All good things must come to an end, and the shutdown at work finished last week meaning tomorrow it’ll be back to the grind. Before that happens there was time today for another dive, this time with Geoff and his usual partner in crime Benny. They tend to head out to fish or hunt crays, but this time he advised the dive would be just to cool off. That said they still came armed with spear guns and catch bags. Rongy and Sarah also joined us, as we drove a fair way past the point. The reef stretches all the way to Stratham, approx. 7km away:
You can stop pretty well anywhere along this part of Geographe Bay, and find great ground to search. Our dive spot was approx. 4km away from the beach access at Peppy Beach. Starting with a very shallow swim passing a school of Tarwhine (Rhabdosargus sarba) hugging the ocean floor, while Southern Garfish (Hyporhamphus melanochir) seemed to be hovering above, as they skimmed just below the ocean’s surface and kept a safe distance from me. Once we reached the reef the water got deeper and the clarity improved greatly:
Quite a few different fish, schooling and solitary, were about but I initially kept my focus on the nooks and crannies. Looking for anything unusual, without too much success. This sponge, hidden in a hollow was however a pretty cool. Sponges, once considered plants, are the simplest animals on the planet. However, with at least 10,000 species globally and close to 20% of those found round Australia, they are also infuriatingly difficult to try and identify. You have probably guessed where this is going, and no I had no success with this specimen:
Moving onto fish the below is likely a female Western Blue Groper (Achoerodus gouldii). I say likely as these fish grow very slowly, and it is suggested that a fish of 40cm and 80cm is likely to be 8 and 25 years old respectively. Like the Southern Garfish, this one also kept a safe distance hence the poor image quality but it clearly wasn’t showing the expected markings of a juvenile. Being a little under two foot long it may be about to reach the initial phase of sexually mature as a female. This happens on average at about 15-20 years of age, and length of about 65cm:
Once they reach 30 years of age their length does not increase much more. Living one of the longest life spans for a wrasse, reaching a ripe ole age of 70 and growing to a maximum length of 175cm. These fish home-range, meaning they live within a certain area, and as such can be more susceptible to overfishing. I do not recall seeing a Western Blue Groper before, but had heard they can be found here. While my next image is of a fish I have seen many a time, it is worth including due to the amazing patterns and vivid colours:
Easily being recognised as a male Horseshoe Leatherjacket (Meuschenia hippocrepis), another popular recreational fish. And the final image is also of a popular catch, being two from a small shoal of Southern Calamari Squid (Sepioteuthis australis). Identifying males from females externally is tricky, even the differing size and patterning shown in the image doesn’t help. Unlike the long lifespan of the Western Blue Groper, these cephalopods have a lifespan of about a year living as an adult for a mere 4 month. Seeing the others exit with empty catch bags, my finds get to live for another day:
The Australian White Ibis (Threskiornis molucca) is by no means an uncommon bird. Once a wetland bird, it has learned to live in our urban jungles by scavenging food from our rubbish tips and bins. Thriving on what we throw away. This changed foraging approach, purely driven by our wasteful lifestyle, has earned it a number of unkind names including the dumpster diver, tip turkey, and most commonly known the bin chicken. That aside to see a flock of the size we saw driving out today was an unusual and impressive sight:
Admittedly the flock included the Straw-Necked Ibis (Threskiornis spinicollis), another of the three species of ibis native to Australia. Another quite a common bird to see, but unlike the Australian White Ibis they have not adapted to a wider variety of food and are only rarely opportunistic scavengers of our refuse. Despite a forecast of a hot day, we were not heading out early. The sun beat on our backs as we walked towards the coast. Aiming for a crag that like the Australian White Ibis does not get a particular good rap:
It is however something different, and as with every little crag we have along our coastline there are a few gems if you are prepared to give it a go. Today Sam, along with Josh, were prepared to do just that. Sam hadn’t been here before, but with the new mini-guides out he was able to get a feel for the place before we arrived. Nothing too tall and mostly straight forward climbing, has earnt the crag the name of Beginners Wall. A good place for those who are learning and those who don’t get out too often:
Having learnt better than to suggest he goes on second, while he gets his head back into things, Sam took the pointy end. Easing into it on a couple of the lower grade routes. Josh meanwhile seemed more than content to have a rope above him, hinting he may change his mind as the morning wore on. It didn’t. Not that Sam complained. He has a hankering for enjoying the added intensity of being in control of your own safety and having the rope below you. This is probably the crag I have come to the least, so needed to reacquaint myself with it:
There are several routes I have put up with the likes of Steve and Lou, and looking up at them I questioned the grades we gave them. Neither Sam nor Josh seemed inspired to jump on these, and as I am in sensible mode at least for another couple of months we passed them by. However, as we checked them out another possible line came to view, and so became Sam’s cherry popping first ascent shown above. Done in the best fashion possible, on-sight. Having no knowledge of what lay ahead as he climbed, so became Rope Cutter (11):
