The flower show

Now that the ball has started to roll it has gathered pace, so not wanting to miss out it’s been another week of squeezing in a bit of time to check out my local spots.  A long walk round Manea Park early in the week wasn’t very promising with very little to show for it.  Other than loads of Cowslips (Caladenia flava) finally appearing.  During my six kilometres circuit I only stumbling across two White Spider Orchids.  Both being Sandplain White Spider Orchids (Caladenia speciosa), and one was already starting to wilt:

My book has fourteen geographical races of this species.  This one has two distinct features that should make it easy to spot.  Although at times I still struggle.  Having a pink tinge in the petals and sepals, and the fringes along the edge of the labellum being very exaggerated and ragged.  Growing as long as 15mm and a bit like unkempt hair the ends of them can at times split.  The first Forest Mantis Orchid (Caladenia attingens subsp. attingens) of the season was also out, and during this week’s trips it was the only one I saw:

It is the largest of three subspecies, and only one found locally.  I stayed on path this time, but when I am scouring a smaller area, as opposed to pounding the track, I will head into the bush.  When this happens here is one of the many prickly shrubs needed to be negotiated, a Phoenix Bitter-Pea (Daviesia physodes).  The species names come from two Greek words translating into bellow like or fire like.  The first translation was used as the fruit or seed-pods are inflated and bladdery, but the second aptly describes the long stems of bright flowers:

As per the common name it has a bitter taste; a deterrent against herbivores.  What look like unusual leafs are not.  And are in fact the modified stalk of what was a leaf.  As such this plant is leafless, with the stalks taking on the primary job of photosynthesis.  Called phyllodes they have been flattened and extended, with sharp points that makes brushing past or walking through these shrubs a tad unpleasant.  Later in the week I dashed out to the Ruabon Nature Reserve, where I covered way less distance, but had one goal in mind:

Not the above Orange Star (Hibbertia stellaris) that was lighting up the floor.  These are however a good plant to see.  Being extremely sensitive to dieback, or Phytophthora, that attacks and rots roots.  The plants presence indicates this area it dieback free, for now.  In previous seasons I have spotted a cage here, with nothing in it.  Last week that same cage had a spider stem growing, and this week it was in bloom.  My first new orchid species of the season and a very good one, being the Grand Spider Orchid (Caladenia huegelii):

I have referenced this species before, as based on an experts advice I received a few years back it may have been the other half of a hybrid I found in the Capel Nature Reserve.  The other half of that hybrid being one of the White Spider Orchids.  The Grand Spider Orchid is referenced as only being pollinated by the male thynnid flower wasp species Macrothynnus insignis.  Research goes further and identified that a specific and smaller population of this species had uniquely adapted to be its exclusive pollinator.  In what way I have not found out:

The find, even if it was assisted by a pretty prominent land mark of the cage, was so good because this species does not bloom every year.  Not only that it is a rare find, having a raft of classifications over it.  Listed as Threatened Flora by our state government, Endangered by the Australian government, and Critically Endangered under the World Conservation Union.  It is interesting that its ranking gets watered down from the global perspective, as a more local lens is applied.  A telling tale of where each jurisdictions priorities lie some may suggest:

Leaving that topic, hastily.  After not finding anything else new out at Ruabon I drove to the Capel Nature Reserve.  My first image from here is of a Sandplain White Spider Orchid (Caladenia speciosa) with a Western Honey Bee (Apis mellifera) flying by.  Being the most common of the eight recognised true honey bee species worldwide. With the perfect species name mellifera; Latin for ‘honey-bearing’ or ‘honey-carrying’.  This species was introduced to Australia way back in 1846 both for honey production and to support agricultural:

On the plus side, and in the name of economic growth, the Western Honey Bee is said to help pollinate 35% of agricultural crops across Australia and the honey production is also a billion dollar industry.  The downside however is that they outcompete over 1,700 species of native Australian bees; compete with many native birds, mammals, and reptiles for natural nesting and shelter, which in itself is declining due to clearing for economic growth; and have rapidly and negatively changed native plant-pollinator interactions evolved over a very long time:

Time to leave that topic too!  It did however help me slip in an image of the Chapman’s Spider Orchids (Caladenia chapmanii) and a Purple Enamel Orchid (Elythranthera brunonis), which were out in good numbers along with at least two species of White Spider Orchids.  Plus two Tuart Spider Orchids (Caladenia georgei), below.  With plenty more spiders looking like they are preparing to come out.  Hopefully these will provide a few more species and hybrids over the coming weeks.  And then I found something I have not been lucky to see here before:

Having come at various times of the day in the hope to find a snake, this is the first I’ve seen here.  Tiger Snakes (Notechis scutatus), like all snakes in Australia and most globally, are natural shy and prefer to flee.  There are some that will however stand their ground if confronted, and this is one of them.  In the open ground it was happy to slither away.  I however wanted to see more, so keeping a healthy distance made the most of the encounter.  Being cautious, as a bite could cause rapid paralysis and severe internal bleeding:

Depending on the list you look at these are ranked fourth or fifth on the global scale of most potent land snakes.  The placement depends on specific toxicological testing index used.  The LD50 toxicity testing, which means Lethal Dose 50% and measures how much venom is needed to kill, places it fourth.  A good reason to be careful.  But not a good reason to not admire and respect these reptiles.  It is one of approximately 15 to 20 species of viviparous or live-bearing land snakes found in Western Australia:

Lastly today I went to the Minninup Tuart Woodland, where finally I came across the Pink Fairy Orchid (Caladenia latifolia).  There were hundreds of them.  Doing well to thrive amongst many weeds including two invasive species both from South Africa that have been out in massive numbers for weeks now.  The tall white flowered Arum lily (Zantedeschia aethiopica), and dense patches of Freesias, although I didn’t take the time to work out if they were the White Freesia (Freesia alba) or White Coastal Freesia (Freesia leichtlinii):

