the last waltz

It’s our last day with Matilda.  Tomorrow, at the crack of dawn, we head back to Perth.

Cyclone Olwyn has not quite finished with us and dumps another load of torrential rain first thing this morning.  And then, as suddenly as it fell, it stops and the sun comes out.

As it’s our last day we have breakfast out, at the Cowtown Diner, in …. Cow Town (see here).  Poached eggs on toasted Soda Bread with a side order of bacon.  And coffee.  Yum.

We can’t go off-road with Matilda so limit ourselves for a trip up the northern part of Margaret River.  So what do we see?

A winding coastal road with tantalising glimpses of the ocean; forests, winery after winery, paddocks home to thoroughbred horses, art galleries, coffeeshops, artisan bakeries, carbon fibre road bikes and team jerseys, white beaches and down in the bays, surfer boys and girls.  And liberally sprinkled over the entire area, lashings and lashings of money.

I was a little unsure about Margaret River when we first arrived; we had barely seen another soul for the first half of this trip; the country towns we passed through or stayed in were small and quiet.  Suddenly there are people and cars everywhere.  But it’s grown on me and I can see why people like it so much.

Glyn gets the bbq fired up for supper and we feast on artisan burgers from the artisan butchers with artisan rolls from the artisan bakers.  Anniemay has her ‘special water’ and Glyn has a beer and we sit and watch the stars.  All’s right with the world.

it’s the end of a perfect day
for surfer boys and girls
the sun’s dropping down in the bay
and falling off the world.  

There’s a diamond in the sky
our evening star,
in our Shangri La.

(Mark Knopler)