Walters River Cafe, Point Walter

The Narrows to Point Walter via Mosman Bay, 12.75km, Wind ENE 20kts 

 I knew it was going to be good today, as I drove down Stock Road in Palmyra. 6.30am on a Saturday morning and two examples of young ladies doing the 'walk of shame' from wherever they had woken up. One was so hilariously funny with birds nest-like bed hair, ludicrously short dress and contrastingly high heels that she could have been the poster girl for 'The Walk'. Either that, or she was a prostitute hoping to get an early start on the competition. Don't get me wrong - I am not being judgmental nor holier than thou. I may have found myself in unfamiliar territory once or twice in my youth - although being a bloke there wasn't much shame involved because most wouldn't normally consider that sort of thing a shameful event. Unless you went for quantity over quality and your mates caught you. Regardless, both girls made my morning only a few minutes after it started.

Bad James sets off.

Bad James, Westy and I met at Point Walter with the intention of doing a run to the bridges at Fremantle but when we arrived it was blowing dogs off chains. The kite surfers were speaking some indecipherable tongue loudly and staccato, which seemed to indicate excitement. The thought of coming back into the wind all the way from Freo didn't do it for us so we hatched a plan so cunning that you could stick a tail on it and call it a weasel. A quick car shuffle and call to Mrs Westy later (sorry - but we did know you were already awake!) we were on our way to The Narrows to do a down-winder.

When we arrived, being in the lee of the city it was very calm, and we slid in with a view to heading for Heathcote before turning tail to the wind and riding the chop all the way back, and that's exactly what happened. It gets quite shallow at the point at Crawley and when the chop hits the seawall of the yacht club at Nedlands it turns the water into a washing machine, so we were able to studiously avoid these places. At one stage we were doing 12.5km/h with 20kts of wind behind us - not bad for two Endorfinns and a big Mirage sea kayak!

A couple of weeks back my former boss at Gorilla Biscuits Pty Ltd - Mr Silverback - gave me a hint on hand width whilst paddling and I have to say, it's been great. I had my hands too far apart and my paddle not extended far enough, so have widened it by 5cm and incorporated some training tips from ratherbepaddling.com.au and I am now doing faster speeds (slightly) with far less effort. In a shameless mutual promotion, the folks at RBP have recently featured the adventures of the Perth Breakfast Paddlers on their site. Thanks!

Mosman Bay.

Speaking of Gorilla Biscuits, things most certainly have been full on of late. Some of the young bonobos and howler monkeys have only been smacking half of their faces into the dough, having not read the company mission statement, and some of the elder chimpanzees have taken to smacking certain other random body parts into the mix in a direct contravention of the Gorilla Biscuit Standing Instruction on Ugly Foodstuff Production. Having been promoted recently to lead a section of face smackers, behaviour like this needs to be stamped on in a merciless Planet Of The Apes fashion, so I have had to bring in a unit of Congolese poachers to instill discipline. The cure can sometimes be worse than the disease, so I have to watch the watchers to ensure there isn't a new line of Gorilla foot ashtrays coming out of the factory. Suffice to say, I haven't worked less than a 12 hour day all this week and yesterday peaked at 15.5 hours. Two beers and I was asleep in front of The Clone Wars at 7.30pm.

So the paddle this morning was a very welcome and de-stressing one. Even when we turned into the wind to go back across Mosman Bay after having tucked in to the Yacht Club cove for a bit. We weaved amongst windsurfers and kiteboarders as we made our way across to the spit, looking forward to our beloved fried pig and coffee but sensing disappointment all the same.

Walters River Cafe, Point Walter Reserve, Point Walter (08)93309330

I need to start with a disclaimer. As regular readers will be well aware, I have never liked this cafe. So I was trying really hard to be objective and go in with an open mind. Things might have changed since I was last there. New owners may have taken over. The view may have justified the experience. Pigs may have sprouted wings and taken to the sky, too.

Giant Baked Beans. Obviously!

Little Bbrayyyden (likely spelling) was not a happy chappy. About 4, he was obviously hungry. As was his little friend Tahnee-Lee-Lateesha (OK, I may have made that one up). Their respective mothers were ahead of us in the queue at the cafe, placing their breakfast order with a staff member who had no idea how to use the till. Sure, she is an older woman who is obviously not computer-savvy but I know for a fact that she has been working there for at least six months, having waited 30 minutes for her to make a single takeaway coffee six months ago, so you'd kind of think that learning how to process orders and accept money would be an essential, first-order skill and able to be mastered in 182.5 days. Not so, apparently. 15 minutes later, with us now loudly perusing the lunch menu (at 9.30 am), a change of till operator and with the mothers of the little dears only then having asked their little rays of sunshine what they wanted for breakfast, we finally put in our orders. Bbrayyydens fingerprints and thumb impression was very clear on the muffin under the cover right next to the till, and almost warranted me leaving a Gorilla Biscuits job offer on his table.

