A week Hitch-hiking through the South West

So with our chores in Albany complete, we set about planning the next leg of our journey. We knew we wanted to be back in the Blue Mountains for Christmas – so that gave us five weeks to travel back across East; through Western Australia, Southern Australia, Victoria, and New South Wales. A journey that would probably be between 2000 km and 3500 km depending on our route.

So we set off back East in a way that typified all of our excursions so far. By heading West.

We had friends from Albany that were going to be travelling towards the eastern states, and we thought it would make sense to have a bit of an adventure and join them for part of our trip. The only problem was they were already several hundred kilometres away in the Margaret River – and Albany, being even less of a transport hub than the Isle of White is, did not give us any way of getting there.

So it was time to hit the highway, and try a bit of hitching!

Australia has attached a particularly negative stigma to hitch-hikers; partly because of the 1992 Backpacker Murders (which are still going through the Australian courts) but also because of the continued trouble that is being caused by some of the hitchers and the people that pick them up. In the last week for example, two stories regarding hitchers made the news: One where a hitcher pulled a knife on the guy who picked him up, and one where a young girl who was hitching was thrown from the moving car by the three guys that had picked her up. In the two months we have travelled so far we hadn't seen a single person thumbing a lift. So we knew persuading people to pick us up wouldn't be simple.

We got a lift to the highway with some friends from Albany Backpackers, and sat by the side of the road to wait. Main roads in Australia are not the same as you see in Europe. A car came along every few minutes. When it was a busy stretch. So we amused ourselves in between these periods with games, like noughts-and-crosses in the dirt; and by pretending the passing cars were listening to our pleas as they approached and curses as the zoomed straight past!

But after about half an hour we were picked up by a spiritualist called Sue, originally from Wales, who had seen us when she was driving in the opposite direction on the highway and had been told by her 18-year-old son that on her return trip she should help us out. And it seemed she was more than happy to! Everyone we were picked up by turned out to have travelled around and hitched in their past, so they knew what it could be like. We got a few stories about Sue's life – how she left her stressful career in the city to go and live on a farm in the middle of nowhere, received a few tips on hitching, and were dropped off about 100km down the road at a small town called Denmark.

For quite a while I stood by the road with my thumb pointed at the sky. Denmark was a little busier than the highway we had originally used, so cars came by about every 30 seconds. It had been half an hour, and it was now midday so I was getting hot. I took a break and went and sat on some swings out the back of the church we had been stood outside. And the second I had started swinging (it was good fun!) Sian managed to get us a lift! This turned out to set the president for the journey as apart from our very last lift, Sian managed to get every other one! We were picked up by an octogenarian called Ian who lived in a little community (15 families in 150 acres) in an area called William's Bay. He told us a bit about his travels (he'd just spend 5 months in Europe) and dropped us down the road from his place – telling us that if we didn't manage to get a lift then we should come and stay with him for the night. Everyone we met on this journey was really nice!

From this place, I saw my first Australian eagle! I think it was a wedge-tail, but I'm not too sure. It was circling a field next to us, and once or twice I saw it go down for the kill! There were also a couple of kangaroos in the field, though they didn't stick around for long. They were the closest wild kangaroos we had seen so far... but the day wasn't over yet! From this point, we were picked up by a guy towing a battered old ute – he'd been at a burn-out party that weekend. He introduced himself as Wombat and with his wild head of hair and ripped AC/DC shirt, we knew this character was going to entertain us for a little while!

He dropped us off at Bow Bridge, near Walpole, and here we waited for our next lift. It was getting on for evening time now, on a Sunday, so the traffic was non-existent. At times it would be ten or fifteen minutes between cars, and none were stopping. After about an hour, new got asked if we wanted to go to Peaceful Bay – but this wasn't towards the town we wanted to get to for the night so we declined. Another hour went by, and we again were asked if we wanted to go to Peaceful Bay. We'd had enough standing around by now, it was getting dark, and rather than sleep out in the open we thought we'd see if Peaceful Bay would provide us with anywhere to stay.

