With a little under ten hours of daylight today it could only mean one thing. The Winter Solstice was upon us. Thinking it would be a shame not to celebrate the shortest day of the year and if at all possible watch the sun rise, I was up and out early. Lisa was heading off shortly after me, but not down the local beach for her Saturday morning catch up and bob with the Peppy Plungers. Today they decided to head to Busselton and join the Winter Solstice Geographe Bay Plunge, which aimed to raise funds for the Busselton Hospice Care:
As seasoned year round plungers, I hear they were first in the water and last out. She tells me the life guards were keen for them to get out. Maybe because Shelter Brewing was laying on what was, by all accounts, a very yummy breakfast for all participants. The winter solstice has been celebrated for numerous reasons over thousands of years, and has and continues to be honoured in varying ways by different cultures round the globe. One thing has however remained relatively constant, being that it is a social event. That said I was happy to go solo:
The organisers for Busselton’s event were hoping to attract 250 people brave enough to endure the cold water dip. The actual numbers may have been reduced as a result of the weather. For several days it has been what can only be described as wild and woolly. This morning was no different. Mind you Geographe Bay is well-protected, and there were no safety issues at the event. I was however going to the west coast. Open to the Indian Ocean with no land insight until South Africa, some seven and half thousand kilometres away:
But first I had to get there safely. It was dark, raining, and my vision was hampered all too often by oncoming vehicles. Way more cars were out than I usually encounter on such early ventures. I can only guess I was not the only one who had the idea of enjoying as much of the day as possible today. With just a few kilometres before the last turnoff, I had to dip my full beams one more time. For cars whose headlights I though needed adjusting. All I saw was a broken branch, a good six inches in diameter, aimed towards the car and rapidly approaching:
A tree or large limb had fallen foul of the overnight gale force winds, and was now protruding into the lane. There was barely enough time to break. All I recall is the noise when the branch made contact with the bull bar. The weight of the car won out forcing it up and away from the windscreen and towards the verge. Pulling over a short way along, other than the bull bar now being closer to the car body than before I could see no other damage. A huge sigh of relief waved over me, as I jumped back in to complete the short distance left:
Onwards and upwards, as they say. It was not until I made it to the coast that I noticed the car being buffeted by the winds. Having checked the observations, the winds this morning had dropped from a forecasted near gale to strong on the Beaufort Scale. Still windy enough to make it atmospheric, and make me that bit more cautious as I scrambled along the rocky coastline of Moses Rocks. The waves were doing what I had hoped. At over six meters they made for fascinating watching, and I idled most of my time away transfixed by them:
For the observant ones you may have spotted in the second image I didn’t have my usual rucksack. Making use, for the first time, of a water proof bag I bought for a sailing and climbing trip in Bass Strait, between Australia and Tasmania. A trip that sadly never eventuated. The bag was however brilliant, keeping everything inside dry. I however got a tad damp. Hit by rain and liberal amounts of spray from the crashing waves. The rope eventually made it out. Certainly not by design, but just as the sun made a short appearance:
During my trip to the home country just a week back, I drove round the Peak District quite a bit. It therefore made sense to climb Stanage Youth and Hathersage today. These are located on a wall that was conveniently facing north and as such sheltered me from the wind, belts of rain, and spray. Here I also observed the below climb for a long time. Despite a plus six meter swell today, I did not see a single wave as big as the one that wiped me during much calmer conditions this time last year: https://sandbagged.blog/2024/06/07/davy-jones-locker/:
The above was the biggest by far and would not have bodily lifted me as I had been back then. The constant thunderous noise continued to beat my eardrums, but with the sheltered face almost made me forget standing on top of the ridge the wind was nearly strong enough to bowl me over. Being reminded me of this, without incident, as I was cleared the gear way. Being distracted the waves again, the walk out was slow. A great way for me to welcome the Winter Solstice, and now we welcome and look forward to brighter mornings:
Sandbagged 