Shame-inducing.

This place is expensive. Very expensive. But at least they are creative in how they hide how expensive it is with their menu. You can order Eggs Florentine for the eye-popping total of '22' (dollars? bananas?), but the menu doesn't have Eggs Benedict. Unless you order Eggs Florentine with ham (+'4.40'), giving you a total of $26.40. Smoked salmon, instead of ham, will set you back an extra '5.50'. Coffee - I ordered a small mug, rather than the thimbles that they use for cups - is a bargain '5.50'. Luckily, I had sold my two children into slavery yesterday, so I could afford breakfast here today. Also, luckily, Bad James had found a rock lobster near the car, so it took '20' off the bill, and Mrs Westy had dug out an Entertainment card, getting a further discount.

The coffees arrive 15 minutes later. Some people drink a certain exclusive and expensive coffee that has passed through the intestinal tract of some rare jungle cat/monkey. This cafe may have been developing something similar but things didn't augur well with Bad James describing his first sip as 'like my dogs had chewed up the beans and shat them into the cup'. And he was right (I think). Except the RSPCA would cart me to jail for feeding my dog the debacle in a cup that appeared for my '5.50'.

'5.5' - on the canine intestinal scale

Westy had ordered Eggs Florentine with ham, Bad James went the Giant Baked Beans ('17.60'), and I, obviously flush with the profits from selling the tin lids, went the Eggs Florentine with Smoked Salmon and a side of bacon ('4.40'). The breakfast plates came out just after the dogsh...errr..coffee, and to be fair didn't look all that bad. If they'd got there having imparted, say, '17.5' each.

The white plates are very large, and whilst the portions of food were a reasonable size, they did appear lost on the wide expanses of these white Serengetis. I wanted the Hollandaise to be jarred by this stage, in fact was screaming for this to be the case, but alas it was made freshly. My eggs were nicely cooked and the bacon portion plentiful. The smoked salmon was also pretty good. The toast slices were large, albeit thin, but could have done with a lashing of butter. I found myself actually enjoying the food, much to my disgust. Westy enjoyed his as well, and James was quite enamored with his Giant Baked Beans which came with a poached egg on top. Silently, we finished our breakfasts and as the cutlery rattled around the plate we left, my wallet empty of nearly '40'.

Is this Perth's most expensive Eggs Benedict?..err...Florentine. With Ham.

As we walked to the car, eyes cast down, I couldn't help but feel that it was I who was also doing the 'walk of shame' this morning. After having a great time with my mates I had spent the latter part of the morning doing something that I had previously found to be morally repugnant, and shamefully I had enjoyed at least part of it, even as I was simultaneously disgusted with myself for being there in the first place. My hair was dishevelled and I wore large dark glasses, hiding the inner turmoil that I was experiencing. The only thing left for me was to find my way home from Satan's Kitchen and spend a long time having a very 'Crying Game'-like shower, because I felt dirty. Very dirty.

Lucky our mates didn't see us.

Walters River Cafe. 4/10 - The food didn't justify the price. Nor my loss of dignity.

I'm not being lazy!

Hi, My name is Blue. It's been seven days since my last weekend paddle. Unfortunately Gorilla Biscuit Pty Ltd had a crisis this morning requiring me to smash my face as fast and furiously (TM) as I could, thus preventing me from spending my Saturday morning in a meaningful waterborne manner! Luckily I did manage to fit 9 holes in at Whaleback this arvo (46 on the front nine in case you're wondering). I will return next week reviewing one of my least favored places - Point Walter Cafe. In the meantime, please enjoy the following link... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7MKeTiABD4E

Point Walter Public BBQ, Point Walter

Coogee to Point Walter, 17km, 1hour 58 minutes

The good news is that The Wad in Hawaii reports that Perth Breakfast Paddles has been de-blacklisted (whitelisted?) from the U.S. Military internet! Apparently Ayman Al Zawahiri - despite all reports to the contrary - does not use this site to plan his evil deeds, although he well may use it to find a good Eggs Benny (hold the ham). 

The Wad has also clued me in to his Youtube channel which is now linked on the right of this post. Despite what some may think, and possibly previous form, The Wads' Youtube channel has nothing to do with nudity, and everything to do with excellent paddling videos on the windward side of Oahu. Not sure what has happened to The Wad over the years but he is half the bloke he used to be - must be the kilos he is leeching out with every paddle!

