Lano, WA

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After an hour in the van, driving through burnt out forests and past kangaroo carcasses on the side of the highway, we arrived in Lancelin with Trev’s tales of three and a half weeks of relentless wind still ringing in our ears, to find absolutely cranking gales in Lano.  The good Fremantle Doctor hadn’t let us down – it was glass flat on the inside with a nice wave breaking on the outer reef and 30 knots of wind howling across the bay.  Perfection.  Despite the lure of the beach, the sun was setting and we thought it best to grab some beer and some food before the shops closed, convincing ourselves we’d be better fresh for the next day, rather than tempting fate by kiting with the sharks at dinnertime.  We woke the next morning, chomping at the bit, only to find it was the first the still day in nearly a month...  Here's Dan looking pretty unimpressed by the lack of wind.

Dan and I were wilting in the 40 degree heat, but were placated by the fact that Paul, Tom and Paddy were cooking in the concrete jungle of Perth while they continued their search for a van worthy of taking them around the country.  We were feeling a little smug, despite the thermometer-breaking temperatures, and spent most of the day lolling around in hammocks or swimming in the pool at one of the best-equipped hostels I’ve ever stayed in.

Thank God, too, cause Lano doesn’t have a hell of a lot to offer when the wind’s not blowing.   The sign here tells you pretty much everything on offer.  There are only two pubs, a pizzeria, a fish and chip shop, a petrol station, a post office and the ubiquitous Aussie surf shop. It’s an old fishing town that’s turned in to a bit of a beach town with a population of 700.  And that’s on the weekend…during school holidays…when there’s a fishing tournament on. 

So far it’s been a ritual of waking up around 10, riding one of the pink bikes down the beach, having breakfast/lunch, then heading down to the beach with one of the other kiters here, JP, for a 5 hour session on the water before coming back for BBQ, beers, and watching the Australian Open.  Not the most raucous existence but definitely a lot of fun and a lot better than being in the UK at this time of year!

Two days later the wind kicked back in and we’ve been kiting every day since.  It’s been 12 consecutive days on 7s and 9s, riding freestyle in the flat and a surfboard in 3-5 foot waves breaking on the outer reef.  The kit count so far is one trashed spreader bar (kiteloop - Joe), one snapped kiteboard (S-bend - Joe), and one sprained – we hope - ankle (Dan).  While I was out on the reef, Dan did a jump (60 feet by all accounts) and one of his feet popped out of the foot strap, while the other stayed in.  As the board twisted, so did his ankle – giving him a nicely swollen foot.  Luckily Tom, Paul and Paddy were on hand to help him land the kite and give him a ride back to the hostel so he could ice his foot while we kited the rest of the day away.  With friends like these… 

The boys went south this morning to go catch the Core Rail Jam at Woodies while Dan and I stayed in Lano for a couple more days so he could see a doctor and I could catch the imminent swell. 

It’s supposed to be picking up to 3 meters tomorrow, so we’ll see what that actually translates to on the reef and whether or not I’m feeling brave enough to head out.  Dan, in the mean time, has kindly loaned me his board on the condition that I’m not to snap it, and has become the trip photographer.  After a quick trip to the emergency room this morning,  Dan’s been loaned some crutches for a few days and we’re going to stop by the hospital in Joondalup on Monday so he can get an X-ray, if necessary.  Here’s praying for a miraculous recovery. 

The plan is to make the most of the swell over the next couple of days, then head south to pick up a car for a couple of weeks.  We’re going to hit Esperance (9 hours southeast of Perth), via a quick stop in Margaret River, and then make our way back up the coast, stopping at the national parks and checking out the best beaches and breaks we can find.  The adventure continues...

UK to Oz

I finally made it to Perth airport, 22 hours after leaving the snow dusted roads of the UK, and the change in temperature almost knocked me off my feet. As I arrived at the hotel, the only thing on my mind was getting a pair of flip-flops to mark the start of my antipodean summer, then grabbing a beer. No sooner than I'd found a surf shop in the CBD and bought a pair of overpriced "thongs," I bumped into the kite boys from Bristol - Paddy, Paul and Tom - who were waiting for a bus to head back to their hostel in Cottesloe.

As there were a couple of hours to kill before Dan arrived, we set off to grab a pint down on the edge of the river that runs through Perth. Finally got the beer I was dying for, but not before we paid through the nose for it. £5 a pint! Dan showed up a couple hours later and the adventure was truly in full flow.  So after a couple of beers with the boys, Paul and Tom made their excuses and headed back to Cottesloe leaving Paddy with us to go grab a couple of drinks.  Paddy insisted on stopping by Hungry Jacks (Burger King) for what had to have been his 10^th burger in half as many days.  The boys stumbled on the $4 meal deal and were really pleased with themselves for finding so much food for so little.  I don’t think any of us anticipated WA being so expensive, so the cheeseburger will likely become the meal of the trip.  Paddy’s already talking about approaching Hungry Jacks for some sort of sponsorship deal…

As the sun came up the next day, I began what would quickly become a weeklong battle with jet lag.  I’ve never had it so bad, but it did afford the opportunity to quickly explore the Perth city-centre while Dan was still passed out in the hotel.  A couple hours later, we checked out of the hotel, lugged our gear across the city to the central train station, and barely made it out alive.  It must have been at least 35 degrees as we lugged four kites, two boards, one surfboard and enough gear to last us for two months across the city centre; the tanned, immaculately dressed businessmen and women parted on the pavement as the sweat lashed off the two pasty kids freshly arrived from the northern hemisphere.  No sooner than I threw a bag on my shoulder, the strap snapped.  Cue Dan with some quick thinking and a length of rope and we were back on our death march through the baking heat of the city centre.  We arrived at the station, drenched in sweat, stinking to hell…suffice to say, the people on the train were even less impressed than the people we were bumping in to on the street, but were more than happy to give us plenty of space.  We made it to Clarkson train station in the end, just a half hour north of Perth, where we were met by Trish and Trev and their van from the YHA.  Next stop Lancelin…