Australia: Western Australia – Denmark

🚐 Getting There: Four Hundred Kilometres, an Anniversary, and an Aldi

There is a particular kind of tired that comes from driving a campervan — cumulative and total, starting in the shoulders and working steadily downward until it has colonised the entire body. A car is practically an armchair by comparison. I was still getting used to the whole enterprise, which added a considerable layer of concentration to what was already a four-hundred-kilometre day through Western Australia’s long, straight, entirely serious roads. And this was not merely any Monday. It was our thirtieth wedding anniversary, which I contemplated somewhere south of Perth with the jarrah forest sliding past on both sides and Karen sitting patiently in the passenger seat, being considerably more relaxed about all of this than I was. Thirty years of marriage is one of those milestones the world acknowledges with the word pearl, which has always struck me as a slightly odd choice — pearls being, after all, the product of an irritant lodged inside a mollusc for an uncomfortably long time. I remain, without reservation, entirely grateful that Karen said yes all those years ago and has continued to put up with me ever since.

The plan was to reach the small town of Denmark on Western Australia’s south coast and then make our way to the Boston Brewery just outside town for an anniversary dinner of some significance. We got away at ten, heading south through the agricultural hinterland of the southwest and down through the Darling Range — not much of a range, to be honest, more of a low escarpment that the English would call a hill, but heavily forested with jarrah and responsible for Perth’s water supply since the late nineteenth century. The whole southwest corner sits within one of only thirty-six recognised biodiversity hotspots on the planet, sharing that distinction with the Cape Floristic Region of South Africa and the forests of Madagascar, with roughly eight thousand plant species of which about half exist nowhere else on earth. You would not necessarily know this from the highway, but it does make the roadside scrub feel considerably more interesting. We stopped at Albany — the site of Western Australia’s first permanent European settlement, established in 1826, three years before Perth existed, and more soberly, the point from which the ANZAC troopships departed in November 1914, carrying thousands of young Australians and New Zealanders toward Egypt and eventually Gallipoli. Albany was the last piece of Australian soil most of them ever saw. There is a memorial on Mount Clarence that is by all accounts genuinely moving. We did not visit it. We found an Aldi, emerged with a mattress topper and an additional pillow, and felt considerably better about the sleeping arrangements for the rest of the trip. A mattress topper might not sound romantic on an anniversary. In context, it was practically a diamond necklace.

It was well into the late afternoon before we rolled into Denmark and found the Denmark Rivermouth Caravan Park, which sits at the precise point where the Denmark River meets the Wilson Inlet. The town, despite the name, has nothing whatsoever to do with Scandinavia — it was named after Dr Alexander Denmark, a naval surgeon attached to an early hydrographic survey of the south coast, who never actually settled here and probably never came back. European settlement began seriously in the late nineteenth century, driven by a timber industry that had identified the karri forests as an extremely attractive proposition — karri being one of the tallest hardwoods in the world, routinely reaching sixty metres — and a sawmill was established in the early 1890s. The town has had a fairly quiet existence since then, acquiring from the 1970s onward a reputation as a destination for good food, local wine, and the kind of scenery that makes people move somewhere and feel very smug about having done so. The campsite reception was closed when we arrived, but there was an envelope waiting with our site number on it, which is the kind of trust-based system that works perfectly well here and would collapse immediately in most cities. You stop. You level. You plug in. You’re done.

The evening was still and warm, so we walked down to the Wilson Inlet — a substantial coastal lagoon stretching roughly twenty kilometres along the south coast, separated from the Southern Ocean by a narrow strip of sand and dune, and used by the Noongar people for tens of thousands of years before anyone else showed up. The water was extraordinarily still, reflecting the far bank with the accuracy of a clean mirror. There were seagulls, oystercatchers with their improbable orange bills, and then there were the pelicans — great white birds with wingspans reaching two and a half metres and the largest bill of any bird on earth relative to body size, sailing around the inlet with the unhurried dignity of vessels that know they have right of way, which in any practical sense they did. We watched them for a while. It was a very good way to spend the first few minutes of a wedding anniversary evening.

🍺 The Boston Brewery: Closed

The Boston Brewery, which we had been looking forward to for several days, was closed. It was a Monday. Of course it was a Monday.

We drove all this way on our anniversary — past four hundred kilometres of Western Australia, past the jarrah forests and the Darling Range and the historic harbour at Albany — and arrived on the one day of the week when the brewery shuts. It sits out in the farmland east of Denmark, this craft brewery and pizza restaurant with its growing reputation and its genuinely good beer, and it is apparently the kind of place that takes Mondays off, which is a perfectly reasonable thing to do and absolutely infuriating when you had plans.

We ate in, had a perfectly decent anniversary dinner of our own devising, and agreed that Tuesday would do just as well for a celebration. Thirty years of marriage teaches you, among other things, that the plan adjusting is not the same as the plan failing. Sometimes things shift by twenty-four hours. The beer would taste exactly the same tomorrow.

🌿 Fairy Doors, River Walks, and the Town of Denmark

After several weeks of relentless touring it was genuinely pleasing to wake up with nowhere urgent to be. We had a late breakfast that edged towards elevenses without apology, then walked into town along the Denmark River trail — pausing first at campground reception to complete the formality of checking in, which is the kind of administrative task that somehow always gets done after you have already slept there. It was here that Karen spotted a notice about fairy doors. Local artists had installed a series of tiny painted doors along the trail — some with miniature letterboxes, some with small curtained windows, one with what appeared to be a doormat — nestled into the bases of trees as if they had always been there. We had not fully thought through the logical implications of fairy doors before setting out. Fairies are small. Their doors are therefore also small. The first one nearly defeated us. Perfectly daft. Completely charming.

The trail itself was a delight quite independently of its fairy door infrastructure. Herons stood in the shallows with the expression of elderly professors who have heard every question before. Cormorants dried their wings on half-submerged logs in the spread-armed posture of someone trying to flag down a passing bus. And the wrens — this part of Western Australia has wrens of extraordinary electric blueness, the splendid fairy-wren in breeding plumage being a bird of almost aggressive colour, as though someone has turned the saturation dial well past sensible and kept going. The kookaburra, which is actually the world’s largest kingfisher and appears to find everything you do mildly amusing, provided occasional commentary from the woodland. What should have been a short walk into town took considerably longer than it had any right to. Neither of us was remotely bothered.

Denmark itself is not a large place — a main street, a handful of side streets, an independent bookshop, a good bakery, and a food and wine scene that has been developing quietly since the 1990s. The Denmark wine region produces rieslings and chardonnays of some elegance, moderated by the maritime influence of the Southern Ocean. You can taste quite a lot of them if you are not driving a campervan. We settled for looking at the labels. Karen applied herself diligently to the op shops, which in Australia are consistently better stocked than their British equivalents — a fact I can report without strong opinion about what it reveals about either country. We did not buy anything requiring structural modifications to the vehicle, which I count as a success. Then we walked back and had lunch.

🌊 The Coast: Ocean Beach, Black Hole Rock, and Elephant Rocks

The afternoon sent us south to Ocean Beach, where Wilson Inlet meets the Southern Ocean at a sand bar of considerable instability. The bar closes entirely in summer, sealing the lagoon from the sea, and in winter the inlet fills with rainfall until the pressure forces it open — now managed by annual dredging rather than the forces of nature. We arrived to find the tide already creeping across the bar in shallow moving sheets. Beyond it, the Southern Ocean was doing its characteristic thing of being large, grey, and entirely indifferent to the opinions of anyone watching. It is the most energetic ocean on the planet, running unobstructed all the way around the globe at these latitudes, and it does not take afternoons off.

From Ocean Beach we drove on to Black Hole Rock, a substantial granite outcrop where the Southern Ocean has spent several thousand years expressing its feelings about the coastline by hurling itself at the rocks repeatedly and without any sign of boredom. The waves arrive from a fetch that runs unobstructed to Antarctica — roughly two and a half thousand kilometres of open water — and when they hit, they do so with everything they have. Spray flew. The noise made conversation briefly impossible. We stood there for some time, because this sort of thing is genuinely difficult to leave. Then, with the sun dropping and the weather forecast looking unreliable, we pressed on into William Bay National Park — gazetted in 1966, seventeen hundred hectares of coastal heath, karri woodland, and granite — pausing only to wait for a large group of western grey kangaroos to finish occupying a paddock beside the road with the proprietorial confidence of animals that know perfectly well who was here first. We waited. They moved when they were ready.

Then, with the sun dropping and the weather forecast looking unreliable, we pressed on into William Bay National Park — gazetted in 1966, seventeen hundred hectares of coastal heath, karri woodland, and granite — pausing only to wait for a large group of western grey kangaroos to finish occupying a paddock beside the road with the proprietorial confidence of animals that know perfectly well who was here first. We waited. They moved when they were ready.

We reached Elephant Rocks at golden hour: enormous rounded granite boulders emerging from the sea in formations that do, with a generous imagination, resemble a herd of very large animals taking a leisurely paddle. The rock is Precambrian, hundreds of millions of years old, smoothed by the sea, wind, and the thermal expansion and contraction of an almost unimaginable number of days. The path down also passed Greens Pool, a sheltered natural basin of implausibly turquoise water enclosed by the surrounding granite. We watched the sun go down from the small beach beside it. The sunset, if we are being accurate, was not especially spectacular — thick cloud on the horizon absorbed all the interesting colour and replaced it with grey. We took photographs anyway, then drove to the Boston Brewery: a craft brewery and pizza kitchen in the farmland east of Denmark, cheerfully informal, genuinely good. It was pub quiz night. The questions leaned heavily on Australian culture and history, which is not territory where two English travellers of a certain age are naturally well-resourced. We did not enter a team. We did, however, get several general knowledge questions right from our corner, silently and without attribution. The pizzas were good. The stout was excellent. One day late for our anniversary, but the beer tasted exactly the same as it would have done the night before. It had been a quiet day. Not every day needs to be otherwise.

🪨 Elephant Rocks and Greens Pool: Second Visit

With the morning’s administration satisfactorily concluded — document witnessed, pie consumed, op shop thoroughly examined — we found ourselves with the rest of the day entirely at our disposal.

We headed back out to Elephant Rocks and Greens Pool, which we had visited only briefly the previous afternoon and felt we had not done proper justice to. This time we took our time. The tide was different, the light was different, and the general feeling of not being in any hurry made the whole experience considerably more enjoyable than it had been when we were racing the sunset.

We made it onto the small beach at Elephant Rocks itself — a beach of very white sand tucked between the granite boulders — and spent a while simply looking at things in the way that you only properly do when you are not watching a clock. The boulders are more impressive up close than they are from the lookout. They are very large indeed, and very smooth, and the relationship between them and the sea is an ongoing conversation of considerable physicality. We watched waves come in, break around the boulders, surge up through gaps in the rock, and withdraw in cascades of white. Eventually the tide began to advance with the quiet, unstoppable confidence of something that has been doing this for considerably longer than any of us have been around, and we retreated.

Greens Pool followed, which in the afternoon light was even more implausibly turquoise than the previous evening. The surrounding granite curves up from the water in great smooth arcs, and the pool itself is sheltered enough that the surface stays calm even when the sea beyond is in a thoroughly uncooperative mood.

🌧️ Mad Fish Bay and an Excellent Nap

On a whim, we drove the additional three kilometres out to Mad Fish Bay, which has an excellent name and a suitably dramatic character to accompany it. It is an exposed granite headland at the eastern edge of the national park, looking out directly at the Southern Ocean with nothing between them and Antarctica to suggest restraint. The waves were considerable. The spray was impressive. The wind had an opinion about things.

The weather, which had been making vague threats all afternoon, had by this point committed fully to grey and damp. This is, it must be said, entirely appropriate weather for the southern coast of Western Australia. The region receives a Mediterranean-style rainfall pattern, with the majority of its precipitation arriving in the winter months between April and October, driven by cold fronts that sweep in from the west. March is technically still autumn, and the seasons were beginning to make themselves known.

At which point we did something that I would argue represents a high level of travel wisdom: we crawled into the back of the van and went to sleep.

This is one of the genuine advantages of travelling in a campervan that people do not discuss enough. When the weather closes in and you are tired and the coast outside is doing its best impression of the end of the world, you do not need to drive back to a hotel or sit in a café pretending to be interested in your phone. You unfold yourself into the back, pull something warm over you — ideally the new pillow and mattress topper acquired in Albany — and let the sound of rain on the roof do the rest. Rain on a campervan roof is one of the better sounds available to the human ear.

We woke up some time later feeling substantially improved. It was still raining. We drove back to the holiday park and spent the rest of the afternoon and evening doing nothing in particular, which after a day like that is exactly the right amount of nothing.

💭 Reflections

Three days in Denmark gave us a lot more than we expected, which is what this part of Western Australia seems to specialise in.

The landscape is genuinely exceptional. The granite coastline, the still waters of the inlet, the old karri forest — none of it is especially dramatic in the way of, say, the Kimberley or the red desert, but there is a quiet quality to it that gets under your skin. The Southern Ocean has a lot to do with that. Standing at the edge of something that big and that indifferent does something useful to your perspective.

The fairy doors were ridiculous and delightful in equal measure. The pelicans were magnificent. The notarisation adventure was neither, but it got done, and the pie that came out of it was genuinely one of the better things I ate on the trip.

The anniversary dinner, one day late, tasted exactly as it should have done. Thirty years is a long time. A Tuesday is a perfectly good day to celebrate it.

We left Denmark feeling rested, which is not always how you leave places when you are travelling. Sometimes rested is the best thing you can come away with.

Planning your visit to Denmark

🦢 Denmark, Western Australia – Planning Your Visit

Denmark is a small, charming town of around 5,000 people situated on the south coast of Western Australia, approximately 420 kilometres south-east of Perth. It sits at the heart of what locals fondly call the Rainbow Coast, nestled on the northern shore of Wilson Inlet where the Denmark River flows gracefully towards the sea. Surrounded by ancient native forests, rolling green hills, and pristine white sandy beaches that meet the powerful Southern Ocean, Denmark is widely regarded as one of Western Australia’s most beautiful and unspoilt destinations.

Known to the Noongar Aboriginal community as Kwoorabup, meaning “place of the brush-tail wallabies” (though it is also recorded as meaning “place of the Black Swan”), Denmark sits within the Southern Noongar region. The Noongar people are the traditional custodians of the South West of Western Australia and have had a profound and continuing connection to this land for over 10,000 years.

The town was first explored by Europeans in 1829 when Dr Thomas Braidwood Wilson, a Royal Navy surgeon, ventured up the river from Wilson Inlet. The area was named Denmark by Wilson after a colleague, Dr Alexander Denmark. The town itself developed in the 1890s, driven by the timber industry and the nearby gold rush. Today its economy rests on a combination of tourism, dairy and cattle farming, fishing, and the arts.

📍 Location

Denmark lies on the South Coast Highway in the Great Southern region of Western Australia. It faces south towards the Southern Ocean and is positioned on the shores of Wilson Inlet, a magnificent natural waterway covering almost 50 square kilometres. The nearby city of Albany (known by its Noongar name Kinjarling) is approximately 55 kilometres to the east and serves as the main regional hub. Perth, the state capital, is roughly 420 kilometres to the north-west.

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✈️ Getting There

The most straightforward way to reach Denmark is by car. Driving from Perth takes approximately four and a half to five hours via the Albany Highway (State Route 30), which passes through farmland and eucalypt forest before descending to the south coast. The South Western Highway through Manjimup and Walpole is an alternative scenic inland route.

For those preferring to fly, the nearest commercial airport is Albany Airport, served by regular flights from Perth. From Albany, Denmark is roughly a 40-minute drive to the west. Hiring a car at Albany Airport is strongly recommended, as public transport connections between Albany and Denmark are limited.

Transwa, Western Australia’s public transport service, operates coach routes that can connect visitors to Denmark, though services are infrequent and schedules should be checked carefully in advance. Denmark also has a small airstrip suitable for light aircraft.

🚗 Getting Around

A hire car is by far the most practical way to explore Denmark and its surrounds. The town centre itself is compact and easily navigable on foot, with most shops, cafés, and amenities concentrated along Strickland Street and the South Coast Highway. However, the region’s highlights — its national parks, beaches, forests, wineries, and scenic drives — are spread across a wide area and are effectively inaccessible without private transport.

Key driving routes in the area include the Mount Shadforth Scenic Drive, which winds through tall karri forest with views over the coast, and the Scotsdale Scenic Drive, which passes through pastoral farmland and vineyards. The Valley of the Giants Tree Top Walk is approximately 54 kilometres west of Denmark in the Walpole-Nornalup National Park, and well worth the drive. William Bay National Park, home to the famous Greens Pool and Elephant Rocks, is around 18 kilometres south-west of town.

Petrol is available in Denmark town, but if venturing further afield — particularly towards Walpole or along the coast — it is wise to keep the tank well topped up, as service stations can be few and far between in rural Western Australia.

🌿 What to See and Do

Denmark punches well above its weight for a town of its size. Nature is the primary draw, and the region is recognised as one of the world’s top nine terrestrial biodiversity hotspots.

Greens Pool and Elephant Rocks in William Bay National Park are arguably the most celebrated natural attractions in the region. Greens Pool is a sheltered cove of impossibly clear turquoise water, framed by smooth, rounded granite boulders and white sand. Adjacent Elephant Rocks features enormous granite formations that resemble a herd of elephants wading into the sea. The colours of the water shift between aquamarine and jade depending on the light.

The Valley of the Giants Tree Top Walk, located near Walpole, is a must-do. A lightweight suspension bridge carries visitors 40 metres above the canopy of an ancient tingle forest, offering a remarkable perspective on some of the tallest and oldest trees in the world. Many of the red tingle trees here reach 60 metres in height and are estimated to be around 400 years old. The Ancient Empire boardwalk at ground level winds through a grove of these veteran giants.

The Wilson Inlet is a vast and beautiful estuary and is home to Black Swans, pelicans, and numerous other waterbird species. The sandbar separating the inlet from the sea at Ocean Beach is breached annually, creating Prawn Rock Channel, a popular swimming spot.

Ocean Beach is Denmark’s main surf beach and the base for surf lessons. The Southern Ocean swells here can be powerful, and it is a popular spot for experienced surfers.

The Bibbulmun Track, one of the world’s great long-distance walking trails, passes through Denmark on its 1,000-kilometre route from the Perth Hills to Albany. Day walks along sections of the track through jarrah and karri forest are excellent.

The Denmark Wine Region is home to over 25 wineries producing cool-climate varietals, particularly riesling and cabernet sauvignon. Many cellar doors are found along or near the Mount Shadforth and Scotsdale scenic drives, and a number offer food and live music.

Denmark town centre has no traffic lights and retains a relaxed, unhurried atmosphere. The main street features boutique shops, award-winning bakeries, eclectic cafés, galleries, and weekend markets. There is a strong arts culture here, and locally made crafts and artworks are evident throughout the town. Berridge Park beside the river and the more natural Kwoorabup Park are pleasant spots to relax.

The Denmark Heritage Trail is a self-guided walking route exploring six historical sites around town, including St Leonard’s Anglican Church (1899), Fig Tree Square (1925), and the Denmark Historical Museum in the former Police Station (1923).

The broader region also offers activities such as mountain biking on the Munda Biddi Trail, kayaking on the river, rock fishing, and whale watching (Southern Right Whales migrate through during winter months). Bottlenose dolphins are frequently spotted in the estuaries and along the coastline.

The best time to visit the South of Western Australia

Western Australia’s south encompasses one of Australia’s most diverse and rewarding regions — from the jarrah forests of the Darling Scarp to the dramatic limestone cliffs of the Nullarbor, and from the whale nurseries of Augusta to the famous Margaret River wine country. The region broadly covers the South West Land Division, including towns such as Margaret River, Albany, Denmark, Pemberton, Manjimup, Esperance, and the rugged Cape Le Grand coastline. Each season brings a distinct character, and knowing when to visit shapes the experience entirely.

🌸 Spring (September – November)

Spring is arguably the jewel of the southern WA calendar. Wildflower season reaches its peak between late August and October, transforming roadsides, national parks, and heathlands into carpets of colour. The Stirling Range National Park bursts with Bluff Knoll pincushions and mountain bells, while the coastal heaths near Two Peoples Bay dazzle with spider orchids and kangaroo paws. Temperatures are mild and pleasant — typically 17°C to 23°C — making hiking, whale watching, and wine touring thoroughly enjoyable.

Humpback and southern right whales migrate through the waters near Augusta and Albany between September and December, and this is one of the finest whale-watching seasons on the continent. The crowds are modest compared to the summer peak, accommodation prices are reasonable, and the landscape is at its most photogenic. Spring showers still occur, particularly in September, but days are generally bright and the air carries that fresh, post-winter clarity.

What to pack: Layers for cool mornings and evenings, a light waterproof jacket, comfortable walking shoes, sunscreen, a wide-brimmed hat, sunglasses, a camera for wildflowers and wildlife, and binoculars for whale watching. Smart-casual clothing for winery visits rounds things out nicely.

☀️ Summer (December – February)

Summer in the south of Western Australia is warm, sunny, and lively, though noticeably cooler and far more temperate than the scorching heat of the state’s north. Temperatures typically range from 25°C to 35°C along the coast, occasionally hitting higher inland. The Margaret River region draws surfers from around the world, particularly to breaks like Surfers Point and Guillotine, and the beaches at Meelup, Greens Pool, and Cape Le Grand near Esperance attract families and snorkellers to impossibly clear turquoise waters.

The region’s famous food and wine scene is in full swing, with outdoor concerts, farmers’ markets, and cellar doors buzzing with visitors. This is high season, however, and popular towns like Margaret River and Denmark can feel crowded; booking accommodation well in advance is essential. Bushfire risk rises over summer, and travellers should monitor local fire weather warnings when exploring national parks. The long daylight hours — up to 14 hours of sunlight — are a genuine summer bonus.

What to pack: Lightweight, breathable clothing, swimwear, sturdy sandals or thongs, reef-safe sunscreen (SPF 50+), a hat, a rashvest for water activities, and insect repellent for evenings. A light cardigan for air-conditioned restaurants and cool beach evenings is useful. Keep a battery-powered weather radio or download an emergency app for bushfire alerts.

🍂 Autumn (March – May)

Autumn is a deeply underrated season in southern WA. The summer heat eases, the crowds thin, and the region takes on a quieter, more reflective quality. The Margaret River and Pemberton wine regions are particularly magical in March and April, when vineyards shift to gold and crimson and the harvest season brings a festive, earthy energy to the cellar doors. Temperatures range comfortably between 14°C and 24°C, ideal for cycling, long walks, and trout fishing in the Warren and Donnelly rivers.

The Gloucester Tree near Pemberton — one of the world’s tallest fire lookout trees — and the karri forest walks around Beedelup National Park are wonderful in the soft autumn light. Surf conditions at Margaret River are often at their most consistent and powerful during this period, attracting serious wave riders. Whale watching continues into May for those willing to keep an eye out near Albany and Bremer Bay, where orca aggregations make Bremer Canyon one of the world’s premier orca-watching sites between January and April.

What to pack: Light to medium layers, a fleece or mid-layer jacket, comfortable walking or hiking boots, a compact daypack, binoculars for wildlife, wine-tasting attire for cellar door visits, and a light rain jacket. Sun protection remains important on clear days.

❄️ Winter (June – August)

Winter in the south of Western Australia is the region’s wet season — mild, moody, and magnificent in its own way. Rainfall peaks, particularly along the coast between Augusta and Albany, and temperatures drop to between 8°C and 16°C. For those who love dramatic seascapes, crashing surf, and misty karri forests, this is the season that rewards most profoundly. The surf at Margaret River is at its most powerful, consistently producing world-class waves for experienced surfers, and the annual Margaret River Pro surf competition typically takes place in May–June.

Whale watching for southern right and humpback whales is at its peak around Augusta, with mothers and calves frequently spotted in Flinders Bay from June onwards. Hot spring pools, log fires, hearty restaurant meals, and cosy winery stays make winter a romantic escape. The wildflower season in the north of the state draws some travellers away, but the south retains a devoted following of those who appreciate its quieter, more intimate atmosphere. Accommodation rates are at their lowest, and there is a genuine sense of having the landscape almost to oneself.

What to pack: Warm layers including a merino or thermal base layer, a waterproof outer jacket (essential), sturdy waterproof walking boots, warm socks, gloves, a scarf, and a beanie for coastal walks. A good umbrella and quick-dry trousers are practical additions. Smart-casual warm layers for evenings in restaurants and cellar doors.

🌍 Overall Best Time to Visit

For most travellers, spring (September to November) represents the finest time to visit the south of Western Australia. The combination of spectacular wildflowers, temperate weather, excellent whale watching, and fewer crowds than the summer peak creates a near-perfect travel window. Autumn runs a close second, particularly for food and wine lovers, with harvest season energy, sublime hiking conditions, and the chance to witness the extraordinary orca gatherings at Bremer Canyon. Ultimately, the south of Western Australia rewards visits in every season, and no time of year leaves visitors disappointed — it is simply a question of which natural spectacle, landscape mood, or outdoor pursuit matters most to you.

Where to stay in Denmark

1. Upscale: Karri Mia Chalets and Studios

Karri Mia Chalets and Studios sits on Mount Shadforth, about 4.5 kilometres from the town of Denmark in Western Australia’s Great Southern region. The property offers a choice of fully self-contained one- and two-bedroom chalets, suited to families or small groups, and adult-only spa studios designed for couples. Chalets come with full-size kitchens, lounge areas, outdoor dining spaces, and views across Wilson Inlet and the Southern Ocean. The studios feature king-size beds, gas log fireplaces, freestanding double spa baths, and private balconies. Free WiFi, BBQ facilities, a games room, and on-site parking are included. Some chalets are pet-friendly. The property is well placed for exploring the region’s wineries, beaches, and walking trails, with Albany a 45-minute drive to the east. Owners Rheannon and Dave are regularly noted by guests for being attentive and responsive. For those wanting something more upscale, the property also offers The Shadforth, a newer luxury retreat on the same site.

2. Mid-Range: The Koorabup Motel

The Koorabup Motel sits on the South Coast Highway, about a kilometre from the centre of Denmark in Western Australia’s Great Southern region. The building is constructed from rammed earth, which keeps rooms cool in summer and warm in winter — a practical design choice that also blends well with the surrounding karri forest. Accommodation ranges from standard motel units with private balconies to one- and two-bedroom self-contained apartments with full kitchens, making it a reasonable option for both short stops and longer stays. All rooms include air conditioning, free Wi-Fi, a flat-screen TV and ensuite bathroom. Guests regularly mention the cleanliness of the rooms and the quality of the beds. A tavern sits next door, which is handy for meals. William Bay National Park is about 13 minutes’ drive away, and the motel is within easy walking distance of Denmark’s town centre shops. Rates are competitive for the area.

3. 31 on the Terrace

31 on the Terrace is a ten-room guesthouse sitting on the corner of South Coast Highway and Strickland Street in the centre of Denmark, Western Australia. The building dates to 1943 and retains its art deco character. Rooms — each with its own theme, from Windsor to Moulin Rouge — come with ensuite bathrooms, reverse-cycle air conditioning, a bar fridge, television, and tea and coffee facilities, with some opening onto a private balcony. A continental breakfast is included when booking direct. The guesthouse is well placed for exploring the Great Southern region: Greens Pool and Elephant Rocks are a short drive away, Albany is about 55 kilometres to the east, and the Valley of the Giants Tree Top Walk near Walpole is roughly 45 minutes west. An on-site Hawaiian Huna massage therapist adds a practical extra. Off-street parking is available, and the property consistently rates as the top small hotel in Denmark on review platforms.