Author Archives: Steve Walker

About Steve Walker

Once a tech in-house PR type, now professional photo/videographer and recreational drone pilot. Violinist. Flautist. Occasional conductor. Oenophile.

A Brief Excursion to Exmouth

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Wednesday 7 August 2024 – The next segment of our trip was a short, sharp trip some 500km north in order to spend just one day in Exmouth, which is almost, but not quite, exactly the westernmost point of Western Australia. Look, we were supposed to stop in at Exmouth for two days en route to our next destination (which you will be able to read about, but all in good time); but airline schedules were against us, so we had to do a quick scramble up to Exmouth for two nights/one day and then back to Perth for one night before moving on again. Jane doesn’t think this is hectic, but then she’s not the one writing this guff.

To get to Exmouth, we were due to catch a flight to Learmonth and thence a 30-minute shuttle to our accommodation, the exotically-named Mantarays resort at the very Australian-sounding Sunrise Beach on Ningaloo Reef. To catch the flight, we had to get to Terminal 4 at Perth Airport, which is rather like Terminal 4 or 5 at London Heathrow – bloody miles from anywhere. For those considering public transport, Perth has an Airport Central station, which leaves the traveller with a short stroll to Terminals 1 or 2. To get thence to Terminals 3 or 4 takes a 15-minute shuttle bus ride. An alternative would be to get off a stop early at Redcliffe. And then have a 15-minute walk to Terminal 3 or 4.

So we elected to catch a cab.

The hotel staff were sure that there would be a taxi available on the rank just outside the doors, and, as I looked out of the window at checkout time, there seemed to be a few taxis there. As we walked out of the hotel, there were two; someone took the front taxi, which left just the one on the rank for us. It was, however, devoid of a driver, and continued to be so for several minutes. Eventually, just at the point where I had gone back to ask the hotel staff to be more specific in whistling up a conveyance with an actual driver, a chap appeared clutching a large coffee cup and professing to be prepared to take us to the airport in the otherwise deserted car.

Once there, since we had checked in online, the process was admirably well-organised and swift – print baggage label, attach to bag, wave bag goodbye at the drop-off point, go through security, get coffee. The security system didn’t require us to get electronics out of the bags, which is a blessing; and the coffee was pretty good.

With half an hour to go before our flight, and the screens showing “Boarding soon”, we headed to the gate and the first slight hiccup in the otherwise smooth progress of the day, as no boarding action happened until the actual scheduled departure time. However, at that point, some smartly-dressed people and a couple of chaps wearing big hats turned up, so we were reassured that at least we had a driver and a conductor. We boarded reasonably soon after they turned up – not a formal process by group number or any such modern thing; the staff just said “come on, then”, and, since we were sitting close by, we were among the first to get on the aircraft, which was one of them Fokkers.

The rest of the journey proceeded uneventfully, with a views of Perth as we ascended showing how rectilinear its suburbs are.

Clouds obscured the view for the rest of the journey until we were very close to our destination, at which point it became apparent how much the terrain had changed.

At Learmonth, which is a combined military (RAAF) and civil aviation facility, we had the usual, slightly fretful, wait until our bags appeared, during which time Jane established that we did actually have a booking on the Exmouth shuttle bus; and once everyone had loaded their bags on the bus luggage trailer we were off. Our accommodation

was the second stop, and, reassuringly had a bar by the reception desk.

Even more reassuring was the supply of tea in our room.

It’s not Twinings Finest, but it’ll do.

There was some confusion about the opening hours of the restaurant, which means we missed lunch, but the place redeemed itself by offering a complimentary guest laundry, of whose services I availed myself quite swiftly. These things are important, you know.

Mantarays is a small but decent resort, with, as well as the laundry, all the mod cons one might expect – swimming pool, gym, restaurant and bar. There are some engaging sculptures about the place.

Having settled in, it was just a case of getting to the bar for pre-dinner drinks and then, well, dinner, before retiring for the night, with an early start planned for the activities on the one day we had here before returning to Perth.

Thursday 8 August 2024 – Early meant an 0530 alarm call so we could take a swift bite of breakfast as the restaurant opened at 0630 and still be ready to be collected at 0700. On the way to breakfast, we could confirm that the “Sunrise Beach” moniker is not a misnomer.

