Every day, 86-year old Carmel Mullally wakes up to the hustle and bustle of one of Australia's largest and busiest cargo ports.

The typical sounds of suburban life are replaced with the thunderous rumble of freight trucks and trains passing metres from her doorstep, the piercing beeps of forklifts and cranes, and the banging and clanging of huge shipping containers.

"The noise does not bother me a scratch because you hardly hear it — you just hear a noise in the background," she says.

Space to play or pause, M to mute, left and right arrows to seek, up and down arrows for volume. Watch Duration: 31 seconds 31 s An aerial view of Carmel Mullally's yellow cottage (centre) inside Fremantle Port. ( Gian De Poloni )

Ms Mullally is happy with life at her quaint yellow cottage inside Fremantle Port and has no plans to leave.

She is one of just a handful of West Australians who have successfully resisted government and industry pressure to remain living in defiance of modern planning laws.

Ms Mullally first visited the 120-year old house in the early 1940s when the port site was a bustling beachside residential neighbourhood.

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"I came here when I was six or seven because my mother was having a baby and we came to stay with grandad," she says.

"We went to school down the road a bit."

In the late 1960s when the entire area was resumed for industrial use, Ms Mullally refused to budge.

"I wasn't keen on letting my house go — I'd worked for it," she said.

"I just refused to sell. The politicians were pushing it [but] they never offered much money.

In the 1990s, her ongoing battle to keep her house became a public spectacle when she sprayed graffiti on its walls in protest.

Carmel Mullally famously graffitied her cottage in a battle with Fremantle Port Authority. ( Supplied: Fremantle History Centre )

Her story became something of a local legend and the home today remains a Fremantle icon.

"I think it's one of those classic Fremantle stories that a lot of people are familiar with," says Lucy Hair, the City of Fremantle's local history officer.

"Everyone knows about the lady who lives in the port."

Ms Mullally says while she is not as mobile as she used to be, she can't imagine living anywhere else.

"I used to love swimming but when you get old, everything is cold," she says.

"I don't worry much about getting outside, sometimes I go for a walk.

"I don't know really what's going to happen when I die. I'm going to have to leave it to someone.

"So, I have to carefully think who would like it."

A secret sanctuary in the sand

On a good day, Margaret Carmody can see the giant cranes at Fremantle Port from the backyard of her cottage, nestled in sand dunes at Trigg Beach.

Margaret Carmody in the backyard of her cottage at Trigg Beach. ( ABC News: Gian De Poloni )

"I was telling some people over in England that I can see from here to Madagascar in a clear day, which is not quite true," she says.

Ms Carmody's home is one of the only houses in Perth directly fronting the beach, something described by the state's heritage council as an "unusual planning anomaly".

Most visitors to the popular surf beach wouldn't realise the house is there — it is boxed in by dense scrub, a car park and the busy coastal tourist route West Coast Drive.

Ms Carmody's backyard trails up from the house to the peak of a sand dune.

Space to play or pause, M to mute, left and right arrows to seek, up and down arrows for volume. Watch Duration: 1 minute 5 seconds 1 m 5 s The sweeping views from Margaret Carmody's home at Trigg Beach. ( Gian De Poloni )

"You do feel like you have an infinity pool," she says.

"When you first come up, you go the steps and you look out and there's just this massive ocean.

"When you have a mist come in, as you can imagine you can see it practically, but it brings this really briny smell in and around the house.

"Of course everything rusts out because of it, but it just reminds you where you are.

"You hear the ocean all the time and then when it's really quiet, it's really still. It's lovely."

On a good day, Margaret Carmody can see Fremantle and Rottnest Island clearly from her backyard. ( ABC News: Gian De Poloni )

Ms Carmody says she can often hear the excited conversations of surfers as they wash off at the beach's outdoor showers.

"You just hear this really happy sound — it's a really happy place," she says.

"Young kids come out all the time, people would be exercising down there on the sand.

"And by the time I'd finished my coffee I'd just be exhausted taking it all in.

"Friends have come here and just automatically, all their cares go because it's just the ocean."

Margaret Carmody inside her bedroom at her Trigg Beach cottage. ( ABC News: Gian De Poloni )

Ms Carmody's parents, who were farmers in Kulin, first purchased the cottage as a holiday home in 1961 when the entire beach was dotted with houses.

But unlike her neighbours, Ms Carmody has resisted intense pressure to move.

"I've faced huge, huge pressure," she says.

"As you can imagine, everyone wants this piece of the pie.

"You've got the developers, you've got the council.

The City of Stirling has tried many times to purchase Ms Carmody's home, offering $13,500 in 1974. ( ABC News: Gian De Poloni )

"I just thought, this is too unique, stick it out.

"It's been hard and I've had problems all the way through.

"I've been discredited left right and centre but never mind, I'm still here."

An industrialised paradise

Barry Matthews has had a tough life.

In his 80 years he has accomplished many things — he has worked as a cray fisherman, served in the army, worked in a gold mine and even had a stint as a professional wrestler.

These days he spends a lot of time relaxing at a tiny shack at Naval Base, deep inside the Kwinana heavy industrial area.

Barry Matthews loves visiting his beach shack at Naval Base. ( ABC News: Hugh Sando )

Mr Matthews's shack is one of 178 perched on the limestone cliffs of Cockburn Sound, forming one of the only remaining shack communities in Australia.

From his front garden, you can see thick smoke plumes billowing from a towering alumina refinery right next door.

But to the people of Naval Base who have managed to resist the encroachment of heavy industry, it matters none.

"It's in me blood, the ocean is my blood, you know. I just love it — I couldn't be living inland," Mr Matthews says.

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"Everyone loves the shacks — the people are good, friendly people.

"It is a lovely environment, it's a one-off champion place to be."

The shacks are managed by the City of Cockburn, which has a lease agreement in place with tenants until 2022.

They date back to the 1930s when beach shacks were a common sight along the Perth coast, but are now the only remaining shacks left in the metropolitan area.

Smoke plumes from an alumina refinery loom over the sweeping ocean views at the Naval Base shacks. ( ABC News: Gian De Poloni )

There have been consistent efforts to remove the shack community, including the establishment of an industry buffer zone.

But the community is adamant they have every right to stay.

"It's extremely important that we preserve the shacks, the way of life, the site, the environment," says Nicole O'Neill from the Naval Base Holiday Association.

"They represent an iconic way of life throughout the 1940s, 50s and 60s for Western Australian history."

The shacks have existed on a jagged cliff overlooking Cockburn Sound since the 1940s. ( ABC News: Gian De Poloni )

But despite existing in a place surrounded by smokestacks that would scare many people away, long-time shack visitors aren't concerned.

"The way that the environment works and the sea breezes and the like means that we are relatively untouched," Ms O'Neill says.



"I think we're very lucky that although we're in relatively close proximity — or it can seem quite close because you can see it — the reality is from an environmental point of view this a very safe for us to all be."