The walk was enjoyable but time-consuming. Once we made our way back to the car, navigated our way out, and set off for the Brand Highway, a four-thirty deadline meant there wouldn't be many wildflower stops since the ones in the book were away from the route Karen chose for us.
Delays at roadworks we'd sailed through unhindered on the way down didn't help matters, and as the clock headed towards four-thirty, we were increasingly unsure of arriving in time.
That side of things was complicated by uncertainty about where the place was. We'd booked by email, but I'd neglected to print out the reply that contained the directions.
I knew we had to go through Eneabba and look for the right hand turn off at a distance that ended with a '2' north of the town. I thought it was 12,
Madam failed to note the odometer count as we passed the township. So we rolled relentlessly north as Mickey's big hand moved relentlessly south.
We were just about to push the panic button when, on a curve 22 km out of Eneabba, there was a sign indicating a right-hand turn and an eight hundred metre drive over a good dirt road to our destination.