Geraldton proved to be a nicer stop than we had bargained on. The ocean was close, and as wild as it has been up north, with a wicked rip tide that scared us off an evening dip. The chairs were a nice addition to our evening meal, and we had another early night and got up early and we out of the campsite by eight. The drive to Perth was increasingly pleasant, the scrub of the north giving way to wheat fields and trees. Traffic was still light, and we drove through Perth without any trouble, thanks to Pam’s unerring navigation. I don’t think we have made a single wrong turn for over a week.

Perth is a very nice town, sun-washed and clean, and Freemantle was even nicer, with older buildings well-preserved and narrow streets that discourage traffic and invite pedestrians. We stayed at the Esplanade, a poor choice as there were plenty of B&B’s with more character in the neighbourhood, and the staff at our hotel were snooty. But the town itself was charming and we went out for the evening and quite enjoyed ourselves. We had eggplant pakora at the Maya and olive/salami pizza at Mad Max’s. We met a couple from Malaysia at the first place and a lady from Denmark at the other and had a pleasant evening.

The lattes at the Dome were a bust, far too sweet and much too small. Worse yet the internet, the only reason we went there in the first place, was patchy and we spent a frustrating half hour trying to call Canada and England. We finally gave up and retired for the night.