The Coastal White Spider Orchids (Caladenia longicauda subsp. calcigena) were also going crazy.  These have a relatively narrow labellum on which there are usually four rows of pale red calli, being raised glands.  Unlike other White Spider Orchids the rows do not remain parallel, instead starting to merge at the tip of the labellum where they become arranged in a messy way.  A couple of plants looked to have been a hybrid of the Coastal White Spider Orchid and Tuart Spider Orchid (Caladenia georgei), which I have seen here before:

There may have been another White Spider Orchid species out, but in truth with the amount out it was a bit of sensory overload.  As was the onslaught of mosquitoes.  Being by far the worse place I have visited for them.  They could almost have carried me away.  It was however worth braving the flying pests to see what was on display, which also included lots of repeat finds.  One of which I simply have to end on, because of the glorious colours on display.  The Yalgorup Donkey Orchid (Diuris porphyrochila):

Power walking

On Tuesday we officially welcomed spring.  To celebrate I popped out after work to check if its arrival had resulted in a flurry of orchids suddenly popping up. With, of course, a spring in my step.  Not that I really thought they would magically appear, I had a shock when I stopped in at the Franklandia Nature Reserve. Not wandering to the side of the road with the good bush, but going to the heavily weed infested side.  This may seem strange, but past experience had told me there could be gems to be found in between the abundance of weeds:

Even from a distance the Red and Green Kangaroo Paw (Anigozanthos manglesii) stood out, and are probably what will draw your eye in the first image.  For those that are not so keen on spring due to allergies, these flowers have an extremely low airborne pollen count.  Relying instead on nectar-feeding birds and small marsupials to disperse their relatively large, heavy, and sticky pollen grains.  If you look at the above image again you will also see a several clumps of Common Spider Orchid (Caladenia vulgata):

Endemic to the south-west of Western Australia, it has an extensive range across varying landforms and climates.  While they can be found as individual plants in some areas, this particular spider orchid more than most has a greater tendency to clump.  Since first finding out about them occurring here, I have seen them come up in large clumps every year.  Despite its name this is strangely the only place I have seen them.  I have also read that there are views that the species, more than likely, contains several geographical races:

With their more vibrant colours, compared to the Common Spider Orchid the above Chapman’s Spider Orchid (Caladenia chapmanii) had to try harder to hide, with just a few amongst understorey.  These are also known to clump.  All the flowers in a clump will have the some colouration, as they grow from the same underground tuber.  However, the flowers of adjacent clumps frequently have an entirely different colour.  Locally the Capel Nature Reserve is the place where this is most evident, where many clumps can be found:

I went there on Wednesday hoping to see the vast range of colours, from striking red or maroon to bright yellow or cream, but found none in bloom yet.  In fact there was nothing of note there at all.  Whereas the Franklandia Nature Reserve continued to amaze, with the above Kemerton Donkey Orchid (Diuris cruenta) and below Yalgorup Donkey Orchid (Diuris porphyrochila) both on display in relatively large colonies.  More collective flowers than other areas I have been visiting recently.  Then there was one other orchid I spotted here:

Finally getting to see a Cowslip Orchid (Caladenia flava), but just the one.  This orchid normally litters the floor of all the places I visit.  This week I went to six spots, and found the below single flower here and plants in the numbers I would normally expect at one other location, which I am yet to get too.  Cowslip Orchids share pollinators with several other local species, resulting in a variety of cross-breeds.  Creating at times rare and multi-coloured hybrids like the Spectacular Spider Orchid (Caladenia × spectabilis), which we spotted in Kalbarri:

Being a cross between the Cowslip Orchid and any of the species of Pink Fairy Orchids.  There is a lack of the latter in our patch this year.  I am still yet to see the any Pink Fairy Orchids (Caladenia latifolia), despite them usually being as common as the Cowslip Orchid.  In Europe there is a plant that is also called a Cowslip (Primula veris).  It too is yellow but that is where the similarities stop.  I did however have to giggle when I read the name comes from an Old English word, cūslyppe, that means ‘cow slop’ or ‘cowpat’:

This is because the European Cowslip were often found growing in pastures near where cows had done their business.  The same cannot be said for Cowslip Orchids, and the reason for their common name still remains a mystery.  Above the single Fringed Leek Orchid (Prasophyllum fimbria), which I spotted during my last trip to Crooked Brook, was now out in flower.  But it was still the only plant of this species I saw.  Below I also found just a single Warty Hammer Orchid (Drakaea livida), whose thin wiry stem seems to defy gravity:

The labellum of this species of hammer orchid looks a bit like the flightless female thynnid wasp from the genus Catocheilus.  Matching the shape, colour, and texture.  It also releases chemical pheromones smelling identical to the real female wasp’s sex scents.  Using this to lure mates from far away, to aid their pollination.  The orchid has one other trick up its sleeve to further attract eager males into an embrace.  Blooming before the real female wasps emerge from their underground burrows, avoiding the need to compete with the real thing:

Crook Brook was a place of single finds.  Just one Bird Orchid (Pterostylis barbata), not quite out in full bloom, catching my eye.  Neither the wispy, feather-like labellum nor downward pointing lateral sepals, which resemble the legs of the bird, were out yet.  Meanwhile high above in the canopy of the highest trees, whether dead or alive, the screeching of the Forest Red-tailed Black-Cockatoo (Calyptorhynchus banksii naso) were unmistakable.  Due to the high parental investment they typically only produce a single young every second year:

Primarily because of the long duration required for the chick to fledge and become independent.  This along with the loss of habitat and high competition for tree hollows, large enough to nest in, is making the population recovery of this vulnerable species very slow and difficult.  Meanwhile the following orchid is certainly not looking to be struggling, when on Friday after a walk round the Ambergate Nature Reserve yielded absolutely nothing, I found these in huge numbers at the Ruabon Nature Reserve.  Another species of Hammer Orchid:

