Tag Archives: History

A Day on Rottnest Island

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Monday 5 August 2024 – Today was the only formal item on our Perth agenda – we had a booking to catch the ferry over to Rottnest Island. This seems a cruel piece of naming to me; I’m sure there must be rottner islands elsewhere in the world. Indeed, there’s one on the fringes of London which has completely gone to the Dogs.

The item on our Audley itinerary was described as a “tour and bike ride”, with bicycle hire included in the booking, and a day at leisure on the island with just a lunch included. Jane professes not to have ridden a bicycle for longer than she cares to mention (and in fact had signalled this to Audley some time back in the trip’s planning process).  Also, given that wildlife was part of the attraction of the place, I wanted to take The Big Lens (which is also darned heavy); as well, I thought it might be possible, during our leisurely progress round the island, to whizz the drone up for a different view point.  This added two non-trivial items to be lugged about along with all the other stuff we’d need – sunscreen, water, that kind of thing.  Jane’s caution about bicycling, and the extra baggage from my photographic ambitions, gave us to decide to pass up on the bicycling idea and seek other ways of getting round the island. That, therefore, was the plan.

As Hannibal Smith so often said, “I love it when a plan comes together”.  Ours, however, didn’t.

Not in any way that detracted from an enjoyable day, you understand, but the way the day worked out was quite different from what I, at least, had expected.

We were to be collected at a nearby crossroads, so we made sure to get there nice and early, as instructed. By the appointed pick-up time, no-one had appeared to collect us, so we fell to wondering how long we should give them before stirring things up a bit.  Just at the point where we thought that Someone Had Blundered, a bus marked “Rottnest Express” did actually turn up, so we climbed on board and took about the last two available seats – it was quite crowded. The bus then took us down to the Barrack Street Quay (to which we could have quite easily walked, as it happens, but never mind) and we joined the check-in queue to collect our tickets.  It was at about this point that we began to realise that the shape of the day was different from what we’d imagined. For sure, lunch was included; but we also had an afternoon bus tour as part of our package, with no mention of bicycles. Having collected our tickets, we headed for the ferry,

which was already pretty much full, but we found a couple of seats, settled ourselves down and then we were off.

There was the usual video about safety and life jackets, with frequent mentions of the “friendly crew” to whom we could turn if we needed help. And there was a commentary, delivered as we pottered along the Swan river (originally Black Swan river, named by Dutch explorer Willem de Vlamingh in 1697) towards Fremantle, by a lady who appeared only to have received the script a couple of moments before she had to deliver it. The commentary, though, allowed us to understand some of the landmarks we passed, such as the old Swan Brewery

which, back in the day, had produced Swan Lager, one of only about half a dozen different beers readily available in Australia when I first visited back in the 1980s (others being Castlemaine XXXX, Tooheys, Victoria Bitter and, of course, the amber nectar of Fosters. Ah, the heady days before the craft beer movement had taken off!)

We got a silhouetted view of the Perth skyline

and passed a couple of pretty impressive mansions

that either still belonged, or used to belong, to people whose names meant absolutely nothing to me. And we got a good view of the industrial port by North Fremantle.

The ferry docked at Fremantle to pick up more passengers (the nice lady doing the commentary told us all to shuffle up to make room) and then the boat roared off towards Rottnest Island.

The main wildlife of interest on the Island, and something that Jane specifically wanted to see, was the quokka. There was some video on the ferry about how it was important not to disturb them or to feed them. I had no idea what to expect when it came to getting photos of this mysterious beast, which is why I’d brought the Big Lens, in case I could only see one in the distance. This is another way in which the day turned out very differently from my expectations.  As we walked off the quay, I saw my first quokka, by a “Welcome” noticeboard.

and it very soon became clear that it would not be difficult to see more of them. They were everywhere in the settlement beside the harbour. Indeed, you had to be careful not to trip over them.

You also had to be careful not to trip over all the people who were contorting themselves in various undignified ways to get photos and – inevitably – selfies with the quokkas.  It actually made it quite difficult to get a photo of one of these beasts without any people in it.  I did manage a couple, though. One quokka was still carrying a joey in its pouch

and was actually considerate enough to pose so I could get a clearer shot.

The area around the settlement, which has a shop, a visitors centre, a restaurant and a bakery, was pretty crowded with tourists,

many of whom were having their own moments with the quokkas,

and gulls and ravens,

which could lunge for any food which was not closely guarded.

The instructions about the quokkas were perfectly clear

but the beasts themselves didn’t make things any easier for the punters.

Instead of the leisurely pottering about we had originally expected, we actually had a reasonably tight schedule to observe: lunch at midday, bus tour at 1.45pm, ferry back to Perth at 4pm. This gave us time for a coffee and a short walk before lunch, so we headed off towards the nearby lakes, which are salt lakes.