Prompt at 0700, a bus turned up, but it wasn’t for us; it was for the other three who were in the hotel reception at the time. But a few seconds after they’d left, another bus came along and this was ours. The objective of the day was to go snorkelling (part 1) and, if possible, to swim with whale sharks (part 2), something that Jane has been very eager to do for quite some time, now. Me? Well, I’m in favour of the principle, but since the practice involves messing around with wetsuits, snorkel tubes, masks and flippers, I have strong reservations about my ability not to make an utter klutz of myself. For that reason, I had been conflicted about this activity pretty much from the start; and I could easily have stayed in bed and had a lazy day of it. I went along, though, because I knew I’d curse myself if I didn’t; and I packed as if I might have a go at the snorkelling part of the day, even though the whale sharking bit was fully-booked.

Our bus, which was staffed and driven by friendly, enthusiastic and very fit-looking girls, stopped off and picked up several more people, each of whom seemed younger, fitter and more ready to go snorkelling than I felt. Our end point was on the west coast of the headland, exactly opposite where we started, on the east coast of it, but to get there, we had to drive right round the top of the cape. One of the girls used the time to explain that we were circumnavigating a US military facility, to brief us on the day and also to get us to sign waiver forms.

I was surprised to hear her optimism about seeing whale sharks. My understanding had been that we were way out of season for these magnificent beasts, and that we might have to make do with seeing manta rays and such.

We stopped at a jetty at the south end of the Jurabi Coastal Park and were transferred to our dive boat, Blue Strike,

in two shifts

whereupon all sorts of wetsuit and snorkelling gear came out and I consequently made up my mind that I would not venture into the water. Everybody else kitted up,

Geoff, the skipper, gave us a safety briefing,

and Ricardo gave a “how to get off and on the boat” briefing,

including a practice assembly

before everybody got their ~~marching~~ snorkelling orders

The first snorkelling session was close to the shore, in the lagoon behind the reef, and it gave people and staff a chance to suss out what it would be like and, for the staff, who might need help. And then we went out past the rather magnificent surf that crashed on the reef

into the deeper waters where whale sharks might be found. Locating them is not quite a random affair; a spotter plane buzzes about to look for them and direct the boats (for there are several in this game) towards the sharks, which spend some time near the surface and so, because they are so big, can be seen from passing aircraft.

Before anyone is allowed into the water alongside whale sharks, rules need to be set out, and everyone had a briefing on how to behave during a whale shark encounter,

which means forming a line alongside the shark and letting it swim by, swimming only on the surface, staying at least three metres away at the side and four at the rear, and never swimming under or over a shark.

The sharks never actually surface, so I never saw one, but in all our snorkellers left the boat four times to see whale sharks, and each time there was a shark for them to appreciate. Jane participated in three of the sessions and was able to get a good view of a shark on each occasion, which she found very pleasing. There was a professional photographer, Heather Doran, with each group that left the boat, and here are some of the photos she captured, along with some commentary from Jane, who was actually there.

The photographer was also the in-water spotter, so first in to the water at each sighting, to locate the fish for the groups of swimmers and also to catch some good pictures, for identification purposes as well as recording the event for the guests.

Each group had a dive guide in hi-vis pink, and we followed their instructions as to where and how to swim; on my first two swims we were each time above a shark which was gradually diving deeper into invisibility;

for the third swim we were alongside one cruising near the surface, and I swam with the guide around behind it – past the huge tail which produced quite a significant current as it swam – to the other side, to keep pace with it for a short while.

It was a fantastic experience but I have to say I found it hard work! I haven’t done much open ocean swimming, and the swell and the choppy water made it very tiring just manoeuvring around the other swimmers and the sharks, while simultaneously watching the shark in the water, watching the dive leader on the surface, and trying not to breathe or swallow too much seawater! Not to mention getting off and on the boat every time*. So after three goes at seeing these magnificent creatures I sat out the last go, feeling thoroughly pleased with my day.

I guess I regret not seeing/photographing one of these magnificent creatures for myself, but equally I’m sure that I would have been struggling to cope, and a massive holdup for the rest of the group – even Jane, who is much more skilled at snorkelling than I (admittedly a low bar to clear, but still), found it difficult on occasions to deal with the conditions; the dive crew were very helpful, setting her up with different bits of gear to make things better for her.

Me? I just tried to get photos of the humpback whales that were occasionally to be seen in the area.

