The weather was easing as I passed Oyster Bay again and I could see waders at its margins. A side road gave me a half-decent view from which I gleaned greenshank, whimbrel, grey plovers and what looked like a mini-greenshank.
Happily, my Morcombe had the leading candidate for this bird on the page opposite greenshank – marsh sandpiper. These are the two most common Tringa waders for Australia and the marsh gave me my 882nd lifer. Somewhere, I also added sacred kingfisher and yellow-rumped thornbill to the trip list, which was approaching a hundred after only eight days.
That span of time meant that my washing was due. I now had a clear afternoon in which to do it, so no excuses. I also got to potter round Albany and its railway station, which actually had trains. Not for passengers but for grain, from Wagin inter alia, being shunted into the docks.
An airy Italian restaurant fed me a late lunch as I waited for the launderette. Then I waited for the drying. And waited. And waited. The damn stuff remained stubbornly damp. The machines must have been wafting tepid air over my clothes. I lost patience and laid the worst of it over the Toyota’s seats. I had exhausted Albany’s charms and figured I had time to crack on to the prettier, more forested corner of Western Australia.
I liked the sound of Denmark and, from my Lonely Planet researches, had liked the sound of its hostel. But how would that stack up on the noise front? I was getting leery of those too communal accommodations. ⇐ ⇒