Tour de Rotto

 

Waaaaay back when we arrived in Perth (the first time) we took The Pesticles to Rottnest Island.

We went out on this…..

 

It leaked at the windows & the lady in front of us spewed, but whatever.

It was 25 mins and approximately $250 return for us & our bikes from Fremantle.
Not the cheapest boat I’ve ever been on, but again, whatever.

Once we arrived on the island check-in wasn’t til 2pm so we had a few hours to take our bikes, with kids on the back, and explore.

It was all up hill from there.

Rottnest Island is truly beautiful.




The water was clear, the beaches where white, & there were some fantastic lookout points.

However…

The brochures & websites make Rottnest look deceptively flat, with attractive, smiling people having a lovely time on their bikes, with the odd gentle incline or two & nary a bead of sweat to be seen on any unwrinkled forehead.

Bull. Shit.

And what of the 100 knot head winds, hey?!

It’s been a while since I’ve been on a bicycle, or done any real exercise for that matter. And I don’t fancy myself as the most coordinated of persons.
I had the added pressure of having 15 kilos of lard Emerson, strapped to the back of the bike which made me nervous, to say the least. I really didn’t want to be responsible for any de-gloving injuries of the 2 year old.

Anyway, we were smothered in sun cream & off on our “leisurely” cycle around the island.



After a couple of km’s & a few reasonable inclines my, relatively unused, thigh muscles began to burn like buggery. The wind kept knocking me sideways, my skinny men’s bike seat was definitely rubbing me up the wrong way, & my bike was permanently stuck in really fucking hard high gear. I could see my professional cycling career slipping away before it had even begun.



My hefty passenger, & enthusiastic 4th generation bird watcher, had managed to point out every species of birdlife on the island in our first half hour.
Six times over.
There were ducks, & seagulls ducks, & pigeons ducks, & pelicans ducks, & all sorts of other little water birds baby ducks! And can you imagine how much “WAAAATER!” there is to see when you visit AN ISLAND.
Also, for an island that’s meant to be mostly “vehicle free”, there was a freakin’ large amount of “TRUCK!(s)” & “BUS!(es)”.

I’m just sayin’.

After all that painful exercise fun it was off to the bakery for some carbs, saturated fats & a bit of a rest before we checked in here….

Our bungalow


Tres chic dining-come-lounge area.


Neat & tidy. And not a pube to be found. Few!

It was great! “Budget” accommodation at its best.

Fatso & I had a snooze while Laithe & Georgie grabbed some bolognaise ingredients from the General Store (which was totally reasonably priced, by the way) & got dinner sorted.

We ducked out before dinner to have a crack at some fishing down here…



It wasn’t for everyone.



… but with no fish to be caught, we were lucky dinner was already on.

After dinner we went out for an obligatory Quokka hunt.




On day two we were up early to get the most out of the morning before we got back on the arvo ferry to Perth.

I was just about in tears at the thought of having to get back on the bike.
My arse was bruised from the day before & it felt like I’d given birth to Emerson all over again.

At his current weight & head circumference.

We strapped a couple of towels to the seat & I huffed, puffed & winced my way around the island on that contraption of torture bike.

Rottnest has an army of silver-haired Seniors who voluntarily man the museum & run tours & such. They get about in golf buggies & give you a royal wave as they wiz past you with the smuggest of looks on their faces.

Bastards.

Two hours in & I was ready to fracture a few hips & role one of those grannys for their buggy. If only they’d slowed down enough for me to catch them.

Emerson, who was in serious need of a nap, sat on the back of the bike with his head flopping from side to side. With each push of the pedal & lean of the bike his helmet smacked, back & forth, into the side of the child seat. TAP-tap. TAP-tap. TAP-tap…

He was crying. I was crying.

It wasn’t pretty.

After a few hours we headed back to the main square to wait for the ferry.

We’d had to check out of our room earlier that morning, so Emerson had a sleep on the grass in the shade of a tree, amongst the quokka shit. I sat, on an angle, & watched Georgie play at the park, & Laithe went for a swim.

And then just like that, without a single doggie bag full of vomit, we were back on the mainland & heading back to the caravan.

I haven’t been on that bike since.

What have I learned?

• Next time I’m taking the bus!