PERTH GORGEOUS,
GREEN AND INVITING

Perth, a gorgeous, green and inviting city of some 800,000 inhabitants, lies on the southeastern coast (or northwestern, if you regard it from an Australian's point of view) of the vast island continent of Australia. In September 1982, the USS Ranger dropped anchor in the nearby port city of Freemantle and disgorged onto dry land some 5,000-plus sailors and Marines who had been at sea for over three months.

The first night in, we were honored at an enormous soiree held in a vast auditorium by the cities of Freemantle and Perth. The beer and champagne flowed like rivers, and I swear I believe that despite the huge numbers of men there that night, the Aussie girls outnumbered us three to one. Sailors being as they are, however, there were still scattered fist fights as the young men vied for the girls' favors. It was all very grand.

In the morning I awoke in the garage apartment of some young people, with furry teeth and sporting a pumpkin-sized head. I bid a hasty farewell (for the moment) to my new friends and stode out into the clean, chilly air of an early Australian spring morning.

It was perfectly cloudless, and strange birds called out to me as I walked down the road. I was in a suburban area of Perth, where the houses were few and far between. It was Saturday and the people I met as I walked along greeted me cheerfully. I breakfasted in an odd little restaurant, then cabbed to my motel, the Villa Dianne. After showering, I donned my heaviest jeans.

From Alabama, my father had arranged a meeting with Dr. Fairfax, curator of the Perth Zoological Gardens, so that I might get a good look at the flora and fauna of the land in the presence of an expert on the subject.

Dr. Fairfax turned out to be a chap of the most agreeable sort. As we tooled through the outback in his jeep, he pointed out objects of interest and talked animatedly about his native land. I learned from him that Perth is a singularly isolated city, with the nearest town of any size being hundreds of kilometers away.

I also learned that Australians have a healthy respect for their natural environment. He was right, too. Unlike any other place I've ever visited,
the roadways were utterly free of human refuse, and, refreshingly, the skyline of Perth, when viewed from miles away, showed no haze of smog hovering above it.

That afternoon, Dr. Fairfax and I saw dozens of kangaroos, emus, kookaburras, a variety of lizards and spiny enchidnas, egg-laying mammals that look somewhat like porcupines.

But the most exciting finds, and exhilaratingly dangerous captures, were those of the extraordinarily venomous tiger snakes. Tiger snakes are rather common in Western Australia, and possess an exceptionally potent neurotoxin, and are dangerously aggressive as well.

The tiger snakes we caught, including a thick five-footer, were bagged and taken back to the zoo, where their venom was extracted for medical purposes. Afterward they were released back into the wild, a pleasant paradox that didn't surprise me, considering the Australians' love and respect for nature.

In the days that followed, I water-skied on the Swan River, saw a band from my ship play a packed house in a club downtown (they sounded awful), surfed in the dark waters off the shore of Lancelin (a tiny town about 80 miles north of Perth), met and briefly courted a gorgeous Australian lass ("a girl in every port"), played in a rugby match in which we Americans were woefully dispatched 30-6, drank Foster's Lager and arm-wrestled stout, friendly blokes in dark pubs, and traded sea-stories with Australian sailors.

It was with heavy hearts that we weighed anchor at the end of our ten-day port visit and bid Australia farewell. It is a beautiful and friendly land, kept so by its in habitants, and I doubt I shall find much has changed when eventually I return to the land down under.