So for some strange reason, today in WA is a public holiday. I'm not bitching, that's for sure, but fair dinkum this state is just odd. Anyway - I put the word out last night for a paddle but had no takers so Mrs Blue kindly drove me down to Coogee Beach (just like the one in Sydney, but with no backpackers, no great pub and none of my skeletons in the collective area closet) at stupid o'clock, so I could venture out on my Pat Malone. There wasn't a breathe of wind, and the water was like a mirror. The bottom was clearly visible most of the way to the mouth of the Swan, and it was great to see heaps of people enjoying the morning out on their yachts, jetskis and pretty much any other form of water transport you could think of.

At one point I thought I had a "visitor" after a massive splash close aboard and I have to admit I was deadset packing it because I was a long way from anywhere! Fortunately, it wasn't a Noah, and I was extremely brave in chastising the shag that surfaced shortly afterwards.

It had been one of those weeks where the universe had been yielding dividends on previous crap that I had dealt with. A particular pain in the bum had left Gorilla Biscuits Pty Ltd and had me dancing a jig as I smacked my face furiously into the dough. Speaking of dancing, Mrs Blue has got the tin lids singing this disgraceful Gen Y anthem at the moment, and just like irritating earwigs like Spanish Flea and Girl from Ipanema, I couldn't get 'Sexy and I Know It' out of my head for the entire bloody 17km. Boy Wonders mate Ben has unwittingly bastardised one of the lines to say 'I've got passionfruit in my pants and I ain't afraid to show it' which I reckon is the best thing about that bloody song. Seriously, and at risk of sounding like a grumpy old man, music requires instruments. If in doubt see Jet, Eskimo Joe, Paul Kelly, Pete Murray etc etc.

So 17km later I emerged from the Swan River, ruffling my hair and looking every bit like Daniel Craig in that Bond movie, just as a white, mature Halle Berry came out of  the trees with a hot coffee from Pt Walter kiosk! OK. So maybe I didn't look all that much like Daniel Craig, but I'm pretty sure he'll get this good looking one day. Maybe when he's 80. Poor bloke. Along with Mrs Blue, Boy Wonder and the Little Princess, the Westy family was down at Pt Walter en masse - both sets of parents and Mrs Ws best mate Toni had flown over for Mrs Ws 40th on Saturday night.And the timing was spot on for my arrival with Westy and his Dad cooking up a storm on the Pt Walter public BBQ.

Point Walter Public BBQ, Point Walter. No phone, no email, no website and generally clean.

Happy Tin Lids.

So as I made my Daniel Craig-shaming exit from the Swan, Westy was putting the finishing touches to breakfast. My coffee had been provided right on time based on Westys estimate of my time around the Spit, and he had got it exactly right. The free BBQ, about 60m away from the Pt Walter cafe, was going great guns and sausages, bacon and 'rustic' fried eggs were being produced at a great rate of knots, even a yolkless one for Boy Wonder. Instead of taking out a second mortgage to get brekky from the Bank of Pt Walter, the barbie had proved its worth. Bacon and Egg rolls were rolling off the production line in volume and really hit the spot. The tin lids were certainly impressed (i.e. they listened when we asked them to come to eat) and the adults were too. Our group had commandeered our standard spot and there were quite a few families with the same idea.

'Rustic' eggs!

The facilities at Pt Walter are generally good, on average, but a little improvement would take them from generally good to deadset tops. The public toilets are, well, public toilets but the addition of a shower near the BBQ would be excellent, particularly noting  that most kayakers put in near the spit. 

This BBQ is clearly a better option than the Pt Walter cafe when you take into account the ludicrous prices and generally hit and miss service that I have had there in the past. To be fair, I'll review the place soon, but I've been saving up for a while so hopefully once I'm into four figures I'll go then. Also to be fair, the kiosk coffee was very welcome this morning and of a better standard than I've recently had there. 

In short, if you love Australia, use a public BBQ. It will encourage skinflint councils to use your rates for something other than bribery, graft and corruption.

Pt Walter public BBQ. 10/10.

Bluewaters, Cottesloe

Coogee to Cottesloe, 13.1 km. 1hr 30min, 8.8 km/h

Westy paddles in like a pro. Unlike his paddling companion...

Organising one-way paddles is a shitfight. You need even numbers, and everyone needs to bring their car and everyone needs to paddle the whole way. We've learnt this through many previous attempts with an odd number of paddlers, yet we still have the same issue time and time again.

