To do in Perth: Part 2

Feature

Australia is known for its terrifying fauna. From the red back spiders to the brown snakes, we have plenty so come one come all. We can share; we are very good at it. We have a proudly multicultural population and cater our deadly wildlife to your every need and desire. We also have some bloody huge jellyfish in our beautiful Swan River that will haunt your dreams but, sadly, will not harm you fatally. I know, I know, what a let down.

As part of the new ‘adult’ me I am learning to love my surroundings and appreciate where I come from in attempt to rehabilitate my complaint reflex. For example, I am sick of hearing myself and others criticize that there’s nothing to do in Perth.

‘Adult me’ reflects on past activities I once held contempt for but am now understanding were shaping me into a capable, adept person.

So forget that Perth is small, forget that we know every man and their dog, and forget that no one chooses to vacation here. Instead remember where you are and how lucky you are to have grown up in such an incredible place.

When I was younger my family, all 6 of us that is, would check the tyres on our bikes, readjust the seat height according to how much we’d grown since the last use and mount new water bottle holders onto the frame – for some reason those things were always missing. We’d buckle up our helmets and set off. Cycling from our house into Perth City wasn’t so bad, a few hills, a few falls, a few muttered curses in the direction of our father for making us exercise collectively, but mostly, not so bad. The river marked the halfway point of our journey and we greeted it with such veracity because of this fact that this probably the reason Dad thought we adored these trips so much. And we did enjoy them. The wind in our helmet-crushed hair was delicious, even for those few lucky strands that had gotten caught in the buckle tearing at our scalps. The smell of our sweat reminding us we still had to cycle home and the strange feeling of a blister forming somewhere on our body but we are unable to exactly pinpoint where – just magical.

Sometimes, Mum would feign needing a sleep in and the stop at a coffee shop to get sickly iced chocolates for us kids would warrant her an invite. If we were lucky she’d bring the Prado and we could hook our bikes up onto the back and get a ride home with her. Dad would continue on, however, no doubt pretending his family was still faithfully behind him, taking in every minute of the experience.

School is full of tests; standardised tests, specialist subject tests, scholarship tests. What I didn’t expect when I began my formal education were fitness tests. Grotesque ‘beep tests’ where every child would be forced to run 25m in an attempt to beat a computer sound that was intent on defeating your spirit. Swimming laps until you feel like your lungs are at their capacity for use, while a sadistic P.E. teacher with a whistle, leans over the pool’s edge. They like to tell us these are all for a reason and that we would gain an insight into our abilities by knowing these results. What crap they were feeding us. I already knew I hated swimming and that I wasn’t the fittest despite the many hours I trained as an elite gymnast; I was totally okay with all of these facts, what I wasn’t okay with was being reminded of them every 6 months and the competitiveness these tests brought out in my peers – and me obviously, I am human after all. So, you can understand our excitement when they announced another round of physical feats would determine our worth to scouts for state sports.

Not many could do the required push-ups or sit-ups or whatever else they decided as gods measured an athlete’s potential to paddle a kayak. Which is what they were looking for by the way: ‘star’ kayakers. My qualms with testing aside I ‘passed’ and was asked to begin training. My mum and I worked it around my busy schedule and turned up the following Saturday morning in brand new water shoes and a one-piece I borrowed from my body conscious sister. We decided this was an opportunity not to pass up and we were right. I flourished out there on the river, surprising myself and my parents, who knew my aversion for the sloshy beast that is any body of water. It took multiple tries to stay upright but once my small group got it we paddled like freaking avatars – the water bender types. And even though I eventually had to give up the sport, kayaking gave me a fresh take on the river itself. It also opened an entirely new avenue for experiencing my city. Now, my sister and I – and whatever additional friends of family we can convince – try to go out in our dinky rental kayaks and suffocating lifejackets at every chance. If you are going to go please head my advice and do not take what the rental shop boys say as gospel. Why they always underestimate my chest size, and insist they know my body better than I do I’ll never know.

Being in that water started out terrible but soon that became the reason I got better. Not wanting to join the rumoured giant guppies and very real, very noticeable, jellyfish for a quick dip was enough for me to improve my balance. Those murky brown bastards averaged to a size bigger than my head and taunted me with their invisible babies that I worried could sting despite contrary reassurances.

Pushing through the waves created by passing speedboats and sitting tranquil on the surface provided me with time to think and to reflect. But more importantly, it provided me amusement as I watched my sister learn how to handle herself on the kayak like I had to years ago – clumsily, frustratingly and with an entitled reward when success (and the unpredictable dinghies) permitted.

For me, the Swan River is a part of who I am. It was where I grew up with my family, where we spent most weekends, and where I spent mornings and afternoons for a period of time. It’s a big part of Perth life with not many going more than a few weeks, sometimes days, at a time without witnessing its majesty and striking ribbon swell. It’s worth checking out, worth cycling around – even with an insufferable, reluctant family – and worth paddling through. It’s ideal for picnics beside it and has an enviable view of the Australia Day and New Years fireworks. On the banks stand tall the Bell Tower – a building that was once our only landmark – and the incredible and modern Elizabeth Quay.

That river swirls and glistens in our heatwaves and our storms. It takes as good as it gives and its Perth’s pride and joy. We should all spend a little more time getting to know it – and probably learning how to save it.

Image credit: "Two Kayakers Swan River Perth Western Australia" David South