On Wednesday we got the ferry from Freemantle to Rottnest Isalnd. The ferry trip was quite expensive ($43 each, return) but there's no other way to get there, so we had to bear it. Rottnest Island is famous for being populated by Quokkas - small ratlike wallabies, abundant on Rottnest, rare in the rest of OZ. This is thanks largely to there being few introduced predators on the island.
Soon after we arrived on the island we went for a walk to explore and came across two of the little blighters. How lucky, we thought, and spent ten minutes looking at them and taking photos. We felt a bit silly that we'd spent so long with them, as we soon realised that they were everywhere, and not shy!
The YHA hostel there is an old army barracks and is quite nice. I imagine that Rottnest is a nice place in general, but we didn't really have a chance to find out, since it rained and hailed for most of the time we were there. Oh dear - time spent sitting around the hostel, you'd imagine.
But no. The hostel lounge had been taken over by The Family From Hell. This comprised Mama, Papa and Big Kenny. (Big Kenny was in his 30s.) They were overly-friendly, very simple and bloody annoying. It seems cruel to moan when they were friendly and didn't have a mean bone in their bodies, but there it is. They made life difficult for us and all the other guests there. Grrr.
Big Kenny introduced himself to me about four times, and I told him my name was Stephen. Despite this he proceeded to call me "Davo". He was like an Aussie Trigger from Only Fools And Horses. He kept coming to our room and summoning me to the lounge where Mama awaited with a question or favour. They wouldn't leave us alone while cooking or eating. They sat in every other seat around the lounge, so if anyone else wanted to sit in the lounge they had to snuggle up amoungst them. We spent the evenings freezing in our rooms - playing rummy in our coats. We spoke to others who'd gone to watch their washing dry in the laundry rather than brave The Family From Hell.
Somehow I got into a conversation with Papa about Irish terrorism. He kept asking me about Shane. Shane? I'm no expert on the Irish Problem, but I don't know of a Shane. "The big guy with the curly black hair" he ventured. "Gerry Adams?" I suggested. "That's him - Shane!" "Sinn Fein!" I cried with joy, figuring out what Anne had realised from the beginning.
Strangely, they left Anne alone.
More conversations:
"Pauline Hanson - I call her Pauline Pantsdown!" (Laughter).
"Camilla Parker-Bowles - I call her Camilla Parker-Balls!" (Laughter).
Oh God.
On Thursday the weather was so bad that some of the ferries back were cancelled. It was rumoured that the ferries would be cancelled on Friday, and Big Kenny informed us of this twelve or thirteen times with obvious glee. When told this I looked for a sharp implement to end my pain.
Thankfully, although many ferries were cancelled, including the 10.30am ferry we were booked on, we managed to leave that terrible place at 2.30pm today. I'm sure Rottnest is a lovely place, but weather and circumstance have ensured that we will never return to find out. We're so happy to be back in Freemantle for the night. On Saturday we pop back to Perth to pick up a hire car for our trip around the south-west.
Bloody, bloody Rottnest.