Just as he was about to get started, Josh bouldered up a scrambly line to get a bird’s eye view of the line Sam was about to attempt. Dislodging some rather large blocks that tumbled downwards. They missed Sam and me but nicked the rope enough to open up a small hole in the sheath. Not so much we couldn’t use it, but enough to encourage me to finally decide to retire it. After all it has seen a lot of action over a quite a few years. In fact, while I feel it is fine, I am surprised no one has suggested that maybe we shouldn’t use it anymore:
Unperturbed Sam lapped up line after line, as the routes I suggested progressively got trickier. We did however make sure we gave him the end of the rope that hadn’t been nicked. Seven lines down, and his arms gave way. By now all of us were happy to wrap it up. Although maybe not quite so happy to leave the sea breeze behind, as we started to bake the further inland we wandered. Another grand day out, and on my return I added some refuse to our bins but not the sort that would be of interest to any bin chickens:
Our mornings on the big day have certainly changed over time, the manic excitement when Elseya was young has long gone. Now it is more likely the house will be quiet until way after my usual wake up time. So before the rituals of the day, which still hold fast, began Lisa and I took advantage of the changed routine, quiet before the ‘other mad rush’, and a promising looking ocean to head to the beach. We had it practically to ourselves, being Christmas Day the ‘other mad rush’ of the holiday makers would not descend on us until Boxing Day:
Lisa set up camp with her shelter, and being still in the relative cool of the morning the poodles joined us. This also allowed them to say hello to all the other dogs that wandered up and down the beach with their owners in tow, as I immersed myself in the water. It was indeed good, better than expected and I stayed out for a good while. A lovely way to start the day, not that there was too much that really caught my attention. But just because it was the big day I did like this Red Tube Worm (Protula sp), that was imitating a Christmas tree:
There is a Christmas Tree Worm (Spirobranchus giganteus). They have a conical Conifer (Pinophyta) tree shape, like the form a classic Christmas tree. But are found in tropical waters, not here. I’ve previously suggested this was a Red Fanworm (Protula bispiralis). However, digging deeper I feel that was definitely a stretch. Not that I have managed to narrow it down to a species, and nor have several others whose research I use as my reference tools. That is despite it being relative common in the general area:
The only other image I’ve included from that dive is a Blue Swimmer Crab (Portunus pelagicus). They have earned a few common names due to their behaviour and appearance, one being Sand Crab because they bury themselves in sand or mud during the daytime and winter. I spotted the antenna and eyes poking out of the sand. Not managing to get an image of just these, as when I started to get too close it pulled itself out ready for defence. Due to conditions and climbing I did not return to the water until the eve of New Year’s Eve:
Going in off our local beach again. The image above clearing showing the dusting of detritus coating everything, referred to as marine snow. Even the water movement created from my flippers being enough to remobilise this into the water column. For our beach much of this is a result of the nutrients and organic matter washed into Geographe Bay, from the Capel River. While a groundwater fed river that receives inflow year round, the river flows are only strong enough to breach the beach and enter the ocean in winter:
Winter is also when the prevailing ocean current of this area are the strongest. The Leeuwin Current flows from the north along Western Australia, bringing with it warmer waters. This keeps the local water temperature up a bit in winter, however because the strength of the current subsides over summer the waters do not reach tropical temperatures. During 2025 the Leeuwin Current was stronger than average, likely due to ongoing La Niña conditions. This has resulted in water temperatures down our way being some 3-4 degree above average:
I seem to have drifted through this post faster than expected, so will now get back on topic. The dusty image shows a small collection of Cliftons Zoanthid (Isaurus Cliftoni). I have identified Finger Zoanthid (Zoanthus praelongus) in three previous posts, and stand by those identifications. The key difference between the two varieties are the pattern and shape. Cliftons Zoanthid tend to be shorter and chubbier, so are also sometimes called Sausage Zoanthids. These creatures are related to anemones, of which I have included two species:
I’ve really struggled to identify either. The first may be White Anemone (Actinothoe glandulosa). I have related the scientific name with a different common name in a previous post, and can no longer find a reference that relates to the detail I provided back then. Drawing a blank with the second, addling my brain in the process. This neatly takes me to the Brain Ascidian (Sycozoa cerebriformis) above. One of the many types of sea squirts, and something I have accurately provided details of before. Although this specimen is much more colourful:
You may be wondering why the anemones and ascidian were not coated in marine snow, like the zoanthid. This is primarily because the latter was laying on the open ground while the former were found on vertical section of reef and at times under ledges. And then there is the above image with beautifully clear water, and clean unaffected weed. This was taken on the actual New Year’s Eve. When the swell having finally dropped below a meter inspired me to walk past the point, which is north of where the Capel River spills into the sea during winter:
I find that a swell of less than a meter is when the water clarity really improves off our local beach. That said being north of where the river comes in, this area isn’t as affected by what the Capel River pours in. There are also no other waterways that flow into the bay to the north. As such it generally has better conditions, plus it has a far bigger reef. You may wonder why I don’t head there all the time. Simply because our local beach is so convenient, I can walk to it in a few minutes, and have had great success there over the years so it is still good:
I’ve skipped past a sponge. They come in a huge array of shapes, sizes, and colours and I did find a single image online that looked similar. Sadly there were no details that accompanied the image to help with an identification. As such onto the above, a close up of a Zimmers Sea Fan (Mopsella Zimmeri). Previous posts have images of whole fans, which look pretty stunning. This time I’m showing the tiny anemone-like polyps each with their eight arms out. They filter food particles to provide energy for the fan, which is a colony of animals not a plant:
The best way to explore the reef is to spend time under water, checking the caves and ledges. In one the light was reflecting off something that resembled glass, being the above. I’m really pleased with this find, as it has only two sightings recorded in Western Australia. This sighting was of an early stage of Palm Tree Alga (Apjohnia laetevirens). The young plants are described as having a metallic sheen, which is what had attracted my attention. There are only two species worldwide, and this one only exists along the southern coast of Australia:
In terms of fish, crustaceans, and cephalopods all was quiet other than the above octopus. By the time I got down, it had hidden behind some weed and as I approached in a flash it was gone. I have always referred to these as the Gloomy Octopus (Octopus Tetricus), and for the first sighting recorded in my blog from 2020 hinted that I was not sure. Researching more it is in fact a Western Rock Octopus (Octopus djinda). This separate species was not identified until 2021, and before that it was considered to be the same as eastern states Gloomy Octopus:
I’ve now gone back and corrected all my posts so they refer to our local octopus, other than the original sighting as technically I was correct back then. Rolling into the New Year and I was up and out in the water early. For some different territory I went out directly from where the Capel River breaches the beach in winter time. Another near ninety minutes of bliss exploring all the nooks and crannies, this time with more fish. The above fishy image being of the ever curious Banded Sweeps (Scorpis georgiana), with a single Moonlighter (Tilodon sexfasciatus):
Banded Sweeps are schooling fish, while Moonlighters are generally solitary or in pairs. Both inhabit similar environments, and as such they can be seen together not that I see it too often. Above is a school of Yellowhead Hulafish (Trachinops noarlungae), their bodies are slim and long. Until you look close they seem more eel like than fish. This is due to their caudal, dorsal, and pectoral fins being respectively pointed, low, and small. The body shape seems to me to enhance their dance like swimming motion, which is kinda captured above:
Checking out all the ledges I came across my second species of nudibranch of the season, a Short-tailed Nudibranch (Ceratosoma brevicaudatum). Despite the name this is the largest of over 100 described species of nudibranchs in the family Chromodoridae. The tail for this species referring to the strawberry like protrusion behind the gills. Next is likely a sea squirt, while very unquie in appearance I have not been able to narrow it down. My last image shows two Pustulose Wart Slug (Phyllidiella pustulosa) mating, and a juvenile sea star I can’t identify:
But what really caught my eye were the brown and white striped feelers sticking out of a hole above the sea star. I watched them for some time, as they waved about in the water. I think they are antennule, the smelling organs of shrimp and lobsters. Based on all the species I have checked the patterning suggest it may be a Juvenile Ornate Spiny Lobster (Panulirus ornatus). There are no observations on record for this area and only rare sightings in Perth. However, due to the warmer waters pushing further south this year I could be on the money:
A Guide to Rock Climbing in WA’s South West was published in January 2016, and has for some years been out of print. As with most things these days, records of what has been going on are now more often than not loaded online. The main repository used being an online forum called The Crag. Certainly the more popular places round here are well represented on this publicly available website. Not surprisingly the Main Area and Northern Blocks, including The Terrace, of Wilyabrup are well documented. These locations provide a vast array of trad, mixed, and a few sport lines of all grades up to 26. The ultra-popular Bob’s Hollow also has information easily accessible online, being regarded by some as one of the premiere limestone sports crags in Australia. This seems quite an achievement considering it only has thirty five accessible routes.
There are of course many other places of note in our local area. A few were mentioned in an article I wrote for the magazine Vertical Life a couple of years back, called Quiet getaway areas of the Western Australia’s South West. Some of these lesser frequented places get a bit more attention than others, but they all tend to live in the shadows of the key popular areas I mentioned above. This has resulted in the detail being logged on The Crag at times being scant, incomplete, and at times incorrect. I have explored these lesser visited places over the last twenty years. Allowing me, along with others, to experience the joy of establishing new routes. Many of which have not made it onto The Crag.