There’s vegetation regeneration work going on on the banks of the lakes, to help preserve the environment.

On the way, we came across a Laughing Turtle Dove, which is very prettily coloured,

and, in an area by the lakes, I managed to get a photo of a quokka in a more natural-looking setting,

and Jane got a cute photo of one having a bit of a sleep (they’re described as semi-nocturnal, whatever that means).

Their natural food is vegetation, and they particularly like the paler-coloured fallen leaves from the Moreton Bay fig trees around the settlement.

Human food is bad for them, which is why (a) there are the stern instructions not to feed them and (b) why the ones near the settlement live half as long as those further out in the island.  There are plenty of those – there are tens of thousands of quokkas on the island, making it the largest known colony; their success is due to the absence of natural predators and the exclusion of introduced ones – steps have been taken to remove cats, dogs and foxes.

Back at the settlement, as well as a decent lunch at Frankie’s, I got a couple of photos of the non-quokka wildlife which is profuse around the settlement: Australian Ravens,

which are noisy, with a call sounding about half way between an annoyed cat and a squalling baby; and silver gulls, which don’t necessarily get on well with each other.

I also managed to get a shot of a mother quokka with a joey

which I think was trying to climb back into its pouch, but mamma was having none of it and wandered off in search of food, with the joey chasing after.

After lunch, we hopped on board our Discovery Tour bus, with guide Leo and driver Sam

and were driven anticlockwise round the periphery of the island whilst Leo gave an interesting commentary, interspersed with some very bad jokes. It was our opportunity to learn something of the history of the island, which is somewhat chequered.

  • The island became detached from the mainland about 7,000 years ago when sea levels rose; before that time it was inhabited by the Noongar people.
  • The name Rottnest was conferred by Willem de Vlamingh, who first documented the island in 1696.  He saw the quokkas as large rats and called it “Rat’s Nest” Island, but in Dutch – Rottnest. The island’s aboriginal Noongar name is Wadjemup – “The Place Across the Water Where the Spirits Are”. The Perth locals, predictably, call it “Rotto”.
  • From 1838 to 1931, the island was used as a prison and forced labour camp for over 3,600 Aboriginal people, who were subjected to extremely harsh conditions on the island.
  • Other historical uses of the island include as a military site, and for internment camps housing enemy aliens during the world wars. Many of the island’s buildings date from the colonial period, often made from locally quarried limestone, and are now used as accommodation for holidays.
  • This accommodation came in handy as a quarantine facility during the Covid pandemic.
  • During World War II, two 9.2 inch guns were installed near the middle of the island at Oliver Hill, and two 6 inch guns installed at Bickley Point, for defence of the Fremantle port. The location of the island was seen as being important to the defense of the important port of Fremantle, the major base for the Allies in the Indian Ocean, as bombardment of any attacking ships could be made from the island before the ships would come into range of the port. In the 1990s, the (decommissioned) gun emplacements were extensively reconstructed, and since then a popular tourist activity has included a tour of the guns and the tunnels.

In many areas around the island there’s growth of seagrass, which is important for the integrity of the sea floor as well as for marine life. The seagrass areas can be seen as the dark areas,

with the paler areas being sand.  Anchoring a boat among the seagrass is forbidden and offenders are subject to a large fine.

There are other nice views on the trip around the island, with some secluded and empty beaches (some are less secluded and more popular among bathers).

From a headland on the far south of the island, Leo pointed out that the next landfall to the east was Adelaide, about 2,000km away, and to the west was Madagascar – 7,000km distant. Also around the southern point, there’s an osprey’s nest which is several decades old.

There was even an osprey on it.

The osprey seems to be some kind of an icon for the island; a board by the jetty says “Follow The Osprey”, and the trails are marked with a rather nicely-imagined osprey outline.

We stopped for a 20-minute break at the far western point of the island, where we could get some shots of the scenery, which had another osprey nest and some great rock formations,

and I got a nice clear photo of a silver gull.

I’d like to say how tricky this shot was, but I’d be lying; it was just hovering there before coming in to land.

After the tour, we just had time for a swift beer

before boarding the ferry for the return journey.

So, the day had had a very different pattern from what we’d been expecting, but was enjoyable and interesting nonetheless. I don’t know if Audley had taken Jane’s reservations about bicycles on board and had altered the booking, but it’s certainly true that the information we had was largely

a quokka shit. Jane insists on taking credit for that one. No matter; we had a good day and we got to see the quokkas.

The morrow is our final day in Perth.  We have no formal plans, but I expect we’ll think of something. You’ll have to return to these pages to find out what that was, won’t you?

 

Day 4 – Santiago de Compostela

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Wednesday 1 May 2024 – The target for the day was to retrieve the panzer from its car park spot, use it to get us to Santiago Airport (via A Thing To See that Jane had identified as a diversion for us) and thence be wafted to our hotel in downtown Santiago on a pre-booked taxi.  We achieved much of this, though not entirely without incident.