The first one we saw was quite a way away;

yes, there it is.

But others came closer

and one was good enough to do the tail fluke thing really quite close to us.

We saw a Manta Ray, sadly only swimming, not leaping; and there were a couple of occasions when a whale breached, but I was never in the right place at the right time to capture that impressive sight (unlike the marvellous sights we saw off Cape Cod last year). However, Heather, the pro photographer was; here are her shots.

Manta Ray

All the time this was going on, we were not too far from land, and quite close to the edge of the reef, which gave the chance for some quite splendid photos of surf.

Although I didn’t personally see a whale shark, I enjoyed observing the process, and Jane was really delighted with her encounters with the sharks.

So, the one day we had in the Ningaloo area was a success, and now we just had an overnight at the hotel and a flight back to Perth in order to continue our northward journey.

Friday 9 August 2024 – Before we headed to the airport, we had to go into Exmouth proper to pick up the professional’s photos, which gave us a chance to see the town.

It took us a while to find the Exmouth Dive shop where we could pick up the photos, and we actually walked right by it a few times before we spotted it (last photo above).

The flight back to Perth and the overnight there is the start of the next, and major, segment of our Australia trip, which we’re both looking forward to immensely. So keep an eye on these pages to find out what we got up to next, eh?

* This is why I don’t get on with snorkelling

Our last day in Perth

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Tuesday 6 August 2024 – The day started with us missing out on things. We had no formal items on the schedule, so had a bit of a lie-in, to such an extent that when we went to the hotel restaurant for breakfast, they’d stopped serving. “Ah, well” we thought, “at least there’s the lobby café.” We went back to the room, and I got distracted by writing this ‘ere blog, to such an extent that when we went down to get a coffee and pastry, it had closed for the day. “Ah, well” we thought, “we’re bound to be able to find coffee and pastry out somewhere.” So we went for a walk. Obviously.

Our first stop was the Bell Tower, which is so named because it has bells in it.

One could be forgiven for wondering what the hell could be interesting about bells, but it was an interesting diversion, covering the making of bells, the ringing of bells and the displaying of bells. Having paid the entrance fee, one is faced with six flights of stairs or a lift, so we opted for the latter for the way up and the former for the way down.

As one exits the lift, there is a carillon. If you put a coin in, you can get it to play a tune, selected from a bewildering variety of possibilities; or, for those interested in the deep mathematics and patterns of bell ringing, you could get it to “ring the changes”. Here is a video of a set of changes happening, which is very, very dull, unless you’re heavily into campanology.

Inside the building at the top is the Anzac Bell, the largest swinging bell in Australia, cast from copper, tin and gold, and weighing in at 6½ tons.

Ceremonially rung daily at midday, it is a lasting memorial to Australian and New Zealand servicemen and women involved in wars, conflicts and peacekeeping operations around the world.

One level down, and just visible in the photo above, is a set of 18 bells, a dozen of which are the historically significant bells (made in 1725) from the Saint Martin in the Fields Church in London, which had to be removed from that church because their shaking was destroying the church tower.

To this day, these bells are actually rung regularly by a team of bell ringers, who ring the changes twice a week; one can book a ticket to watch them, and also book a “Bell Ringing Experience” which gives a chance for punters to have a go on the ropes. This makes the Bell Tower, custom built to house these bells, one of the largest musical instruments in the world.

Forgive the reflections, by the way; the bells are behind two layers of glass, presumably so that punters who are watching don’t get deafened.

Outside the Bell Tower is something that demonstrates one aspect of modern life in which Perth lags the zeitgeist.

Love padlocks. In France and Italy they are a curse, destroying bridges with their weight and being a general menace. In the Bell Tower, they’ll sell you a heart-shaped padlock for AUs$5.

Going to the Bell Tower put us near Elizabeth Quay, and so we went there in search of that coffee and pastry that we’d missed out on earlier. We found the coffee at The Island Brewhouse, but they only did proper meals, and not pastry. We weren’t yet ready for proper food, so satisfied ourselves with just the coffee before continuing our peregrination.

This led us across the very ritzy Elizabeth Quay Bridge

and past a bizarre statue.

It’s called “First Contact” and is a representation, created by indigenous artist Laurel Nannup, of what the original Noongar people must have thought on seeing the sails of an arriving European ship, looking like a big white bird, and crewed by white people whom they thought were the souls of their ancestors returning from the sea.

