One for the road

My body clock seems to be getting into the swing of 4:30am wakeup times.  This may be in part due to the earlier start time of the dawn chorus.  Something I consider a welcome natural alarm clock, while others may view it as a rude awakening.  Depending on the species of bird this can begin anywhere from half to one and half hours before sunrise.  Meaning it can start well before first light.  When the poor, or absent light, means foraging isn’t practical and the males use the time to reconfirming their territories and let females know where they are:

My alarm on Friday was set for just after 4am.  Funnily enough with the ring tone set to ‘birds’.  However, the real life birds had already done their job.  I was already stirring before the alarm had the chance to also wake Lisa up.  Hopping into the pre-packed car as the minute hand reached the bottom of the clock face.  The agreed meeting time, not by design, worked well to align with first light.  As such I was rewarded with the changing colours of the morning sky.  Something I assume Howsie was also admiring as he was driving out:

Our meeting place this time was not Capel, but Boyanup as we were heading south to the big stuff.  Some months back I had reached out to Kym and suggested a catch-up was long overdue.  A weekend was set, which aligned with what Howsie and my calendars foretold would work.  Kym’s life is unfortunately somewhat more erratic and unpredictable.  Things were looking good until several weeks out.  Kym was still getting out and about in nature, enjoying a camping trip with the family.  It did however mean he would not be able to join us:

The south coast and it’s inland crags offer a plethora of opportunities that are in stark contrast to our local crags.  I have often said to Kym he is spoilt for choice when it comes to rock, and he knows it.  Intimidating boulders right in town, looming cliff faces that drop straight into the ocean, through to huge granite domes that rise up from the landscape.  All within an hour or less drive from Kym’s house.  With such variety it can be a conundrum working out where to spend the time, but this trip was guided by some images Mario had recently shared with us:

Four hours after leaving home, we were parked up and shouldering our packs for the walk into Gibraltar Rock.  Kym you will be pleased to know that this time we found the star-picket that marks the track that leads off the firebreak.  We were aiming for one of the many mighty monoliths of the Porongurup Range National Park.  Erosion over geological timeframes having removed the material from round these hard igneous rock formations.  Now looking like heads watching over the landscape:

Aboriginal beliefs are that this place harbours the spirits of the dead.  Jarnaks, which are ghosts or evil spirits, reside here and it was a place to tread carefully and not to stay in after dark.  I have come across a similar situation when I lived in Ghana for a couple of years.  John, a fellow volunteer and climber, and I were soloing the granite domes.  Not as tall as these, but equally impressive in an otherwise flat landscape.  The local villagers started to congregate in big numbers and we were asked to come to the village to meet with the elders:

We were led into a dark, musty, and smoke filled mud hut.  A small fire emitted barely enough light to see.  It took time for our eyes to adjust, and when they did we found ourselves surrounded by solemn looking elderly men.  Age and wisdom etched in their faces, and with all eyes on us.  It was an ominous situation to find ourselves in.  We talked for some time in low quite voices, which seemed to added to the uncertain atmosphere.  But they had our interests in mind.  Worried about our safety, as the granite hills were a place of bad juju:

Juju is a belief system that can harbour good and bad, and is practised across much of West Africa.  Recent statistics from census data suggests a small percentage of Ghanaians hold with traditional beliefs.  I was there in the mid to late nineties, when it was suggested that 95% of the population held them.  Many of the Muslim and Christian population also maintained some connection or belief in juju.  Having lived, hiked, and climbed in several countries and areas with ancient cultures, I have certainly been to locations I have not wanted to stay in:

They simply felt ‘wrong’, my skin crawled and I felt like I was being watched.  The sooner I moved on the better, and as soon as I did that dark foreboding feeling lifted.  With having had such experiences, for me at least there is something in all of this.  However, the Porongurup’s emits a good feeling to me, making me feel welcome so I was happy to be here.  We scampered further round from the main face in search of a couple of lines on a wall that I had not been too before.  My images show the wall, but not too much of the climbing:

With just two of us on these tall, steep, and direct lines it was very hard to get any images of worth.  Unlike the two climbs we picked, which in contrast were stunning.  Both had been established in the mid 2000’s, and were protected with old school based in carrots.  The often bent bolts didn’t inspire, but we used them regardless.  Needing on two occasions to test them.  Both times being when a hold came away from the rock mass.  Due to the steepness of the lines, with often marginal holds at best when this happened it is hard to avoid the fall:

The climbing was epic.  We had to get used to smearing and trusting friction, in a way our local crags don’t require us to.  It is a strange feeling to push the mid sole to toe of your shoes against a near vertical rock, and trust the friction between the rubber and rock.  Often we could hear the crystals of the granite crumble under the stress.  Needing to brush the sole off on the other leg, before pushing it back onto the wall.  Holds for hands were spaced, instead weighting our fingertips on small crystals and indentation.  It was very focused climbing:

After the two lines, I was keen to send Howsie up what used to be regarded as one of the better protected routes here when it was put up in 1999.  I climbed Sucked in Ben ten years after then.  It felt run out and sketchy, but great.  However, we had to watch the clock and get to the campsite by 6pm.  So decided on a route I had not been on, which we coincidently happened to climb ten years after that one was established  And being a more recent route it was a bolt ladder.  Only having 50m ropes with us they were not long enough for two pitches:

To overcome this on those pitches once all of the rope had been fed out, we adopted the alpine approach of simul-climbing.  Where we both climb at the same time, the grades on this line were way easier so this felt fine to do this.  And not intentionally we climbed the 200 plus meter route in three quarters of an hour.  After 340m of climbing we didn’t really feel the need to jump on another route.  Leaving us heaps of time to wander round the top to take in the vista and look for anything interesting.  Then rapping down where we had a relaxing late lunch, lying under the trees and chilling out before the walk back to the car:

The campsite was a quiet place, perfect for an early night after a long day.  Getting back at a reasonable time we were able to set up camp, freshen up, and have dinner all before darkness came in.  When in theory it was time for everyone to avoid being in the hills.  The owners had made an effort to plant a variety of grevilleas, which were all in flower.  Red, pink, and yellow blossoms abound.  Reported to be the jewels of the Australian flora, for avid gardeners round the globe.  Attracting heaps of birds, and maybe enhancing the dawn chorus:

It was another early start, as we only had one night away and wanted to be on the road home at a reasonable time.  Before making the first brew, my gear was packed and tent upended to allow the ground sheet to dry.  Not that I needed to do this.  Despite the cloudy days, with moisture hanging in the air, there was no a hint of a dew and everything was bone dry.  This didn’t make much sense to either of us, but we were grateful to be able to pack away our dry tents just before we rolled out.  When only a handful of other campers were starting to stir:

Today we were heading to a place Howsie had not been to before, which had piqued his interest when Mario popped an image of it on our local climbing chat group.  Having only been to Marmabup Rock once with Craig a couple of years back I was happy to come here again to explore it a bit more (https://sandbagged.blog/2022/10/16/a-curly-question/).  In relation to climbing it is a bit of a hidden gem in the Porongurup’s.  Not receiving anywhere near as much attention as Gibraltar Rock, but being equally worthy.  One difference being the approach:

Yesterday we walked to the base of the granite dome, today we had to hike to the top and rap back down.  This required getting to the top of the peak called the Devil’s Slide, which sits some 30m higher than our chosen peak.  Here a sign tells you the trail ends, but not for us.  We still had to descend to and cross the saddle that linked the two peaks.  Marmabup Rock is the same elevation as Gibraltar Rock, and provides equally impressive slabs and walls.  But it is harder to orientate yourself from the top, as opposed to when you look up from the base:

Craig and I had struggled to identify where the climbs were, mind you that was a very claggy day making visibility poor.  Visibility was great today but it was just as cold as that previous visit.  The air temperature didn’t break fifteen degrees on this trip, and for today especially there was no escaping the wind chill factor.  We had a quick look round at the top but the route locations didn’t feel any clearer.  One issue being there is no topo and the routes are not described in order.  We did however know how to get to our first route:

I was keen to hit one of the older lines.  But was not keen on taking on the likely bush bash to get round the base of the cliff.  Instead we rapped in on the line Craig and I had done.  Getting us to the top of the second pitch, which I didn’t mind as the first two are supposed to be a relatively easy scramble.  From here I took on the leaning flake, which is the reason we had hauled the trad gear up here.  Old school lay-backing.  Hands holding onto the back of the often rounded flake, while pushing our feet again the slab to create an opposing force:

The slab was in places mossy making for a nervous lead, and in true old school style it was bold climbing.  With that under-graded feeling due to the boldness, but the moves were about right.  It was after all a Truscott and Rosser route, and I have said before that I find their climbs can feel tough.  Howsie took on pitch two, being an amazing steep slab pitch.  The hard granite not yielding any features or cracks for traditional protection.  As such this pitch, like the first two routes yesterday, was of an era when they were created with bashed in carrots:

At times the small machine bolt head was hard to find due to the moss, as shown below.  Fortunately, the moss was generally only present when the angle of the slab eased.  On the steeper territory this allowed Howsie to more easily to see where his next protection was.  So he could put all his focus on the delicate slab techniques required.  It was a sustained and engaging pitch, a very impressive lead.  After which I soloed the last 30m pitch, as in good old school style due to the lower grade there were no bolts that either of us could find:

In order for us to rap down we had to leave some gear on the line Craig and I had previously done.  Seeing Howsie hadn’t been on the line before I was more than happy to climb it again, which we did with a Nankeen Kestrel (Falco cenchroides) circling and watching from above.  This route was established 13 years after, and is given the same grade, as our first old school climb of the day.  Grading is a hard thing, but we both agreed that it was easier in comparison.  We had also thought the newer route yesterday was also a bit over-graded:

So is it that modern day climbers are going soft, and we are grading things harder than they should be.  This is evident in other places too, for example in Scotland the older climbs given lowly grades can be desperate.  Maybe this is akin to the modern age of being, to some degree, overly safety conscious and less willing to take risks.  Certainly quite a few of the routes I have established have been suggested to be under-graded, and I wonder if that is really the case.  This is not to say that it is true that all newer routes are soft, as we found out:

Grading is a fickle matter, so you should never believe what you read.  Much can change from the first ascentist experience to your own.  Including your mental state, technical preferences and skill set, ability to find and importantly trust protection, the weather conditions, and of course the rock due to holds falling off.  After two very fine and contrasting climbs, we kicked back and had an early lunch pondering our next move.  Fortunately we had phone reception and read and reread the details provided, giving us a hint of where to look next:

After much looking, we spotted a bolt some way down from the top.  Identifying a 40m wall that topped out on the summit and had two climbs.  Developed in the ‘modern’ era, which was good as it meant they were not protected by hard to find bashed in carrots.  Having fixed hangers.  The wall had some blank vertical sections near the top and I could feel my fingers tingle and muscles ach as I rapped down.  This led me to picking the lower graded of the two lines.  Very funky climbing up some features low down led to an improbable looking finale:

Working the moves I eventually unlocked the sequence.  Then just started to curl my fingertips over what was the first reasonable hold for some time, that familiar and very unwelcome crumbling sound came from under one foot.  Resulting in finding myself free falling.  The on-sight was lost, and while it stung a bit that is climbing.  On the plus side we both felt this was a climb for which the modern verses old school grading thinking didn’t apply.  The climbing was nails, and we wondered what the next route would feel like:

Being a grade harder it felt an ominous undertaking, luckily for me one that Howsie would tackle.  Watching intently it was clear it was pushing him, so my camera stayed in my pocket.  At times he looked to struggle to work the moves, in positions and on holds that didn’t allow for a mistake.  To his credit he held it together, and pulled off a great lead.  Following up afterwards, I was pleased to have the rope above me as at times the holds seemed to disappear.  Neither of the lines gets stars but they definitely deserve them:

More than happy with our lot, we sorted the gear and had a snack before escaping the biting wind.  It had even been too cold for the Sun Orchids.  They somehow survive in very thin soils held in place by moss, over the granite outcrops.  We saw hundreds if not thousands of them on the walk to and all over Marmabup Rock.  However, with not one opening up all day it is hard to pin the species down.  Unlike the obvious Common Mignonette Orchid (Microtis media) shown in an earlier image, which was also about but not in such large numbers:

The hike out, being downhill, was always going to feel that much easier despite us being weary after two early starts and long days.  The taller Karri (Eucalyptus diversicolor) trees, towering up to a 100m above us, seemed to be watching over us like sentinels.  Making sure we got back safe.  Keen to come back and find a few of the other routes, which despite our best efforts alluded us today.  For now it felt good to take the packs off for the last time.  Although before resting up, it was time to prepare some food and the all-important brew for the road:

Route list:
Gibraltar Rock
Dance of the Slab Spiders 65m 19**
The Real A.L Pedro 55 20**
Made in Australia, from Local and Imported Ingredients 220 15*
Marmabup Rock
Rehearsing The Fate of Absalom 110m 17***
Beckey-Gledhill-Swain 110m 17**
Custardly 40m 18
Excess Grip 40m 19

Quietly hoping

Lisa and I headed to Gnarabup for a night away, sticking to our agreement to make an effort and have a minibreak once in a while.  Being relatively close it allowed her to partake in the local plunge before we left.  Our destination was the number one surfing location in Margaret River, with accessible, reliable, and spectacular breaks.  Not being familiar with the coastline here, and after my experience in a 1.4m swell at Wilyabrup, I decided that with forecast of a 2.6m swell on Saturday and Sunday I’d best leave the snorkel gear behind:

This was also in part due to our thoughts, when we first looked at this place, including hiking along the Cape to Cape track.  Our familiarity about the track, like the coast here, was very low.  Resulting is us walking south along the beach.  Lisa however like to have a bit more certainty about where we are going, and what it might entail.  Making the start of the walk less relaxing than it should have been.  Next time we’ll make a bit more effort to investigate our plans.  After following the beach for a couple of kilometres we reached Boodjidup Creek:

A piggyback for Lisa, over the creek as it flowed into the ocean, along with having reached where the Cape to Cape track met the beach, lightened our mood.  Here Lisa chilled out on a rock, as I explored the creek line.  My attention was drawn to some small fish, above you can see two of them looking back to me.  I believe from their heads and snouts to be South-Western Goby (Pseudogobius suppositus).  An benthic fish that exhibits a behaviour of burrowing.  Found most commonly in slow-flowing brackish estuaries, coastal lakes and rivers:

Wandering up the creek line as it meandered its way up the beach and behind the dunes, there were hundreds of small fish.  But these didn’t behave in the same way.  Not burrowing to hide, but moving in schools and looking for shelter.  With longer and more slender bodies, leading me to think they were Common Jollytail (Galaxias maculatus).  This species has the largest natural distribution of any freshwater fish species in Australia.  And while I said freshwater, they are more commonly found in still or slow-flowing waters within a short distance of the sea:

It was time to mosey.  While I had been exploring, Lisa had been checking out our route back.  Despite having only gone a short distance on the beach, the Cape to Cape track would take us back by going some way inland.  Popping out on the coast north of Prevelly, which is a couple of kilometres north of where we started.  This meant we had only completed a fifth of the entire circuit, taking up over an hour.  It was time to pick up the pace, which started when we followed the weaving creek line until a bridge allowed us to cross it for the second time:

As we reached the bridge, the banks were covered in Arum Lily (Zantedeschia aethiopica) a declared pest in Western Australia.  Someone had cut a heap of flower stems off these, and piled them up.  Maybe in an attempt to help remove them.  However, they have extensive tubers, and can regenerate from just a fragment of the tuber.  As such if mechanical removal is not possible, which would require scappling the area and taking every out, then chemical control is required to kill of the tubers.  As such their efforts may have been misled:

After the bridge a very long series of pine log steps led us up the dunes and inland, leaving the ocean behind us.  The wind died down and the bite of the sun could be felt, the heat that came down also brought out several Bobtail Lizards (Tiliqua rugosa).  And I quietly hoped there may be a snake or two basking on the path, but it was not to be.  Once the sound of the waves were out of earshot, the path took on a familiar form.  Several landforms brought back memories to me, but Lisa was not so sure:

On that last trip we had seen a snake, and we had also come across the Leopard Sun Orchid (Thelymitra benthamiana) for the first time: https://sandbagged.blog/2020/10/18/creepy-crawlies/.  Since then I’ve seen heaps of these, and today there were quite a few out, along with several other repeat finds for this season.  Lisa’s shoes had filled with sand on the soft track, so while she emptied them I looked about.  Spotting a small clump of Coastal Spider Orchids (Caladenia abbreviata).  These flower later in the season than most, when their basal leaf often looks a bit withered:

They have been given a Priority Three conservation status by the Western Australian government.  This does not mean they are under immediate threat, but they are poorly known and only found in a few locations.  Having been first formally described in 2001, by Stephen Hopper and Andrew Brown.  The latter of the two being the person who recently helped identify some of my finds at the Capel Nature Reserve.  The name, a Latin word, abbreviata means shortened, and refers to the relatively short petals and lateral sepals:

I’ve checked a number of other features that all point to my identification being correct.  Sometimes however the most distinct features can be missing, a bit like may be the case with the above Leopard Sun Orchid.  With no spots.  That said the yellowish green flowers can have brownish spots, blotches, and/or patterns.  With all the unexpected finds the approx. next ten kilometres went by pretty quickly.  And after that we felt like we could reward ourselves with a snack at a café in Prevelly overlooking the bay, which went down very well:

There was still a few kilometre left before we got back, most of which took us on a limestone track just about the beach.  Here we saw what we think is likely to have been a juvenile Dugite (Pseudonaja affinis), but it slithered away too fast to be able to catch a picture and check it.  And as we looked down hoping to see another, we would have walked past this White-faced Heron (Egretta novaehollandiae) if it hadn’t given its location away by flying away.  Being the most common of the herons in Australia, found everywhere water is found:

Despite the dodgy start, the walk was a lot of fun and we got to see heaps along the way.  And I won’t lie I did enjoy unexpectedly finding orchids, and am quietly hoping now to find more.  We felt that fifteen kilometres later it was now time to settle into the room, have a brew or two, and put our feet up for a bit.  For dinner the hotel had a bar on site, serving good ole pub food and a decent pint.  All of which went down well, as we pulled out the scrabble.  Managing to polish off our food, drinks, and game before the Halloween party kicked off:

It was a slow start on Sunday, we did however wander down the road to a small café right of the beach.  More food was consumed, as Lisa watched people get in off the beach and swim various distances across the bay before returning.  Suggesting it is something she will never be brave enough to do, but I am not so sure.  I would however prefer to look at the sea life while snorkelling.  Being a little annoyed with myself for not bringing the gear, when we saw much of the bay was protected by an outer reef and looked very inviting.  Maybe next time:

Cuts like a knife

Driving out shortly after 5am, the radio broadcaster was talking about all the glorious sunrise images listeners were sending in across the south west of Western Australia.  I didn’t send an image of my view to them, but did stop to take a quick snap.  Mist clung to the ground, while the hues of the morning sky changed.  Sadly all too quickly, not allowing the time needed to truly savour the varying colours.  As someone who enjoys a good sunrise or sunset, living at a latitude of approx. 33.5 degrees they really don’t last long enough:

A particular climb at Wilyabrup was calling to Howsie, therefore this is where we found ourselves.  Tackling the first route a bit after six thirty, and only having four hours before we had to be hiking back to the car.  Needing to get back by midday, we were on a timeline.  For this reason I had half expected to be further in our journey by the time light had filled the sky.  However, feeling a little weary Howsie felt that setting the alarm for 4:30 was early enough.  To be honest I’ve also been pretty pooped this week, maybe due to the warming days so didn’t mind at all:

I may also be feeling my big day at Bob’s Hollow last weekend.  My shoulders not being used to that kind of climbing.  After all the bolt clipping of that trip, it was nice to get out with the trad rack.  There is something satisfying about getting a piece of gear in, something that using bolts just can’t emulate.  I also got to use my crag booty from Queensland, a long draw with a carabiner that has a built in roller.  Poking out from under the final undercut headwall.  The idea of the roller being to reduce friction as the rope moves through the carabiner:

For direct lines such as these there is little benefit.  However, it would feel great not having to battle rope drag on climbs that meander about, and for which it is hard to keep the rope alignment relatively straight.  These sort of climbs are very rare locally, which may be why I’ve never invested in this bit of kit.  There are so many options for different types and styles of traditional climbing gear, and some people just can’t resist keeping up with the latest fad.  A bit like a dedicated follower of fashion, who needs to change their clothes to stay in vogue:

The first line felt fairly damp and insecure.  This meant the route that had been calling out to Howsie, before we got here, was now only whispering very faintly to him.  Unsure of what to do next, I suggested heading to bottom end of the crag.  Here the rock changes from clean slabs and faces to blocky three dimensional features.  Cracks, flakes, corners, overhangs, and arêtes awaited us above.  The climbs here don’t get much attention, but deserve more.  Providing exposed and exhilarating climbing, which was enhanced today due to the dampness:

From our lofty stances at the top of each climb we looked out to sea.  Dolphins cruised past when we first arrived, and the very occasional whale could be seen breaching way out.  I was however, also looking at the shoreline.  It was a relatively low 1.4m swell, and after my snorkel last weekend I had suggested we take our gear down just in case.  The sun came and went, as the broken clouds blew in, while the sets of waves kept their own rhythm.  There were certainly periods when the sun hit the water as it flattened out, making it look inviting:

Other times the wash and darker waters looked less inviting.  As the conditions fluctuated our enthusiasm to snorkel also waxed and waned.  On the plus side, with three routes in the bag Howsie was keen to jump on Totally Awesome.  The climb that had been calling to him.  This saw us move back to the vertical faces, which most climbers seem to like to stick to.  It may seem a pretentious name for a route, but it is very good and deservedly popular.  It certainly felt good today, made all the more enjoyable due to the open face having dried off nicely:

This was due to the onshore winds having picked up.  Great for climbing, but no so great for snorkelling.  A time check told us that we only had an hour left.  Enough time for two lower grade routes we have done countless times, or a snorkel which we had never done here before.  It was decision time.  We plumped for a swim, heading to what had looked earlier on like a good spot to go in from.  This was based on when we had arrived and it was calmer.  I went in first but didn’t far, clinging onto the boulders as wave after wave pummelled me:

Undeterred I finally got out and we rock hoped along a bit further. Finding an abalone filled rock shelf, from where we could dive straight into the deeper water.  Once in our focus constantly switched between watching the waves some of which we had to dive under; how close we may be to the boulders and whether they had barnacles on them; and of course looking underwater to see what life there may be beneath the surface.  The water was reasonably clear but the fish were relatively absent, maybe hiding somewhere less turbulent:

With our attention being pulled multiple ways, we didn’t see too much life.  No matter, it was certainly fun and on a calmer day it would be a great place to do more exploring.  At one point it seemed the waves were abating, so we headed to what looked like a good place to get out.  Something I made much more of a meal of than Howsie did, but we got out unscathed or so I thought.  And in case you were wondering about the reference to barnacles, well this is the reason.  Unbeknown to me I much have brushed against one, resulting in a clinical cut:

Nice to see you

Lisa was keen to see if the whales were back in action between Cape Naturaliste Lighthouse and Dunsborough.  She is happy to kick back are stare out into the big blue, whereas I tend to get a bit fidgety and need to be a bit more active during my searches.  However, a short video taken by one of the Peppy Plungers on Friday showed a whale playing about for well over half a minute splashing all over the place.  As such my interest was piqued, and we headed out mid-morning hoping that the whales would again be out having fun:

I of course took a backup plan with me, and as luck would have it the ocean was relatively calm.  So leaving Lisa to scour the ocean for signs of life breaking the surface, I pulled my wetsuit and snorkel gear on and went to search for life underneath the surface.  I can’t recall having been in the water in October before, and my image library indicates that could be right on that front.  My local snorkelling season usually starts in November, I say that as when we have been holidaying up north the waters can be clear and warm enough year round:

The main reason for my snorkel season starting later in the year is however due to the waters of Peppy Beach taking ages to clear up.  They are also quick to churn up when a larger swell comes in, so you need a reasonable length of settled ocean conditions.  On this stretch of the Geographe Bay coastline, further to the west, there are no major waterways dropping fine sediments into the ocean.  And the coarser bed sediments settle far quicker and so the water can be reasonable even in winter, and today it was lovely and clear:

I did wonder if it would feel cold, but was pleasantly surprised.  The initial shock was over quickly, and despite staying in for between half to three quarters of an hour I didn’t even have a chill when I came out.  So why have I not started earlier before, round these parts you may ask.  Simple, it seems like too much effort to drive all the way round the coast just for a snorkel.  Maybe my logic is a bit skewed and I should make more of an effort, as while the whales were quiet the fish today were out in big numbers:

There were heaps of species, but nothing stood out as particular new.  I did however like the above Bluespotted Goatfish (Upeneichthys vlamingii), which allowed me to get close.  They can have a huge colour diversity.  Even the brown snout to tail band is only found on some specimens.  Some are also able to rapidly change their colour, and can be found to be more brightly coloured at night.  And while all the fish were easy to identify, I’ve rediscovered the huge amount of time I can waste trying to unsuccessfully identify some other finds:

Such as the above sponge.  Back on shore Lisa had not had any success, which we thought may be due to all the weekend ocean traffic.  Boats and jet skis were all over the place, and some seemed to be honing.  Then way out and just briefly a whale came up for a breathe, and was then gone.  Undeterred we moved a little further up the coast and with less ocean traffic we had a bit more success.  Spotting what may have been a mother and calf making their way northwards.  There was no tail or fin slapping, and no breaching but it was nice to see them:

Aerial displays

A late phone call, as opposed to a message, from Howsie could only mean one thing.  Our planned trip out on Friday was off the table.  I had previously also drawn a blank when asking the wider group if anyone was available on the weekend.  Um, what to do.  Then shortly after Howsie’s call, I got a message from a number that was not in my contact list.  Asking if I was free for a climb.  This is an unusual thing to happen to me, as I generally only communicate with people in my contacts.  It took me a moment to realise it was Peter, whose contact I had lost when a close encounter with a king wave killed my phone:

I hadn’t heard from him since January, when true to 2024, Howsie, he, and I attempted a steep and pumpy grade 24 called Grunge Metal at the Terrace.  In fact I have only climbed with Peter twice, both times in January this year.  And if one thing sticks in my mind about those experiences, is that he climbs a solid grade with a calm head.  Making things look relatively smooth and easy.  Therefore, when he suggested Bob’s Hollow my message back may have appeared calm, but my head was bouncing about wondering what lines he might have in mind:

He is not one for early starts, finding me at the start of the walk track a bit before our agreed and uncharacteristic late time of 8am.  Two cars were already there.  Eight women were kitting up for a hike, heading approx. 22km to the south on the Cape to Cape track.  This was a bit over how far Lisa and her fellow Peppy Plungers hiked on Friday.  When they completed the 20km Coastrek event from the Naturaliste Lighthouse to Dunsborough.  Rewarded with a magical display of whale antics.  Unlike what any of them had seen before and lasting the entire hike:

Another car pulled up.  It wasn’t Peter.  Two climbers from Perth got out, and I wondered how busy it may get today.  One reason I like first light starts on rock, is we generally have the place to ourselves for quite a while.  And are leaving, with our minds and bodies satisfied with the climbs we have done, before there is the chance for the place to fill up.  Peter rolled in as they were about to walk in, and I heard one of them say ‘I know him, I’ve seen him climb at the gym and he climbs strong’.  So it is not just me that thinks that:

Hiking in during daylight allowed me to scour the track.  There was not a hint of an orchid to be seen, either in flower or spent.  At Manea Park, in Bunbury, The Leopard Orchids (Thelymitra benthamiana) are out, and last year they were one of the last to flower.  A sign that the great orchid hunt of 2024 may be coming to a close.  I have also heard the mercury will rise into the thirties for most of next week.  The forecaster on the radio even went as far as to suggest we may not get any more rain, of note, until Autumn 2025.  Some five to six months away:

As such this post is going to be getting back to rock.  I know there is, at least, one person out there eager to hear what routes we jumped on.  Something that was also on my mind as we arrived at the mighty limestone cliffs.  A warm up was in order.  Something not too silly, to prepare the body for what may lie ahead.  I suggested Peter jump on Escalade De Rasoir, a grade 18 with an, unusual for Bob’s, rising leftward traverse on mostly slabby territory.  Saving the punch till the end, when you have to head straight up a steepening face on smaller holds:

Before leaving the deck Peter said he hadn’t been outdoors to climb since May, so wasn’t sure how it would go today.  I do however know that he is a regular at the climbing wall, so has been leading indoors to keep his body fit and mind sharp.  He did however have to ponder how to complete the first route.  In his usual manner finding a stance to calmly scope what lay in front of him.  And when ready, launching into the sequence in a relaxed and smooth way.  Above him, in the second image, you may be able to see a Nankeen Kestrel (Falco cenchroides):

The sound of the kestrels, a high pitched chattering kee-kee-kee, could be heard most of the day.  I observed their movements with interest, as they are known to nest on the cliffs.  My focus was however diverted when I jumped on Juggernaut.  Its first bolt is 20m up, and the insitu rope slings have been removed.  We however had slings, allowing me to climb it while placing my own gear, see the third image.  As I was being lowered down after my lead, Angus and Joel were starting up the route we had started on.  I took a sneaky image with Angus in a red top, just getting going on the traverse:

They were the guys who had walked in ahead of us.  Very soon four became more, while Peter started up the route more people arrived.  Check out the exposure on Juggernaut in the fifth image.  It only gets grade 17 in my guidebook.  The crag however suggests 18, which is probably fair.  Peter relished the steep three dimensional climbing, having no memory of doing it before.  Many people pass this line by, there loss I say.  The next line to fall has no name, and again gets very little attention.  The crag gives it 18, until you look at the comments that indicate it is a sandbag and should be 19:

Maybe people should not rely on technology so much, and go back to the original information sources.  My guidebook, as do all past ones, gives it 19.  As Peter started on this line the Westpac Lifesaver Rescue Helicopter flew by, seeming to get much closer that it would normally.  I couldn’t resist a second image of him on the route as it started to steepen up.  I started to feel my arms at that part of the climb.  So when it was suggested we could have a mileage day, indicting lower grades, that sounded good.  That was until Mixed Grill was suggested as the next route, a route I’ve only been on once with Craig way back in 2006 or 7:

My memory was of it being steep, pumpy, and with sharp holds.  All of which are true, but it is also epic and the way things fell Peter would take the grade 22 pitch.  Plus after I worked the first pitch at grade 20, I would have a great hanging stance.  Due to our later start I took over Craig’s job.  Bringing a flask of tea, which tickled Peter’s fancy.  So before we started we had a cuppa and rest.  Once at the hanging belay I could see the crag was filling up, action was occurring on four lines to the left, in addition to two other parties at our end.  Peter began up the second pitch, as Angus worked Shaved Cats to my right and I got busy with my camera:

I could hear the distant call of kestrels as Peter climbed.  A pair is known to sometimes nest on the second pitch of this route.  They breed between August and December so we were taking a bit of a risk, but I hadn’t observed any signs they were on the line.  If there had been a nest, they would certainly have let us know about it.  Swooping at us and getting within inches to ward us off.  I’ve only experienced it once before in Alice Springs, and it puts the shivers up you.  I managed a clean second, and Peter kindly said I made it look smooth.  My arms were however tiring, and my mind ached even more when he suggested Dependence Day next:

Another grade 22 and my lead this time, so there was no getting out of it.  He has the same ability I have, to encourage people to go for it.  I had a good memory of the route and what lay ahead.  So found myself on the floppy end, heading up what I knew would be a sustained climb with a tricky finish.  I surprised myself, making a relatively smooth ascent despite my complaining arms.  After which Peter still had gas in the tank, as mine was starting to ebb.  As the sun was reaching further over the cliff, we hugged the last remaining shade on Black Lung and finally Constructive Vandalism both at grade 21.  With bees filling the air above:

The warmth of the sun was waking up a big hive on this part of the crag just above the anchors, and the aerial activity was on the rise.  Maybe we were too focused, or they were not concerned about our presence.  Either way we avoided any close encounters, which we were pleased about.  Satisfied with our tally of 160m, at an average grade of 20 over eight routes.  We were content to leave the crowds behind and enjoy the walk back.  Along the way we occasionally stopped to observe aerial displays by multiple kestrels, with as many as four at a time.  Just before we got to the cars we found a spot with a view to enjoy a welcome and well deserved second cuppa:

Waiting for the sun

A few weeks back, when David posted that he was going to be camping up at the Honeymoon Pool this weekend, I was a little surprised to hear that there were only a couple of sites left.  During school holidays it is certainly very busy, but outside of them there are usually ample sites available.  And the reason for why became abundantly clear as got closer.  Road closed signs blocked me getting to the quarry, and the upper carparks were quickly filling up.  The 2024 AusCycling MTB Enduro National and Oceania Championships were being held:

And not just today, but from Thursday through till Sunday.  As such it was good that I canned the potential catch up for the local climbers here on Sunday.  With no car access to the quarry, it was all a bit uncertain as to what we might find down there.  Along with David, and his son Malachy, a friend from way back had made the trip down from Perth on Friday to camp out and then climb at Welly Dam with David.  I was a last minute gate crasher on their party.  My other plans made ages back fell through, less than ideal coastal conditions had put Sam off:

While I say a friend from way back, I’m talking a long time.  Adrian has clear memories of us climbing together in Alice Springs in 2004/5, although I had to confess I was having difficulty in recalling that.  I’m pleased to say he wasn’t upset with my confession, but he definitely had it right as he could recall Lisa and Elseya I knew when we left to move west.  Having reached out to get back in touch with me maybe six months back, this was the first time we have managed to get out for a climb.  And I had warned him about what to expect, at the unforgiving dam:

Adrian and I walked down from the upper carparks and were pleased to see an empty quarry.  Unlike the top there were no stalls, bike repair areas, first aid sites, or food vans, and this also meant that no one else was down here.  While we could hear the noise of the goings on above us, this somehow washed into the background as we got down to business.  It was only fair to point Adrian to the easier routes to start with.  Allowing him to get a feel of what was on offer.  And as he was starting up his second lead, David and Malachy wandered in:

Malachy had the whole place to run amuck.  And we took turns being on the rock, belaying, and keeping an eye on and at time providing entertainment for him.  Our own entertainment was single focused, and that was the climbing.  Neither Adrian nor David had been here before, and until very recently neither of them had managed to get much lead climbing in for way too many years.  So I was very keen to see how they would go here.  They loved the climbing, but some of the bolt spacing they didn’t like so much.  A common thing to hear:

With each line they climbed they got to appreciate the place.  Solid routes, at times a bit scary, but really good fun.  And at the end of the day if you are not having fun climbing, you have to ask why bother.  Adrian nabbing three onsight leads and David was happy to follow up with the security of the rope above him.  The route below was however just that bit too much for Adrian’s head, and he was happy for me to lead it so he too could have the security of the rope above him.  As such once the rope was up I took the chance to go for a wander:

I was keen to get back to the top of the face to look for those orchids that Howsie and I had seen just a week back.  Hoping to see the Dark Bee Orchid (Diuris insignis) and get a better image.  Alas it was no longer there, and many of the orchids were seemingly on their way out.  I did however get to see the Twisted Sun Orchids (Thelymitra flexuosa) again, but the number of plants was less than half of last week.  And again the buds were tightly clamped shut, except for one petal bravely sticking up:

Meanwhile, David was still battling his way up the most hotly debated route at the quarry.  Is it an 18, is it a 20, or is it possibly harder.  I was keen to hear what they had to say so made my way down as David got to the top, and it was time for Adrian to tie in.  Putting the grade to one side they both loved it.  Really liking the more three dimensional climbing that the route demanded.  And required in my opinion to make it a grade 18, which they both agreed was fair.  So Kym whatever the online trolls may be saying, on The Crag, we graded it fairly:

We didn’t have the quarry entirely to ourselves.  A few families and people wandered through.  Most didn’t stay long.  Other than one mob that included a group of girls doing dance routines, as their music bounced noisily off the quarry walls.  A little distracting , and taking away from the tranquillity of being outdoors.  But if the social I had hoped to set up on Sunday had come off there would have been just as much noise from our group.  However, with rain forecast tomorrow and having had my Welly Dam fix today, a social session can wait:

We got one more route in, or at least I did.  David attempted it but after the first bolt he was feeling toasted.  Adrian managed to get half way up, but he has been overdoing things in the indoor gyms and his elbow started to flare up.  Being sensible he backed off, meaning I had to go up again to clean the route.  After which I was more than content to call it a day myself too.  It was getting on to one in the afternoon.  Adrian was both in dangerous injury territory, and still needing to drive back to Perth.  David was done, and as for Malachy:

I’m pretty sure he had enjoyed being out and about.  However, after allowing David near to four hours of playtime he had more than deserved an ice cream from one of the many food vans.  Wandering back to the top together, the commotion and mass of people hit us.  Here we said our goodbyes, and we went three separate ways.  I feel that both of them will however be keen to come back, to further sample the delights the quarry has to offer.  And before I hit the road, I wanted to test my luck by looking for orchids one more time:

Checking the sun orchids that there out more closely, I managed to spot some Blue Lady Orchids (Thelymitra crinita).  Shown three images up, with their distinctly different textured yellow column toppers, and purple tuffs.  As well as three hues of the Plain Sun Orchid (Thelymitra paludosa).  Being purple, blue, and the beautiful pink below.  All with white tuffs, and yellow tipped columns, but behind this yellow tip the column of the pink was a stunning fluorescent orange as opposed to the black of the other ones, making it really stand out:

The Shy Sun Orchids (Thelymitra graminea) were also out, below.  Looking very similar to the Plain Sun Orchids, having white tuffs under a black column with its yellow tip.  The flowers are however notably smaller, and the tiny arm that holds the white tuffs have a very prominent ninety degree bend in them.  Making the tuffs stick more upright.  It was encouraging to see these opening up, which generally occurs on warmer days.  And while it was a bit cloudy today, the sun was poking out every so often.  Bathing the top of the wall in warmth:

The increasing temperature and occasional sun had also resulted in the Twisted Sun Orchid I had seen with a single petal unfolding, opening even more.  Still not fully open, but enough for me to be able to clearly identify it.  This dainty flower was the smallest of sun orchids, standing no more than fifteen centimetres high.  This one was the only one that I could find with its small one centimetre long bud opening.  It is a shame that it wasn’t just a bit warmer today, as it was clear that these particular orchids were simply waiting for the sun:

The leaky brain

Despite waking up numerous times on Friday night to poke my head outside, I didn’t get to see another light display in the sky.  It just goes to show how lucky Howsie and I were on Friday morning, and I’m still pinching myself about it.  When the morning arrived Lisa headed to the beach for a plunge, while I stayed home waiting for someone to come round to start fixing our ceiling.  On a not so lucky note, during my last night in Queensland Lisa heard a loud crack and part of the ceiling started to sag.  The gyprock had separated from the joist:

Fears of water damage and termites raced through our minds, but it was simply that the fixings and adhesives holding the gyprock to the joists had failed.  Things are sadly no longer built to last.  Fortunately the area failing was above an air conditioner unit, which prevented a complete collapse.  Over the last few weeks, with temporary props providing additional support, we have been waiting to get someone in to fix it.  That was to begin today, so I stayed home allowing Lisa to crack on with plunging, study, and swimming lessons:

That is not to say that I wasn’t keen to get out.  Lisa had a relatively full day planned, so as soon as the workmen had finished the first stage of works I headed out myself.  Keen to mix things up with an orchid hunt and climb.  Craig was busting to get out, but could only make an afternoon stint.  Falling nicely into place with my day.  My first destination was the Carbunup Reserve, to hunt a specific orchid I thought had alluded me over the years.  I didn’t find it, but searching through my images realised I have seen at the Ambergate Reserve in 2021:

My uncle asked me a month or so back how many species I have seen.  I guessed 50 to 75, but from a brief look at my images it could easily be double that.  Maybe I should document all my finds to date, which would avoid me trying to find things that my leaky brain seems to be forgetting.  It would be a massive undertaking, as my records are somewhat scattered and incomplete.  Maybe it is a job for when I no longer have to work, although that is quite some time of yet.. For now I will enjoy the hunt, even if they are repeat finds:

Moving along, I’ve recently referenced and shown plants in the genus Stylidium stating they are protocarnivorous.  They produce a sticky mixture of sugar and water used to trap and suffocate small insects.  Beads of this substance can be seen all along the stem behind the flower, in the first image.  Stylidium is derived from the Greek word stylos, meaning column or pillar.  This refers to the distinctive column of these plants, being pink and topped with a yellow and black club in the first image of a Thick-leaved Triggerplant (Stylidium crassifolium):

Larger insects can, unknowingly, activate the column to be released and thump them on the back.  Another ingenious pollination technique created by nature.  The second image had me a little excited when I was in the bush.  It was however just another Rusty Spider Orchid (Caladenia ferruginea).  The thick yellow clubbing on the three sepals had me foxed, because the specimens I have seen to date have had less pronounced brown clubbing.  The third and fourth images being Forest Mantis Orchids (Caladenia attingens subsp. attingens):

The hungry caterpillar is munching away on the anther, which is where the pollen is produced. Hopefully this orchid has had a chance to spread some pollen before this pest came along and spoilt its chances of aiding fertilization.  At the second location I knew the specific orchid I wanted to see was in flower.  Another enthusiast I bumped into during my walk with Lisa last weekend told me it was out.  Saying it was located just off the path that leads to Quinninup Falls, a local spot made famous by social media.  One I had not been to, until now:

Having seen many waterfalls in numerous countries, this one isn’t of a scale that would have been on my radar to see.  But it is a relatively unusual sight in this landscape, and as such made a refreshing change to the mostly dry but no less beautiful sights.  It is claimed to be ‘one of Western Australia’s most Insta-worthy and popular waterfalls’, and as such receives huge numbers of visitors.  I somehow snagged a time with no one else about, so I could fully appreciate the tranquil spot.  Taking in the soothing sound of the cascading water:

Carbunup Reserve is inland comprising a Marri woodland vegetation complex.  A stark contrast to the Leeuwin-Naturaliste National Park with its coastal scrub, and vistas out across the Indian Ocean.  This particular stretch of the park has several hillside seeps, which are very important to maintaining delicate and often very localised vegetation complexes.  The path traverses these and boardwalks have been built to avoid our footfalls compacting the soil, and disrupting the natural flow of water through the thin layers of soil above the granite rock:

The risk had been heightened due to the popularity of Quinninup Falls, resulting in hundreds of visitors each day.  While I got to enjoy the falls it in peace, on the two kilometre walk back, I must have passed in excess of fifty people making their way towards it.  All focused on the destination, looking forward and not down.  I however scanned the ground on the outward and return trip.  Being rewarded by finding several Exotic Spider Orchid (Caladenia nivalis), which is another orchid I had forgotten about previously seeing, funnily enough again in 2021:

On the return leg I also found the above single and somewhat wilting Swamp Spider Orchid (Caladenia paludosa).  I now had to quickened my pace, completing the 4km walk in a little over forty five minutes.  Time was ticking and I had to meet Craig.  We were heading to Moses Rocks, which happened to be a mere five minute drive away.  He had a narrow window of opportunity, which had no bearing on why we choose this place.  That was entirely my doing to allow me to go orchid hunting, but it is easy to get a few quick lines in here:

I was also quietly hopefully the low tide, along with a relatively low 2m swell, would allow us to get into the zawn.  Initial impressions were it was not looking promising, but looking in from the top there were just enough boulders out of reach of the waves to make it work.  Allowing us access to the southern face of the zawn, which Craig said he couldn’t ever recall climbing.  It seems he too has a forgetful brain.  I have images of him following me up this wall in 2006.  It felt great to be climbing by the ocean again, with the waves adding to the atmosphere:

We started by making the likely second ascent of Howsie’s new route, Dry Spell.  Maybe having climbed at Welly Dam yesterday didn’t help, but the start felt pumpy and nervous.  Craig noted that it looked like I made a meal of it.  Then the roles reversed as he went up the classic of the zawn, at the same grade.  With Josh arriving just in time to take some images from above, with Craig’s slow progress giving him plenty of time to move round to get a variety of angles.  The routes on this wall do feel nervous, despite the relatively low grades:

It is steep and all the hold slope the wrong way, making you work hard to stay in position.  Josh had a narrower window than Craig, hence his slightly later arrival.  Now with three of us it made sense to move to Hands Up Wall.  Providing more room, as well as being free from the risk of an unexpected king wave giving us an unwelcome bath.  In addition the rock striations on this wall are horizontal, making the climbing feel more secure than in the zawn.  All up we managed three more lines:

With the sun on our backs as we sat at the base and while we climbed the warm rocks it felt just the right amount of toasty.  This was in complete contrast to when we were sat on top.  Here the bracing southerly wind buffeted us.  Resulting in a good dose of goose pimples, and longing for warmer clothing.  Making my way back from my longer distance photo shoot a King Skink (Egernia kingii) was basking on a rock taking in the warmth from both the sun and rock, only escaping into the crevice after I disturbed it:

It made sense that the lower to the ground you got the warmer it felt, and Josh was mimicking the skinks approach while Craig set up the belay above.  Craig had thankfully done his usual and brought a thermos of piping hot tea, which went down very well.  While it had been a bit of short time at the crag, everyone thoroughly enjoyed being out.  Next weekend, if I get back to the coast for a climb I’ll have to remember to bring my Buffalo to fend off the wind.  Um… maybe I should put a reminder in my phone, rather than rely on my memory:

Packing it in

Now that Lisa is back at work, for the fourth and final term of the school year, my usual Thursday and Friday work from home days have kicked back in.  Allowing the opportunity to join her morning beach walk on Thursday, when we found this unlucky Bighead Gurnard Perch (Neosebastes pandus).  Based on its condition it had been recently washed up.  I too have been feeling a bit like a fish out of water, not having been on rock for three weeks.  And while I couldn’t save the fish by putting it back in the water, I fix my itch by touching rock:

I was not able to take Friday off, things are a bit busy at work.  But there was always the option of a quick climb at Welly Dam, and I knew Howsie wouldn’t be able to resist such a trip.  So on Friday, instead of joining Lisa at the beach, Howsie and I were already out there climbing.  Needing to get back for a meeting at ten, I had suggested a first light arrival at the crag.  This saw me get up at three thirty, and unlike the fish luck was on our side as we drove eastwards.  A reddish hue started to form in the sky, which gradually increased in intensity:

As we continued on the last leg of the journey, we were wowed by a great Aurora Australis light show.  Massively more impressive than the one and only other time I have seen it.  The camera picks up light waves not visible to us, so the image is enhanced.  That said it was still an amazing spectacle, even to the naked eye.  We stopped several times to take it in, while other drivers no doubt on their way to work pressed on.  Unusual solar activity had been predicted to occur on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday night, not that we knew about it at the time:

The solar activity releases ‘solar winds’.  If strong enough these can reach and affect the immediate space round earth, and subsequently the gas particles in our atmosphere.  This is what results in the range of light patterns being formed.  Exactly when this will happen is very hard to predict, so you have to be in the right place at the right time to see it, and in our case driving in the right direction.  The stunning show lasted for approximately quarter of an hour, by which time we had arrived at the carpark and first light started to take over the sky:

We were both unsure how we would go today, and hence aimed for sensible grades.  Being Welly Dam that doesn’t mean the climbing will be easy.  Jumping on first lead, I could feel my joints stretch, muscle groan, and body feel a little clumsy and awkward.  Howsie also found it a shock to the system.  We pondered why it could be that we could head to Queensland and climb so many routes we have never been on, at this and harder grades, without too much of an issue.  Yet the well-rehearsed routes here we have climbed countless time can, and still do, hit us hard:

The first route was a good choice because my crag booty haul continues to grow when I found the above bail biner on the last bolt.  Someone had probably found the final moves too committing, preferring to sacrifice a piece of hardware to allow them to get lowered back down.  Based on how we were feeling we didn’t pull the rope so both of us to lead each climb, but on the plus side and as our bodies warmed up we started to feel more coordinated and comfortable on each successive route.  The rock was also mostly in good condition:

Other than my lead on the above line, on which I was able to avoid most of the wet rock.  And it was way better than my last visit here in August, when there were little waterfalls cascading down the faces being fed by huge pools of water along the top of the crag.  Today in contrast was wonderful.  Birds abound and at the top of one climb a Splendid Fairy-wren (Malurus splendens) hopped within feet of my head.  Then on another climb an Australian Ringneck (Barnardius zonarius) greeted me, being equally nonplussed by my presence:

Despite our initial concern we racked up our six chosen routes in two hours.  Howsie being on the last one above, and you may notice the a large carabiner hanging of the line next to him.  And also the plants sticking out above near the top of the crag.  The carabineer I’ll get back to, but the reason for finishing on this route was I wanted to check the plants out.  This climb also requires you to top out, resulting in the need to walk back down.  Allowing you to check out the top to see what may be growing, and we spent quite some time doing exactly that:

The top was littered with sun orchids, but being so early they had not yet opened up to the new day.  I suspect that they were all Plain Sun Orchids (Thelymitra paludosa), whose name paludosa is a Latin word that means swampy or marshy, being the habitat they prefer.  This may sound strange, but I mentioned that the top of this crag collects pools of water in winter.  And these plants seem to like the, at times very thin, veneer of soil.  The soil continues to get water into spring from seepages.  In the wet soils we also found heaps of small trigger plants:

The above is a Book Triggerplant (Stylidium androsaceum), which like sun orchids close up at night.  But rather than its petals forming a bud, the top petals fold downwards to partially cover the two lower petals.  Closing up like a book.  Below is another Plain Sun Orchid, with very different coloured petals to the other image I included.  Some species of sun orchids have colour variations but this species takes that to the next level, ranging from blue to violet, pink, and even white.  We also found one with alternating pink and white petals:

There was a more impressive range of orchids at this time of year than I have seen here before.  This included Twisted Sun Orchids (Thelymitra flexuosa), a species I have never come across.  Due to the buds being clamped shut, more tightly that the Plain Sun Orchids, I have not include an image of them.  We also found lots of small donkey orchids, most likely to be Purple Pansy Orchids (Diuris longifolia).  Their flowers were smaller than what I normally find, but were still within the size range that can be found for this species:

And then there was one plant that was much smaller.  It had quite much darker colouration, and the way the dorsal sepal and labellum is held was also in contrast that of a usual donkey orchid.  Checking it out with my orchid book next to me I am pretty sure it is Dark Bee Orchid (Diuris insignis), and is my first ever bee orchid sighting.  I’m kicking myself that I didn’t take more time to get some better images, but we had spent nearly twenty minutes scouring the top of the cliff and we needed to get back:

Back down to the base of the cliff, not home just yet.  I had sent a picture of the morning skies to Bigge, a friend in Ghana who I played volleyball with for two years back in the late nineties.  In between the climbs we exchanged messages and I also sent him a picture of Howsie climbing, and this piqued his interest.  Like my first time sightings of a couple of species today, climbing is a new concept to him and had him fascinated.  Intrigued by the way we managed to hang onto the rock, which seemed improbable.  To help suggested to Howsie we take a video:

Still having plenty of time up our sleeves before needing to hit the road.  That of course meant getting a couple more climbs in, to even the leads up.  This led to the following video being sent to Bigge to give him a bit more of an idea of what we do.  And us spotting some Dewdrop Spiders (Argyrodes antipodianus) that disguise themselves as water droplets, you’ll find images of them in this previous post: https://sandbagged.blog/2023/11/04/another-long-goodbye/.  And the above well camouflaged Orb Weaving Spider (Eriophora transmarina):

