Life Lessons With Quokkas on Rottnest Island in Western Australia

The gentle chitchat and clink of glasses and cutlery from cheerful families and loved-up couples is abruptly and violently broken. Conversations pause mid-sentence, laughter snaps to immediate silence and all eyes turn to the floor.

Two quokkas are fighting over a scrap of food. Another ball of dark fur streaks across the courtyard, catapulting itself between the squabbling critters.

It pushes them apart, snapping and slapping the others before each darts off in a different direction, leaving the humans to chuckle with each other at the humorous interlude.

I turn to giggle with the love of my life (LOML) about the comedic kerfuffle and realize he’s not there. I am alone.

Life Lessons With Quokkas on Wadjemup

Surely, a place like Rottnest Island off the West Australian coast, with its white sand and clear water beaches, charming cottages and glamping tents at Discovery Resorts—Rottnest Island, is best enjoyed as a shared experience.

It took falling off a bike to realize that’s not necessarily so. There is also romance in traveling solo. That dawning gave me the confidence to ask a fashionably dressed young couple for help choosing a sun hat.

In addition, it meant being able to explore the island widely and appreciate the unique wildlife and landscape, the heritage and cultural significance of Wadjemup/Rottnest Island to Aboriginal people without yearning for company.

Accident on Rottnest Island

It happened while I was trying to navigate a six-year-old on another bike who was coursing towards me. He veered and wobbled, and I veered and wobbled. He straightened up and sailed on past.

Meanwhile, I careened into a fence, the bike folding beneath me, one handlebar poking me viciously in the armpit on the way down. My left knee took the brunt of the fall, with bruises and scrapes on my right leg and deep grazes on my right wrist.

Sitting alone in the dirt, sweat dripping into my eyes, the sun beating down on my bare legs, the prickly sensation of tears forming in my eyes. I felt the yawning distance between me and home: the Blue Mountains of New South Wales on the opposite side of the continent.

When Life Throws a Curveball

I yearned for the LOML to rush forward and cradle me in his arms, check my wounds and patch me up. But he wasn’t there.

I wanted my 6′-1” son to hurry to my aid, help me up and make sure the bike wasn’t damaged. However, he had flown home the day before, after our ocean-to-ocean train adventure on the Indian Pacific from Sydney to Perth. I decided not to cry.

My son (aka The Boy) would have panicked and fussed over me, setting rules on how adventurous I was allowed to be. The Boy would have scolded me for being on a bike in the first place: “You’ve got to be careful, Mom. You know you’re not good with things like this.”

Hobbling gingerly down the hill, holding the bike for support, gave me time to pull myself together and gather the confidence to ride back to the resort.

Apart from the occasional single night close to home, I had never traveled solo. This trip wasn’t a planned single sojourn either.

The original plan was for The Boy and me to spend a few days exploring Fremantle and Rottnest Island after our four-day transcontinental adventure across the middle of Australia.

However, he had to return to work earlier than expected, so I decided to stay on by myself. I missed him when he was gone, but it was also bliss.

The Road to Personal Discovery

It takes resolve and assertiveness to stay the course against the jostling tide of bodies at the historic Fremantle Markets back on the West Australian mainland when all you want to do is study the iris eye photography or chat with the cannabis sativa oil vendor.

LOML would not have coped with the noise, the crowd, and the stifling heat. He hates aimless wandering, and The Boy gets bored with retail therapy. So, I savored my time there and whiled away more of the afternoon in Vintage Lily in the South Terrace Piazza, rifling through retro pretties at leisure.

I spent hours rambling around Victoria Quay, studying the lifelike statues of fishermen and immigrants and Bon Scott of ACDC rock band fame. I then roamed at my leisure through the exhibits at the WA Shipwrecks Museum.

Wandering into the WA Maritime Museum to escape the heat, I discovered the Empress Josephine’s Garden exhibition by chance.

A beautiful, feminine modern art immersion (on until May 11), the large-screen digital experience explores the little-known story of Empress Joséphine Bonaparte’s garden in Paris filled with flora and fauna from around the globe.

This included black swans, kangaroos, emus, and hundreds of exotic plants from Western Australia. (Entry is free to all WA museums until March 31).

Finding Freedom in Fremantle

Sapped of energy and appetite by the heat, the hankering for something cool for lunch was strong. The number of choices makes mealtimes on the road hard work, but the process is streamlined when you’re traveling solo.

While the punnet of fresh supermarket fruit salad hit the spot, I’m not sure my menfolk would have been impressed. But it meant there was room for a steak dinner at Sana Middle Eastern Restaurant around the corner from my digs that night at the uber cool Hougoumont Hotel made from shipping containers.

Another night I sat watching the barman skillfully mix drinks at a hole-in-the-wall cocktail bar (Gimlet). Conversations ebbed and flowed around the room as I sipped wine and nibbled duck and pork wontons.

Afterwards, I retreated into my room at Warders Hotel to chug too many glasses of sparkling water from the tap. While doing so, I thought about how different the soft color palette and luxury copper fittings were from when this row of rough limestone prison warder cottages was built in 1951.

It was the 24-hour reception desk at the famous Esplanade Hotel on my last night in Freo that capped off my Fremantle foray. Instead of waiting alone in the dark for a cab to Perth International Airport, the lounge inside the hotel facing the semicircular entrance was a safe zone to await my ride.

Looking Forward to Solo Travel

I was thankful then that calm and confidence had come to me four days earlier while nursing a cocktail – and my wounds – at that table for one facing Pinky Beach on Rottnest Island.

As the sun slid into the ocean, Bathurst Lighthouse glowed softly golden and quokkas, the earlier fracas forgotten, played under the tables. I realized then that being alone is not loneliness but space to be without consideration. There is contentment in solitude and romance in melancholy.

If You Go

• Fremantle and Rottnest Island can be very hot and sunny, so be sure to wear a hat and sunscreen (and sensible shoes for hiking and biking).
• Several ferry services run between Fremantle and Rottnest Island daily, including the Rottnest Express operated by Journey Beyond.

Author Bio: Ellen Hill is a freelance journalist and travel writer from the World Heritage-listed Blue Mountains Australia. She rambles the globe in search of paradise – the syrupy waters of Tahiti, the genetic pull of the Scottish Highlands, the wild extremes of Australia – usually with photojournalist husband David.

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