With the promise of another day of erratic weather and short bursts of showers, we elected to take in Penguin Island off Rockingham (South of Perth) and then visit the old Fremantle Prison. Penguin Island is part of a nature reserve of islands and is home to fairy penguins, king skink lizards and a host of different bird species. It is essentially made from sandstone and as a result displays some pretty amazing natural sculpture around the coast line with caves and pock-marked jagged erosive features predominating. Back in the 1920’s it was leased to a fellow who actually made his home in one of the caves – a sort of Australian version of Henry David Thoreau of On Walden Pond fame. In the 30’s during the Great Depression, whole families actually made their residence in the caves! We’ve seemed to have developed an uncanny ability to avoid the intermittent sheets of rain over the past couple of days and managed to jump on board the small ferry that takes you across from the mainland just before a torrential bucketing hit. We weren’t quite as lucky on the other side and copped a bit of a lashing as we made our way down the jetty to shelter. A small penguin sanctuary is located near the jetty and the fairy penguins living there (about 10 in all) are fed three times a day and we were fortunate enough to be there for a feeding. (Such funny little creatures with their distinctive waddle and attitude) The oldest of the bunch was named Piggy and he appeared a bit haggard with an arthralgic gait, bent nose and encrusted eyes. He apparently ruled the roost and often was waited on hand and foot by the biologists running the show – having his meals in his small enclave rather than out and about. Wooden walkways allowed us to venture around the island and visit the different beaches and habitats. We managed to count 10 king skink lizards, a dead puffer fish and a wedge-tailed eagle or some sort of falcon in our travels before heading back to the mainland for the short drive to Fremantle.
Fremantle is essentially a tourist mecca which camouflages its other purpose as a port. A series of interconnected seemingly mazed streets congregate around a market and large café/shop district bustling with people. Sitting just above this hub bub of activity is the old prison, previously known as the Limestone Lodge by locals. The initial buildings were actually erected by prisoners when the area was first settled and the prison was in operation up until 1991, a few years after a large riot destroyed most of the timber roofing beams and left the government no choice but to have it decommissioned. It’s an eerie place with dark cold looking cells, a run down tiny ‘exercise’ area, a former whipping rack and gallows and plenty of stories of woe and maleficence to match its sordid appearance. Aidan somehow became included in the tour guide’s role plays and presentations – not sure how he manages this – almost like a magnet for public displays. The visit was a good adjunct to the kids’ moral education and the squalid conditions will hopefully remain vivid to their memories when confronted by the urge to steal a car, rob a bank or worse. They don’t appear to be heading down this road but just in case – now they have added reason to ‘toe the line’ (apparently a prison expression – every morning they had to ‘toe the line’ and be accounted for by the prison guards). We enjoyed a wonderful tapas dinner at Monk’s Brewery in the evening and headed back to camp with full bellies and heavy heads ready to take on Rottnest with a vengence the next day.
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