Gone fishing …….
Western Australian beach driving.
Gone Fishing Australian Style
In my last novel Who Paid The Price I depict a scene of a wader clad gent fly fishing in a sprawling Scottish river. Engulfed by Scottish country scape the expert fisher with a whip of his rod dances the potential tasty morsel of a foe fly on the elastic surface of the cascading river full of hungry salmon. Contrast that with stood on a 50 km long Australian beach, cooled and slightly damp sand from the recently receding sea oozing up between you toes. Casting out the not in-substantial fishing rod shod with heavy, bait, laden hooks, the thick fishing line freely spools out over the soft rolling waves, outwards towards the dropping sun and into the vast Indian ocean where fish of vast variety and size scuttle around looking for their evening meal. Yes definitely a contrasting fishing scene but a scene that shares two commonalities, fishing is the end goal but also a necessary drive to the waters edge is required.
In my book the fly fishing escape is proceeded by an ambling drive up and down dale, in a Land Rover Defender, what else could it be. My drive to Preston beach on the shores of the Indian Ocean from my location just South of the most remote city in the world, Perth, Western Australia is still in a Land Rover by name but a discovery version 4 coincidentally sporting the same light green colours of my 200,000 mile plus, 22 year old, at the time of writing, Discovery 2, named Larry, that is my daily back in the UK.
For someone that spends a lot time driving round in circles on undulating, snaking, European race circuits and also spends a lot of time driving Jarvis the camper along the sweeping, swooping stimulating routes to said circuits you could be forgiven for thinking that the vast straight lines of the roads scribed through the Australian soil could seem almost boring for me to trundle along. Oh No!
Never having ‘done’ the east coast.. I can only comment about my experiences in WA! They like their motors! Especially ones that have a V8 rumble. Visiting the Wanneroo raceway (Carco.com.au Raceway) high-lighted a close knit car mad community. In fact even having my hair cut at a random shopping mall barbers high-lighted the point. Whilst waiting my turn reading a V8 laden motor mag I became aware of one of the, female barbers repeating her glances at me. As this is not something that happens to me….EVER! I checked to make sure I did not have any dressing faux pas! When, “NEXT,” wafted over in my direction from said female, I nonchalantly sauntered across holding my stomach in.
“So you from England?”
“I am”
“Do you have anything to do with Top Gear?”
“Erm well I did, sort of,”
“Are you the guy who tested Freddie Flintoff for his race licence on Top Gear?”
Blown away by my sudden fame on the other side of the world I stuttered out..
“Well yes actually…I am.How on earth did you recognise me?”
“Everyone is car crazy here and we love the Top Gear gang.”
Wow! I still had to pay for me hair cut though!
So no matter where I stay in WA when I am inevitably catching up on my writing I usually end up talking about cars and ……
Trucks!
Now trucks, that’s another story but… As a truck drivers son I do like the Australian trucking scene… and if that seems a bit I lame ‘google’ V8 super car transporters.
But away from the remote and sparse Western Australia city hubs there is a haunting relaxed atmosphere cruising along the on the semi outback roads especially as the heat of the day bleeds into the evening dusk. Air conditioning packed away for the day and relying on a passing current of air from the open windows the musky scents of the passing scenery blends with the rest of the atmosphere being created by the lengthening shadows and clear un-congested welcoming tarmac that patiently awaits for the next vehicle to venture along it. The tranquil drive is only disturbed when a local, and to be fair, native kangaroo that has not read the memo that the roads are still in fact open in the evening, decides the tarmac is a far less dusty and a preferable place to be.
Not being a fisherman I am reliably told the fish are ‘on the hook’ as the Australian sun sinks having done it’s beating for the day. I am sure seasoned fisher people will tell me the yes or no’s to this statement all I know is that whether trundling along through green glades in a trusty Defender to just the right spot to cast those flies or beach diving to just the right spot for some evening fish hooking, I just love the drive!