So late last night when those strict criteria weren't met, and all sorts of angst was being created, I threw my toys out of the cot and cancelled the paddle. Only to call Westy shortly afterwards and put it back on for the two of us who were keen to do the whole thing and had a car available each. Deadset, I really am turning into a grumpy old man as my month of abstinence/beer celibacy nears its end and the dreaded Manflu sets in. Mrs Blue rightly said that she would be calling the Tantrum Police, who, like the Noise Police, occasionally call by the house via surreptitious use of the intercom when the tin lids are out of control.

This morning's paddle coincided with the annual Rottnest Shark Feeding...errr..Swim. There were shedloads of boats, kayaks, skis and a brace of nutcases who think that swimming 19km to Rottnest Island is an enjoyable Saturday activity. Seriously - that's why there's a ferry you bunch of tightarses! It was a pretty awesome spectacle as they moved off from the beach, and we lingered for a minute after shuffling the boats onto one car just long enough to take it in.

The wounded antelope at the back of the pack was looking nervous...

When we put in a Coogee (that's KOO-JEE for my East Coast mates, and doesn't sound anything like the Sydney beachside suburb that I used to live in) the wind was a very light Sou'-easter and the water as flat as Julia's approval rating. We'd only been out for about 15 minutes when we were surrounded by a large pod of dolphins just outside the Port Coogee canals. It was pretty awesome I must say. 

There was only really one topic of conversation going on - the complete debacle formerly known as the Australian Labor Party. I have to admit, I have been giggling like a schoolgirl at the self-destruction of this bunch of retards and every day has been making me laugh longer and harder.  My favorite has been the Muppets poster right...but seriously, shouldn't this embarrassment to Australia end by the GG dissolving both houses and having a general election? Windsor, Wilkie and Oakeshott - start familiarising yourselves with Centrelink. Just ask Julia or Kevin where it is...

We were making a good pace by then, clocking a steady 9.5km/h by the trusty Garmin and kept it up until we passed the river mouth, having ridden a light swell most of the way and rested for a sum total of 8 seconds. The idea was to follow the shore close-in to the beach, but up until the river mouth washing machine it have been mirror-flat so we had paddled a direct line for North Mole, way off shore most of the way.

Once we rounded North Mole the washing machine stopped but we slowed with the distance to 8.5km/h. Unlike my outing to the Rockingham grain terminal last Tuesday where the ticker ramped up to 180 beats per minute for near on 15 minutes, I managed to avoid the defibrillator being paddled over with a steady 140 bpm pace.

I always enjoy the Port Beach to Beach St groyne part of a paddle up this way. It's spectacular. The fact that there was is nice swelling taking us in to the groyne made it even better. What didn't make it better was absolutely fluffing the run in on the wave  and painfully getting dumped by a wave the little tacker could have ridden. And, as they say, there is nothing worse than a pain in the Groyne.

Which reminds me of something I heard on the radio yesterday. Female radio presenter has a segment asking listeners to give her an idea of how bad being hit in the Jatz crackers is. 'Like childbirth', one male listener says, only to be lambasted by the next two female listeners, because apparently NOTHING is worse than childbirth. After some to-ing and fro-ing including a comparison of having a shipping container dropped on your arm and wriggling the stump around for a bit, it comes to a finale. 'Nothing?', says the final (male) listener, 'then why do women want more than one child and why don't I know a single male who wants to be kicked in the nuts again?'. Well said, that man.

Bluewaters, 110 Marine Pde, Cottesloe, (08) 9385 3130, www.blue-waters.com.au

I confess. I like Bluewaters. We've been here for breakfast a couple of times and the scenery, both inside and out, is tops. The menu has a couple of interesting items, they do table service and don't mind splitting the bill. They have paintings for sale that normal humans would buy. The waitstaff are attentive and friendly.

Miss Piggy was shy.

So Bluewaters it was. The sky was becoming overcast as we took an outside table, and the waitress pounced like Susan Boyle on a Krispy Kreme. Coffee was upon us like the barista (that's wankish for 'coffee maker') had known we were coming. A little too milky and lukewarm, I thought but gladly drank it anyway. We ordered, and just as quick as the coffee had appeared, so did our breakfast. Westy had gone the Pancakes with Banana, Bacon and Maple Syrup ($17.50) and I went the Scrambled Eggs with Crab and Chilli on Ciabatta ($18.50). As I surveyed Westys choice I was immediately struck with breakfast envy, but then we both realised that there was something crucially awry with his stack-of-three pancakes - the amount of bacon was inversely proportional to the impressive pancakes! And at $7 for a side of bacon that we guessed would be as slim pickings as what was on the plate, the halo over this dish quickly dissipated. Westy though his breakfast very nice but seriously Bluewaters - don't skimp on Miss Piggy. It's not smart and it's not clever. The maple syrup appeared in short supply as well - Manu would not be pleased. On the plus side, the pancakes looked fluffy and thick. And, as I said, there were three.

