Right down on the Southern most coast of WA sits the little town of Denmark. It's surprising, actually, just how far down it is. On the map, the coast curves southeast from Augusta through the D'Entrecasteaux National Park while the main road runs inland through an unbroken string of national parks protecting the great forests of Karri and Tingles. The two meet up at the corner as the coast flattens out at Walpole and remain inseparable all the way to Denmark. Further east, the coast meanders another 50 Kms to Albany before making a sharp Nor'east turn to end up at Esperance, the same latitude as Margaret River. It's funny, but I had always assumed that Esperance and Denmark were at the same degree of Southerness.
It's much colder down here as well. A 38 degree day in Perth tempers down to a very tolerable 28 by the time it reaches Denmark. The water is a refreshing 19 degrees and triumphantly turquoise.

Our first visit to the Great Southern was a weekend jaunt to catch up with our old friend Charlie. Mum had flown back to England and Tom had just started his 8 days off. Charlie had invited us down a few months ago, ostensibly to go out in his boat, but he had since undergone a hernia operation and was convalescing. He owned a plot of land and a giant shed just up from Wilsons Inlet, which in shape and design, empties like a giant bottle of Mateus Rose into the Southern Ocean. Actually, the water draining out from the inlet was more a cloudy olive oil colour to be honest. All the tannin from the gum trees, I guess. When the tide turned, however, the little creek became a glorious blue, deepening to emerald in the pools that hid the baby Snapper. It was a playground for kids on paddleboards and canoes whilst managing to support a laconic Osprey and a family of Cormorants who fished and swam undaunted by the humans. It's a windy old coastline as well, but the cliff behind the beach bent around like a giant, rocky hand, cupping the inlet in its calloused palm, sheltering the wildlife and families alike.
During our visit, Charlie took us herring fishing at the nearby Lights Beach. We caught so many, it was although he had some sort of herring aphrodisiac on the hook. They were practically fighting each other to jump out of the water. It was one of Ned's highlights for sure. Of course, when we returned in January, without Charlie's magic touch, the herring were nowhere to be seen. Ned also finally found a place where he felt comfortable in the surf. Ocean beach was protected from the bigger swells by its easterly orientation and also from the southerly wind. Perfect little left handers were running from the inlet mouth when we were there providing rides for all abilities. We spent lots of happy mornings out in the greeny blue water.
Tom had visited Denmark briefly on his previous wanderings around the place and felt that it was the least changed of all the spots he's revisited on this trip. The town was certainly compact, arranged around a two street grid that clung to the side of a hill. There was a wonderful bakery that turned out plump, chocolatey eclairs, a smattering of alternative places offering herbal medicines and incense and a shop specialising in products made from Alpaca wool. I bought three fabulous throws from this last establishment. Big enough to cover a person, they were so light, I could carry all of them on three fingers. Beautiful fibre.

Charlie had very kindly offered his shed to us over the school holiday period when camping is at a premium in holiday towns like Denmark. It was a perfect solution to our dilemma of finding somewhere suitable to ride out the three weeks of work that Tom had back in the Pilbara upon our return from Europe. It also coincided perfectly with the Australian Open which I have never managed to watch. We shamelessly lazed away the days surfing, watching the tennis and occasionally rousing ourselves to do some school or shopping. I am sure that I will pay later for such unproductivity.