With only a few days in Western Australia – and a car – you can see an astonishing amount of beauty. Traveling with a local who knows her way around helps. After completing her weekend weaving retreat, my friend Lisa offered our group a bonus adventure: a four-day road trip to her coastal home in Bremer Bay. It wasn’t spontaneous so much as generous: her way of sharing a little more of her world with those of us who’d made the long trek down under.
With Lisa’s trailer hitched to the car and her adorable dog Edie riding shotgun, we set off through towering forests and coastal towns in Australia’s South West. This isn’t Sydney’s Bondi Beach or the Gold Coast: it’s a wilder, quieter corner of the country.
Five women trading seats, stories, and playlists over 600 miles, stopping to marvel at ridiculously tall trees, swirling rivers, and bright, white-sand beaches. Lisa became a tourist in her own region, showing us natural landmarks and places she’d loved as a child, while introducing us to old friends along our route. I hadn’t known exactly what I was getting into, but I was happy to go along for the ride. I left thankful for a taste of the South West, and with a fuller appreciation of just how vast this part of the world really is.
- South West Coast Itinerary At-A-Glance
- Day 1: Into the Forest
- Day 2: Towards the Coast
- >> The Nature of the South West
- Day 3: Rainy Day in Bremer Bay
- Day 4: The Road Back to Balingup
South West Coast Itinerary At-A-Glance
- Day 1: South from Balingup to Manjimup, Donnelly River Village, lunch picnic at Circular Pool, Valley of the Giants Tree Top Walk, Night in Torbay
- Day 2: Brunch in Albany, continuing onto Bremer Bay
- Day 3: Coffee and Shopping around Bremer Bay town, lunch at The Roadhouse, homemade pasta dinner and free-weaving at the house
- Day 4: Brief stops in Gnowangerup, Kojonup, Shopping in Bridgetown before returning to Balingup
Day 1: Into the Forest
Our first cluster of stops lay in forest country before and around Manjimup, beginning with Donnelly River Village.
Donnelly River Village is a quiet, former timber-town-turned- holiday-hamlet tucked deep in the karri forest. The karri is a species of eucalyptus tree that grows tall (some stretching over 200 feet). The forest they form feels cathedral-like – all smooth, pale trunks and shifting patches of sun and shadow.
Cottages circle a grassy commons, with the old general store still serving as a social hub. Kids pedaled by on bikes while kangaroos and emus meandered through the streets unbothered — a scene that felt surreal to me, yet perfectly ordinary to everyone else in the village.
We refueled with coffee at Southern Roasting Co., a modern café buzzing with locals. We were disappointed to find Petrichor Gallery closed, so after a peek in the window, we kept moving. While admiring the local street art, Lisa pointed out her own depiction in a mural of an outdoor dinner party. What a legend!
Lisa had planned a stop at the Walking Through a Songline exhibit at the Manjimup Town Hall, an immersive traveling installation from the National Museum of Australia using light, sound, and digital storytelling to share how songlines map Indigenous connections to land.
From there, we stopped for a picnic lunch at Circular Pool in Walpole-Nornalup National Park, where the Frankland River swirls with foam created by plant compounds called saponins. Saponins give the water naturally frothy, cappuccino-like bubbles reminiscent of soap suds.
We spread a blanket on a rock overlooking the rapids and snacked on thin slivers of leftover lasagna (actually pretty tasty), a store-bought seeded sourdough loaf, pesto spread, tom-ah-toes (as spoken in Aussie), and a jar of creamy marinated feta cheese.
Later, we walked among giants at the Valley of the Giants Tree Top Walk, a 600-meter canopy walkway rising 40 meters above ground through ancient red tingle trees found only in this part of the world. They say everything is bigger in Texas, but Australia gives Texas a run for its money. Photos can’t capture their scale.
By evening we reached Torbay, where we stayed in a hostel run by a friend of Lisa’s. We sat down for dinner with family including our host, uncles, nieces, and fellow travelers, while a pair of playful dogs wrestled about. We’d brought along a simple lentil dish that we somehow stretched to share with the group. After a long day and a warm shower, it was time to hit the hay.
Day 2: Towards the Coast
We woke early and started the day with a drive straight onto the beach for a sip of strong Australian sunshine, after which we set off for Albany, a port town 20 minutes east.
In Albany, we stopped for brunch at Kate’s Place, a homey café opposite the town jetty, offering an all-day breakfast and selection of hot “toasties”. I ordered the brekkie roll with thick bacon, egg, and hashbrowns (hashbrowns in sandwiches = top tier), and a side of tomato chutney.
We popped into Gourmandise & Co. a few doors down for croissants and pastries (road snacks), pausing for a group selfie before getting back on the road.
When we finally reached Bremer Bay, Lisa gave us a tour of her “Little Blue” eco beach house (which you can rent on Airbnb!): compact, modern, and smartly designed with an indoor shower, washer/dryer, composting toilet (which we were already familiar with from her home in Bailingup) and, most importantly an outdoor spa tub overlooking the sand dunes.
