Where This Idea Started

6 December 2016
Edward was travelling in late September, early October whereas we sailed in December. Thus Edward was fortunate enough to sight three black whales which kept up a race with us at about a gunshot distance, and afforded us a fine view of  their great unwieldy forms. The only marine life we sighted on our trip was a pod of dolphins while crossing Bass Strait. We watched them from the dining room window one night as they escorted the ship for 15 or 20 minutes.

Edward's autumn travel also meant that they encountered stiffer weather than us in the Bight. Edward describes increasing south westerly wind and swell increasing to a perfect gale and seasickness again confining him to his bed. His elderly mother who was travelling with him (who he has to date hardly mentioned) did better than him, staying comparatively well. After a couple of days of stormy weather and about 75 miles out from King George's Sound the gale became perfectly furious: the ship, pitching bows under, carried away jib boom and fore-topgallant mast, and soon after the stern boat was struck by a sea and stove. Edward describes all this with a degree of stoicism I doubt if I could manage.

Entering Albany Harbour 

Entering the Sound and then the harbour provided refuge from the storm and once again Edward proceeded to land in a boat from the town, if a group of wretched buildings near the beach can be so called, the boat being much overloaded, and rowed by a somewhat unskilful crew of aborigines dressed in their kangaroo cloaks, and resplendent in grease and paint. We were able to berth alongside the wharf and were greeted by Visitor Centre volunteers resplendent in blue polo shirts. Those who preferred not to walk were conveyed by free Busy Blue Bus shuttle (one driven by my mate Lawrence) to the town centre.

Apart from the wild flowers, of which we found here a greater profusion and variety than we have ever seen elsewhere, Edward was very unimpressed by Albany which at that time had, he understood, a population of around 500. He gives a Fawlty Towers like description of attempting to find lunch. Dead and stagnant as the place appears, there are yet two tenements assuming the title of inns - wretched places with sanded floors and all other interior arrangements in keeping. One of these we entered: and, after fruitless inquiries for oysters, fish, flesh or fowl, we brought mine host to the reluctant admission that dry bread is the only eatable his house now affords, which, with brandy and bottled beer, constitutes his whole present stock for supplying the bodily wants of strangers.
The man has, he told us, lived twenty years in this dreary spot; and has, as a natural consequence fallen into a kind of torpid stupor, from which he was not to be roused. Our many questions elicited but few replies; and when his slow, reluctant lips did give forth a drawling response, it was only to let us know he was ignorant of the matter upon which we sought information. He could not tell how the convicts were employed, "never went to look". How far it was to Perth, and how near the Swan River Stock Stations approached this place he did not know, "he never went far from home."
Baffled in all attempts to obtain food for body or mind, we quitted this remarkable hotel. Trish and I during our shore excursion visited Teede & Co, for an excellent Chai Latte. From prior experience I know the food here would've satisfied Edward although he might have been bemused by some modern dishes of the "smashed avo and feta" variety. Had he sought local information from our hostess Alison Teede I am equally sure she could've satisfied any of his queries.

Strawberry Hill Farm. Perhaps the least changed place since Edward's visit.

The following day During our rambles, we came upon the hermitage of Lady S      r, the widow of a former governor of Swan River, who has strangely chosen this world-forgotten spot for her residence. She invited them in for a cuppa but clearly there was not significant conversation because this was obviously Lady Spencer at Strawberry Hill Farm whose deceased husband Sir Richard had been the resident magistrate in Albany, not Swan River Governor. Like Edward's father he was also a pensioned off Royal Navy man but Edward doesn't mention this. However, Edward does describe the house as overlooking the bay of Middleton Beach, confirming the orientation of the house shown in a recently discovered sketch of the place, rather than it's current situation that suggests an orientation towards Mt Clarence.

Our friends Frank and Wendy met us at the Entertainment Centre and we then all walked round to Strawberry Hill and back. In keeping with Edward's view of Albany's backward nature, the Farm which is now a National Trust museum, was not open - on a day when a cruise ship was in town! Thus are the pitfalls of operating with volunteer staff. If no-ones available, places don't open. Still, it was a lovely walk.

Later in the day they also fell in with an interesting group of young aboriginal children, all females, who in charge of a very nice-looking European girl, were rambling among the rocks and gathering flowers. They were all plainly but neatly dressed, and looked remarkably clean. At the bidding of their conductress they sang a simple hymn for our edification. On inquiry, we learned that the little creatures are the offspring of the wild-looking blacks we had seen about the settlement, and they are maintained and instructed in a school expressly devoted to the purpose. The parents are allowed to visit them when they please; and like fathers and mothers in more civilized life, are vastly proud of their daughters achievements. 

Trish dreaming of faraway places with the Sun Princess at the Albany wharf.

It was these passages that first suggested to me the notion of recreating Edward's trip. Until I read Edward's journal a few years ago I had no idea that any of my Australian ancestors had visited West Australia, let alone Albany. As a devotee of Albany history I knew much of the detail behind what he saw. These girls were clearly from Camfield, the school for Menang children set up by Anne Camfield, and her resident magistrate husband, Henry. I have long been fascinated by the story of Bessie Flower, the most famous of Camfield's students, (Google her for one of the most interesting, but saddest, stories of gender and racial politics in Australian history) who although still very young in 1854, may well have been part of the group Edward met. Sitting on a bench near Albany's town jetty a few years ago it struck me that Edward must have walked within metres of where I was sitting 150 years previously. Looking around me at what I could see today, I formed the idea of visiting all the places he had to compare my experience with his.

King George's Sound was Edward's last landing on West Australian shores. Once they sailed from here, their next stop was Ceylon, bypassing the Swan River and Perth.