Our first concern was that someone or something might have damaged the tank in the car park, but all seemed fine when we got to it. The two days’ parking charge was a princely €12, which I’d say is remarkably cheap for parking inside the walls of an ancient Roman city.

The first incident concerned getting out of Lugo.  Whilst we were wandering around, we noticed that there was a huge amount of road maintenance/repair/upgrade work going on.  While I suppose it’s good that crappy old roads are being upgraded, the result looks a bit like this.

It’s a lovely smooth surface, but it seems a bit sterile in the context of the traditional buildings that surround it. The combination of frequent roadworks and such surfaces also means, as we found out, that such a surface gives the tank driver no clue as to where the nearest route might be that would enable him to squeeze out through the walls. Satnavs were of no use, as the brand new roadworks perpetually conflcted with the on-screen directions given.  All in all, it was reminiscent of an episode in the Canary islands when we drove round a town called Arucas for what seemed like several hours trying to find an exit which wasn’t blocked by roadworks.

We made it, eventually, and without any damage to the beemer, thankfully.

So, the Thing To See was next: an ancient temple in the tiny village of Santa Eulalia de Bóveda, a few kilometres off the main drag between Lugo and Santiago. Exactly how ancient seems to be a matter of debate; many sources claim it was Roman, but at least one other I’ve seen talks about it as a Visigoth site. Who knows?  Maybe visiting it might help clarify?

Nope.

The satnav took us along successively narrower roads until it swore we were in the village of Santa Eulalia. We drove very slowly through it on a very narrow road, trying not to run down a beagle which was intent on being friendly. The building which Jane thought might be the temple seemed a bit covered in scaffolding, but there was nowhere to park and no way of turning round to go back and look again to see if that was the temple. Eventually some people, not unconnected with the beagle, came along and Jane had a chat with them, as a result of which we discovered the place was closed today.

Bugger.

Jane had checked that it was open on Wednesdays, but this Wednesday was May 1st, a holiday – International Workers’ Day; or International Non-workers’ Day as it should more properly be called. Anyway, the practical upshot was that our best move would be simply to carry on to Santiago, which we did, along beautifully-surfaced but alarmingly narrow roads and with short but lively debates at each intersection between country lanes as to whether we should believe TomTom or Google Maps’ advice about which was the better route to Satiago airport.

The route we ended up driving along was the road that led through many of the towns that the Camino Francés winds through. So we drove through Medlide and Arzua in some 15 minutes, as opposed to the several hours it took us on foot last Autumn.

From there on, our journey to our hotel in Santiago proceeded smoothly.  Enterprise car rentals agreed that we hadn’t damaged their precious beemer, and Jane persuaded our pre-arranged transport driver to turn up early to take us from the airport into town.  (The driver did a good job of actually coming to find us rather than skulking outside whilst we searched for him).  The taxi was one of these vast van-sized Mercedes people movers, and I have to say I’m glad it was he who was driving – getting through the streets of Santiago old town is not a job for the faint of heart. But he managed it without any crashing, swearing or gesticulation and deposited us outside our hotel.

This is the very fine Mosteiro de San Martiño Pinario, an absolutely vast establishment which was once a monastery and which dwarfs the very substantial cathedral opposite which it stands.

The red blob above is the entrance; the blue blob is where our room is. Ignore the “temporarily closed” – I can vouch it’s open, because I’m currently sitting in the bar, drinking gin served by a very courteous and generous barman. Because it was originally a monastery, the rooms are agreeably monkish; this is the sight that greeted us as we opened the door to our room.

and the room is comfortable enough, but luxurious? Nope.

That’s why I’m writing this in the bar, altogether a more appealing environment for content creation. And I am indeed content.

As one would expect, there are many monasterical touches: stone-floored and wooden-beamed corridors

rows of monkish cells;

cloisters;

(note the Camino sign in the middle);

and agreeable spots for sitting and contemplating.

So we’re well set up for an overnight stay before embarking on the meat of this sojourn in Galicia – the Camino Finisterre. For nostalgic reasons, we did take a stroll through Santiago, to reacquaint ourselves with the cathedral

and opposite it the Pazo de Raxoi, a French neoclassical palace which now serves as the town hall, now free of the scaffolding which disfigured it when we were last here.

We also took a bite of lunch at the Taberna de Fuego Lento, a lively downtown eatery. All this wandering around had to be done paying due respect to the Galician weather which was being very, well, Galician; sunshine one minute and the next…

…one is glad for nearby shelter.

