It had rained for days, and when it wasn’t raining it was damp and grey and cold. Miserable, in fact. The hillsides were oozing and the track was a running stream.
But just as dry firewood was becoming a concern, this day threw a final heavy shower at the mountain and then the sun came out.
The wallabies had clearly been even worse off than I was, out there in the long wet tussocks. This isn’t cave country to offer dry shelters, so I expect they must just endure such weather.
Their fur is thick but the top layer at least was looking very bedraggled as they sat about, drying off and dozing in the warmth.
While this mother (left) dried off, she was busy cleaning up her joey, who’d been kept safely cosy and dry in the best place for a joey to be — mum’s pouch.