Cottesloe - Mandurah - on Day 1

Monday 21 November 1977. At work before I went on leave, I had been discussing with a workmate the idea of taking a bike ride into the country, and he had mentioned that Meelup Beach would a nice place to cycle to. That idea stuck and I made it my eventual aim.

I left home at 9.40 on a warm humid morning. I had a 28 inch heavy steel bike with a 3 speed hub gear and back pedal brake, a basket in front with a bottle of water in it, and a bike radio clipped onto the handlebars. I hadn’t done any special maintenance on the bike - at that time if there was nothing broke, I didn’t fix it.

I rode down the Stirling Highway, over the old Fremantle Traffic Bridge and started up the hill past the old Asylum, now a museum. I was only about 7km from home but as I strained to get up this hill into a humid headwind I nearly decided to abort the ride. Anyhow I kept going, got over the hill and proceeded down Hampton Road.

I turned left into Rockingham Road, went past the Davilak oval and on through Spearwood. I was stopping every 5km or so whenever I saw a shop where I could buy a drink. At that time the main road to Mandurah was not as it is now, Ennis Avenue - it was what is now known as the Old Mandurah Road. I stopped some way down this and dragged the bike up a hill into a quite classy place where they were kind enough to let me in and let me sit at a table and have a drink and a rest. I also stopped at a shop on the eastern shore of Lake Coolongup and bought another drink.

By the time I reached the bridge that goes over the railway tracks north of Rockingham the November southerly was quite strong and I was exposed to it and struggling. I laboured on and the kilometres to Mandurah gradually came down, 25, 20, 15. I remember on the last approach to Mandurah, hearing the 4 o’clock pips on the tinny radio. I remember the roofs of houses peeping over a rise to my right as the pips went. They still used the pips for a time signal on the ABC in those days. At that time there was no Mandurah bypass road and the main road went right on into the old centre of town, over the old bridge and onto what was then called the Old Coast Road. None of it was a dual carriageway, and it was all two-way, trucks and all.

I arrived at the old centre of town, near the old bridge and the Brighton Hotel and the tackle shop, some time after 4 pm. It had taken me nearly 7 hours to do a journey that I have since done in less than 3, albeit going the other way with the sea breeze at my back. In 1994 I did the home to Brighton Hotel run in 3 hours and 37 minutes with a rare northerly tailwind.

I had made no hotel booking and had had no idea what the town offered for a hotel. I don’t think I had been to Mandurah before. But right there was the Brighton Hotel, so I went in and asked if they had a room. They did, and my disorderly appearance wasn’t a problem.

I got into my room, which was on the first floor, on a corner overlooking the main road. Trucks ground and thundered by. There was a sort of balcony in the form of an upstairs concrete verandah with iron rails, running along so that it was common to all the rooms. This was accessible through a French window. There was a wash-basin and the usual few items of furniture. At that time the old-fashioned type of hotel room was dominant - en-suites were less common, except in some motels.

I changed into my bathers and trotted across the road for a swim. I swam next to the old jetty, which is still there, though there are some board-walks as well now. I had only a vague idea of Mandurah and thought I was swimming in the ocean, only in some sort of inlet. I didn’t know how enclosed it was, and it was to be years before I would discover the nice ocean beach at the end of Stewart Street about a kilometre to the north.

To get into the water the concrete bank was formed into steps at this point. I swam for a while then dived under water. The water was rather murky. I was swimming around in a curve when I noticed a large fish, about a metre long, with a fin on its back swimming around after me in a playful manner. I panicked and rushed to the surface, yelling ‘Help!’ The boys fishing off the jetty looked at me strangely. I got out of the water but there was no fin breaking the surface and no-one seemed to be aware of anything untoward. Later I realised it must have been a dolphin. At that time I didn’t know there were dolphins at Mandurah.

Back in the hotel I had a shower in the shared bathroom and washed my clothes. I had a long-sleeved shirt with two pockets and a pair of cotton trousers which got heavy when wet and took ages to dry. I festooned the wet clothes around the room and the front verandah and put on the spare long trousers and a T-shirt. In those early rides I wore rubber thongs, and wore them all evening as well. I rode hundreds of kilometres in rubber thongs. But foot discomfort isn’t something I remember about those early rides. Maybe because other things were so terrible.

I went down to the outdoor bar and dining area and ordered a counter meal. There was a pleasant atmosphere on a muggy evening with plenty of customers and popular music playing. Afterwards I walked onto the old bridge and back, then went back to my room. I may have attempted to watch TV but I can’t remember. In those days any TV might have been a broken-down black and white one with only one channel, in the common guest lounge.

I thought I would sleep well after such a day but at that time I was unaware of dehydration, never before having pushed myself hard enough for it to be a problem. So with that, the heavy traffic, the mosquitoes and the warm humidity I had little sleep.

Charles A Pierce