Creatures, Cycling, and Sand | A Day on Rottnest Island

When the day began we had two concerns. One, we hadn’t managed to book bike hire the night before when we’d grabbed the few remaining tickets of the 9.30 am ferry from Fremantle B Shed to Rottnest Island. Two, there was a slight chill in the air, and as we walked towards the water, we shivered at the thought of a boat ride in the breeze. 

Upon arrival (after a journey of stomach drops and staff handing out ‘just in case’ bags), my friend — a girl from my hostel I made friends with — and I realised that neither concern was going to be an issue. The sun was casting its roasting, golden light all over the island. At the hire shop, Pedal and Flipper, there were rows of bicycles to choose from. Medium bicycle and helmet selected and the $30 hire charge fee paid, we were off into the sun. 

We released our worries to the winds that pushed against us as we tackled inclines and gave into descents. Glimpses of deep blue and turquoise ocean came between hills of dry grass. Sand carried on the wind scratched our faces. We took our first rest stop and looked out at the picturesque Henrietta Rocks, one of many points on the island you can look out at the clear and vibrant ocean and feel certain of heaven. We felt similarly at Parker Point. Here we descended the wooden steps to the sand and walked along the shore, marvelling at the clear waters lapping lazily on the sand. The southerly winds were strong, and you had to keep alert to ensure you didn’t lose hold of anything lightweight, like your essential bicycle hire invoice. I learnt this through experience as mine flew away and danced along the beach and, as I approached, slipped through the metal gaps of a fence. I groaned aloud, aware of an audience on the beach. But, without hesitation, just at the point marked ‘Restricted’, a man was climbing over. He darted for the paper and passed it over the fence directly into my palm. 

In my first few days of experiencing Western Australia, I have been delighted with the generosity and friendliness of its people. Volunteers are always keen to check you have enough sunscreen and water. People strike up conversation in the queues for toilets. Men leap over restricted fences for your paperwork. Speaking in generalisations risks claiming something inauthentic or not entirely accurate. But it wouldn’t be wrong to say that there is a friendliness embedded in Australian culture — something I remember from growing up over here too. After overhearing us discussing our next destination on the island, a nearby island volunteer offered us advice and conversed with us about where we’re from and what we’re doing in Australia. She told us how she’d hitchhiked through New Zealand as a teenager and wished us all the best as we reboarded our bikes and pedalled off, muscles screaming once more. 

Rottnest Island’s most famous attraction has to be their native inhabitants: quokkas. The friendly marsupials are able to be seen all over the island, most often under the trees searching for snacks. Knowing no predators on Rottnest, they are indifferent to humans and will get on with business as usual as swathes of people gawp in awe and attempt to shove cameras in their tiny faces. 

Our best quokka encounter of the day was with one we found under some trees on the side of the road. I stood back, keen not to interfere with its intentions of sniffing out tasty dry grass to eat. But the little creature was determined to sniff the ground exactly under my feet and made its way towards me on its kangaroo-like legs. Soon after, he caught sight of my rucksack on the ground. Intrigued, by the colour, or the sweet smell of dates I’d brought with me (a discounted bargain from the Coles in central Perth), he went over to investigate, and spent a good few minutes sniffing the backpack. 

Warmed by this encounter, and the hot sun which had begun to burn the backs of my hands and shoulders, we continued on into the island. After the advice of our friendly volunteer, we cut through a path inland to head to one of the northern beaches to escape the wind. Up there, we found a delightful cove of white sand and clear water, and based ourselves there for an hour. I topped up on sunscreen and waited the excruciating minutes for it to soak in before I could head into the water. It was a delightful way to cool off, surrounded by the beauty of the coral under water and high rocks all around us. My only regret was not hiring a snorkel too, to see the sea life more closely. 

Back on our bikes and aiming for where we’d begun our journey, I was even more uncomfortable than when I’d first started on the bike. Alongside aching muscles, I was covered in a layer of sand and salt, my clothes wet with seawater, the sting of sunburn beginning on the surface of my skin. But as we conquered more hills and flew down the other sides, passed more quokkas and saw glittering pink lakes, I couldn’t think of a better place to be uncomfortable.