You may notice the male Orb Weaving Spider has one leg outstretched, attached to a strand from its web to act as a doorbell should any prey get caught.  Howsie took the last allowing him to increase his crag booty haul by grabbing the large carabineer mentioned earlier. With eight routes under our belt it was time to leave. After driving less than fifty meters, we spotted more sun orchids some with open flowers.  Being the a third sun orchid species of the day, the Shy Sun Orchid (Thelymitra graminea).  It is quite amazing how much we packed into, and saw during, our three hours at Welly Dam.  What a wonderful way to start the day:

Cheers to that

A weekend of not climbing was on the cards last weekend, to allow the body to relax and recover.  But the weekend cried out to include some outdoor time, resulting in Lisa and I going for a Sunday wander with the poodles out at Crooked Brook Forest.  Allowing us to balance some outdoor time together and provide the poodles with an adventure full of interesting scents.  And for me also the hope of maybe having a bit more luck than my last visit here, which was not particularly productive from an orchid perspective:

The carpark was overflowing more than ever, but we came across surprisingly few people on the two walk trails we plodded round.  Our slow pace was more due to the poodles intently sniffing every few meters, than me wanting to stop and look at orchids.  A few of the usual suspect were out, but we really had to look hard to find them.  And as for anything particularly new or unexpected it was very light on, and even when we found something there was only one or two plants of the species.  A few other groups were out looking, and they fared the same fate:

On the plus side we came across a single Rusty Spider Orchid (Caladenia ferruginea), which I mentioned in my last post as a species we have in previous years found at Ambergate Nature Reserve as a bit of a companion spider orchid to the Swamp Spider Orchid (Caladenia paludosa).  Above we also found a single flowering Purple Pansy Orchid (Diuris longifolia), one of many donkey orchids species.  The species name selected due to the length of its leaves that protrude below the flower head, with longifolia meaning long-leaved in Latin:

It wasn’t a total whitewash and I tallied seven flowering species in all.  It didn’t however fill me with confidence of finding too much when Lisa and I went for a walk along the eastern coastline of Cape Naturaliste, from Dunsborough to Eagle Bay on Friday.  My last trip here was in mid-August, and I didn’t even write that visit up, despite going orchid hunting and climbing.  That had been a very wet visit, with the paths flooded and most flowers either looking battered or closed up.  This included a couple of Blue Fairy Orchids (Pheladenia deformis):

Blue Fairy Orchids are a common and wide spread species that can tolerate a variety of habitats, for which I can’t recall a year in which I haven’t seen them in good numbers in many places I visit.  This year however I’ve only sighted those two bedraggled specimens.  The reason for returning was not to try and find them again, but for Lisa to get a decent walk in.  The Peppy Plungers are book in for a Coastrek charity event in a few weeks’ time, which will take in a 20km walk along this reach of the coastline.  Raising funds for the Heart Foundation:

To get a bit of training in they had organised to head here for a trek on Wednesday, but a cold front came through with strong to gale force winds and belts of rain.  A couple of them then decided to head out on Friday, but Lisa and I had already organised to get out ourselves.  Our plan included a night away to celebrate her birthday.  After we had parked up in Dunsborough we spotted the other Peppy Plunger’s car, who had just happened to decide to start at the same place as us, but were an hour or so ahead of us:

With the intention to get a few miles under our belt, the pace was a little quicker than my orchid walks.  Reducing my ability to stop and look about.  Certainly on the walk northwards there seemed very little to see, with only a few specimens of species previously sighted this season.  Having tempered my expectations I was prepared for the faster pace, and likely low species count.  Three images up we did however get to watch a White-bellied Sea-Eagle (Haliaeetus leucogaster), perched above its huge nest of tangled twigs and branches:

And despite there not been many orchids, there were lots of other flowers out including a wide variety of triggerplants, of the genus Stylidium.  The smaller species of this genus formed large colonies close to the ground, but they come in a wide variety of forms.  They are described as being protocarnivorous.  Meaning they trap and kill insects, directly digesting or absorbing the nutrients by dissolving the bodies using enzymes or bacteria.  The most well-known plant to use this technique is probably the Venus Flytrap (Dionaea muscipula):

After only scant repeat finds over five to six kilometres, we bumped into Lisa’s fellow Peppy Plungers Linda and Jenny.  We were a kilometre or two from Eagle Bay, and they were on their return trip.  As we chatted they said quite a few orchids were in the last stretch, raising my hopes.  They also referred to a pale pink donkey orchid like looking flower.  The latter was in fact the Queen Triggerplant (Stylidium affine).  The flowers being several centimetres long, much bigger than the ground cover trigger plants, both shown several images up:

They were however not wrong about the orchids, and as we closed in on Eagle Bay several clumps of Dunsborough Donkey Orchid (Diuris jonesii) appeared.  These have relative large flowers, for donkey orchids, being in some instances two inches long.  And with the more colourful petals and sepals they are a very pretty sight.  Endemic to the south-west of Western Australia, they are not confined to Dunsborough and can be found all along the Leeuwin-Naturaliste National Park and along the Great Southern coast as far east as Albany:

I also got pretty excited when I stumbled across a patch of some twenty Lemon-Scented Sun Orchids (Thelymitra antennifera), all clustered in a small area.  These bright yellow flowers, three images up, are very distinctive so I am pretty sure that we would have seen them if they had been more widespread along the walk.  This species is very wide spread being found across the biogeographic Southwest Australia region, from Geraldton to Esperance, as well as the southern areas of South Australia and Victoria, and rarely in Tasmania:

On the return walk, the pace was kept up although we did take five when we diverted on the Meelup Beach lookout loop.  Waiting for a whale to spout, tail or flipper splash, or if we were lucky a fully beach.  Lisa thought she saw a few whales break the surface, but it was too far off to be sure.  After staring out to sea for a while we continued, down the steps and back to the coastline walk.  And here the finds continued, with the above Hills White Spider Orchid (Caladenia longicauda subsp. Clivicola) and below Blue China Orchid (Cyanicula gemmate):

We only spied a couple of Hills White Spider Orchids.  They are also known as the Darling Scarp White Spider Orchid, as they grow in a restricted area mostly on the Darling Scarp near Harvey.  There is however a population that grows near Dunsborough, which is where the greatest concentration of finds have been recorded according to the Atlas of Living Australia.  The Blue China Orchid is yet another widespeard and common species I would expect to find all over the place.  So far this is the only sighting I’ve managed this year, and it was a little tatty:

While I was taking images Lisa walked onwards, lunch was calling.  This meant that she missed out on seeing two Humpback Whales (Megaptera novaeangliae) cruise northwards seemingly close to shore when I saw them.  It is however very hard to see the one that has broken the surface and just spouted, above.  Later we both got to see one breach, even if it was quite a long way off by then.  By which time my focus was back on the ground, looking for smaller things.  This included a single Dunsborough Spider Orchid (Caladenia viridescens):

This time, as the name suggests, this spider orchid is only found locally between Yallingup and Busselton in the Jarrah Forest biogeographic region.  While not in the best of conditions it was an exciting find being classified as critically endangered by the Western Australian Government, and listed nationally as endangered under the Environment Protection and Biodiversity Conservation Act 1999.  You may assume right that this was a fist time find for me, and we also spotted a Swamp Spider Orchid (Caladenia paludosa) this time with my hand included for scale and to focus the lens:

Taking lots of images of both to ensure I had enough images to be able to distinguish it from similar species.  Before having to keep moving to catch up with Lisa.  Finally returning back to the car after having walked ten miles in well under four hours, spotted legs eleven orchids species in flower, and taken the time to spot some whales as well as heaps of birds and assorted flowers.  Lunch and a well-deserved drink awaited us in Dunsborough, before driving onto our hotel to continue our short but very lovely and relaxing min-break.  Cheers to that:

Local is best

A lot can happen in a week in the orchid world, so I was very keen to get out and look about as soon as returned from Queensland.  I’ve often heard how people travel from far and wide to experience the ‘big’ months of Western Australia’s South West orchid season, when many species come out.  Something I am lucky to have right on my doorstep.  That’s not to say there aren’t many orchids in other parts of Australia.  There are reported to be some 1,900 species found across the country, a quarter of which can be found in Western Australia:

There is a two volume book for the 461 known orchid species in Western Australia.  This was recently revised and reprinted this year, with a couple of new finds.  Authored by none other than the person who verified my recent find in the Capel Nature Reserve as being a hybrid.  It certainly seems to be big business, but with approx. 30,000 species found worldwide what sets Australian orchids apart?  It may be that most species found outside of Australia are epiphytes, and often found in more tropical environments:

And while I discovered both epiphyte and lithophyte orchid species in my recent trip to Queensland, which happens to have a tropical and subtropical climate, orchids found in Australia are mostly terrestrial.  Furthermore, many of these species will only flower for a short period.  Ranging from days to months, so if you are really keen to see a specific species you need to be committed.  Like my persistence at Wilyabrup this year.  Added to that there are orchids out most of the year, so if you are really keen you can keep searching year round:

However, spring is the time of the year when more species are likely to be seen.  It is however not guaranteed they will come out, seasonal conditions need to be right and can affect whether they flower and then for how long.  Germination is also dependent on fungi for many orchid species, with which they have a symbiotic relationship.  Each species being reliant on very few, and at times only one, fungi species.  With our changing climate, as well as other land use impacts, this fragile environment and the relationships within are at risk:

It was originally though that orchids may have originated from Australia, but the Kew Royal Botanical Garden 2023 State of the World’s Plants and Fungi report, the firth in a series since 2016, has changed that thinking.  I do wonder how they can be sure, but it is now considered that orchids first came from the northern hemisphere round 83 million years ago.  It is suggested that they spread across the globe, with the origins of approx. 60% of the Australian orchids dating back more than 40 million years:

That is in contrast to many of the species across the globe, which have been estimated to have originated more recently in the last 5 million years.  The DNA studies and investigations to inform all this work came from 200 international researchers across 30 countries, is it not likely to be biased.  About 2,500 new plants are discovered each year across the globe, however it is estimated that 45% of all known flowering plant species may be under threat of extinction.  Amongst the most threatened families is the Orchidaceae (orchid) family:

Well that all took a bit of an unintentional dark turn.  And certainly not in keeping with the plethora of colours, shapes, and sizes of orchids I have found during my week back.  I started with a local spot, being the Capel Nature Reserve where I stumbled across two other orchid parties hunting these plants.  Like I said it’s a bit of a hotspot here, and springs time especially brings out like-minded people.  Often willing to share snippets of information about what they have found and where to look for them:

I’ve started this post with a splash of colour, finding a clump of Purple Enamel Orchid (Elythranthera brunonis).  Lisa’s favourite species, and which I usually find one or two plants at most together.  This collection however had four plants, making for a more spectacular image than usual.  I mentioned earlier the occurrence of each species is dependent upon conditions, for both the orchid and related fungi species.  We’ve had a wonky year with a dry start to the year, very wet August, and relatively hot and dry September:

This may be why, unlike at the Ruabon Nature Reserve, the usual abundance of King-in-his-Carriage Orchid (Drakaea glyptodon) and companion Flying Duck Orchid is greatly diminished here.  I only spotted a couple of lonely King-in-his-Carriage Orchids, and one cluster of two Flying Duck Orchid plants.  These are shown in the second image and I believe are the Hort’s Duck Orchid (Paracaleana hortiorum).  Based on the labellum, which resembles the bill, not being humped and having a limited number of calli concentrated towards the end:

I make this statement about their absence off the back of two visits here, which has included hours of scouring areas I have seen them previously.  I did however come across the Slender Sun Orchid (Thelymitra vulgaris), which I was told about by one of the other parties.  Endemic to the south-west of Western Australia, it has a smaller flower to most sun orchids found locally.  Not to be confused with the most widespread and common orchid species in Australia, the Slender Sun Orchid (Thelymitra pauciflora) that is found everywhere but Western Australia and the Northern Territory:

I was lucky to be out on a relatively hot day when I saw the Slender Sun Orchid, as they only open their flowers on warm days and even then for short periods.  Indeed on my second visit here, which was cloudy, all the flowers were closed up.  It is all about being in the right place and right time, and for orchids also to be looking in the right direction.  This was my first sighting of the Slender Sun Orchid, even if it was an assisted find.  After the first three finds included in this post, all the others from the Capel Nature Reserve are of the Caladenia (spider) genus:

There were so many out including lutea, albino, and hybrid forms, making their identification extremely hard.  There are nine images of them in this post, and I could have added more.  Each has subtle differences, in the fringe lengths and neatness, number of calli, petal and sepal width, length and colour, and the colour of the labellum.  I’m simply not skilled up enough to work it out, so have sent a range of images to one of the authors of my orchid guide for assistance.  For now I’ll have to sit tight and wait to see what I’m told about them:

I can see traits of the King Spider Orchid (Caladenia pectinata), Scott River Spider Orchid (Caladenia thinicola), and Tuart Spider Orchid (Caladenia georgei) in the specimens found with more colour.  The first two of which would be a good find, as they are threatened species.  After such an amazing time at my local spot, I was full of hope and expectation when I went to check out the Ambergate Nature Reserve with Lisa.  It was however a very different story there, and while we did have a few good finds they were few and far between:

The only species of spider out that we found was the above Swamp Spider Orchid (Caladenia paludosa), of which we found quite a few.  In past seasons this one has come out at the same time as, and in similar numbers to, the Rusty Spider Orchid (Caladenia ferruginea).  We were however unable to locate any of the second species this time.  Below is the only Little Pink Fan Orchid (Caladenia nana subsp. nana) on offer, which was getting close to its maximum plant height of 10cm:

The height being the only physical characteristic to distinguish it from the Pink Fan Orchid (Caladenia nana subsp. unita).  Although this other taller subspecies flowers later, between October and November, and prefers wetter and heavier soils.  The reason for having an image of the above, which I included in a recent post, was that I found the following Cowslip Orchids (Caladenia flava).  Based on the petal and sepal shape this plant looks to have cross bred with the Little Pink Fan Orchid, which is not an uncommon thing to happen:

I had my first day back to work on Thursday, a day I would normally work from home.  But during the school holidays, to provide Lisa with a more relaxed feel at home, I go into the office five days a week.  Seeing I was in Bunbury, after work I decided to have a look at patch of bush on the edge of the highway heading north.  This had a fairly big fire go through it a year or so back, and fire can be another stimulus for orchid activity.  Indeed, a local enthusiast has been suggesting this place could go gangbusters this year:

It was somewhat disappointing, and after forty five minutes I found just one White Spider, a heap of Cowslip Orchids, and the above small cluster of what I believe may be the Common Donkey Orchid (Diuris corymbosa).  There was one more find, and the fire had at least done its magic and brought out a couple of Pyrorchis nigricans.  I’ve known this as a Red Beak Orchid, but in reading up on it they say it is now called a Fire Orchid.  The newly appointed genus Pyrorchis coming from the Greek word pyr and orchis; literally translating to Fire Orchid:

The large fleshy leaves of Fire Orchids can be found in many areas forming large colonies, but most populations will only flower after a hot summer fire.  I have seen just a few plants flower, in the Stirling Ranges. These have been in poor condition, whereas the above specimen is in great condition.  While the area really wasn’t all that good I was happy with this one find.  There was evidence of lots of four wheel driving and fly tipping, and I doubt I’ll go back in a hurry.  Having time up my sleeve I did however pop into Manea Park on the way home:

This was another place that for me seemed a little lean, it is of course possible that I just get to see too much so am a little spoilt.  There was indeed a great variety just not in big numbers, and with quite a few repeat finds including the above Dancing Spider Orchid (Caladenia discoidea).  It is one of the longer flowering species, and the colours have changed since I first saw it a month back, from mostly green to mostly a deep red.  If you are keen to see what I mean check the previous post https://sandbagged.blog/2024/08/29/the-blue-armada/:

While the Red Beak Orchid has had its name changed and is no longer considered a beak orchid, the above is definitely a beak orchid.  The Rattle Beak Orchid (Lyperanthus serratus) is endemic to the south-west of Western Australia, and there is only one other species in the genus.  Being the Brown Beak Orchid (Lyperanthus suaveolens), which is not found here being endemic to the eastern states of Australia.  If you look at the flower shape and configuration, it is easy to see why the Fire Orchid was originally classified as a beak orchid:

There are certainly plenty of similarities.  The genus name for beak orchids means poor or wretched flower, being derived from the Greek words of lypros and Anthos.  I feel this is rather unfair even though the rationale is due to the dull-colours, which the Fire Orchid definitely does not have.  The above orchid is far from dull.  It is one of the thirty eight species of sun orchids found in Western Australia, of which I have seen very few.  The Blue Lady Orchid (Thelymitra crinita) is a seasonal regular and comes out in large numbers:

While I’m delving into ancient Greek, the genus name of Thelymitra is derived from thelys and mitra meaning bishop and headwear or hat respectively.  Hence the name means a bishop’s mitre, referring to the plumed or decorated wings of the columns of many sun orchids.  This species having yellow bristles on the top of the column, and a light purple tuff of filaments on top of the anther.  There were also a few of the above Forest Mantis Orchids (Caladenia attingens subsp. attingens) starting to appear, the only subspecies of three found in this area:

To wrap up this rather long post are the above Common Mignonette Orchid (Microtis media subsp. media) and below Pink Fairies (Caladenia latifolia).  Both starting to make an appearance.  Neither are particularly astonishing discoveries, being regular finds in abundant numbers.  I however wanted to finish the write up, as I had started, with a splash of colour.  I lost count of how many species I found during this week’s wanders, but it was well in excess of twenty.  The Capel Nature Reserve providing the widest diversity, so there could be something in the old shopping adage that local is best: