Oh, the Places We've Seen: 032

No rest for the wicked as we had at least lined up a rough outline for the day and it was to be absolutely jam packed. As we researched more of the area, we realised you could easily have a fortnight in and around a 100km circle of Albany and still miss out on things.

Still we had our list of what we wanted to try and tackle and off we went.

Firstly, the Rock Truck was dropped off at ACM where we were slung keys to a new Captiva.

Hmm… Now I loved having a lease car, but I don’t think Holden really want me writing a review of a brand new car like this. The kids thought it was brilliant having space in their row of seats, but I found it a little uninspiring for a “car” versus the agricultural nature of The Rock Truck. Still, we happily piled in and drove off headed for the ANZAC Museum at the top of the hill above Albany.

Just as a little prefix for those who might not know, Albany was where the 1^st and 2^nd convoy of soldiers bound for the First World War actually left from. It was for quite a significant number of those servicemen and women, the last piece of Australia they’d ever see. So the National ANZAC Museum has recently been opened there. We unfortunately missed their ANZAC celebrations by two days, and after seeing the ANZAC precinct they have here in Albany, I’m disappointed to have missed it. I’m sure it would have been amazing. It is the birthplace of the Dawn Service also, founded by Padre White who served the area, as well as doing his time in the war.

So we arrived at the ANZAC Museum just on opening time, before the crowds got in. Incidentally by the time we left a few hours later, the car park was full and the place was heaving.

Without going into too much detail, the museum is truly an amazing place. Modern, interactive and dynamic, it is engaging for all ages and yet simple to navigate and find your own pace whatever that may be. As you can imagine the kids were amazed and captivated by the touch screens and insignia-controlled audio pens and darted off. I think they’d walked the whole lot whilst before I had finished reading in detail on how war broke out and the Australian Imperial Force was formed, 4 displays in!

Somehow the designers of the museum managed to find that right balance of interest and information, and yet paying respect for both the ANZACs and Ottomans alike. This after all is a place which depicts the atrocities that humankind is capable of. A brilliant place, it was the small things that really proved of interest to the kids and myself.

Upon entry everyone was given a unique “footy card” of someone different, an actual person involved in the war, and at points around the museum you could place the card, inscribed with a machine read pattern, which told another part of their story. Either copies of the enlistment papers, plans and pictures of the boat they sailed on, or further on, their uniform, tale, or destiny. It provided a really personal attachment part to the experience and brought you into the war with more relevancy and closeness. At the end of the museum you were even provided an opportunity to write a “telegram” on the touch screen to “your person” with a message. Hopefully the families and descendants of these valiant service men and women take some comfort of the difference and continued role their family members’ sacrifice has made.

I’m not going to deny, there were at times it became a little bit too much for me and I’m glad I spent most of the time there alone. The kids were thankfully very respectful of the place. Either that or B was extremely good at keeping them under a watchful eye.

Much like when I visited the concentration camp Dachau in Germany, I struggle to imagine how life for those involve must have been. And further to that how people can bring themselves to undertake or partake in such events. Don’t get me wrong, I 100% value appreciate, respect and recongnise the valour, effort and ultimate sacrifice so many made. But I kept asking myself “why?”. “How?” “For what?” As I saw the names of all who left cycle through the amazing memorial room, I can’t understand how anything seems worth such a sacrifice of life.

However, freedom and the upholding of basic civil rights is something that must be cherished. As we move further away from the great wars, I hope that these lessons aren’t forgotten. Ever.

Lest We Forget.

A brilliantly turned out memorial, the National ANZAC Centre deserves every single accolade that comes its way. A fitting tribute to all those people who gave so much to protect a way of life, not just here, but others they have never met or known somewhere else in the world.

Located beautifully above Albany and it's associated coves, the National Anzac Centre is truly a special place. An absolute must see if you are in the area.

I'm not sure if the text comes up clear enough in the blown up shot, but this is a succinct summary as to why or perhaps why the war started. Quite a lot more to it I'm sure (and hope), but it does show how quickly things can escalate it.

This memorial room was my favourite spot. With two very relevant quotes, the room simply had seats on each side with a water feature, that along with a submerged flat screen, "carried" the names of all the servicemen and women on the 1st and 2nd Convoy's out into the Albany waters.

There were, unfortunately, a lot names...

I found Evie here by herself, listening to story of her character, a nurse who served in the war. She was fascinated by it, particularly how the nurse gave up her bed for another and slept on the floor.

Following the museum we headed up the Convoy Walk to the lookout at the top of Mt Clarence. From there, next to the embattlements and mounted guns constructed to protect the harbour, you can only imagine what the convoys looked like steaming out to sea.

The lookout from the top of Convoy Walk.

The boys bombarding the bay with "booms" and "heys"...

The bottom of Convoy Walk

I really chuckled at these words on the memorial stone at the bottom of Convoy Walk, carrying such humour and yet anger all at the same time. In case they don't fully come out they read:

"Dear Sir,

In Reference to your kind letter which I received last week about the inscription on the tombstone of my husband, the late W. J. Jackson No (1952)... I do not understand about the 66 letters but I am sending the inscription what I would like to have

'In loving memory of dear husband and father William John Jackson, killed in action at Flares between 16 and 18 November 16. Loved in life, honoured in death, cherished in memory'

and I would like you to put it in the best way you think possible that it will fit on the tombstone, as you will have a much better idea than what I will have. So hoping to hear from you if this will suit you. I remain yours faithfully,

Matilda Jackson

There are in fact 179 characters in her request, including spaces. Wartime sarcasm, wit, smart arse-ism and love all in one letter. I loved it.

We then drove and walked up Padre White’s Lookout, past the Statue of the Light Horseman, which unfortunately was being wrapped for renovations. I’m not sure how many great lookouts one town can have, but Albany certainly punches above its weight!

We got word from Holden the car was ready, so on the way through town we swapped back over and thanked John and his team for helping us out so much.

We progressed through town over to Frenchmans Bay for picnic lunch. (Just a note… what is it with Frenchman in these parts?!?) A beautiful little alcove with calm fishing and boating waters, I fear we might be getting blasé to such these beautiful spots. I mean, not once did we dig a hole in the beach or cast a line in! It was more a case of kicking on to see then next “thing”.

Another day, another picnic lunch at a beautiful spot. This is a pretty normal occurrence now, with B throwing together sandwiches from the contents of the "Blue Bag". No complaints yet.

Selfie from B's perspective. Even nailed the other 3 in the background somehow!

The beautiful Frenchman's Bay.

There was a lady in a canoe pulling fish out of the water on a line just out of shot to the left. Checked the Rock Truck for a line. Nothing.

And right around the corner was something that B had earmarked Discovery Bay as something we should go do, due to it’s Historical Whaling Station. A little pessimistic, I wasn’t sure what that would be, as like most of my generation and since, can’t imagine a time when killing whales was a ‘business’. Still, we had been told it was more than worth the price of admission so we followed recommendations and headed off.

There’s something weirdly satisfying about being proven wrong in instances like this.

An incredibly informative museum, not once did I regret entering. There was displays, interactions, an informative and reasonably entertaining tour guide and yet another landlocked historical sea going vessel, Australia’s last whaling vessel, to explore and bang your head on doorways on.

Now, I’m not going to deny, some bits were a little weird, but I suppose the same could be said touring an abbatoir or large scale farm precinct. But perhaps time makes things a little bit more palatable, for use of poor choice of words.

The whale oil tanks had been refurbished into an array of display arenas of either pictorial displays or 3D cinemas where movies played out like a Channel 10 loop tape.

For me however, was within one of the sheds where they stored a number of whale skeletons. To enter this shed you walked through the jaw bones of a blue whale, and as you rounded through the door you are met with a ‘smile’ from the largest animal to have lived on this planet. The ‘pygmy’ blue whale they have on display is only a meagre 22m in length but we were assured the ‘big boys’ go up to around 34m, big enough to dwarf the shed we were standing in. The fact something like this even exists still amazes me. I can’t imagine how it must be for the kids!

We finished the visit off walking around the Cheyne IV, discussing how much more comfortable it seemed than the HMS Whyalla we saw in Whyalla. Ah… the sacrifices of wartime seemed more relevant in this town.

Still, we loved our time at this museum, and it wasn’t nearly as morbid or disgusting as I would have thought. Just merely a fitting tribute to a way of life that thankfully isn’t required.

Cheyne IV... parked very interestingly.

One half of a shell collection donated by a local lady. Thankfully washed and behind glass. Can you imagine the smell...

Anyone else think this Blue Whale is smiling for the pic?

Here's a better pic of the sheer size of this "pygmy"

The whale oil tanks that had since been turned into different video displays. A much better use. We were reliably told that it would take approximately 200 'average' sperm whales to fill the biggest tank in the middle.

With daylight failing, thankfully we had only a quick trundle around the corner to The Gap and Natural Bridge which occupied the same National Park.

These features were formed by Mother Nature herself and were another example of the “water always wins” mantra I often finding myself spruiking. I’m not going to deny that I probably found more enjoyment and interest in how they created the viewing platform, but that shouldn’t detract away from the natural beauty and uniqueness of the place. Certainly the kids didn’t care about the compressive strength of the gneiss rock underneath, and were far more fascinated with watching the waves crash in. Although I think there was some funny looks when I told them the platform could hold 4 large elephants and not fall in. I think they were trying to picture 4 elephants squeezing on there, trying to have a look at the waves….