ALICE TERLIKOWSKI went roadtrippin’ round south-west Western Australia expecting it to be full of tumbleweed – she was in for a very pleasant surprise

We were expecting tumbleweeds and a lone petrol station, manned by a freak with no teeth tilted on a rocking chair out the front. I had convinced my friend to fly to Perth and take a campervan down the south-west coast. I had heard it was really beautiful. But, what with Perth so isolated, we thought it might be a bit… well, strange, too.

We were stoked to be able to see ever-changing countryside on the drive down from Perth and set up camp at a place which isn’t lacking in good wine and awesome surf, Margaret River.

Maggie is a pretty sweet place with a cool pub with open mic nights and good cider. Yes, there is such a thing as good cider. There’s a couple of backpacker jaunts around, but we opted for the caravan park to call home for a few days.

This is more the option if you want some privacy, not if you want to get drunk on good vino and find a nice lass or lad to snuggle up with.

In the morning we relocated the “Love Machine” (named for reasons not-so-obvious) to Yallingup which is an Aboriginal word for “Place of Love” – see I’m not as clichéd as you thought!

After setting up, otherwise known as plugging the extension cord into the power box, we headed out on the sometimes-sunny Friday for a wine tour, a better option considering the corners of country roads can tend to sneak up on you at the best of times.

We sloshed our wine around in our glass and talked through our nose like we knew stuff. “Oh yes, 97 was a good year wasn’t it?” “Oh daaarling how true, mmm yes it’s got a good nose, Jeeves get me a cigar would you ol’ chap”.

As the day wore on, our class wore off and the tastings mixed into a fine blend of “yum”, as the talk turned into “I love yooouu.” No, “I love youuuu.” “Gimme some more of that shhhhhardonay.” Yes, we were classy.

From the wineries we headed to yet another drinking establishment, the Bootleg Brewery, home of the world famous Raging Bull beer at a very strong, non-girly seven per cent of alcohol.

Tasting more like coffee and less like beer with every sip, the layer upon layer of alcohol building in our stomachs was certainly not keeping us awake.

After a quiet night of snoring, dribble on the pillow and our mouths tasting like the bottom of a budgie cage, we awoke to a magical sunrise and equally excellent surf.

Yallingup beach is famous across the country for splendid swell and crystal clear water. It’s even good to watch from the beach too, if surfing doesn’t tickle your fancy.

A quick annihilation from the surf and we were back on the road to Dunsborough for breakfast and then back down the coast again to see some Oceans collide. No, seriously.