I've got crabs. Honestly, I can explain...

My Scrambled Eggs with Crab and Chilli was pretty good. I liked the flavour combo, the ciabatta was nicely toasted, and as far as crustaceans go I am a lazy diner. Any time I can have crab or lobster without cracking it and painstakingly scooping out the little meat there is, I'm happy. The eggs were creamy but again, lukewarm. How could it have come out so quickly, but with the eggs lukewarm? Well, I think there is only one answer to that. The amount was just right though, and I did enjoy my breakfast.

I would really like to come here for a long swilly lunch one day. When I am drinking again. In 5 days. Perhaps Mrs Blue won't have to call the Tantrum Police the night before a paddle then...

Bluewaters, Cottesloe - 6.5/10. An extra point when more porcine product appears in a serving!

The Little Stove, Bicton

Pt Walter to the Bridges and back (again), 11.25km, 1hr 24 min, 8km/h

It was a good week. I had been sent out into the field for a few days to do some market research by the Head Silverback to determine whether or not our biscuits were the ugliest of them all - and came back with the satisfying result that we, without a doubt, have the most authentic gorilla-like faces that imprint the dough. The were some corkers, particularly in Albany, but really, when it came down to the crunch, nothing beats the face-smashers of Gorilla Biscuits Pty Ltd for a hideous snack experience.

I didn't get back from the roadtrip until late Friday night and the forecast was for crappy weather on Saturday, but undeterred and in spite of a simultaneous 'lets-blow-it-off-tomorrow' thought that we all had, Westy and I decided to go the default option and paddle from Pt Walter again, regardless of the expected 20 knot headwind that we would have to battle into.

Frodo Baggins joined the paddle briefly

The reality couldn't have been more different. Slightly overcast but dead calm with a slight flooding tide. The boats went in and instantly both Westy and I felt like we were, as he put it, paddling through mud. It was surprisingly hard going until we got to the bridges, where the tidal stream then gave us a boost for the return leg.

 I wanted to get a photo of myself out paddling, so handed the camera over to Westy who produced an absolute pearler - I might have to get that one blown up and hung at work. Check it out below - it's a pretty good likeness.

A good likeness.

The paddle was pretty uneventful all up, and we stopped for a good look at the mansion in Bicton that my forthcoming Powerball win will buy me before finishing up - again fanging for a feed and a brew.

The Little Stove, 97/103 Harris Street  Bicton WA 6157, (08) 9319 9811, www.littlestove.com

Flogged from Google images...

The epitome of laziness is going to the nearest cafe to the entry/exit point. That would be the extortionately expensive Pt Walter Cafe (and yes, it will be reviewed soon; the savings plan has been going for a while now), but I had noticed a sign on Pt Walter Road pointing to a henceforth-unknown cafe. This made it the second closest and therefore absolved us from the laziness label.

I have to say though, the first impressions were good. Two brown leather armchairs framed the entrance and there was a healthy crowd, mostly thirty-somethings. A couple of pooches also came for brekky which always gets two thumbs up from me.

FBC.

A quick scan of the menu was enough to leave the impression that The Little Stove certainly caters to the Bicton Yummy Mummy set, with lots of yoghurty, muesli, fruity choices but not much in the way of fifteen varieties of fried pig as we always look for. It wasn't much of a decision to go for the Big Stove ($18) big breakfast and the mega coffee ($6.50). If you are choking back at the thought of $6.50 for a coffee as I would normally, let me clarify that it is a pint glass. 

The Big Stove came out with eggs to order, in my case scrambled and Westys case poached, bacon, two slices of toast, homemade beans and mushies. My scrambled eggs were creamy, and the bacon plentiful. The beans were tasty, as were the mushies, but in the end they were just a distraction from the main event. The brown toast was thickly sliced and delicious with the butter, eggs and bacon on top. The coffee was pretty good, served at the correct temperature i.e. hot, but not so that the roof of my mouth becomes the skin on the coffee, but for a flat white it was probably a little too milky and more like a latte. The Little Stove offers three varieties including Arabica and a Dark Roast. 

I must have been pretty hungry because my plate was empty before I remembered to take a photo!

Sorry. There is no "before" shot.

I liked the Little Stove experience, from the menus printed on grid paper that you would have in a school folder to the prompt, friendly, male-customer-encouraging service. For a bloke though, and particularly one who has just earned a hearty breakfast, the brekky menu was a bit of a disappointment. No Eggs Benny, for starters. Limited choices of pig. Yoghurt has no place being served on a Saturday morning - unless it is drizzled over a porcine product for some obscure reason. I did note a pile of wine glasses though. Perhaps after the 29th...

