Time to mind The Gap
Around WA’s Albany, Mike Yardley visits a chasm between two granite shelves
ANCHORING WESTERN AUSTRALIA’S South Coast, Albany is an absolute revelation, where the tumultuous Southern Ocean has dramatically sculptured the land with a roll call of tantalising rock formations.
I met up with the magnificent Susan McCabe from Busy Blue Bus Tours, the premier day tour operator in Albany. With a commanding knowledge and passion for the Great Southern region, Susan delivers exceptional day tour experiences, tailormade to suit your interests.
She'll take you to some great hospitality gems too, like Wilson Brewing Company and Woodlands Distillery. We scooted around the sun-kissed shoreline of King George Sound to Torndirrup National Park, where an unmissable assignment is to experience The Gap, a gaping chasm between two towering granite shelves, where the ocean water surges in.
A daring cantilevered viewing platform has been constructed, jutting well past the cliff edge and is buffeted by the salty, briny ocean spray. I mustered up the requisite courage as the wind whipped around me, succumbing to the elements, to stand directly above the pounding sea rushing into the chasm, 40m below me.
Gazing down was like staring into a deadly watery abyss. After revelling in that supremely edgy sensation, we followed the adjoining signposts on the pathway out to the Natural Bridge. With a reasonably heavy swell running, the awesome theatrics of ocean power was in full cry.
Then there's the Blowholes, a crack line in the granite, ‘blowing' air and occasionally spray, like a giant whale. The acoustical booms rumbled across the coastline.
The dramatic terrain is a feast for the senses, with windswept coastal heaths giving way to massive granite outcrops, sheer cliffs, steep sandy slopes and powdery dunes. We called into Albany's Historic Whaling Station, pinned to the edge of King George Sound, at Frenchman Bay. Previously home to the Cheynes Beach Whaling Company, it was the last whaling firm to cease operations in Australia. The station only shut up shop in 1978. It is now transformed into an interactive museum.
Albany's rugged granite coastline and snow-white beaches is sure to tug at your heart-strings. But it's the potent Anzac legacy that will pull those strings right out.
Albany has Anzac heritage braggability by the bucketload. After all, it's where the Anzac story arguably begins. We headed up Forts Road on Mount Clarence, where the soul-rinsing views of King George Sound and Princess Royal Harbour transfixed me.
It was from these vivid blue waters that the First and Second Convoys of Australian and New Zealand troops — and their horses, set sail for the Great War. For thousands of them, it would be their last glimpse of Australasia.
We headed to the National Anzac Centre, perched above King George Sound. This small but perfectly formed museum has deployed the latest interactive multimedia technology, overlaid with historical artefacts to honour the past and pay tribute to those who served.
But for all of the whiz-bang wizardry, it's a museum packed with pathos and the personal touch. Dozens of troops have had their life stories immortalised at the centre. You choose a card which depicts a soldier or a nurse and you can follow their personal story step-by-step, as you walk through the centre, tapping the card on an interpretation screen, at various points.
My card displayed a photo of Private Robert Hamilton, from the Australian Imperial Force 9th Battalion. I followed his personal story from recruitment, through training and embarkation, ship life, and in battle. For those who returned, you will also learn about their post-war life.
I was fascinated to learn that the character on my card, Private Hamilton, was believed to be the first Anzac ashore on the beaches at Gallipoli. A palpable rush of relief washed over me when I learned that he survived the war and made it home to his family in Queensland. But shockingly, I then learned that he was tragically killed in a farm machinery accident, several years later. It's a rollercoaster of raw emotion.
Virtual reality devices allow you to still “see” the troopships positioned out the window in King George Sound, as they steam out to the Indian Ocean. And you'll tear up at the infinity waterfall, where the scrolling names of all 41,265 Anzac troops who departed from Albany “float” on the water, before disappearing out on the horizon.