Some people feel we have had a fairly wet winter to date, but this is not the case. I know this as through my work we prepare monthly rainfall and river streamflow data. The latest report released just last week shows for most of the sites where we record this information, in the South West of Western Australia, the rainfall and river streamflow is well below average. My walk today backed this up, as I could cross reference what it was like when Lisa and I were here a year ago, very nearly to the day. Not just in terms of the wetness but also the variety of plant life:
Sadly today I was by myself. On the plus it allowed me to get an earlier start, arrived not too far after first light. The hues of the rising sun could be seen through the trees and were being reflected off the running waters of the Collie River. The rays of the sun also lit up a very narrow strip of the ridge behind me, but only fleetingly. After that the sun was hidden, something I had expected as the forecast was for a 100% chance of rain of up to 25mm. But despite this I was still keen to get out, and simply came dressed for the occasion:
I had intended to walk the round the lookout loop, a 9km’ish hike and something I should have been able to complete, hopefully well before the rain was due to hit. As I walked there wasn’t a lot of colour other that green, as I scoured for flecks of fungi and flowers. If you check the post from the hike one year back you will see there was lots to see, resulting in me dawdling a bit on that walk: https://sandbagged.blog/2021/07/10/passing-the-test/. The start of today’s walk followed the river, and with not much about I found myself at the junction to head up the ridge all too soon:
Too soon in fact. I was enjoying the sound of the water running over the rocks, so decided to walk a bit further along the river trail before turning round and coming back to hoick up to the lookout at the top of the ridge. In addition to the sound of the water, there seemed to be almost continuous calls from the Red-tailed Black Cockatoo, both roosting in the trees way above me and flying even further overhead. Their birdsong is described as a “creaky, grating squawks and plaintive ‘kee’ squeals”, but this really doesn’t paint a good picture and it is in fact quite beautiful:
In the above linked post there is a beautiful heath like plant shown, and briefly described. Today I found very few, and then only small specimens such as the one above. This time I have taken the time to identify it as Foxtails (Andersonia caerulea). The flowers are amazing when you look up close, but this evergreen shrub wasn’t ready to fully bloom just yet. In reading up about this plant I’ve discovered the name of the genus comes from a naval surgeon and naturalist called William Anderson. He accompanied Captain Cook on several voyages:
I walked on and each time I thought I would turn back to head up to the lookout, but I didn’t. Having been on this riverside walk several times, each time I thought of a new milestone I wanted to reach before turning back. And eventually that milestone was the dam, at the end of the river walk. One reason for this was I wanted to see what they were up too. This is my usual way of driving to the quarry when I come here to climb, but the 56 year old bridge is closed. They had not started work on it yet and when they do I’m hoping that they do not use the quarry area as a laydown area, as that will mean we can’t climb there for almost a year:
The replacement of the bridge is in part due to the structure showing signs of wearing out. Although mostly, I think, because of the huge number of people who come to see the mural and seem incapable of behaving safely on the single carriageway bridge. Today no one was out, and during my whole walk I didn’t see or hear a soul. A little surprising as the new mountain bike tracks here have a great reputation, so I expected to see a few bikes flying about. I left the empty bridge and quarry, and closed café, behind and picked up a trail that weaved its way back high up on the ridge through the forest:
While I did see a few fungi, the displays were nowhere near what we saw one year back, again check the post as it really was quite stunning back then. The above I believe to be the Brick Red Laccaria (Laccaria lateritia). It does not look brick-red that is supposedly what lateritius, from which lateritia is derived, means in Latin. However, the colours can be highly variable from browns to pinks to purples, and can include washed out, colourless and drab specimens. That and the upturned cup shape and prominent gills gives me confidence in the identification:
While I didn’t expect to see any orchids today, it doesn’t hurt to keep an eye out. As I walked through the forest it was not the above plant that caught my eye, but the tell-tale basal leafs that littered just one small area during my walk. Only two plants were in bloom, allowing me to identify it as a Midge Orchid (Cyrtostylis huegelii) that is known to flower in June to September. While it was great to notch up my fourth confined orchid of the season, today the stars of the walk were the fungi and I particularly liked this small clump. Their decorative stems really caught my eye:
I have however not been able to identify them and have only narrowed them down to being in the Psathyrella genus, which comprises some 400 species. This genus is said to be the one you are likely to see when there are few mushrooms about. When I eventually got back onto the lookout loop I came across a fungi I have seen before. It is clearly a coral fungi, but which one… I didn’t take lots of images to allow a detailed assessment, but as the end of each branch is very rounded I’m going with a Coral Fungi (Ramaria Australiana):
Finally I made it to the lookout, it should have taken maybe two hours top. But due to my ‘slight’ detour I had been walking for three and half hours. And by that I mean walking. While I had stopped occasionally to take a photo or two, the number of images I took were far less compared to the last trip here. Another reason for walking quicker and without stops being that without Lisa, I had not thought to pack our usual provisions of a flask of tea and, of course, cheese sandwiches, preferably made with homemade sourdough:
We’ve sat at the above table enjoying a brew and sarnie, and I passed a few other spots where we had done that. This was because I had managed to combined the purple, blue and brown walks, as shown on the sign above, into one. Without provision to enjoy, I didn’t stop and continued on my way, which from here took me down, down, down a narrow winding path back to the river’s edge. On this winding path I came across hundreds and hundreds of the same basal leafs I had only seen in just one area before. Again only a few stems were extending their way upwards, and will no doubt to burst into flower over the next week or two:
Once back on the riverside track and I saw no more signs of orchids, but did stop to capture a couple more fungi. This one I am pretty sure is a Tiger’s Eye Fungus (Coltricia cinnamomea), the cup is has a slight vase like shape allowing it to capturing water and the radial pattern is very distinctive. This is a wood rotting fungus, growing from already decaying sub-surface wood and tree roots. Not to be confused, as it does look similar in some ways, with the Cinnamon Fungus (Phytophthora cinnamomi). The Cinnamon Fungus is a disease causing organism, which kills root systems of plants and is one cause of dieback that can be easily distributed by soil caught in our shoes:
On the last stretch the raindrops finally start to fall, so I quickened the pace. Arriving back at the car four hours after I had started, and clocking up approx. 16km. This has left Lisa wondering why I managed such a pace when she is not here. The answer is simple, I wanted to beat the rain but also there were less distractions. Without Lisa there was no chitchat or tea breaks and added to that I saw very few flowers or fungi. While I thoroughly enjoyed the mornings excursion, it was however not quite the same without Lisa enjoying it with me:
Sandbagged 