The Little Stove - Very good service, good fair, limited menu selections. 6/10

Cafe Lumos, White Gum Valley

Pt Walter to the Bridges, 12.8km, 1 hour 36 min, 8km/h average

'Twas a great morning for a paddle - a gentle Nor'westerly wind and slack water throughout. The car park was as empty as the river. Travis was missing in action, having probably not received the late-night text from me to gee up the paddle, so Westy, M4P and I slid the boats into the water just before 7 am. We hadn't done the Pt Walter paddle in quite a while so it was good to be there again.

The afternoon before had also been spent at the river with Mrs Blue and the little bluelings having a great time with a bunch of our friends, who were finishing off the week with a couple of ice-cold pigs ears and a bottle or two of Passion Pop. Unfortunately I am taking my annual month off the P155 at the moment. I have a month on the wagon every year to prove to myself that I'm not a raging alcoholic, and I choose February because it's the shortest month. I feel a bit cheated this year being a leap year and all, and may have to switch to the method a friend of mine uses - the lunar month. Everyone was a bit worried as to whether or not I'd be OK to drive after three Passionas in the first hour and one every hour after that, but despite the obvious sugar high we made it home OK, if not a little quicker than usual and with an unexplained glowstick chain around my neck. If you haven't spent a Friday arvo down by the river, give yourself an uppercut then get on down there.

But I digress. The pace was pretty sedate until I took a sidetrip right inshore at Bicton whilst M4P and Westy took a direct route across the reach into East Fremantle. Looking up from my trip into Blueworld they were a bloody long way away so I spent the next 10 minutes putting in the big ones trying to catch them, much like I do every time I paddle with Westy these days. Graciously they waited for the fat bloke at the East Fremantle Yacht Club, and I finally dragged my arse back to the pack long enough to take a few quick photos as we rounded the bend past Zephyrs. 

"Is that guy waving at us?"

It was here that we were being waved at by a bloke on the shoreline. Waving back, we continued, but he persistently kept waving. Acknowledging the international sign of distress we pulled in to find out that the bloke had been at Pt Walter and had seen one of us drop a phone. Being a Good Aussie Bloke (GAB) he surmised that we'd have to go past Zephyrs and followed us down there to give it back.  It's not often that random acts of kindness occur these days, so GAB, if you're reading this, two thumbs up and if you see us again, we'll shout you a carton.

So it turns out the ladies of the house have taken up something called Zumba (apparently it's pronounced 'Zoom-bah' rather than my feeble attempt that rhymed with Rumba). In fact Mrs B was kind enough to explain to me what a 'shimmy' was as we drove home last night. Dangerous stuff, that. I almost drove off the road. Apparently the instructor is a 40 yo mother-of-one with the toned body of a 20 yo pole dancer. OK, so I made that last bit up, but that is a blokes prerogative. I have promised to come down and witness this hedonistic devil-summoning dance class at some stage, with my fellow paddlers and a carton of coldies in tow. This was not received well, not even when I promised to shimmy my way in with my wet Speedos, straight from a paddle!

The rest of the trip was uneventful and paddling in toward the Matilda Bay Brewery on the return trip took us well out of the wind and provided a bit of variation on the normal trip. As we pulled in back at Pt Walter after a minor grounding on the large inshore rock, we were all looking forward to breakfast at one of M4Ps local haunts.

Cafe Lumos, 1/16 Minilya Avenue  White Gum Valley WA 6162, (08) 9335 5332

That's the owner. The Red Sea parted as we arrived.

Firstly, don't park in the 10 minute parking zone outside the convenience store next to Lumos. We didn't, and indeed had to park on the verge some way away, but the shop owner was livid enough to ring the bastard parkies who sensing blood turned up immediately. UnAustralian, I say.

I'd heard about Cafe Lumos in the local rag, where their lunchtime menu had been reviewed, and had mentioned this to M4P. Mrs M4P patronises Lumos regularly, so we thought we'd give it a crack for breakfast. 

Through habit we ordered at the counter, but Cafe Lumos has efficient table service as we found out with a post-breakfast second coffee. One of the things that really took me was seeing the owner picking herbs from the pots out the front to put into the dishes - nothing groundbreaking but something I thought was pretty cool nevertheless.

The standard of your average suburban local cafe has gone through the roof in my humble opinion, and this is a good example of how a little bit of effort can reap rewards. When we got there it was packed to bursting, with all the tables set up outside and spilling over to the front of the furniture shop next door. Luckily, as I walked in, a bench table right out front cleared just like Moses parting the sea. Or it could have been that I just stank after the paddle. Regardless, we got a good table. 

