Rottnest Island

Yesterday, I went to Rottnest Island off the coast of Perth. I probably wouldn’t have gone there if my sister hadn’t have bought me a voucher for the ferry for Christmans. But I’m glad I did as it made a refreshing change from my normal routine. I use the word ‘refreshing’ here in a limited sense as it was about 35°C, with no cloud cover and I was on riding around the island on a bike.

After cycling for about 4km, the heat got too much. I stopped for a rest, only to find a deserted white sands beach. I took off my shorts and my socks and jumped into the sea, still with my cycle helmet on. My t-shirt and pants were soaked, but it was exactly what I needed and cooled my body temperature down instantly. I timed it just right, as a group of eight people arrived just as I was about to set off again, albeit with a prominent damp patch seeping through my shorts.

When I stopped at a cafe for lunch, the 8km of cycling started in the heat to make me feel a bit light-headed. Fortunately, a couple of carbonated drinks and some fish and chips sorted me out.

I’m happy to say that there was no repeat of the debacle in Madeira. And I didn’t fall off my bike or have glares of contempt from the rest of the group who I was holding back with my ineptness at mountain biking.

Rottnest Island is famous for the quokka, which are like tiny kangaroos. They’re about the same size as house cats.

Unfortunately, Tourism Western Australia is actively encouraging visitors to find one and have their picture taken with it. Visitors are not allowed to touch or feed quokkas, but it doesn’t stop people bothering them.

I saw one tourist practically straddling the poor animal to try and take a picture with it. He didn’t touch it, I might add. But it made me feel very uncomfortable. Pictures of animals are always made infinitely worse when a human insists on also having their face in the shot.

I refuse to use the s-word for this practice as it I detest it and it is never appearing in anything I write. I was taking these sorts of pictures with disposable cameras more than 15 years ago. I didn’t take an inane picture, take a look at it, then take another one of exactly the same thing, then repeat this multiple times. Admittedly, my picture may have been inane. But I at least had the decency to not repeat the same thing over and over.

The practice is manufacturing moments in time that used to be captured so much more authentically in one shot. I love photography, but hate how it’s been bastardised by social media for sake of likes. That’s enough of that rant for now.

Another thing from yesterday is that I now know my factor 50 sun-cream definitely works. The only thing is that I didn’t put enough of it on around the base of my neck, where today there is a prominent red line.

Thankfully, this red line is not joined by a cricket ball sized, raw lump of the same colour on my inner thigh from all the cycling that I had the day after my Madeira ride.

Today, it’s 42°C outside. So I’m back to my normal routine of writing in the air-conditioned library. Next, I’ll be going to the supermarket, before returning to the hostel to eat some sardines and pasta. I’ve only got another two days left in Perth, but can’t say I’ll be sad to end this routine.

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