Day 11 – Albany to Margaret River: Forests, Pies, and Kangaroo Assassins
Now that we’ve discovered the South-West of Australia, time to head north — only two more legs to Perth!
Following our newly found mate Damian’s advice, we ditched the shorter route and chose the longer, twistier one. A gamble? Not really. WA’s south-west is like someone finally remembered to turn on the “scenery” setting. Towering forests, winding roads, soft filtered sunlight through the trees — a motorcyclist’s dream. Twisty enough to keep it fun, but none of those butt-clenching hairpins that make you question your life choices. Honestly, this was the kind of ride that makes you forgive every straight desert stretch before it.
First stop – Denmark.
Not the country (though I’ll claim otherwise at parties), but a charming little town about 50 km west of Albany. Think friendly vibes, rolling hills, and a main street that feels like a postcard. Denmark has a bit of everything — boutique shops, art galleries, wineries nearby — but for us, it was about the important stuff: pies. Award-winning, flaky, delicious pies. So yes, I can now brag I’ve been to Denmark and eaten their national treasure.
Next stop – Walpole.
Small town, big forest. Walpole sits in the heart of the Walpole-Nornalup National Park, home to the famous Valley of the Giants Treetop Walk. Didn’t have time to swing through the canopy this trip, but you can literally stroll 40 metres up in the air among giant tingle trees. Instead, we stuck to motorbike-level life and headed straight for the pub. A double espresso later, I was convinced Walpole was my kind of place.
Onward to Pemberton.
This leg was about 1 hour 20 minutes — which, in biker terms, is like running a marathon with your bum. Twisty roads are fun, but they’re not exactly forgiving on endurance. By the time we rolled in, we were ready for fuel (bike and human). Noune chose pie (of course), while I opted for ice cream — a reward system that made perfect sense to me.
Pemberton itself is a lovely timber town surrounded by towering karri forests. It has that classic “heritage-meets-tourism” vibe — old sawmills, cute cafes, and if you’re feeling energetic, you can climb one of the giant fire lookout trees. Not recommended after a long ride unless you fancy testing how much wobble your knees can handle.
The Kangaroo Incident.
Now, let’s rewind a little. Before leaving Albany, I wanted to get on the road early. Why? Kangaroos. They don’t check the clock — they just leap out whenever it suits them. Noune, however, wanted to milk our late checkout. Her theory: “Don’t worry, there won’t be any kangaroos.” Translation: If there are, you’ll deal with them.
Fast forward to just after Pemberton. I’m cruising at 110 km/h when — surprise! — a giant roo jumps right in front of me. Too close for comfort, but far enough to avoid disaster. Hard braking, helmets clashing, heart rate skyrocketing. Noune? She yells, “Look how cute!” Cute? These fluffy assassins are Australia’s version of Russian roulette. With cars, they commit suicide. With motorbikes, it’s attempted homicide. Thankfully, we lived to tell the tale.
The Final Stretch.
Just when I thought it couldn’t get more fun, mosquitoes decided to join the party. South-West WA mosquitoes aren’t just plentiful — they’re an occupying army. Within half an hour, my visor looked like a Jackson Pollock painting in bug guts. Add low sun directly ahead, no shoulder to stop on, and I found myself crawling at 70–80 km/h, praying for a safe turn. Eventually, the road tilted north, the glare eased, and I could see again.
Margaret River at Last.
Finally, we rolled into Margaret River, the crown jewel of WA’s south-west. Famous for its world-class wineries, surf beaches, and laid-back lifestyle, it’s the kind of place where even the air smells expensive. The town itself is small but stylish, lined with cafes, boutiques, and enough cellar doors to keep a sommelier busy for a decade.
Our accommodation? Another “humanless” check-in (robots really are taking over). After a quick rest, we grabbed burgers in town and called it a night. Tomorrow, the final leg to Perth — and our butts can hardly wait.