Our eventual destination was Kings Park, a cultural heritage site and home to the Western Australia Botanic Garden. We allowed Google Maps to tell us the best way to walk there and followed its directions. These led us along beside the river, where we saw an Australasian Darter.

We also saw, high on a hilltop, an obelisk, which seemed to be in the general direction we were headed. At one point, we had to scamper across a four-lane highway, with traffic lights only controlling two of them, but we made it OK. Then we had to scramble up a bank to a path which led us along and back down to the main road we’d just crossed, at the foot of the Kokoda Track; this would lead us up into the Park. The space at the bottom of the Track looked a bit unkempt and scruffy, and furthermore didn’t seem to have a formal way of access from the major highway running past this start point; but, hey, what the hell, we thought, and started up it.

Up was the operative word, here.

The track passed several plaques, such as these.

I wasn’t quite sure of the significance of these, because I hadn’t yet found out what the Kokoda Track was about. It carried on up and up

for some 161 steps. Only at the top did a couple of things become apparent. The first was an information board explaining that the Kokoda Track Memorial Walk is a tribute to the bravery of Australian troops who fought in Papua New Guinea in WWII. The fighting on The Kokoda Track was one of the vital elements of the Australian efforts in World War II. The Papua New Guinea campaign, including The Kokoda Track, Milne Bay, Buna, Gona and Sanananda resulted in a total of 8,546 Australian and United States casualties. Australian soldiers fought through atrocious conditions and against vastly superior numbers in this campaign between July 1942 and January 1943.

This was the second.

We had walked up this closed path; this went some way towards explaining its unkempt state! Anyway, having ascended some 70 metres vertical, the view was pretty good.

There were various paths available, and we pottered on in search of our first main objective within the park,

the Giant Baobab (or Boab as they call it here), Gija Jumulu. Estimated at 750 years old, the tree is a special gift to all Western Australians from the northern Indigenous people, the Gija, who are the traditional land owners. They performed a farewell ceremony to the tree on Monday, 14 July 2008 and it then travelled over 3200 km by long haul truck from Warmun down to Perth. It’s the longest known land journey of a living tree this size: 37 tonnes and 18 metres tall.

But “giant”? Hah! We saw baobabs far larger (and older) than this one when we were in Madagascar.

Jane had visited the Botanic Garden when she was last in Perth, longer ago than it would be delicate to expound, and was interested to see the wild flowers; there was a wild flower pavilion signposted and so we hied ourselves thither. To be honest, it was a bit of a let down,

so we pottered on along various paths taking in the general ambience, which was delightful.

We left the garden by its very stylish main entrance

past the War memorial, which was the obelisk we’d seen earlier,

and headed back towards the city, past sights both large

and small.

Australian Magpie (not related to the UK version, and not, surprisingly, a corvid)

A Magpie-Lark

We had the option of going down the Jacob’s Ladder stairs

but decided against that and walked down a more gentle gradient to St. Georges Terrace in the city, where there was a further selection of fine colonial-style buildings crouched between huge modern steel-and-glass carbuncles.

We ended up back at the Island Brewhouse, since we were by now ready for a proper meal. We sat outside to eat our meal, because it was still reasonably warm, and it actually came on to rain, which surprised us somewhat. Having eaten, we waited for a gap between showers and hastily made our way back to the hotel (via restocking the Twinings at Woollies) to prepare for the next segment of this trip.

We’ve had a lovely time in Perth and its environs, but tomorrow, Qantas being willing, we must leave. We fly North! to ~~Alas…~~ Learmonth and travel thence to Exmouth; for what purpose, you’ll have to keep an eye on these pages to discover.

A Day on Rottnest Island

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Monday 5 August 2024 – Today was the only formal item on our Perth agenda – we had a booking to catch the ferry over to Rottnest Island. This seems a cruel piece of naming to me; I’m sure there must be rottner islands elsewhere in the world. Indeed, there’s one on the fringes of London which has completely gone to the Dogs.