The menu is spoilt for choice - there are some dead set corkers on there including French Toast with bacon, banana and maple syrup (my mouth is watering as I write this). But I couldn't go past the Rosti Benedict ($19) - poached eggs on thick bacon, atop potato rosti and drizzled with Hollandaise sauce. M4P thought the same, but Westy went the Corn Fritter Special ($19) - two massive corn fritters with poached eggs and bacon sandwiched in between and sour cream on the side. Substituting Hollandaise for the sour cream was no problem.

Rosti Benedict. No. 1 with a bullet.

Cafe Lumos Rosti Benedict - go to the top of the Eggs Benny index. The potato rosti was brilliant - the fried strands of potato seasoned perfectly and sticking together in a thin cake. The eggs came out just the way I like them - medium well and not forming a yellow lake when broken, and the bacon was thick and supple. The coffee  - a mug of flat white ($4.30) for me - came out with a creamy top and, although a little weak, wasn't bad and was definitely the right drinking temperature. With just a little higher concentration of coffee in the cup it would have been excellent, but I'm just being picky now. The second coffee, a regular, rather than a mug, was perfect.

Corn Fritter stack. Bigger than your head.

Westy was equally pleased with his choice which, when it came out, was bigger than his head. We have a saying - never eat anything bigger than your head and Westy declared that he had too much food so half a corn fritter came winging my way (excellent!). Fair dinkum - it was beautiful, and I think deserves a permanent place on an already-good menu.

The staff at Lumos were friendly and efficient. The owner came over to take an order and say g'day and the waitresses were pleasant - in manner and appearance - but not intrusive.

Cafe Lumos, in its leafy Minilya St setting has just rocketed right up to the top of the list with the Hungry Paddlers. If only it was on the river...but I suppose then we'd never get a table. Just be careful where you park...

Three Thumbs Up - 9/10. And we'll be back. Lots.


*** As an addendum to the Bastard Parkies theme,  I got fined $85 tonight whilst parked outside NIB stadium, thus confirming my theory that all Parkies are illegitimate.

Canning River Cafe, Wilson

Canning River, Thornlie to Applecross via Bull Creek, 20.6km, 2 hours 37 minutes.

Entry point - Ilford Place, Thornlie

The sea, she was angry that day.

Or so we thought after a quick scan of seabreeze.com.au. With Travis and M4P missing in action, Westy and I decided that it was a good morning to hunt the white whale - breaking the 20km mark.  Having looked at Urban Paddler's website we decided to replicate his Canning River run, from Thornlie to Deepwater Point, and customise it to crack the 20km.

After a bit of car shuffling at Deepwater Point, we trekked off down the Leach Highway to parts unknown, putting in at the end of the cul-de-sac at Ilford Place, Thornlie. Firstly I would recommend that those who own flash carbon fibre or composite boats completely ignore this start point. Secondly I would recommend that any future paddlers from here consider taking a hedge trimmer, machete and shotgun. It was a great place to paddle from but we were dodging and weaving through all sorts of spider webs, trip wires, poison darts and big, rolling rocks like something out of Raiders of the Lost Ark before we found any sort of open water about 3km in. The going was very slow and the growth so thick at one stage I was sure that I saw a Leyland Brother (obviously the one that is still alive!) and the Bush Tucker Man...

Once we got over the tree stumps, man-traps and the like, the river was spectacular. In fact it was so placid and quiet that it took us nearly six kilometres of paddling before we saw our first confirmed fellow-human. The sound of our bow-waves was pretty much all we could hear.

Kent St Weir - This is not a slippery dip for skis...

Before we knew it, we were at the Kent St Weir. Having never been there before, we had talked of just powering straight over it, thinking it might be one of those slippery-dip type weirs that we could slide right down, but luckily common sense prevailed because it was a sheer drop with a lot of concrete at the bottom of some very shallow water. The cafe on the Canning River, near the weir and imaginatively name the err...Canning River Cafe was generating alluring smells of coffee and fried pig and had recently put out $18 breakfast-for-two vouchers on spreets.com.au, and Mrs Blue had urged me to get one. Stupidly, I didn't, so naturally we decided to go there after the paddle so we could pay full price.

Warsaw (there's lots of Poles)

We settled into our stride after porting the boats around the weir, focusing on our (lack of) paddling technique. It was good to think of something else besides the disastrous week at the Gorilla Biscuit Factory, where the African Savannah Cookie (ASC) section had been thrown into chaos because of a complete failure of the Elephant Proboscis Unit (EPU) - a machine that gradually lengthens employees noses into elephant trunks for biscuit image authenticity. Unfortunately the failure of this device had quite the effect on company morale, with the natural disappointment that we couldn't produce our entire range of gob-smackingly ugly biscuits.