I seem to have found quite a lot to write about in what I had actually expected to be an unremarkable day. It may be a case of displacement activity to stop me thinking too much about tomorrow; as usual, day one of any extended walk always seem to be the tough one, and tomorrow will have its challenges. I will of course write about them so that you can sympathise with my pain, as I’m sure you’re only too certain to do. So be sure to keep an eye on these pages so you can have a good laugh about our exploits.

 

 

 

Day 3 – Lugo again: Victor Lugorum

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Tuesday 30 April 2024 – We got a lot more touristing done today than I had expected given the dire (or at least rainy) weather forecast by Accuweather. And, in truth, the prospects at the start of the day weren’t particularly appealing.

It seemed that seeking indoor touristing would be the way to go for the day, so we set out for the cathedral, through the rain.

En route, we stopped in at the central pharmacy, which was well-decorated in an art nouveau kind of way,

You can only really see the stained glass in this door from inside the shop, where it appears reversed. So I have flipped it left-to-right

and were reminded that Lugo is actually on various of the Camino de Santiago routes – the Primitivo and XIX.

I’m grumpy about visiting the cathedral. They charge €7.50 for entry and then won’t let you take photos. My feeling is that you can do one or the other. So I sneaked a couple of illicit photos anyway, yah boo, in both cathedral and cloisters.

There’s some lovely detail in the cloisters and some fine stained glass in the cathedral itself.

After this peremptory visit to the cathedral, we walked around in dampness that was gradually escalating from slight drizzle to proper rain, taking in some other nice corners of the city.

but the dampness became too oppressive, so we scurried off to the Café del Centro, where we’d noticed hot chocolate and churros advertised. And very nice they were too; we were amused to note that the café seemed to regard this as a normal breakfast.

The rain appeared to be easing as we left the café, so, rather than go back and skulk in our hotel room, we decided to take a walk out of the old city to a Roman bridge across the river, passing a couple of installations in the main square that we hadn’t really taken note of before

and passing some nice scenes as we went.

Delightfully, as we got to the river, the sun came out,

and showed the 7-arch Roman bridge off to its best advantage.

The walk to the river is quite steeply downhill, which meant that we got some practice for our forthcoming hiking as we worked our way back up to the city, up to and through the Parque Rosalía de Castro. This is named after a Galician poet and novelist, considered one of the most important figures of 19th-century Spanish literature and modern lyricism. Widely regarded as the greatest Galician cultural icon, she was a leading figure in the emergence of the literary Galician language. The route also involved climbing some 180 steps and 100 metres vertical, so constituted a nice preparatory workout for the day after tomorrow, which is when we take our first steps on the Camino Finisterre.

By this stage we felt we’d earned some lunch, so once again visited the Terrazza restaurant at our hotel. Although we weren’t much later than yesterday, the restaurant was very quiet, with only a couple of other tables occupied; a great contrast with yesterday’s buzz.  The food was just as good, though.

Having (slightly over-) indulged ourselves, we noted that the rain which had come on just as we arrived at the hotel had now eased, and so we went off for a post-prandial constitution in search of some final sights to take in. There were still a couple of churches to be visited, after all.

Having passed the “Monumento do Bimilenario”, the city’s nod to Y2K

(dubbed “The Millennium Falcon”, by Jane), our first stop was the church of the Convento de San Domingos, a very tranquil place.

I noticed that it featured an organ with horizontal pipes,

which appears to be A Thing in these parts – we’d noticed similar setups in the cathedrals of Burgos and León.

The other was the church of San Pedro,

which has some fine stained glass.

There remained but one other Thing To See, which is something we’d completely missed in our walks around because the last thing it looks like is a site of significant historic interest.

It is actually the Museo Universitario A Domus do Mitreo. “Domus”, as anyone old enough to have studied Latin at school knows, means “house”*, and this unlikely-looking building houses (sorry) a really interesting site – the remains of what must have once been a palatial residence that was also a Mithraeum, a temple dedicated to the cult of Mithras, a Roman mystery religion. It’s a very extensive site


with great archeological significance for the city. The site of the domus is important to the city, since it has allowed the documentation of archaeological remains from the entire history of Lugo, starting at the moment of its foundation, around 27BC, until the 20th century. The site is very well laid out with lots of detailed information on info boards and in videos and enabling one to get really very close to the original Roman stonework. Interestingly, when The Powers That Be of the time decided that the city needed a wall, they just went ahead and built it straight through one end of the place.

And that was about it for our wandering around Lugo – a very pleasant city with a significant Roman history. The morrow involves departing for Santiago de Compostela and (after an overnight stop to draw breath) the start in earnest of our proper peregrination to the coast. It will be interesting for us to find out how we get on with some serious walking; I hope it might also be interesting for you to come back to these pages to see how things went.

 

* Domus was also the name of a now-defunct chain of (originally co-operative-run) department stores in Sweden. This fact may be of use in some bizarre set of circumstances, such as when writing a blog about a Roman city in Spain.