The item on our Audley itinerary was described as a “tour and bike ride”, with bicycle hire included in the booking, and a day at leisure on the island with just a lunch included. Jane professes not to have ridden a bicycle for longer than she cares to mention (and in fact had signalled this to Audley some time back in the trip’s planning process). Also, given that wildlife was part of the attraction of the place, I wanted to take The Big Lens (which is also darned heavy); as well, I thought it might be possible, during our leisurely progress round the island, to whizz the drone up for a different view point. This added two non-trivial items to be lugged about along with all the other stuff we’d need – sunscreen, water, that kind of thing. Jane’s caution about bicycling, and the extra baggage from my photographic ambitions, gave us to decide to pass up on the bicycling idea and seek other ways of getting round the island. That, therefore, was the plan.

As Hannibal Smith so often said, “I love it when a plan comes together”. Ours, however, didn’t.

Not in any way that detracted from an enjoyable day, you understand, but the way the day worked out was quite different from what I, at least, had expected.

We were to be collected at a nearby crossroads, so we made sure to get there nice and early, as instructed. By the appointed pick-up time, no-one had appeared to collect us, so we fell to wondering how long we should give them before stirring things up a bit. Just at the point where we thought that Someone Had Blundered, a bus marked “Rottnest Express” did actually turn up, so we climbed on board and took about the last two available seats – it was quite crowded. The bus then took us down to the Barrack Street Quay (to which we could have quite easily walked, as it happens, but never mind) and we joined the check-in queue to collect our tickets. It was at about this point that we began to realise that the shape of the day was different from what we’d imagined. For sure, lunch was included; but we also had an afternoon bus tour as part of our package, with no mention of bicycles. Having collected our tickets, we headed for the ferry,

which was already pretty much full, but we found a couple of seats, settled ourselves down and then we were off.

There was the usual video about safety and life jackets, with frequent mentions of the “friendly crew” to whom we could turn if we needed help. And there was a commentary, delivered as we pottered along the Swan river (originally Black Swan river, named by Dutch explorer Willem de Vlamingh in 1697) towards Fremantle, by a lady who appeared only to have received the script a couple of moments before she had to deliver it. The commentary, though, allowed us to understand some of the landmarks we passed, such as the old Swan Brewery

which, back in the day, had produced Swan Lager, one of only about half a dozen different beers readily available in Australia when I first visited back in the 1980s (others being Castlemaine XXXX, Tooheys, Victoria Bitter and, of course, the amber nectar of Fosters. Ah, the heady days before the craft beer movement had taken off!)

We got a silhouetted view of the Perth skyline

and passed a couple of pretty impressive mansions

that either still belonged, or used to belong, to people whose names meant absolutely nothing to me. And we got a good view of the industrial port by North Fremantle.

The ferry docked at Fremantle to pick up more passengers (the nice lady doing the commentary told us all to shuffle up to make room) and then the boat roared off towards Rottnest Island.

The main wildlife of interest on the Island, and something that Jane specifically wanted to see, was the quokka. There was some video on the ferry about how it was important not to disturb them or to feed them. I had no idea what to expect when it came to getting photos of this mysterious beast, which is why I’d brought the Big Lens, in case I could only see one in the distance. This is another way in which the day turned out very differently from my expectations. As we walked off the quay, I saw my first quokka, by a “Welcome” noticeboard.

and it very soon became clear that it would not be difficult to see more of them. They were everywhere in the settlement beside the harbour. Indeed, you had to be careful not to trip over them.

You also had to be careful not to trip over all the people who were contorting themselves in various undignified ways to get photos and – inevitably – selfies with the quokkas. It actually made it quite difficult to get a photo of one of these beasts without any people in it. I did manage a couple, though. One quokka was still carrying a joey in its pouch

and was actually considerate enough to pose so I could get a clearer shot.

The area around the settlement, which has a shop, a visitors centre, a restaurant and a bakery, was pretty crowded with tourists,

many of whom were having their own moments with the quokkas,

and gulls and ravens,

which could lunge for any food which was not closely guarded.

The instructions about the quokkas were perfectly clear

but the beasts themselves didn’t make things any easier for the punters.

Instead of the leisurely pottering about we had originally expected, we actually had a reasonably tight schedule to observe: lunch at midday, bus tour at 1.45pm, ferry back to Perth at 4pm. This gave us time for a coffee and a short walk before lunch, so we headed off towards the nearby lakes, which are salt lakes.

There’s vegetation regeneration work going on on the banks of the lakes, to help preserve the environment.

