At work on Friday the district and local emergency management committee for the South West called a meeting for that afternoon. Hinting that a significant front may roll in over the weekend, and there was a need to be prepared in case things got nasty. Then just hours before the meeting was due to kick off, it was cancelled. The forecast was downgraded, and everyone could look forward to a more relaxed weekend. The change in forecast not only came with a reduced threat over the next two days, but also a clear spell for today:
While I had suggested to Lisa that we could head out for a walk, I wasn’t getting the sort of excitement she may normally show. Being a Saturday she understandably does not like to miss out on her ocean plunge. During winter more so, this comes with a bit of a routine. After the plunge and coffee on the beach, its back home to hit the sauna to heat up, and then a period to chill. Allowing the benefit of the cold dip and sweat box wash over her. Also, I got the feeling, seeing it was back to school next week, she was happy to just kick back after that:
So it was that I drove towards the crag in darkness for the second time in three days. The roads were littered with kangaroos, and I had to stop quite a few times to allow them to hop off. However, on the final dirt track where I expected to come across mobs of them, there wasn’t one to be seen. It was still dark, so dark that I had to use a head torch for the walk in. Technically I didn’t need to get out quite that early. And I could have been out for the whole morning. There is however something about early mornings, such as this, that appeals to me:
Rightly or wrongly I had picked the Northern Blocks of Wilyabrup for my solo mission. The swell was up again, and these faces are set back from the ocean. After having to wash all my gear to get rid of the salt residue, kindly provided by the epic conditions at Moses Rocks last weekend, I didn’t want to recoat it quite so soon. I also fancied a change, something different to the main faces at Wilyabrup. The climbs here offer that, being steep and pumpy. In addition it is easy to set up on them, and it is rare to see anyone else here. Lots of positives:
The negative, being that there is not much that isn’t steep and pumpy. I started up the first line bang on 7am, just as Lisa would be heading in for her plunge. It feel like it had been a long time since I had been on these routes. The lack of familiarity, steepness, and rounded holds put me a little on edge. The morning dew also made the rock feel a little damp. As a result I yarded too hard on that first line. Did I hear something twang in my elbow? In my mind I said… ‘well it is a little tender now’, and then ‘bah, toughen up and climb on’, so I did:
The face I had set my mind to climb on only had one line that provides a more relaxed experience, shown above. This was my fourth and final climb, so climb on I did. Hopefully the twinge was nothing too serious. Although, I should probably dial back on climbing twice a week for a bit longer. Of course I hit each line twice, and wrapped up the eight laps in two hours almost to the minute. And then messaged Lisa to see if she fancied meeting up for a bite to eat. Having only just got out of the sauna, her morning routine was still going:
As I walked out we agreed to head out tomorrow morning instead. She’s found a spot that looks a bit like a mini-Pear Mill. I’m really keen to check it out. For those scratching their heads as to what I mean by that, Pear Mill is a place that we go to nearly every time I head back to see the folks in England. This post has a bit of detail about its history and set up: https://sandbagged.blog/2022/08/01/time-to-head-back/. For now however with a bit more time on my hands, I stopped in at a place just off the dirt track before the main road:
Since my last trip to the UK, from which I returned five week back, I haven’t had a proper orchid walk. Things were looking promising, lots and lots of tell-tale signs that we might be in for a bumper orchid season. Unlike my rapid session on rock, with a climb every fifteen minutes, orchid walks slow down to snail paced. Some may say appropriately, I stumbled across a single Red-sepalled Snail Orchid (Pterostylis erubescens) in flower. There were some interesting fungi too, and I wonder if the above is a Ghost Fungus (Omphalotus nidiformis):
I might have to head out for an evening climb one day in the next few weeks to see if it emits the famous phosphorescent light, which is where it gets its common name from. However, trying to find it could be tricky, other than seeing it in the dark. I do not tag my images with a location, and during these wanders in the bush I literally have no idea where I end up. After an hour I found my way back to the car and seeing it was still dry I drove to the Ruabon Nature Reserve. Again there were heaps of leaves, reinforcing a potentially good season was ahead:
Another successful hour of treading lightly. Lots King in his Carriage Orchid spikes (Drakaea glyptodon), two images up. There was also a patch of Mosquito Orchids (Cyrtostylis robusta) not far of flowering. The star of the show was however the above Variable Waxcap (Hygrocybe polychroma), with its stunning deep red colour. They also come in orange, yellow, and white, and the scientific names mean ‘moisture – head’ and ‘many – bright colours’. I did not salivate over the last find, which the local fungi guide tells me is a Dog Poo Fungus (Pisolithus species):
Sandbagged 