Margaret River

We had done our homework on the Margaret River. We had promised Ken wine, women and fish and we secured a spot for us and a cabin for Ken at Prevally Beach about 10 minutes from Margaret River.

Now what Ken doesn’t know about fishing is well, unknowable. Tamika, on the other hand, was in love with the idea of fishing, but lacked a couple of the finer skills…and it was no use being schooled by a guy who looks like he’s fishing with boxing gloves. And so, over the course of a week, Obi-Wan Ken taught our young Jedi princess as much as he dared and, at the end, she too knew all the secrets. We went beach fishing and river fishing to put theory into practice. She’s still working on actually holding the fish and the messy stuff is still my domain, but gratitude to the Fishing Master for all his help. especially from me, as I now have at least one of us who can actually provide a meal.

So, one down, two to go. There are wineries everywhere and Ken steered us to a recommended Redgate Winery, where we sampled many, many wines before gliding back to the car with some indulgent purchases.

Now, somewhat relaxed, the idea of exploring one of the many caves along this section of the coast, seemed a perfectly good idea. We chose Mammoth Cave, paid our money, collected our headsets and did the tour. There was a LOT of stair climbing and the joie de vivre we started with had disappeared by the time we staggered back to the car. Still, it was a great experience and an unexpected bonus.

Prevally Beach had a few surprises for us while we were there. Tucked away in the northern corner is a hint of the Mediterranean . A grotto of white sand, blue water and the al fresco White Elephant Cafe. Could have been the Cote d’Azure that day, as we all tucked into a delicious sea-side lunch and wondered how the nouveau pauvre (mortgagees) were doing. We didn’t end up having to do anything about the “women” commitment. There were enough distractions on the beaches to keep that faraway look in Ken’s eyes.

At the other end of the beach, a series of rock pools made for a nice escape from a very warm day. Ken was soaking up the relax like a sponge and by the time I dropped him at the coach stop for his run back to the airport, we felt we had given him a sliding door moment to think about on the long flight home. With a long weekend almost upon us, we had to evacuate the caravan park to make way for the descending hordes from Perth. By chance we discovered a little nook behind the local sports grounds, and apart from the refs whistle and occasional cheer, we could cough and splutter to our hearts content for the next 48 hours.