The King-in-his-carriage (Drakaea glyptodon) also makes use of an amorous male wasp.  This time from the subfamily thynnine and specifically the Zaspilothynnus trilobatus.  Studies have shown the male is not quite so dumb.  If there is a choice he will pick a real female over the fake one hanging off the orchid, another good reason for flowering several weeks before the females come out.  This is where the Cowslip Orchids were taking over, but I also found a few Flying Duck Orchid (Caleana nigrita) popping up aiming to deceive yet another male wasp:

This time being the thynnid wasp of the Erione genus.  Flying Duck Orchids are non-resupinate flowers, which means that none of the plant organs twist or rotate during its development.  The majority of orchids in Western Australia are resupinate.  Down our way the Ducks are joined by the many species of Leek and single species of Slippers and Pygmy orchids.  One of the many resupinate species, whose flowers undergo a 180-degree twist during development, was also starting to appear and is very close to blooming:

I have mentioned before that while the Purple Enamel Orchid (Elythranthera brunonis) has very striking glossy flowers, the back of the flowers are equally stunning.  As are the bud as they get ready to open.  Not just the dark pink to reddish-purple spots and mottling that covers them but also mass of fine fuzzy hairs.  These secrete tiny amounts of moisture or chemical compounds.  This helps its survival rate by both creating a microclimate to protect the vulnerable young flower buds from drying winds, and put off early insect predators:

As can be seen above, I have moved on again.  This morning I headed off early to the Meelup Nature Reserve.  Not to visit Castle Rock for a climb.  Instead to have a hike and test how my knee rehab is going, aiming to hike approx. 12km.  Not amble or ramble, so with limited time to look for goodies.  When the ocean came to view I got to see many Humpback Whale’s (Megaptera novaeangliae), mostly moving on but some having a little play.  While I was on a mission and walked on, I am pretty good at spotting the colours and shapes of likely orchids:

It was extremely light on and I only found three plants.  Above is my second sighting of the season of a Dunsborough Donkey Orchid (Diuris jonesii).  And below is a Cape Mustard Spider Orchid (Caladenia caesarea subsp. maritima).  This is about half the size of its mainland counterpart that I’ve not yet seen, the Mustard Orchid (Caladenia caesarea subsp. caesarea).  The species name, caesarea, means ‘emperor’ or ‘ruler’ in Latin.  Chosen due to its stately and attractive look.  And this one still had it despite the petals and sepals having been nipped:

The last orchid I spotted was this delightful Blue China Orchid (Cyanicula gemmata).  These are small in stature, growing close the ground with a height of between 1.5 to 6 inches.  I have seen very few of these over the years.  This is only the second one locally with the last time being two years back on Lisa’s birthday, which is not too far away now.  A few quick snaps and it was back to the hike.  Keeping a pace that just tipped me into the power walking category, with the knee holding up well and only giving me a few minor complaints:

Waiting for a lifeline

The well sculptured and rounded granitic gneiss so close to big rolling waves can only mean one thing.  I was back at Moses Rocks.  Today it was Josh’s turn to pick the location, and it looked to be another corker of a day.  Arriving a bit after first light allowed us to enjoy, as Lisa had yesterday, the morning hues as we walked along the beach and hopped across the boulders.  A familiar path that leads to three distinct climbing areas.  Unlike my last trip here with Mario and Craig we probably wouldn’t be bashing out the climbs at such a rapid pace:

It has been a while since Josh has been out.  Full of good intent and motivation he had declared 2026 would be the year that he gets up a grade 20 clean.  I first heard of this goal back in April when he gate crashed a before work session.  Since then he has only touched rock once, and that was way back in May.  Needless to say his progress towards this self-imposed goal has not exactly been on track.  Today was all about kicking back, soaking up the atmosphere, and sneaking in a few quality lines.  But nothing too hard:

With the conditions on display today, and also not wanting to repeat the routes that Mario had scampered up just a few weeks back, we wandered across to Rumpoles Rocks.  Fully aware that the rough swell would mean the pool below the wall would intermittently be awash as the waves broke through the gap in the rock bar.  Not that this would worry me too much.  Today it would be me on the sharp end for all the lines.  Leaving Josh at near water level to enjoy watching it at times gush in and lap at his feet:

If you look carefully you’ll see both of us in the above image.  And just as quickly as the pool was a mass of white water it can settle down and look like a lovely clear and calm rock pool to go exploring in.  These constant changing conditions can put some on edge, but we have been coming here long enough to know it is safe enough.  Added to the continuous sensory bashing we were receiving, the rock was heavily glistening.  Our hands were wet as we topped out on each route, but the underlying friction never faltered:

While Josh may have been absent for several months, he did himself proud today especially on the above route.  A roof followed by steep headwall that keep you on your arms, as you continually wonder which hold to go for next.  The line nastily leaves the perplexing crux sequence till the top.  Here for several moves the holds seem to suddenly shrink in comparison to what was on offer up until that point.  It’s certainly not his preferred type of route, but managed a clean ascent in good style:

That was to hardest route, by grade, that we climbed.  He only needs to add four grades to reach his goal.  Three fun but pretty damp lines down and we decided to move away from the most southern area to the middle area.  Despite being a bit further away and more elevated from the ocean, it made no difference.  With not a dry patch to be found this line, with a super rounded blind crack, it felt a tad more nervous than usual.  This saw me stitch it up with more gear than I have before.  Despite the conditions we both still enjoyed the experience:

Half a dozen routes were in the bag, interspersed with lots of wave watching.  We were very satisfied.  Unlike the last trip here, we were lucky and got to see the Hooded Plover (Thinornis cucullatus) in the area cordoned off on the beach, both on the walk in and out.  One on arrival and two as we were leaving, if you can spot them.  We did not however manage to identify where their nest may have been.  Finding it can be complicated by the fact that these birds display false brooding, which a trait characteristic of ground-nesting shorebirds:

