Perth to Wedge: a tin shack fishermen's community by the sea

The northern suburbs of Perth recede in the rear-view mirror, to the left is the Indian Ocean and to the right scorched banksia bushes, their cones hanging like lumps of coal. We're headed for a few days under canvas. No map is required. It's a straight-line drive 200km up the Indian Ocean Drive to Cervantes, a fishing town close to the Nambung national park. Handwritten notes from my father-in-law, Andre, plot points of interest along the way, which many miss. They rush to see the Pinnacles, drive the track among the thousands of limestone columns that jut from the sand, favouring the inanimate limestone over the human side of Western Australia.

Underlined is a stop at Wedge, with a note that reads: "Don't drive on the beach." Worried, perhaps, that an Englishman would be unable to free the ageing station wagon from the sand. Around 150km north of Perth, Wedge is a community of weather-beaten shacks built from salvaged materials and driftwood. It's among a number of settlements fighting for survival: not from the elements but state government policy, which could see them removed and the land returned to nature, as they were built without planning consent.

You used to have to drive by the beach or rough tracks for some distance to get to Wedge but the new Indian Ocean Drive now takes you within 2km of the settlement. Approaching slowly, tin shacks, caravans and sheds start to appear. Sixty years of architectural improvisation sheltered among the dunes unfolds. Some are little more than aluminium caravans with corrugated tin awnings, others neatly constructed, with a scrap of grass out front, an Australian flag flapping in the coastal breeze above a small veranda. It is the antithesis of the neatly planned developments that are spreading along the coast.

Wedge has grown from a handful of shacks in the 1950s, built by commercial cray fishermen, then farmers seeking coastal retreats after the heat of harvest time and then families from Perth. It is now represented by more than 320 shacks, some only temporarily occupied, while others are permanent homes. Among the residents of the makeshift community are members of the Yued, whose people moved across the coastal land seasonally.Some won't appreciate the ramshackle but these are more than just tin and timber: they are family histories and coastal heritage that tell a part of this state's history. If beach huts, in ordered rows, individual in colour tells you something about the British then these shacks are a glimpse of the egalitarian spirit Brits perhaps secretly admire in Aussies.

Following a track towards the beach, the dunes encase us on either side. Criss-cross remnants of 4x4 tracks guide us up an incline and then the reason for building at Wedge is before us. Beach and ocean as far as the eye can see. Edging onto the beach we park up, the handwritten note forgotten.

"Yi can't park there!" comes a shout. The thought that this isn't the suburban antithesis after all is only momentary, as a local ambles towards us. He's the picture of a retired beach bum, in the nicest possible way. Sun-bleached cap, stubbie holder and bare feet. He points further down the beach. "Much better down there … firmer," he says, flashes a smile and heads back to his folding chair and line of fishing rods. As he sits, his companion opens the Esky between them, fishes out two cold ones, cracks them open and they resume their conversation.

We stroll along the sand, shoes off, walking in the surf, past fishermen who nod at us. We reach the Point, a meeting of two stretches of beach, which juts out like an elbow towards Wedge Island. This is the traditional meeting point for Wedge folk. On Friday nights, they come here to gossip and check in on who is around. A village green on the beach.

Having lugged the cooler box from the car we settle down for the afternoon. Contemplating this untouched stretch of coast you would think the residents of Wedge may want to keep it to themselves. Given the opportunity, and state government intentions, they're keen to encourage visitors. Tourism is seen as one up for their side. It's different to the well-trodden tourist spots but no less inspiring; a slice of coastal life which hopefully will endure.

• There is no accommodation available in Wedge and camping is not allowed in Nambung national park. Accommodation is available in Cervantes, including a campsite – details at australiascoralcoast.com, including motels, resorts and caravan parks
Max Brearley

A new foodie escape: Pemberton, Western Australia

There was much anticipation at Foragers, a new eco-conscious mini-resort in the south-western corner of Australia, when I visited. Nothing to do with me: instead, everyone was awaiting the imminent return of a young lady who had gone away for three months to lose her virginity.

It had already been noted that the trip had been promising and that after a good many sexual encounters there was an excellent chance of pregnancy for Sunday, the Jersey heifer …

Foragers is a mix of self-catering chalets, restaurant, cookery school and farm in the gorgeous Southern Forests area of Western Australia. It is the face of a new sophistication in antipodean tourism. Pioneering chef Sophie Zalokar is the formidable brain behind Foragers, turning what was a rundown traditional campsite into a cool, contemporary self-catering resort, which opened last year. It is set in 19 acres outside the small town of Pemberton, in the heart of farming country and forests, and features luxury Scandinavian-style chalets and basic cabins, built by Sophie's Swiss master-builder husband, Chris.

Sophie is a protege of Australian TV chef Maggie Beer, and she has created a restaurant serving home-cooking with a regional flavour, which maintains its own rare-breeds farm and kitchen garden and stages cookery lessons.

Back at Foragers, Sophie proudly showed me her kitchen garden, quaintly old-fashioned and English in its layout, and in some of its contents: damsons, greengages, yellow plums, crab apples, olives, quinces and a range of old apple varieties. And then there were her Wessex saddleback pigs, silver-grey Dorking chickens and Aylesbury ducks. "The ducks came from eggs posted from Tasmania," she said. "All two dozen arrived unbroken and three hatched successfully." She uses the duck eggs to make pasta.

Beyond her garden, a path leads into neighbouring Brockman state forest with its towering Karris, and the sounds of scrub wrens, honeyeaters and kookaburras.

