camp spot by night. In the blaze of the Sunday sun, the grassed foreshore was awash with families and couples enjoying themselves. It was only early spring and yet it was thirty degrees with the ever present 'Fremantle doctor' - cooling breeze. What a place to live. We ate bread and homous, drank sparkling wine and played with an Aussie Rules football we had bought for a dollar. When in Rome!
Fremantle had
been a holiday from all the van/car stress. A unique town worthy of a holiday in itself. It has that mad, spontaneous feel. A place where you would meet someone you wedgied ten years ago. Everyone there seems to be in the right place at the right time. And why wouldn't you be in Fremantle. The sun shines, the beers flow and they even have a successful football team. Shame it's the wrong type of football hey.
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