This is not a criticism of W.A, but a few things are continuing to surprise me and I can’t separate them as holiday issues or W.A issues. For instance, when we drink a beer in our cabin or (increasingly less) tent, out of habit we store the bottles apart, so they can be recycled. But as we leave, I find I have to just dump them in a bin, as the average Caravan Park here just doesn’t offer that service. And daylight savings is such an issue here also, perhaps because the people in the north of the state get such little benefit from it, and locals seem to automatically assume they should be polled to determine government policy on the issue. I suppose that’s what you get when there’s been 3 referendums in the past 25 years on the issue. When they announced last night on the news that they’re going to trial a three year DLS period in W.A starting December 1st, I immediately felt sorry for all the Windows and Unix admins here, who will have to rapidly patch every machine on their network. Like we did for the Commonwealth Games. 
Great Australian Bight Yesterday, when driving south through evocative sounding towns like Salmon Gums, I spent a lot of time watching the vegetation whilst Kim, bored of reading, made stuttering attempts at making a warm red knitted scarf. It looked like so much fun I wanted to do some too, but someone had to drive. It seemed disappointing to me how similar the trees and soil were compared to Bagshot – in my mind in the lead up to the trip, they were incomparable. Then soon, within 30k from the coast, the mallee rapidly turned coastal, the soil white, and monster triffid banksias crowded the roadsides. Despite 3-4 fanatical plant-obsessed years in the early 90’s I’m ashamed to say I’m not sure what subspecies. Maybe Menziesii. But they were awesome, and I’m glad I hadn’t planted them in my yard at home because they would have engulfed my house. 
Camels on a roadabout in Norseman. We struck problems again with getting accomodation, and found ourselves a little desperately accepting a “chalet” at a caravan park plonked dead centre in an industrial park far from the beach at Esperance. But it was pleasingly low key and despite the asbestos (or is that cement sheet) exterior and mint green freshness of the nest, I’m really happy with it. I can imagine a writer booking it out for a few weeks in the winter and taking regular strolls within the overgrown, almost tropical park for inspiration from the New Holland Honeyeaters nearby.