Sophie can not only cook for 40 people in her restaurant but she makes a point of changing the menu regularly and always finding time during the evening to tell the diners about the food they're eating and where it has come from. And in honour of a British guest, she cooked up a menu that included rabbit and, for dessert, eccles cakes.

Her foraging course groups visit a local farm and a local grower, then use what they've gathered to cook lunch. Kitchen skills is a completely hands-on class; the latest concentrated on preserves – making marmalade, jam, pickle, chutney and relish, they made butter and lebna and learned how to brine meat. "They take home everything they've made – a pantryful of stuff," says Sophie. Some visitors, particularly those from across Australia, come to Foragers to cook and eat. But I had to get out and explore one of Australia's greenest and most beautiful areas: sort of Surrey-meets-Cornwall but on a much grander scale, a paradise for hiking, canoeing, swimming, riding, mountain biking or birdwatching.

Nearby Pemberton has always been a logging town but tourism is the new growth industry. It is surrounded by national parks, and in particular, by Karri forests, a type of eucalyptus that grow up to 300ft tall. I found walking through their ranks on quiet forest trails a joyous, humbling experience.

Pemberton has yet to strike the tourist gold of Margaret River, not far from here, to the west – famed for its fine wines and great surfing. But in a way, I hope that low-key Pemberton doesn't become quite as successful as Margaret River – which is a little too bustling these days to retain its original relaxed surfer-town rootsiness.
• Tourism Australia (020-7438 4601, australia.com) and Qantas (0845 774 7767, qantas.com), which flies Heathrow-Perth from £975 return, provided the trip. Foragers (+61 8 9776 1580, foragers.com.au) has self-catering cabins for up to five people from AU$130 (£84) per night and chalets for four from £160 per night. Cookery classes: foraging day £160pp, including lunch, wine and recipes; kitchen skills weekend £358pp, including meals and wine (with accommodation extra); demonstration day £55pp, including meal and wine
Nigel Summerley

Short breaks: from Melbourne to Castlemaine and Mornington Pensinsula

If I had a dollar for all the times people sighed, "Ah, Castlemaine, how beautiful", when I mentioned I was going, I would be as rich as the vast central Goldfields of Victoria that flash by on the train ride from Melbourne.

Thousands of migrant gold seekers flocked there in the 19th century, when it was the world's richest shallow alluvial goldfield. Today, just a handful of holidaymakers and commuters take the train, and in just over an hour from the hustle and bustle of Melbourne's central business district arrive in the country town of grand Victorian architecture.

A short taxi ride from Castlemaine station is the Chewton forest, bordering the Friars state forest, where there are thousands of square kilometres for walking, mountain biking, or horse-riding and now, a new eco-shack, Shack 14, set in 10 acres of bush down a long forest path, that is available to holidaymakers.

Shack 14 embraces posh bush living. An airy space houses hessian-covered armchairs; Burmese crafts, such as a golden puppet and an elephant picture hang on the walls. There is no TV or telephone, but there are DVD and CD players. In the night, I'm woken by the rustles and squarks of the wild, open my eyes, and have my breath taken away by the huge window in the arched roof that reveals a vast canopy of bright stars.

In the morning, the living room's floor-to-ceiling glass doors reveal sunshine and the huge forest, and I sit and absorb the sunlight in a deckchair on the verandah, watching brightly coloured birds fluttering amid the trees, and the gentle valley stretching into the horizon.

On the door of Shack 14, a plaque announces: "We are proud to acknowledge the Dja Dja Wurrung people as the traditional owners of this land." I remember the Australian aboriginal expression: "We don't own the land, the land owns us," as I take bush walks along tracks made by kangaroos, treading carefully to avoid wild orchids, as advised by the shack instructions. Near here the Kaweka wildflower reserve and the Castlemaine diggings national heritage park provide educative strolls through nature and history.

An alternative invigorating short break from Melbourne is beautiful Mornington Peninsula, Australia's Cornwall or Devon, south-east from the city along one of two "claws" that reach out from it into the sea. Along the way my Melbournian mate and I see the Boonwurrung memorial park, commemorating the indigenous people, and stop in a lovely town called Rosebud, with great coffee shops.

After an hour, we park up to tackle a 12km hike up and down the Bushranger's Bay trail through the Mornington Peninsula national park to the Capeschnack lighthouse. The trail winds past rock pools, banksias and Burrabong creek, and the basalt cliffs grow steep and grand, with dramatic views over the drop below into the sea – a contrast to the chocolate-brown Yarra river that flows through Melbourne.

It was around here that Australian prime minister Harold Holt disappeared from a swimming trip in 1967, and was never found again.

Descending, we reach pristine white beaches flanked by dramatic cliffs, clear water forming rivulets alongside huge boulders – a perfect place to perch for our picnic. In the forest I was the only human for miles but the peninsula is dotted with nature-loving tourists, and delighted children paddling.

Ambling along coastal and mountain paths we are stopped in our tracks by huge kangaroos and gorgeous views until we glimpse the lighthouse, then return happier back up the "claw" into the city, savouring the heights and depths surrounding Melbourne.

• Trains from Melbourne to Castlemaine run daily. The journey takes approximately 1 hour and 40 mins with fares starting at £8.40 for an off-peak single ticket. Accommodation at the self-catering Shack 14 (shack14.com.au) is at a fixed nightly rate, for two, of £137. Mornington Peninsula is about 70km from Melbourne, an hour's drive. Find accommodation on the peninsula at visitmorningtonpeninsula.org/Accommodation.aspx
Anita Sethi