After unloading the trailer, we headed straight for the beach and got in the water. Afterwards, I soaked in the outdoor spa tub, prosecco in hand, watching the light fade over the ocean. That night, to accommodate the five of us, Lisa spent the night camped out on the wraparound deck under the stars, “Earth Mother” style.
>> The Nature of the South West
Over the course of the trip I collected – literally and mentally – the textures and details of the natural world characteristic of the region. The wildflowers were desert-hardy and defiant, shaped into vibrant brushes of orange, pink, and red. Fiery red Flame Trees and spiky Banksia blooms lined the roadsides, while plump pig face succulents lined the beaches.
The rough surfaces of banksia seed pods, pocked with “eyes,” intrigued me; I would have loved to find one to take home. (They inspired the villans in May Gibbs’s Snugglepot and Cuddlepie stories – considered an Australian childhood classic.)
There weren’t Banksia pods to be found on Bremer Bay’s beaches, though we found cuttlefish bones in abundance. White and tinged pink with delicate, jagged ridges, they’re incredibly light and almost weightless. I managed to transport one home, tucked beside the red-tailed cockatoo feather gifted to me in Balingup.
The beaches themselves were epic: wind-swept and nearly empty. Maybe it was because summer hadn’t quite arrived yet, or maybe this corner of Australia is simply that vast. The sand was so fine it squeaked sharply beneath our feet.
Not every natural encounter was idyllic. I’d half-expected to meet one of Australia’s legendary giant spiders; instead, we found ourselves at war with sandflies. They relentlessly clung to faces, lips, everything. Even Lisa had never seen them so bad. We resorted to grabbing leafy branches and using them like bath brooms, swatting ourselves between bursts of laughter and mild panic. Add in a patch of meat ants we had to cross to reach a beach lookout, and the score was clear: the insects were winning.
Day 3: Rainy Day in Bremer Bay
The next morning, the clouds rolled in and the rain followed. We managed an early beach walk before the storm hit, and I braved the water. It was shockingly cold, but how could I not? We were leaving the next day, and I might not have had another chance.
We spent most of the day around town. Our first stop was Orcas Coffee Company, a cheerful food-truck café near John Cove Beach. Then came a browse through the “op shops” (Australia’s thrift stores). At Pelican Op Shop, I found a $2 vintage pin featuring a native flower. I attached it to my bag proudly and predictably lost it before we left town.
The Merchants offered more curated and contemporary retail therapy, with roomy linen pants, playful embroidered loungewear, and racks of stylish sunglasses and hats. Lisa and Leah both bought matching linen pants; I mostly browsed, enjoying the contrast between thrifted treasures and boutique finds.
For lunch we headed to The Roadhouse, a gas-station café known for its fish and chips. We decided to dine in to enjoy the generous, golden portions of fish, staying warm and dry as the rain intensified outside. In addition to their fish and chip and fried seafood platters, they also served sausage rolls and Chiko rolls – Australia’s deep-fried answer to the spring roll.
Due to the storm, we brought the outdoor furniture (and Edie) in and hunkered down for the night, improvising a simple pasta dinner at Lisa’s with whatever we found in the pantry. Afterward, she guided us through a bonus basket weaving session. “Free weaving” followed no pattern or prescribed form, just coaxing branches into shape and seeing what emerged.
Day 4: The Road Back to Balingup
We woke early for the long drive back to Balingup, following a more direct inland route. Our first stop was Gnowangerup for a quick bathroom break, and also where I grabbed a meh sandwich.
We continued on to Kojonup, where I ordered a bowl of piping-hot butternut squash soup at the Black Cockatoo Café. It took its time to arrive, but was worth the wait – velvety, comforting, fully redeeming my forgettable sandwich.
Just before reaching Balingup, we stopped in Bridgetown to stretch our legs and do a little browsing:
- Boho Vintage is a long, narrow trove of vintage clothing finds.
- Barney & Fleur is where I discovered Thrills Co., a Byron-Bay-based lifestyle brand. Their oversized cargo pants looked intimidatingly large on the rack but proved super chic on. We had a blast trying on denim and party dresses – a spontaneous fashion show among friends that invigorated us after long stretches in the car.
- Loft Bridgetown is a small gift shop stocked with handmade goods, including original clothing designs and clever little laser-cut, mismatched studs that would make easy gifts.
Before leaving Bridgetown, we also stopped by the home of one of the yoga teachers from our weaving retreat, to see the progress on her new home and her impressive garden. After our visit, we rolled back into Balingup, mentally preparing for a late-night packing party before the next leg of our travels.
That drive marked the most time we’d spent in a car during that trip. Though we’d covered so much ground – forests, coasts, and small towns – zooming out on a map, it’s just one tiny corner of Australia. I was grateful for the chance to get a taste of a region that few visitors reach, curated through the lens of a local.
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