Bustle Town

Soooooo. Today was eventful. Our journey took us from Prevelly to Coogee Beach. We had a few stops planned out to break up the journey, but it didn’t go quite as expected.

First stop, Busselton. Which was exactly that... Bustle Town. From sleepy country towns to “Holy Shit!” suburbia. So busy. We had planned to stop at Busselton Jetty, the longest wooden pier in the Southern Hemisphere at almost two kilometres long, with a marine sanctuary at the end. It was freezing cold and blowing a gale, and we arrived too early for the train to the end of the jetty. We didn’t have time for the four-kilometre round walk. The water was a murky brown and there was nothing to be seen. So, we took a quick selfie and moved on.

Next stop, Bunbury, where Daph was keen to check out the dolphins. We stopped first at the farmer’s market to stock up on groceries. They didn’t have our usual organic choice, so we took our empty trolley for a walk around the store and back out again, leaving empty-handed. The car park was a shit-fight trying to get out, with every man and his dog shopping today. They had no patience to let a Kombi van five-point-turn to get out of the ridiculously tiny parking space. So, fifteen minutes later, after getting cut up by several cars who had better things to do than let us out, Daph lost her shit:

Daph: “F**k Bunbury! Get me out of here!”

Ern: “But you wanted to see the dolphins?”

Daph: “F**k the dolphins. Hit the road, Jack.”

We hot-footed it out of there, travelling through cookie-cutter suburbs, lined with more generic shopping centres and housing estates than anyone needs, with houses built so close to each other that you couldn’t fart without the neighbours knowing. A far cry from the rolling green hills of Margaret River.

We arrive at Coogee Beach Caravan Park and realise it’s a permanent resident haven, with colourful characters that you wouldn’t invite in for a coffee. This is where we will catch up with friends from old, and Ern’s sister and brother-in-law. Ern is quietly worried about entertaining people in our shoebox of a cabin in Crazy Town, but as Daph said, “It’s not like we actually live here.”

We congregate for the catch-up with our loved ones in the camp kitchen, for a delicious barbecue dinner and a few bevvies... only to be joined (uninvitedly) by a local resident. Crusoe (or it could have been Chrisso? We couldn’t tell from the drunken slur) lives in a tent across from the camp kitchen and decided to come and make friends. Crusoe had obviously had one too many bevvies tonight and probably a few more illicit substances. What started as a seemingly harmless awkward conversation quickly escalated to him hurling unprovoked abuse at us for being false God-worshiping paedophiles, whom he wanted to bust up. The park manager was called, and we hurried back to our humble abode, taking care that Crusoe didn’t see where we “live” in case he came back later for round two. In the end, a lovely night was had, telling stories of old and catching up after years, but picking up like it was only yesterday.

Tomorrow the Kombi goes for a day spa whilst Daph and Ern head into Perth for a day trip in the city.