Fremantle

Or Freeo as it affectionately called. I have walked 24578 steps today.18.58 km. That’s quite a way right?

I set off along the beach this morning with the sun on my back and the gulls wheeling. The tide is high and the sea churned up as if it has spotted a storm coming.

And I simply walk on. Along the beach and up on the coastal path. Amongst the joggers and walkers and runners, some alone, some pushing babies in prams and pushchairs and some walking dogs. Thoughts of catching the train float away. I can see Fremantle harbour in the distance, cranes and silos and chimneys. I know that the city is on the far bank of the Swan river and that I have to find a bridge, but for now I am enjoying the walk. As the tide recedes, a little more firm sand is exposed and I walk some stretches of beach. There are low craggy sandstone cliffs here, in danger of falling according to signwriters. A group of shags bask and stretch their wings out to dry. They can’t read.

The organised, blue lined, ‘stick to your side of the path’ track winds on ahead, pulling away from the road and railway that have been company for miles. Eventually a sign takes traffic and pedestrians left towards Fremantle and I hope a bridge.

After a long stretch through the stacks of containers I meet the Stirling freeway and the path runs out and I find myself wandering in wealthy suburb land. My sense of direction didn’t abandon me completely and suddenly I am on the banks of the Swan River again. And here is a path. And ahead is a bridge – but how to get onto it. I consult the map. A local chap, well retired and out for his daily walk, stops to offer assistance. I’m better at it than him but once we have established where we are on the map he walks with me to find a way onto the bridge – not the first bridge we’ve seen but the second – Fremantle Bridge. He consults briefly with a real estate agent whose office we pass. The newly built flats – my rescuer lives in a penthouse apartment overlooking the river further along – are selling for lower prices than originally asked. He is not happy about this. But is torn between wanting the development complete and occupied and watching appartments similar to his own sell for less than he paid.

He has already told me how sorry he is about London. Why? All the foreigners. He says this with no guile. He thinks there are too many immigrants everywhere! London was properly English when he did his post grad 52 years ago. Thankfully our paths diverge before we can further this discussion.

Eventually I reach Fremantle city centre. More of an alternative feel to it than Perth. I find a coffee and the Market. A huge sprawling indoor area with everything you could think of. Similar to the market at Covent Garden but with a massive fresh food area added on. I find the ingredients for my herbal tea, some fresh ginger and turmeric roots and some local fruit.

The tourist office was excellent. Two older ladies, one with the funkiest specs I have ever seen. They argue over the best vegetarian cafe. I opt for the Juicy Beetroot! Wonderful lentil dhal and rice and freshly made juice. A very bhuddist centre place. Helen would approve. Staff very cheery and everyone smiling.

The free wifi zone throughout the centre of the city provides enough signal to check emails. Now that’s a good idea.

Walking back seemed a bad idea since it is by now raining and the wind is getting up. I head for the station. An extremely unhelpful customer services operative responds to my request for a change machine (no ticket office. All tickets from machines. Max $10 notes accepted). He points vaguely. I fail to spot it. Huge sigh. What are you blind or something? Partially sighted I reply sweetly. Perhaps you need to retire or retrain in customer care.

The trains are lovely. Modern and clean and frequent. I disembark at Cottesloe and after another wander round the centre I walk a now familiar route over the hill and down the long road to the beach.

What greets me is a surprise. Huge waves. Fierce wind. Birds grounded. Surfers out. I walk on the path to avoid sand blasting on the beach.  It’s dramatic and wild. I love it.

Last day of solitude. My lovelies arrive tomorrow. Can’t wait…..