It therefore, seems fitting that on the eve of the tenth anniversary of the release of the, now out of print, guide for the South West of Western Australia, that these magical spots are recaptured in a series of mini guides. You may ask why I don’t just log into and update The Crag. Partly because I don’t want to get sucked into a forum where I would end up spending many, many days updating not just details for here but also Central Australia. Also producing mini guides allowed me to browse my 13,000 strong image library, to pick out and use photos that will bring a smile to many a person that I have climbed with.
There are ten locations and I have provided a mini guide for each. Below to give you a taster before you download, I have provided a brief introduction to highlight the charms and unique aspects of each.
Wellington Dam Quarry: A place to be humbled by. Some will say it is no good but I would retort with saying they simply do not have the technique this place demands you use, nor the metal for bolt placements that keep you safe but do not allow you to dog a route.
Castle Rock: A small place with a huge range in grades and also a great variation in style of climbing. The prefect place to climb and then dive into the crystal clear waters, which I like to think forms a moat on the ocean side, to snorkel with fish all around you.
Smiths Beach: A serious trad place, the flared cracks and slopers feeling even less secure due to the steepness of the walls. At times the holds look a long way apart and your body will tell you there are very few rests on the routes. This place will prove how committed you really are to trad.
Moses Rocks: The friendly crag, mostly slabby routes on a rock that feels good to hold and has great friction that seems to hold even in wet conditions. There is nothing to serious here but the Zawn, in which you can have the water lapping round your feet if you time it badly, is epic.
Cosy Corner: A place of contrast, a steep powerful inland crag but for me it is the moderate routes on the coastal face that appeals. Safety comes first here, as you abseil in and have to climb out. The lines are awesome, nicely consistent and in a brilliant position.
The next five areas are part of the Wilyabrup area, being the outlier crags. Each has its own and differing appeal that I have tried to draw out in the brief introductions.
Organ Pipes: This small crag is within a stones throw of the main area but rarely visited. A fine selection of low to moderate grade lines. But be warned some routes have longer than you may like runouts as you near the top. It is certainly a place you can test how your head is feeling.
Driftwood Bay: Nice 20m routes, which is long for the South West of Western Australia, on a broken crag that offers a rare mountaineering style of climbing. Rambling lines, variable rock quality, at times spaced gear. While it has low grades it is not the place to learn trad but true old school trad aficionados will love it.
Beginners Wall: This is the place to learn trad. Lots of placements on comfortable routes that are the sort of length that your belayer can observe and still provide advice. But check the ocean conditions first, as the water laps the bottom of some routes even on calm days.
The Bookshelf: As the name suggest it is like walking through a library, route after route neatly stacked. They are short but hidden on the shelf are some real gems. Another place to check the ocean conditions, but it also offers a beginners paradise where you can pack in the routes and hone your belay setups.
The Playground and Lost Buttress: The Playground is where to go for a boulder with a wonderful soft sandy landing. If you have someone to give you a catch, Lost Buttress is a short walk away and offers quality moderate climbs with just a hint of adventure, some of which have a disproportionate amount of exposure for their length.
Just after 5am a message popped on my phone. Rongy asked if I could make a second cuppa for the journey to the crag, as long as it was not too much bother. Not long after, Howsie had picked Rongy up and I got as second message to say he was also keen for a brew. It’s a good job Lisa and I make big pots of tea, using a coffee filter machine but popping tea leafs in rather than coffee grounds. As such it really is no bother, and when the two of them rolled into the carpark in Capel, at the designated 5:30 meeting time, three hot mugs of tea were awaiting:
Forewarning them of my need to be sensible, we picked a crag with nothing too serious on it. A scrappy place, that most would look at briefly and then move away from. As mentioned yesterday I am in the process of writing mini-guides for these lesser visited places. While I do this I am thinking about how each has its own flavour, so to speak. Considering they are all relatively close and most are formed of the same base rock formation, it is amazing how different they feel. This place, in my opinion, provides a mountaineering style of climbing:
It’s not that the place is huge, only stretching about 20m from top to bottom. But it does provide meandering lines, varied terrain and features, more questionable rock than any other crag, and at times runout sections. As such I would suggest it is an acquired taste, and while the grades are low it is not the place to send someone keen to learn trad. You will hardly be surprised to hear that I love it here, and have had many a memorable day out. Howsie and Rongy also enjoy shaking things up with differing styles, so were also happy to revisit it:
Rongy has only been here a few times, and on each occasion it has rained. Unlike yesterday the cloudy sky showed signs of breaking up, allowing the sun to come out. This time Rongy would hopefully be able to enjoy the place with dry rock. A good job too, as when it rains this is not the place to climb. The reduction in friction makes the routes way more nervous, and with the runouts it can really mess with your head. Taking turns in leading, we picked off lines of our choosing other than one route that both Howsie and I have previously led:
It is highly likely that, other than Howsie and my ascents, no one else has been brave or mad enough to climb it. Being runout, steep, and having a rock appearance that suggests loose holds may abound. All of this piqued Rongy’s interest, and as soon as he touched the rock it started to drizzle. Just a light sprinkle and not for long, meaning the rock remained dry enough not to worry him. Good job, as the one piece of gear on the lower wall got further away. He looked very focused as he entered the no fall zone, there was no backing off now:
We managed one more thoroughly enjoyable and more relaxed climb. On the walk out Red Jewel Bugs (Choerocoris paganus) were scattered across the path. They exhibit an unusual behaviour in the insect world of sub-social parenting, and the females protect their eggs and young nymphs from predators. It takes 6-9 weeks to reach adulthood after hatching, and the male and female die within 5-6 and 6-10 weeks of mating respectively. As such their entire adult life is fully committed to reproduction, maternal care, and death:
After sweating through a near forty degree Christmas day it felt strange, when just two days later I was stood atop Wilyabrup looking out at a broody ocean with a stiff and chilly breeze cutting across the coast. Last night sat on the sofa doing my very best at being a couch potato, I wasn’t sure if I could be bothered to make the effort to get here for some solo adventures. Then the phone pinged and Josh hinted that he had an opportunity to get out and was keen. Being a time for being with family he had to get back for lunchtime:
That gave us enough time, in view that I needed to be sensible and not do too much. This saw us stick to a few fun grade 15 and under climbs, which are so familiar that I can almost rely on muscle memory to make the moves. The first few lines saw us rugged up against the cold, with Josh choosing his attire to do his very best at impersonating the big man in the red coat. Someone who should deservedly be slobbing on a couch somewhere about now. After a few climbs we shedded layers, not that we got to see even a glimpse of the sun:
Christmas time, brings the tourists out and also we also see the fair-weather climbers emerge. Being, in theory, the more reliably dry and warm time of year we tend to see more people head out for a play on real rock. Fresh from climbing indoors, where loading up their hands with chalk, as they pull on plastic, is the done thing. To the point that it becomes a natural reflex action to dip your hands into the magic white powder, regardless of actually needing it or not. This results in a light dusting on the rock providing a festive snow like appearance:
It felt great to be back on rock, popping wires into snug placements. It’s only been three weeks since my last climb, but it certainly feels a lot longer. Maybe because of work, at which I tend to find the build up to Christmas can feel like it is dragging somewhat. People hanging out for a bit of a break, but at the same time being in a bit of a frenzy to finish off or off load their inboxes. The end of year rush at work was made a bit more of a balancing act with twice weekly physio sessions; more medical appointments in a month than I can ever recall before:
There was no frenzy or mad rushing today. To start with we had the place to ourselves despite not getting here super early. This allowed us to pick and choose our lines, and I of course had a bit of a game plan. A few shorter routes to test how things felt, before jumping on a couple of the longer climbs. Picking off three beauties that Josh relished and climbed well despite, unlike me, having no memory about the climbs he may have been on before. It was not until we had finished these that other climbers appeared:
In our favour they set up on the area we had just finished with. When we moved along to the next spot it again felt like we had the place to ourselves. Here we looked for our scaly friends. Due to the relatively cold day and sun being hidden away, we were not overly hopefully of seeing them out but it seems they too may have moved on. With just a tiny bit of shed, or moulted skin, to be found behind the flake that we so often get to see them buried behind on cool days. Maybe they too have relocated to avoid the growing number of people on rock:
The feeling of solitude that we got today, was in part also because we brought a rap line with us. Resulting in not needing to wander past the other groups after we knocked off each line. The primary aim being to reduce the time required to walk back down between climbs. As such it was not that we were intentionally trying to be anti-social, it was more that today we needed to watch the clock a bit more than usual. If we really wanted to stay away from the crowds, there are a heap of small crags here that rarely get visited:
After we had wrapped up our session, and again not to avoid walking out past others, we climbed out with packs. There are however times when in the words of Charlie Brown, it is sometimes ‘too peopley out there’ for me. On days like that I would make a conscious effort to drag people to these more isolated crags. As such it may as such seem a little strange that I have decided to use my downtime this festive period to write up a bunch of mini-guides about these spots. I doubt it will change anything, but I’ll have fun writing them:
Still trying to be sensible, I passed up a chance of scaling the stiff and technical granite walls at Welly Dam for a second weekend. Hoping instead the ocean conditions would be in my favour, however Saturday morning came in a bit breezy. Good enough for Lisa’s bob but sadly too choppy to contemplate a snorkel. With a forced day of relative rest, I contemplated how long I can be sensible for. Lisa deepening my thinking about this, when she told me how she’s been researching differing thoughts on the best way to recover from and manage injuries:
There is a view that you should not stop your usual form of exercise completely, but back off the intensity and ease up the frequency. Funnily enough my physio had advised against climbing just yet. Although, as I wrote to Tomski today, my compulsive and obsessive climbing disorder had been acknowledged. Resulting in a similar approach with gentle routes been accepted. I did not head out today, admittedly because those I touched base with late yesterday were not available, but I’ve certainly got plans brewing for some low grade fun:
I did however have a swim with the fish today. Overnight the wind reduced to a mere tickle, the swell dropped, low tide hit the right time, and as a result I was greeted with flatness as I looked out. So inviting I decided to walk out past the Capel River mouth where the reef is way better. Wandering along several cars were already parked up. Not so many that I wouldn’t find a quiet bay. The traffic will undoubtedly intensify significantly after Christmas when droves of holiday makers descend, and then it will be trickier to find a spot away from people:
Along the way small gelatinous blobs were on the sand, and could mean only one thing. It is the time of year when the South Western Stingers (Carybdea xaymacana) come in. Today I saw very few in the water and only near the shore, but just like holiday makers it won’t take long before more arrive. My entry point today was an unoccupied bay. Here the tops of the reef poked out above today’s low tide mark, providing a perch for many a bird. Including several Australian Pelicans (Pelecanus conspicillatus) who kept a wary distance from me:
The water felt warm and once a bit away from the beach, there was good visibility. Schools of Australian Herring (Arripis georgiana) were immediately evident. Like the Australian Pelicans treating me with caution, and parting as I swam towards them. Leaving them be, my first image of living marine life is a very well camouflaged Eleven-Legged Sea Star (Coscinasterias muricata). Some people kill these, mistaking these important native creatures for the highly invasive and very different looking Crown of Thorns Starfish (Genus Acanthaster):
The Crown of Thorns Starfish is however found in tropical and subtropical regions, and is not present in our part of the ocean. Not being able to correctly identifying an Eleven-Legged Sea Star which, in my opinion is very distinctive, seems strange. While I feel I could be forgiven for not correctly identifying the small marine gastropod mollusc in the next image. It is highly likely to be one of the Dove Snails in the Columbellidae family, and based on the shell size and shape I’m even game to suggest it may be a Dotted Dove Shell (Euplica scripta):
If you look closely you’ll see it’s inhalant siphon. The low number of only three commonly found Euplica species in this area assisted me. What did not is the Crustose Coralline Algae (CCA) that has coated the shell. Concealing the pattern that would normally be used to aid the identification. CCA is a rock-hard calcareous red or pink algae that forms on reefs and shells. For reefs if can assist in providing stability to the reef structure, and has a secondary benefit of being the perfect surface for the larval stage of many benthic organisms:
It also aids shells, making them less attractive to collectors. The chemicals needed to remove the calcareous algal, also risks dissolving and damaging the shell. Next up the only ray I saw, a Southern Eagle Ray (Myliobatis tenuicaudatus). Minus its tail, which is sadly a common sight along southern Australia and I’ve seen a few. The most common reason is anglers who cut off the tail to prevent being stung by the venomous barb. The tail has a large vein in it, and this unnecessary action can result in fatal blood loss. The tail is also of course it’s primary defence:
Onto brighter things with a solitary Moonlighter (Tilodon sexfasciatus). More commonly seen in pairs when they are adults, as this one is. With the ocelli, or false eye-spot, that juveniles display no longer present. Now only showing the six dark bands that relate to the species name, with the Latin words sex and fasciatus meaning six and banded. Over an hour later I came out. Then walking back it looked so inviting I went in again. Rewarded with another reef to explore with more fish and the above Pustulose Wart Slug (Phyllidiella pustulosa):
Classified as a nudibranch, despite not having the distinctive feather-like plume of gills protruding from its back. Only a few nudibranch genera do not breathe using external gills, this particular genus is one. Using leaflets between the mantle and foot to breathe. Feeling like I was ready to get out, for the second time, as I headed to the shore as the swell was picking up just enough to murky up the water. Not so much that I wasn’t able to enjoy being surrounded yet again by shoals of Australian Herring:
This was an on again off again weekend away, and that was several times over. In part because it is getting to silly season, and places are booking up rapidly. We were however keen for a night away, and eventually found a spot to our liking. With a stinker of a weekend, predicated to be in the mid-thirties, it was never going to be a trip with walks. More so a stint away of mostly slobbing; or more politely said, relaxing and recharging. A good choice as on the way home today, as we dove through Busselton, the car hinted it tipped over forty:
Saturday afternoon was filled with a nice lunch and dinner out, plus games of course. Interspersed with a bit of tellie to watch a dreadful Christmas film or two, as we quite literally chilled out in the cool of the room we had booked. There will be no Instagram style images of food and alike here. So the pictures in this post dive straight into Sunday morning. When, wanting to make the most of being away, after a much later started than we would normally have at home we made the short drive to the White Elephant Café at Gnarabup:
We’ve only been here once before, and really liked the place. It overlooks a very inviting and protected bay that includes a good looking reef. While I have harked on about water quality taking forever to come good off our local beach. I have been aware that the waters off other beaches being pretty good, due to differing bed materials that settled out much quicker. It just feels a tad wasteful to drive for a few hours, just for an hour in the water. That said today we were already here and after yesterday’s great snorkel I was busting to get in the water:
For various reasons Lisa was not so keen. Fortunately for me the café has good coffee and a vista that she could happily watch for hours, so she told me to go in. The beach was way busier than what we are used to back home, but once under the water the crowds who stuck close to shore were a distant memory. Not far out I came across a Southern Eagle Ray (Myliobatis tenuicaudatus) heading in the opposite direction. Most times I see these they try to swim away, this one however cruised right past me not even bothering to speed up:
Like the Southern Eagle Ray I too slowly carried on. Making my way out, past the limestone pillars sticking out of the water, and then disappearing from Lisa’s sight round the headland. The reef was as good as it looked from the café. Lots of shelves and caves to explore. Not wasting the opportunity, I checked out quite a few of them but found surprisingly little. The fish life was way less than yesterday’s dive back at Peppy Beach, although the change in ground and a bit of a different makeup of marine vegetation made up for it:
The reef is made up of limestone, and I noticed that the vertical walls were mostly clear of weed. Being covered with limpets and what I believe are Giant Chiton (Plaxiphora albida). There are around 1,000 worldwide and about 150 species in Australia, many being endemic, so I cannot be completely sure. They are a kind of mollusc, protected by a ‘coat-of-mail’ shell with eight segments. Described as a primitive animal that is believed to have been about well before the dinosaurs, with fossils found dating back 500 million years:
On the way back in, my slow and meticulous scouring of the weed paid off. I thought I had come across a collection of eggs, it is however a Wandering Sea Anemone (Phlyctenactis tuberculosa). These anemones do not anchor themselves to a spot, and are described to ‘wander the ocean like an underwater tumbleweed’. It’s bubble-like sacks can come in a range of colours from brownish orange, mauve, light grey to brown in colour. If you look closely these ones also display a stripy pattern. During the day they are bundled together:
When night time comes in, it can detach its basal disc from wherever it has rested during the day so it can become mobile. It is even able to move along the seabed using its disc to creep along. Liking to find a high point where it will unfurl from the daytime spherical shape into a tube. This allows the stinging tentacles to face out and collect food. This singular find more than making up for the lack of fish today. Although I’ll finish with a King George Whiting (Sillaginodes punctatus), found right on the shoreline not at all worried about the crowds:
Having mentioned just a week or two back that the water conditions have been pretty awful, I really hoped that would soon change. Being in need of another activity to fill my outdoor time. To both provide the opportunity to see, and share the wonders of nature. It’s finally hotting up, to the point that a wander in the bush is getting uncomfortable. I do have a limit on how dedicated I am with orchid hunting. It is getting to the point for me that it is not worth getting hot and bothered for what little chance of reward there may be:
In addition I omitted to mention that when Josh, Howsie, and I headed to Moses Rocks last weekend I unintentionally shock loaded my right forearm. This sent me a bit of warning that something wasn’t right. Truth be told, I have been in denial for several months now. That’s changed having had two trips to the physio last week, with quite a few more to come. It seems the injuries from back in May were never properly tended. They will be properly dealt with this time, which I’ve been told is likely going to be a six month process:
That doesn’t mean I have to stop climbing, but I do need to ease off and even passed up a chance to head out on Friday morning. Yesterday evening Lisa and I wandered down to the beach to give the poodle’s legs a stretch, and watch the sun go down. The haze of the smoke from controlled burn-offs hung low on the horizon, making for a specky sunset. The water still looked a little murky but with the swell dropping overnight I decided I would give it a go. My first dip in the ocean this year, which I think is the latest start of all my snorkel seasons:
This morning Lisa went to the beach ahead of me. The Saturday bob starts at 7am, which is a bit early to get in the water. Mostly because the sun isn’t quite high enough in the sky to assist with the visibility once under the surface. Even more so when the water looks a little cloudy. It was not the image of the coast she sent me, to provide an indication of the conditions, but the mention of dolphins being about that urged me to head down not long afterwards. Once down and standing at the water’s edge, I felt that I could be in luck:
Scanning the water’s surface, there was not a dolphin in sight. No matter. For the first dip, whatever I got to see would be a bonus. It felt lush being back in the water, even though it wasn’t super clear. The usual solitary suspects were about, watching me with caution. Not long after a school of Western Striped Grunters (Helotes octolineatus) began to circle me. These fish live in nearshore or estuarine seagrass meadows for the first year, and then migrate to deeper coastal waters. It was not till I got home I noticed they had a friend:
If you check the third image you may spot a single Yelloweye Mullet (Aldrichetta forsteri), hidden amongst the Western Striped Grunters. The big googly eye, along with the body shape and patterning makes me think I have the right identification. A popular angling fish, they are the most common mullet in southern Australia and like similar environments to the Western Striped Grunters. Shortly after I came across a massive ball of baitfish. The low sun and fine particles in the water column meant the image does not give the sight justice:
As drifted further out a third schooling species appeared and followed me for a bit. I think they are Silver Trevally (Pseudocaranx georgianus), another species that moves to deeper waters as they mature. If I am right with the identification these are likely to be sub-adults because for the first 3 to 4 years, of their 20 plus year lifespan, they have a yellow mid-lateral stripe. And this was absent from the ones I saw. While the bright orange of the above Vermillion Seastar (Pentagonaster duebeni) was however impossible to miss:
On occasion I heard the distant sound of dolphins. Popping my head up to look about there were no signs of them, but I did spot a Pied Cormorant (Phalacrocorax varius). Trying to evade me, it’s feather had taken on too much water after diving for food to allow it to fly away. As it paddled furiously I let it be, making my way back to shore. The murky shallows meant that even with images it hard to tell if this was a Masked Stingaree (Trygonoptera personata) or Striped Stingaree (Trygonoptera ovalis). Then I head the dolphins, they were close:
Looking up and scanning the water I saw a fin. Then two, three, four, and more. Being some hundred meters away I felt if I swam towards them they would be gone when I arrived. Risking it anyway I found myself surrounded by a pod of twelve or more, young and old. It was absolute bliss, watching Indo-Pacific Bottlenose Dolphins (Tursiops aduncus) gracefully move about while absorbing their whistles and clicks. Next week school’s out, which means the shutdown at work is soon after. Here’s hoping the conditions continue to improve:
Josh has been absent for a while, and for good reason. As if moving house wasn’t enough of a drain on time, he also managed to mash up his big toe in the process. To the point the nail detached. Hence, the thought of popping his feet into squishy climbing shoes was the last thing on his mind. Today he decided it was time to risk it, or was it he needed some time outdoors. This found us retracing our tracks as we headed to Moses Rocks, which is where he and I last climbed. Howsie tagged along, assisting in leaving footprints in the untouched sand:
It’s that time that the summer tides replenish the beaches, and it was not just our tracks that were left in the recently deposited sand. Evidence of the night time activity could be found with crab tracks being the only sign that they were here. The tide was very low today and the swell was also relatively low, for the west coast. A coastline that is exposed to a massive fetch of the Indian Ocean. Being fronted by over seven thousand unobstructed kilometres of open water. We were quietly hopefully that the zawn may be in good condition:
Before we got there, Howsie went off track to the small outcrops at the northern end. Last time he and I were here, I once more pointed out a route of mine. The Plough, named in honour of the many great weekends I camped at the namesake pub in Hathersage in the mid-nineties. Hathersage being in the Peak District and home of the very bold climbing style called gritstone. A rock known for its well textured sandstone, often bold routes made all the more bolder by having friction-dependent moves and being a trad place:
No bolts are used on gritstone, even when the trad gear is spaced, limited, or sketchy. I feel this route possess some of these qualities, which may be why no one, to my knowledge, has led it. I of course have, twice. When I first put it up with Craig in 2009 and then again in 2017 with Glen, who thought I was a bit mad. The fact that the base is often waved washed may also put people off, something that was certainly not the case today. And that is why Howsie maybe stood there looking for long enough for me to assume today was the day:
Not having been on the lines in this part of Moses Rocks, I allowed Howsie to warm up by leading a couple of the adjacent routes. One which I now notice we never bothered to write up, something I should fix sometime. Josh was happy to follow on these two, and didn’t even wince when he squeezed his nail-less big toe into the climbing shoe. However, after watching how much work it took for Howsie to find holds of any worth, and then how much gumption was needed to commit to using them, he declined to follow The Plough:
It was great to see someone finally lead the route. I do however wonder if it was at the limits of Howsie’s acceptable psychological intensity and whether he will go back to it himself. He was definitely keen to drop the grades, so we headed to the Zawn. The swell only very occasionally made it into the narrow cleft, making it feel safe. Although the walls were a tad greasy, with seepages evident here and there, making the climbing a little nervous. As such Josh and I were happy to allow Howsie to continue to lead:
I was certainly not complaining with the opportunity to get some images from differing angles. Being able to hop round the rocks to places allowing differing perspectives, and at times from spots that in bigger ocean conditions would not be so wise. With this opportunity in mind I pointed Howsie to Frontpage. Another line he has not been on before, allowing him that great experience of climbing with no idea of what is in store. While a little greasy at the start, this one at least had big chunky holds and great gear to boot:
We stayed in the Zawn for a few more routes, including Dreamweaver below. Another one that Howsie has unbelievably not been on before. The start, before escaping the shade, was hideously wet and slippery. Making me think all the extra focus and tension he chewed up would mean he’d be toast and ready to pack up. Josh was, but Howsie was up for another. He again struggled to recall having climbed it previously. However, for this one unlike the other five he bagged today, I have dug through my images to prove otherwise:
Sandbagged 