We got into the car with a retired couple who had been living in the Bay for the last 12 years, in a house that he, Owen, and his son had built 35 years previous. Anne and Owen turned out to be the loveliest couple you could hope to meet. They bickered away to themselves most of the journey, correcting each other as they tried to point out local history and interesting stories, and they took us to a caravan park they finally agreed would be the best place for us to stay. Peaceful Bay has a permanent population of 65, with a few roads of holiday-homes, a B&B, caravan park, and a small hotel. And it lived up to its name. After Anne and Owen had seen us into our caravan they insisted on giving us directions to their house and telling us to meet them for morning tea! So we thanked them, said goodbye, and went exploring.

We followed a little path through the bush land, enjoying the wildflowers and the tranquillity, and as we were leaving the national park and returning to our caravan park we saw the first kangaroo of the evening. Maybe 30 feet away and very aware of us, he allowed us only a few moments to take photos before he hopped up the road. So we kept walking up to the sea. The cove we came across was beautiful and completely devoid of people. Our own beach! And so we walked along the headland over the sand dunes enjoying the last of the days heat and light. And then we saw the rest of the kangaroos! Half-a-dozen were feeding on the beach as we reached the crest of a dune, only a few feet away. They bolted pretty quickly and I took great pleasure in having the opportunity to skip after them! At one point I was scanning the middle-distance looking for signs of them and two or three times looked across the horizon before realising that there were two 5-foot creatures just fifteen feet away, staring straight at me!

After a very refreshing sleep we went to meet up with Anne and Owen again. We breakfasted on biscuits and freshly made tea, and had a lovely morning listening to stories and telling our own. This couple couldn't have been nicer or more helpful! They even insisted on making up some lunch for us, before taking us back to the road to Walpole.

The flies were out in force that morning. Within seconds we were both covered with what must have been more than 50, and they swarmed over our bags making them look like particularly bountiful choc-chip cookies. It was with great relief that we were picked up by Erika after about twenty minutes. She was leaving Peaceful Bay, having dropped her sister there for a week of Spring Break. She took us all the way from there to Bunbury – about 400 kilometres. And from there, we took a bus the last bit of the way to the Margaret River.

Margaret River is famous mainly for the wine and gourmet food which attract the tourists and Australians alike. But we didn't see much of that. After a couple of days of enjoying the countryside and the beaches myself and Sian were off again. We decided we'd try to hitch to Fremantle to be there for her birthday.

So we were waiting by the road with our thumbs erect once more!

The first person to pick us up was a trucker! Our first lift in a truck, and it was a little intimidating. It's the truckers hat spend 6 days of the week away from any other living person that most of the horror stories mention. But John turned out to be a great guy! With stories of life on the road, and life out on his boat, and his time travelling with underprivileged Aboriginal children. He told us about Bunbury and told us he'd love to show us around if we called him one day. He even called later that day to see if we'd managed to get to Fremantle! A typical friendly Australian!

After a couple of hundred kilometres we left John (he'd driven further than he needed to in order to drop us off in a better place to pick up lifts) and I adopted my position hidden behind a tree, leaving Sian by the road to reel in the drivers. We must have had about 6 people stop in the first 20 minutes, but none were going far. So it was with some relief that Henry pulled up in his BMW V8 and offered to drive us early all the way. Henry had travelled a lot, so it was good to talk to him about that, and I didn't even mind when he started talking about his car, because it was to say how fast it was... and within an hour we'd down about 160 km and it was time to get out again.

Our last lift of the day was my one successful attempt to get picked up! An elderly guy with a big white beard and long hair driving a very comfortable but old van pulled into the lay-by behind me, rolled up to where Sian was sitting before quickly reversing back to me. He didn't pick up women as a rule because they were 'the dangerous ones!' But he loaded our gear into his van and whistled, clicked, and popped his way to Fremantle.

We'd hitched a thousand kilometres in a few days, and it was time to kick back and have a party, in one of the most eclectic, interesting, foody and boozy towns I'd come across. Needless to say, it was a great weekend – filled with beer, food, drum circles, digeridoos, and lots and lots of sun!