On the way, we came across a Laughing Turtle Dove, which is very prettily coloured,

and, in an area by the lakes, I managed to get a photo of a quokka in a more natural-looking setting,

and Jane got a cute photo of one having a bit of a sleep (they’re described as semi-nocturnal, whatever that means).

Their natural food is vegetation, and they particularly like the paler-coloured fallen leaves from the Moreton Bay fig trees around the settlement.

Human food is bad for them, which is why (a) there are the stern instructions not to feed them and (b) why the ones near the settlement live half as long as those further out in the island. There are plenty of those – there are tens of thousands of quokkas on the island, making it the largest known colony; their success is due to the absence of natural predators and the exclusion of introduced ones – steps have been taken to remove cats, dogs and foxes.

Back at the settlement, as well as a decent lunch at Frankie’s, I got a couple of photos of the non-quokka wildlife which is profuse around the settlement: Australian Ravens,

which are noisy, with a call sounding about half way between an annoyed cat and a squalling baby; and silver gulls, which don’t necessarily get on well with each other.

I also managed to get a shot of a mother quokka with a joey

which I think was trying to climb back into its pouch, but mamma was having none of it and wandered off in search of food, with the joey chasing after.

After lunch, we hopped on board our Discovery Tour bus, with guide Leo and driver Sam

and were driven anticlockwise round the periphery of the island whilst Leo gave an interesting commentary, interspersed with some very bad jokes. It was our opportunity to learn something of the history of the island, which is somewhat chequered.

The island became detached from the mainland about 7,000 years ago when sea levels rose; before that time it was inhabited by the Noongar people.
The name Rottnest was conferred by Willem de Vlamingh, who first documented the island in 1696. He saw the quokkas as large rats and called it “Rat’s Nest” Island, but in Dutch – Rottnest. The island’s aboriginal Noongar name is Wadjemup – “The Place Across the Water Where the Spirits Are”. The Perth locals, predictably, call it “Rotto”.
From 1838 to 1931, the island was used as a prison and forced labour camp for over 3,600 Aboriginal people, who were subjected to extremely harsh conditions on the island.
Other historical uses of the island include as a military site, and for internment camps housing enemy aliens during the world wars. Many of the island’s buildings date from the colonial period, often made from locally quarried limestone, and are now used as accommodation for holidays.
This accommodation came in handy as a quarantine facility during the Covid pandemic.
During World War II, two 9.2 inch guns were installed near the middle of the island at Oliver Hill, and two 6 inch guns installed at Bickley Point, for defence of the Fremantle port. The location of the island was seen as being important to the defense of the important port of Fremantle, the major base for the Allies in the Indian Ocean, as bombardment of any attacking ships could be made from the island before the ships would come into range of the port. In the 1990s, the (decommissioned) gun emplacements were extensively reconstructed, and since then a popular tourist activity has included a tour of the guns and the tunnels.

In many areas around the island there’s growth of seagrass, which is important for the integrity of the sea floor as well as for marine life. The seagrass areas can be seen as the dark areas,

with the paler areas being sand. Anchoring a boat among the seagrass is forbidden and offenders are subject to a large fine.

There are other nice views on the trip around the island, with some secluded and empty beaches (some are less secluded and more popular among bathers).

From a headland on the far south of the island, Leo pointed out that the next landfall to the east was Adelaide, about 2,000km away, and to the west was Madagascar – 7,000km distant. Also around the southern point, there’s an osprey’s nest which is several decades old.

There was even an osprey on it.

The osprey seems to be some kind of an icon for the island; a board by the jetty says “Follow The Osprey”, and the trails are marked with a rather nicely-imagined osprey outline.

We stopped for a 20-minute break at the far western point of the island, where we could get some shots of the scenery, which had another osprey nest and some great rock formations,

and I got a nice clear photo of a silver gull.

I’d like to say how tricky this shot was, but I’d be lying; it was just hovering there before coming in to land.

After the tour, we just had time for a swift beer

before boarding the ferry for the return journey.

So, the day had had a very different pattern from what we’d been expecting, but was enjoyable and interesting nonetheless. I don’t know if Audley had taken Jane’s reservations about bicycles on board and had altered the booking, but it’s certainly true that the information we had was largely

a quokka shit. Jane insists on taking credit for that one. No matter; we had a good day and we got to see the quokkas.

The morrow is our final day in Perth. We have no formal plans, but I expect we’ll think of something. You’ll have to return to these pages to find out what that was, won’t you?