Mt Augustus gave us a very big rock - and our first bed in 10 days and a hot shower. Being undomesticated I thought maybe I should try a spot of washing - socks and other unmentionables were four days mature. I bought the washing powder and threw all my dusty, sweaty red daks into the machine along with Ross Patterson longuns.
When I returned an hour later all my clothes had disappeared. Bugger! But there was a pile of other freshly washed clothes - shorts, t shirts, a Docker's shirt and a dangly black bra. Next morning I plied my trade going from caravan to caravan looking for the owner. Eventually, at caravan no 26 a delighted Docker's supporter and his braless wife looked ecstatic as Iu delivered their washing and I retrieved mine.
After lunch I was running a photo workshop when the Ibis started circling overhead. They soared in the thermals and waves of the birds weaved and overlapped in a graceful aerial ballet.