It wasn't long before we got to the Riverton and Shelley Bridges and began to see more signs of life on the river, including a chap who had put a new exhaust on his V8 Commodore that made it sound uncannily like a Datsun 200B, and make him look like a good candidate for erectile enhancement.

As we rounded the bend into familiar parts of the river around Rossmoyne the wind finally gave us a bit of assistance, but we were completely stuffed as we neared Bull Creek, with 16km showing on the trusty GPS. It was quite obvious that we were going to be short of the 20km trip, so it was necessary to prolong the agony by going right up Bull Creek to add a bit of distance. 

"You were in a 4G inverted dive with a Finn Endorfinn?"

Past the Mount Henry Bridge was when we saw our tax dollars at work. I'm all for schools getting federal funding, but if it is supporting $15000-per-term St Smithers Exclusive Private Rich Gentlemans Finishing School so Reggie Huntingdon-Smythe-Smythe can row a brand-spanking new carbon fibre 8s scull, then screw it. And the river was covered in them, all being yelled at by a bloke in a boat with a megaphone who had completely missed the idea that it's the megaphone that amplifies your voice, and there is no need to actually scream into it.

The definition of heartbreak isn't arriving at your destination when you are still 1km short of your goal and completely rooted, but isn't far off it. What was worse was the thought of going up to the Canning Bridge and then having to turn back into a 20kt headwind, but we did it anyway, almost falling off the boats as we pulled back in at Deepwater Point. We made it - and just like Captain Ahab we had caught the 20km white whale and this time it didn't look like me in budgie smugglers.

Canning River Cafe, Cnr Kent St and Queens Park Road, Wilson, WA 6107, (08)93584884

http://www.facebook.com/CanningRiverCafe

"A cafe. It's on the Canning River. What should we call it? Hmmm, something catchy..."

 It's pretty well known that I'm as tight as a fish's bum. I'm not quite so bad that I wouldn't shout if a shark bit me (which is Un-Australian), but I don't like paying full price if I can help it, so when this place looked and smelt great as we paddled past it I almost refused to come here out of principle, having stupidly not bought the Spreets voucher.

And what a mistake that would have been.

Attached to some sort of eco centre (wasn't the Canning River full of raw sewage poo-kayaks not so long ago??) and situated on a park right next to the Kent St Weir, this place - although a little out of the way - is, in a word, tops. Offering tables as well as a counter-top seating overlooking the river, this cafe has it all. The menu has enough variations on the standard to make it interesting without being over the top, the prices are reasonable, the view excellent and the staff friendly and helpful - they even look you in the eye when they talk to you (personal favorite)!

So having paddled for nearly 3 hours, Westy and I were beyond hungry. I could have chewed the bum out of a low-flying duck (quack!). The Canning River Cafe doesn't take cards - except err... in the ATM right next to the till, which threw me a bit but only long enough for both of us to order a Big Breakfast ($19) and coffees.

As we sat down we thought that this would be a great place to bring the tin lids, what with a playground, the weir, ducks, and the Castledare Railway just down the road. In fact, if I wasn't on the wagon for the month of February (a yearly ritual to prove that I am not a raging alcoholic - If you're going to do it, I recommend the shortest month) I reckon I would have staying here for a swilly lunch as well.

There were plenty of skis and kayaks coming up the river to the weir, including a chap on a pedal-powered Hobie kayak with a sailing rig. I assumed that he mustn't actually have had any arms to require that level of laziness.

The coffees and brekky came out pretty quickly. The Big Breakfast came out with scrambled eggs, tons of bacon, a sausage, fried tomatoes, mushrooms, a potato cake (no, not a scallop or a hash brown - it was more a type of fried mashed potato and was very tasty) and two very large and thick slices of toast. There was also quite a selection of communal help-yourself sauces available. 

My scrambled eggs - Westy had poached - were cooked perfectly. They were aerated at all, had a nice amount of butter mixed in, and were bloody good. I always like to pile my bacon onto buttered toast and put the scrambled egg on top, and the bacon was cooked just right to be able to do this. There was no stringy bits, rind or knuckles and it was cut nice and thickly. In fact the whole breakfast was outstanding, and really hit the spot with a couple of hungry paddlers. We liked the package so much that we had to stay for another brew.

Canning River Cafe - Two thumbs up and 8.5/10.

P.S. Tip for blokes considering buying frilly knickers for their wife's birthday - DO NOT mention to her friends or anyone connected to her friends that you did your research by googling "redhead lingerie". It won't end well, even if the research was 'thorough'.