the road to Albany ….

..… is some 300 miles long.  It takes us the best part of a day.  

I had a bad day yesterday.  An arrhythmia in the night and then my heart stuck on 125 bpm for almost 24 hours.  The pills failed to calm things down and we talk about whether I should see a doctor.  When this happens at home, I usually crawl into bed and sleep it off.  Not so easy when your bed is bouncing along at 100kph.  I limit my sightseeing to the beach and then have a nap while the others wander around a life-size replica of Stonehenge in a farmer’s field (yes really). The episode reinforces that sometimes our bodies have different plans from our minds.   

Today I’m a completely different person; a good night’s sleep and I’m as sparky and alert as a sparky alert thing. 

We see far more Road Trains here than we did coming down from Kalgoorie.  Some are ‘triples’ - three trailers. When two pass each other, the gap between them is frighteningly narrow - less than a metre in some places.  And they’re doing 100kph when they pass.

Although the road is again straight and flat - at least to begin with - the route is never boring.  The black-top bisects the view ahead and either side, various shades of red, silver, green and brown.  Straight ahead - the big blue sky.

At about 100 miles the road starts to undulate.  And fields now, with cattle grazing.  I begin to think that this is such a familiar scene that we could be anywhere in the world - until we notice, grazing among the cattle, a kangaroo.

After about 200 miles we see in the distance The Stirling Range - mountains that spring up from the surrounding wheat fields.  I find a pull-off and gingerly make my way through the scrub to get today’s blip, hoping that there’s nothing lurking that might fancy a bite out of an as-yet pale English leg.

Albany, when we finally arrive, is wonderful.  There’s something not quite Australian about it, although parrots on the beach remind us just where we are. Houses dotted round a cove and green tree-covered hills that fall down into the ocean put me in mind of the coast of North Eastern America; not quite Cabot’s Cove (Murder She Wrote) though.  Perhaps it’s the shared whaling history that resonates.

The campsite backs on to the beach and has a pool as well as en-suite facilities for Matilda.  We have two nights here.

It’s about nine in the evening when I write this, sitting outside, the only light coming through a gap in Matilda’s curtains.  There’s a scurrying noise and I notice an animal the size of a rat; a very large rat, but with the head of a shrew.  It turns out to be a Bandicoot - a shy insect-eating marsupial.  This is my first up-close encounter with Australian wiildlife.  At least to my knowledge.