Species within the Plover and Lapwing family (Charadriidae) are well known to use this technique to trick predators, by faking incubating a nest in a completely wrong location.  Hopefully this pair will successful rear their young, which may give the species a better chance of survival, as the avian influenza is starting to take hold across Australia.  Driving out we also spotted a Baudin’s Black-Cockatoo (Zanda baudinii), which are one of some thirty plus species for which they are trailing preventative vaccination trials.  The Hooded Plover is not one:

Still unknown

Lisa was happy to be greeted by a calm ocean this morning, a balmy air temperature of 7 degrees, and a very picturesque sight of the moon.  It was heading towards the horizon a bit after the sun had come up, allowing a feast of colours to be added to the spectacle.  I to was hoping to finally have some success in seeing some specific colours today.  That of the Pink Fairy Orchid (Caladenia latifolia) and the bright yellow of the Cowslip Orchid (Caladenia flava), these normally start blooming  in August and July respectively.  But as yet I’ve not seen them:

Josh from work had spotted a few of the latter at Manea, but when I went looking after work on Friday there were none to be found.  At least by me.  Today I wanted to see what the Capel Nature Reserve may have on display.  There was certainly lots of colour about.  The below Yellow Buttercups (Hibbertia hypericoides) and a species of Flame Pea (Chorizema), which I have had no luck in identifying, were in flower all over the place.  While Yellow Buttercups flower from April to December, it seemed to be in greater abundance today:

There were no Pink Fairy or Cowslip Orchids to be found, again by me.  But I did find my first flowering specimen of a droopy style spider orchid, being a White Spider Orchid (Caladenia longicauda subsp. longicauda).  Like other orchids it relies on a specialized symbiotic relationship with an endomycorrhizal fungi.  The tiny dust-like seeds have no food reserves, so they make use of carbon and vital nutrients absorbed by the fungi providing nothing in return.  While most adult orchid plants make their own food through photosynthesis they maintained this link:

Supplementing their own food supplies with that from the fungi.  Some not so nice orchids are permanent carbon parasites.  With no leaf to make their own food they are reliant on the fungi for its entire life.  These are known as Mycoheterotrophic Orchids, with a couple in Western Australia both being underground species.  So you could say we have nice orchids, and not just because they look pretty.   While there were no Pink Fairy Orchids, I spotted this Little Pink Fairy (Caladenia reptans subsp. reptans) hosting a Flower Crab Spider (Thomisidae):

My next find was much bigger.  While I am used to seeing kangaroos hopping away from me in this reserve, this is the first time I have seen an Emu (Dromaius novaehollandiae).  Hard to miss being Australia’s tallest native bird, reaching between 5-6 feet when standing upright.  The genus name of comes from the Greek word dromeas, meaning ‘racer’ or ‘runner’.  Very apt and did this one run, I was lucky to be able to get this shot.  There’s only one species in this genus, whose species name is derived from the historical European name for Australia:

A combination of Latin words nova and hollandiae, meaning ‘new’ and ‘Holland’.  Not much else was about, so I decided to have a bash at being a arachnophile.  I don’t think I have the patience required, but did find what is either a female or an immature male Peacock Spider (Maratus).  Managing to get a few great images of differing angles, I had a go at identifying it.  Even with a webpage dedicated to the females of differing species I was unsuccessful, which wasn’t really surprising.  I do like this image showing the eyes round the 1-2mm sized head:

For my last image I have a Curry Flower (Lysinema pentapetalum).  The species name literally translates to five petals, and it is from these flowers that the distinct curry-like aroma can be smelt.  However, like orchids this plant also has a relationship with a mycorrhizal fungus and the smell is strongly linked to the fungus.  The stems of the plant have a very distinct pattern, making me think I may be closer to identifying one of the complete unknowns from a visit in September last year.  But it has sadly not assisted, and the mystery continues:

The lunar lunacy effect

A good dump of a couple of inches fell on us and the surrounding area mid-week.  Despite the pounding sound of the rain overnight, it didn’t put Lisa and I off from heading down the beach to allow the poodles to stretch their legs.   Unlike most days this winter, which have been clear and sunny, Wednesday morning was dark and foreboding.  Mist hung above the ocean and seemed to hang heavy in the sky at the same time.  And unlike the clear waters we saw of Castle Rock just four days back, the ocean waters here were full of silt, sand, and weed:

The weather patterns of the South West generally comprise of bursts of fronts, interspersed with clear sunny periods of which we have had more than normal this year.  Not good for the landscape or vegetation, but great for getting out and about.  Friday morning I popped down the beach an hour and a half earlier than we did on Wednesday, while Lisa was F45ing and the poodles were snuggled in front of the fire.  A hint that the temperatures have dropped, partly in response to the clear night skies that came after the midweek front abated:

The waters were flat, with just a ripple ebbing up and down the shoreline.  If it holds it’ll be great if not cold conditions for Lisa and the Peppy Plunger’s bob on Saturday morning.  And you may be forgiven for thinking that it was a full moon floating above the ocean.  A full moon occurs when it is perfectly aligned with the earth and sun, with the earth playing piggy in the middle.  As such it occurs at a precise moment in time, so the concept of there being a full moon on a particular night is incorrect.  Today’s full moon occurred at 12:18pm:

Just part midday, so we would not be able to see it.  Meaning that on Thursday and Friday night it was waxing towards and then waning away from the moment of glory.  Some animals can and will shift their daytime routines with the extra night time light a fuller moon can provide, either hunting of hiding.  Some believe a full moon affects our sleep, but this has not been proven.  Seeing we shut out the night in our bedrooms, why would it.  Another unproven belief is that the full moon causes changes in human behaviour and mental health:

This is called the lunar lunacy effect.  And on arrival at the dam with Howsie, it seemed that a Western Grey Kangaroo (Macropus fuliginosus) may have lost its way, whether a result of the moonlight or not.  For the first time in the decades of coming here, there was one at the top of the quarry wall.  Perched above our first line on the 3m wide ledge, with a rock wall behind it.  We watched it unsure of what to do, not wanting to spook it such that it may fall.  For most of the time it seemed to sense the precarious position, moving very slowly and cautiously:

Truth be told, I think we were both happy to have the distraction.  Waiting until the Kangaroo had managed to work its way round the end of the ledge, where the rock wall dropped away.  When we arrive here with the place under a blanket of soupy fog it helps keep the air temperature up a bit.  Today with an uninsulated sky it was below four degrees and bitterly cold.  So much so that when I started climbing I only manage to clip the first bolt before I lost all feeling in my fingers.  My body was also feeling discombobulated and mind befuddled:

Two awesome words, that sound exactly like I felt.  With no ability to feel the holds, an uncoordinated body, and wavering mind there was only one thing to do.  Bail, and send Howsie up.  He came to the same conclusion.  This saw us drop the grades and play on the easier and shorter routes.  Lines we haven’t been on for ages, so they were fun to revisit.  After knocking off three of them our blood was flowing stronger, bodies felt limbered up, and minds were free of the demons that the cold had allowed in.  So we went back to big wall:

I went first and it felt great.  With all the draws now in, and with a rope above Howsie was still undecided.  He waited too long, so I pulled the rope allowing him to lead it.  I’m not sure he was completely happy about that as he looked up, but after bagging a clean ascent he was.  I spotted this fella on that route and it had me wondering, but we guessed right.  It was just another Black Portuguese Millipede (Ommatoiulus moreleti).  All the others we saw were the usual solid slate-grey to black, whereas this one has the colours of a juvenile or young adult:

We managed two more routes on the taller walls before it was time to head back down the hill to work.  We would not confess to climbing either in the best style.  And could blame the slightly damp patches of rock on the routes we choose, the coldness of the rock starting to once again take affect as we once more climbed on the longer lines, or maybe the effect of the full moon hadn’t quite left us.  No matter and as we always do, we had a fabulous time.  Ending on a high when we were greeted by the sun’s rays as we topped out on the last climb:

Sandbagged again

An intended solo mission turned into a roped session, as a result of Craig and Henry’s camping trip being cancelled.  Choosing a location that would offer something for both of them to sink their teeth into.  For one-track Henry that is easy, fishing.  Craig would have been more than happy to take images all afternoon, which what he started doing almost straight away, but the main focus was to be climbing.  We were thinking the west coast crags would have been fun with longer lines, but they also came with a bigger swell.  Not great for Henry’s style of fishing:

Even before we completed the short 600m walk into Castle Rock, Henry was drawn to the near flat waters in the bay that were gently lapping the shoreline.  Scampering onto the rocks and dropping his line in the water, as if to test the conditions and see what might be biting.  With a slightly unusual afternoon session on a sunny day, the beach side face of the Castle was bathed in sunlight making for a sight we do not often see.  As such not long after Henry had left the path so had Craig, with camera and phone and was busily snapping away:

My last visit to this small but fun crag was with Craig.  Rather than repeat the same routes, we decided to make use of the calm waters and low tide to play on possibly the shortest of the curtain walls.  Being the term used for the outer defensive walls of a castle, and quite apt for this face.  With a series of deep cracks running all the way up, looking from the base, the top edge looked serrated.  Further imitating the battlement or notched top of a curtain wall allowing openings to attack from and solid sections to hide behind while reloading your bow:

Today the attack did not come from above, but from inside the cracks.  Swarms of Kelp Flies (Coelopidae), of which there are less than 40 species worldwide most of which are found in Australasian.  These flies can be found clustering in vast and countless numbers on damp shaded coastal rock.  A habitat provided by the cracks we aimed to climb, and as we did they took to the air.  The good news is that they feed on decomposing organic matter and micro-vegetation, and as such are harmless.  The trick is not to breathe, or risk inhaling one or ten:

As we used our line to scale the cracks, Henry was using his to lure fish.  A fresh south westerly was steadily pushing the waters back towards the beach.  Care was required to avoid his line becoming snagged between the rocks or tangle round the Giant Rock Barnacles (Austromegabalanus nigrescens), which he did not always manage as was the case above.  These are the largest Australian barnacle, standing 6cm tall.  Not a scratch on how big barnacles can get, and being just a fifth the height of the largest found globally:

Equally the climbs we were scaling today are not the tallest about.  They are however full of character.  Providing a type of climbing we do not often get to experience.  I took on the two more confined routes, having to squirm my way up through narrowing chimneys while disturbing Kelp Flies.  Lou may recognise the route above and below, from near ten years back.  I had encouraged her to try it, much to her disgust.  It really felt like a grovelling grunt fest, but was a strangely satisfying experience.  Even though I was grateful when it was over:

Lisa and Natalia arrived as I was completely absorbed, at times quite literally, by the crack.   Making the most of what was an amazing winter’s afternoon, they were wandering along this bit of the coastline.  Hoping to catch sight of a bigger creature than Henry was trying to hook.  Craig and I had on occasion kept an eye on the blue waters, and not seen any.  Then somehow, as if by magic, once they had perched themselves on the rock a Humpback Whale’s (Megaptera novaeangliae) back gracefully broke the waters some 400m off the shore:

Lisa and Natalia’s focus remained seaward.  Being rewarded with tails, flippers, blows, and the occasional breach, admittedly way out to sea.  Too far for my eyes, without glasses, to be able to make out and appreciate.  As such Craig and I didn’t see anymore.  Having taken on the narrower cracks, these kept him more on the face of the curtain wall.  And this last route had him extremely focused, challenging him both mentally and physically.  Maybe another classic case of being under graded, as I gave it a mere legs-eleven in my now updated mini-guide: 

As Craig battled onwards, or should I upwards, Lisa and Natalia left us to it.  Only then and after catching a few tiddlers, a fun term from the homelands for small fish in case you were wondering, Henry too finally had more luck.  Pulling in a Brownspotted Wrasse (Notolabrus parilus) and two Chinaman Rockcod (Epinephelus rivulatus), the bigger one shown below.  All released back to their watery home.  He did however have his eye on a big Rockcod that occasionally ventured out from under a ledge.  I have not heard if he was successful:

As after that climb I too headed off.  Leaving Henry who was definitely not keen to leave yet, wanting to continue his pursuit.  This allowed Craig to pull out the big camera, for when the evening light would start to come on.  Allowing his arms some time to recover, after I had sandbagged him on his last lead.  On the way home I couldn’t resist a quick check and was rewarded with yet another relatively new species, only formally described in 2014.  A solitary Dunsborough Donkey Orchid (Diuris jonesii), which wrapped up the day nicely:

The spidermen

July is hotting up, relatively speaking.  So much so that we haven’t had the home fires burning this week.  This meant the thought of a morning climb at Welly Dam didn’t bring on the same level of fear of freezing winter conditions.  Howsie and my fortnightly visits to this hallowed place have been somewhat disrupted of late.  It has been just over five weeks since we snuck in a wonderful midweek afternoon session.  A climb later in the day was again appealing, but not possible for this long overdue trip, more so for Howsie who had not touched rock:

That said I drove out at a more respectful time than usual, with first light well and truly upon us.  Above the changing hues are inching into the horizon, as I crossed the Capel River, which I have been passing in darkness on my way to work since March.  First light shifts by approx. two hours across the year, and come October this will once again be a more regular sight during my normal daily routine.  Clear skies above and dry roads changed to thick claggy mist and wet roads just as we approached the turn off the Coalfields Highway, and stayed with us:

The faces where water tipped over the edge of the top of the walls or seeped through the fractures, created by the blasting that had occurred over a thirty year span that ended some sixty five year back, were soaked.  This ominous view was not what we had expected or hoped for.  However, July and August have being pretty dry so these patches were relatively confined.  The majority of the wall looked to be, and was indeed dry to touch.  Not just dry, but also cold.  The first couple of routes certainly had that heat sapping feeling about them:

Our fingers numbed and toes felt uncomfortable.  As such after two routes we broke out the flask, poured a tea, and wandered over to check out progress on the bridge.  Having been closed for four years and four months, it looks like it is getting close to completion.  The mist was starting to break above the valley, but lingered in the quarry for the next two climbs.  At least the initial lines and short walk had got the blood flowing to our extremities helping to combat the effect of the cold rock.  As did more tea, allowing us to knock off six fine routes:

As per the term coined for T-shirts I designed for a hockey festival in England, way back in the mid-nineties, today it certainly felt like we did ‘weave that winning web’ with our session.  Even if at times it didn’t feel like we were climbing particularly elegantly.  Rolling back down the hill in glorious sunlight, neither of us had to get back to work.  Howsie was going out for a surf and I was hoping to continue the spidery theme.  It was time to revisit the Capel Nature Reserve, with a hint of optimism that the dry and warm August may have triggered them:

There were so many spikes tantalising close to opening up.  Despite not being fortunate to find even one that had, my tally for the year was boosted by the above Kemerton Donkey Orchid (Diuris cruenta), which was popping up all over.  Only been formally described in 2016 the name of this relatively new species, cruenta, means ‘stained or spotted with blood’ in Latin.  Next was the Slender Snail Orchid (Pterostylis crispula), it’s species name meaning ‘somewhat crisped or wavy’ in Latin.  Referring to the crinkled edges of the basal leaves:

Another newly discovered piece of ammunition for my arsenal for identification.  Some Snail Orchid species can look very similar and this is one I have often wondered about.  It hard as these can be found in close proximity to other species such as the Red-sepalled Snail Orchid (Pterostylis erubescens) and Karri Snail Orchid (Pterostylis karri).  I’m yet to spot the latter this year, but need to hunt a bit further to the west for that one.  Above and below are Slender and Red-sepalled Snail Orchids with Chapman’s Spider Orchid (Caladenia chapmanii) spikes:

On my arrival a couple of cars were parked up in my usual spot, orchid hunters I had thought.  No matter, I drove a bit further to another spot where based on past seasons my hopes for Spider Orchids had been high.  As I scoured the area unsuccessful in my primary aim, I spotted other people a little way of the track.  Three of them crouched down, so they must have found something good.  Wandering towards them there was camera gear strewn across the ground, which put my iPhone and Olympus TG7 ‘point and shoot’ camera to shame:

That’s said my Olympus TG7 did take all these images.  It was clear they were not orchids hunters, or as we are known orchidist, and were in fact arachnophiles.  However, based on what I found out, one of them may fall into the arachnologist bracket.  Either way spiders, of the eight legged variety, were their game.  I got chatting and it was fascinating, and impossible not to be drawn in by their energy and enthusiasm.  Spending not quite an hour crouched down with them, as they extremely generously answered my endless questions:

Two pictures up they are taking images of the above spider.  This one had them baffled.  As such and as I often do, they took lots of photos to allow them to undertake investigations later on.  Google images tells me it is not a spider, even when I tell it that it is.  And, not that I expected to be able to work it out, my go to spider identification website is sadly down.  While happy with my picture, the patterning, colouration, and fine detail they managed to capture was insane.  The below was very quickly identified as a Brushed Jumping Spider (Jotus):

No doubt a regular find for them, as they didn’t pay it much attention.  There are 14 described species in Australia, and loads of undescribed species.  While found in the South West of Western Australia, there are no described species and they are all awaiting a scientific evaluation.  I also spotted, but was way too slow to photograph a very cool White-spotted Swift Spider (Nyssus albopunctatus), which they manage to identify from my description.  All nice spots but their main reason for being here was a spider I have always wanted to see:

A Peacock Spider (Maratus).  I was told the above was a pregnant female.  As with many, but not all, creatures the females and juveniles are relatively drab in appearance.  In contrast adult males have brilliant, iridescent colours as below.  These are most prominent on an abdominal flap, shown in the last image, used to get the attention of prospective mates.  This is lifted to display the colours during a rhythmic dance that includes side-steps and leg waving.  So why have I not seen these before, probably because they are only about 2.5 to 6mm long:

Mind you being diurnal hunters I may now take the time to look for them, especially as I did not witness the elaborate courtship display today.  There are over 110 described species, found almost exclusively in Australia.  The South West of Western Australia is a hot spot with 50 to 60 described species and lots of undescribed species, including the one in these images.  This one was discovered by Flynn Prall, a true spiderman, that I was lucky enough to bump into today.  While I’m not a fan of social media his Instagram account is definitely worth a look:

Two dozen please

It’s not like me to arrive late, but today it felt like I did.  Despite arriving bang on the hour we had agreed to, both Mario and Craig were already parked up, packed up, and ready to walk in.  To be fair Mario had arrived half an hour early so he could scoff some breakfast, seeing he had camped out close by after a twelve lap session at Wilyabrup yesterday.  Craig had also arrived early.  Having in recent times started getting heavily back into photography, he wanted to take some snaps as first light crept in.  Not that it put on much of a display for him today:

We had originally organised to be here yesterday.  That was until Craig realised he hadn’t quite absorbed the details and thought we were talking about today.  Luckily Mario and I could be flexible and we swapped days, after all this was Craig’s belated birthday climb.  By a mere two days.  Walking in, it was evident that the zawn would be out of commission.  The tide was high, and the swell was sending impressive waves towards the shoreline.  All the better for providing a great atmosphere and a specky backdrop for images:

Part way along the beach an area had been cordoned off.  A rare and threatened Hooded Plover (Thinornis cucullatus) must have been nesting, not that we could see it.  Their tiny and shallow scrape of a nest would be in the open sand just above the high-tide line, with eggs near invisible they can easily and unsuspectingly be destroyed.  I also wonder how many more times we may get to see them here.  The avian influenza finally made landfall in Australia, with the first Australian case being confirmed in Western Australia approx. two months back:

We didn’t spend time searching for the parents or eggs.  If you are keen to see how well they are hidden, there are a couple of images from when we visited Rumpoles Rocks a near decade back in this post https://sandbagged.blog/2016/11/06/rumpoles-rocks/.  Which is where I happened to take Mario the last time I climbed with him in my neck of the woods, five years ago.  The only other time he has been to Moses was another five years or more before that, to the main area.  As such we started on some lines he had not climbed before:

Seeing it was Craig’s birthday climb, I offered to be the belayer as Mario started his onslaught of leads.  After all both Craig and I had lead all the lines countless times before.  This gave Craig the opportunity to run round the area taking images.  And he soon realised that if you snooze you lose.  Mario does not hang about and climbs pretty quickly, and on these shorter lines it really didn’t take him too long before he was topping out on most lines.  That is not to say he didn’t enjoy the routes and there were none that he outright thought were not worth it:

Although the above line did have him wondering.  Not due to the shortness of the route or the quality of the climbing.  This wall was a tad wet and it was evident that he really is not keen on wet rock.  At least when you climb at Moses regardless of it being wet or not, there is always enough friction to make it sane.  In the above image you may think that I was having a bit of a yawn as I was belaying, and maybe I was.  But any weariness was soon dismissed when after this line Craig broke out the first thermos to pour a very welcome cuppa:

Even resulting in breaking Mario’s stride for a short while.  At least until we pointed him to another couple of shorter lines round this area.  I was particularly chuffed when he said that Rolling Thunder was a worthy line, being one of my creations that took many years before I realised it had never been recorded as a route by anyone else.  An apt name compared to the other lines on that wall, and for today because of the ocean conditions.  The whole time we were here huge clean barrelling waves kept rolling in and crashing down like a clap of thunder:

As such Craig’s camera wasn’t always pointed at Mario or myself as I followed up.  At times he would wander off and could be found staring out to sea or along the coastline.  We were doubly lucky with the wind never seeming to change to a full land fall.  This kept the spray at bay and other than for two climbs the rock remained crisp and dry.  That also kept Mario happy, not that he had anything to really complain about.  Even when I kindly put the rope ready for his penultimate route, one he didn’t seem overly keen on:

That all changed once he got on this nasty pasty looking line, after which he was happy to place it near the top of the list of the days routes.  We didn’t get to see any dolphins, maybe the waves were a little too powerful for them close to shore, or any whales, despite the calmer looking ocean further out to sea, we were however taken by the never ending rainbows in the trail of mist as the waves broke.  As you may imagine there were way too many images taken, not by me for a change but Craig:

I had joked as we walked in that Mario didn’t really have a choice, and he needed to bag twelve leads to balance today with his exploits yesterday.  And that he did, ending on the second grade 20 of the day.  So while many routes here may be in the low to mid-grade range we did keep him a little honest on some of the routes.  Not that any of them really fazed him, and even the elephants arse of a top out on this climb fell with relative ease.  Fair to say that Moses did it again and all three of us had a stellar day:

Somewhere to hangout

In 1546 John Heywood’s collection of proverbs was published in A Dialogue conteinyng the nomber in effect of all the Prouerbes in the Englishe tongue.  This work included ‘whan the sunne shinth make hay’, and yes I have got the spelling right.  It’s origins were very literal being related to the best time to cut hay.  Obviously when it is dry.  Today we use the saying ‘make hay while the sun shines’ more broadly to suggest taking advantage of a good situation, a lucky break, or a favourable time before it ends.  Today ‘the sunne’ did indeed ‘shinth’:

Resulting in me being drawn out to the Ruabon Nature Reserve.  Offering a varied range of vegetation complexes in a small area.  Above a Marri and Jarrah woodland.  Two tree species that are often found growing together.  Both liking the Mediterranean climate, poor and gravelly soils, and able to handle dry summers.  This is where I found the Yalgorup Donkey Orchid (Diuris porphyrochila).  You may think the Donkey Orchid genus name would relate to the ears, but no.  It comes from ancient Greek words dis and oura meaning double and tail:

Relating to the two long drooping side sepals hanging below the flower.  All Donkey Orchids have these, just like all Donkey Orchids do not produce nectar and have no scent.  They instead attract pollinators by micking the colours and ultraviolet light patterns of local Pea Flowers.  The species name is made up from ancient Greek words porphyros and cheilos that mean purple, purple-red, or dark-red and lip, rim, or edge.  These colours trick insects, making it look like the below Common Brown Pea (Bossiaea eriocarpa) as well as other Pea Flowers:

The Common Brown Pea is endemic to the south-west of Western Australia, and is primarily pollinated by native bees.  Donkey Orchids are probably happy not to attract all insects drawn to the Common Brown Pea, which is subject to a parasitic interaction with Gall Wasps (Tanaostigmodes).  They lay eggs in the plant tissue, resulting in a protective swelling being formed in which the larva feeds and eventually breaks out of.  While it does not kill the plant there is no physiological or reproductive gain, plus the larvae feeds on valuable nutrients:

The reserve also includes stands of Tea Trees and Paperbarks, Leptospermum and Melaleuca, which thrive in the lower lying wet areas.  These areas would usually be inundated at this time of the year, but are bone dry.  I have not seen too many fungi, in view of how dry as it has been, but did stumble across these two Craypot Stinkhorn (Colus pusillus).  Having just missed seen them in their prime.  However, the olive-brown slime called gleba is just about visible on the right.  This is what stinks of rotting flesh, dung, or decay to attract flies:

The slime contains microscopic spores that are spread when they stick to the flies mouthparts, bodies, and feet, or pass through their digestive tracts.  In this situation the attractant is not used as a trick, and the flies are rewarded.  The foul smelling goo is not just ‘sweet smelling’ to them but is also a sweet, nutrient-rich liquid.  I also found a single Waxcap (Hygrocybe polychroma), another endemic species to the south-west of Western Australia and one that is said to favour wet Jarrah woodlands.  I have however seen them in other environments:

There were a couple of isolated repeat orchid finds from my recent outings, which I have not included.  The next image is instead of a Pearl Flower (Conostephium pendulum).  Favouring sandy soils and often found in Banksia woodlands.  Yes this reserve also has areas dominated by Banksia.  Seeing I have focused a bit on pollination and spore dispersal, this flower also has an interesting tale.  The strangely shaped flowers have evolved for ‘buzz pollination’, which is performed by native Sweat and Plaster Bees (Lasioglossum and Leioproctus):

These bees wings vibrate at a very specific frequency, which is required to release the pollen onto their hairy bodies.  Going to show that it is not just orchids that have formed some very specific plant-pollinator relationships.  My last image is of a wilting Fringed Hare Orchid (Leporella fimbriata).  Only included due to what I believe to be a Lynx Spider (Oxyopes), which is no doubt only making use of the flower as somewhere to hang out as it waits to ambush an unsuspecting prey:

Closing up shop

Most of us are lucky and the ups and downs of life, which cycle in response to so many factors, do not generally interfere with our ability to crack on with life.  This week however the behaviour of one particular individual at work, who should know better, got my blood boiling.  An overreaction some may consider, but those I know who are aware of the situation thought not.  Regardless of whether it was or was not, I needed a circuit breaker.  My work ethics making me find a day clear of prior commitments, and that happened to be today:

It’s not like I’m short of leave.  With a nice pot of hours, which later next year I am hoping to start making use of to tip the life-work balance more towards life.  Back to today because as someone wise once quoted ‘yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery, but today is a gift; that is why it is called the present’.  Today was indeed a gift.  Offering a wonderful day to go for a walk at Crooked Brook, where there were plenty of flowers popping up in the ground cover.  The orchids were a little sparse, but a few were about:

The ones in greatest abundance being the above Little Pink Fairy Orchid (Caladenia reptans subsp. reptans).  This subspecies can’t make its mind up about fire.  In some areas it will only bloom following summer fires, while in others it flowers every year.  This brings me back to one of the topics I left lingering in my last post.  Orchids that rely on fire, may do so for several reasons.  Dormant plants under the soil can be stimulated by chemicals in the smoke from a fire, a signal to say the ground cover is gone allowing direct sunlight to easily reach the shoots:

In addition the minerals from burnt wood enter into soil, which provides additional food for new growth.  Then once grown, the more open area brings two other benefits.  Insects can more easily detect the plants, and tiny dust-like orchid seeds can disperse more readily and travel longer distances.  Offering enhanced conditions for reproduction.  That said fire is not  always good, and several studies have reported that unseasonal or cool-season burns can destroy orchids when they begin to emerge and break dormancy, potentially killing the plant:

Such fires can occur due to human intervention when controlled burns are undertaken to reduce fire hazards, or more naturally as a result of a drying climate.  And while I have raged on about that I have passed the very colourful an aptly named Holly Flame Pea (Chorizema ilicifolium), and Bold Sundew (Drosera huegelii).  The Bold Sundew caught my eye with its distinctive stem able to stand upright without the aid of another plant or structure, and the bell-shaped leaves dangling downward.  Looking like a bloom of jellyfish:

Above is one of my favourite orchids, the Reaching Spider Orchid (Caladenia arrecta).  The light is catching the stunning colours beautifully.  Unlike the Dancing Spider Orchid the common name for this one is very appropriate and obvious, with its lateral petals and sepals sweeping upward towards the sky.  In addition the species name is a Latin word meaning upright, set upright, or raised.  While it is next to a fallen charred log this area has not had any recent burns.  Being another species not reliant on a summer fire, which can flower each year: 

It was a bit warm today, bringing out a scaly friend.  A fairly regular find, but it still feels like a privilege whenever I get to see a Bobtail Lizard (Tiliqua rugose subsp. rugose).  Displaying the bright colour variations of creams, yellows, and oranges that this subspecies is known for.  And for my lucky last present today, below is a Fringed Leek Orchid (Prasophyllum fimbria).  The buds clamed shut like the shutters of a closed shop, not quite ready to put on a floral display.  But the time will soon be right: