This image belies the fact that we drove in during first light, which is starting to creep in a little later in the day. By the time we were ready to rap in the sun was already spreading across the land, washing away any chance of a near full moon picture. Today was Howsie’s choice. He picked the Northern Blocks and The Terrace, so I knew what was on his mind:
Despite first light being that little bit later these days, it was still a tad early for Peter. And as he arrived we were just finishing up on our warm up climb. The image below doesn’t show that route. He was used to accessing the wall from below, so rather than walk all the way back to the top and rap in as we had, Peter soloed/scrambled up to join us on The Terrace:
With three of us there was the chance for me to make like a mountain goat, and scamper about looking for the better angles. Resulting in this post having a few more images than usual. To compensate I’ve cut back on the writing. I knew enough about Peter’s abilities to encourage him to jump on the second and progressive warm up climb before the main event:
Then it was Howsie’s turn but he wasn’t sure if he was feeling it. Both Peter and I have a no pressure approach to geeing someone up. This is how Howsie found himself on his second 24 for 2024. It was a doozy. Steep, unrelenting, and not always obvious to read climbing. And while it may not look like it, he was doing exactly as we had told him… “just have fun”:
He put a lot into it, and managed to get half way up, taking quite a few falls along the way. Falls that were completely safe being such a steep wall. All you can hit as you fall being air. The only issue however is how to get back onto the wall, as you dangle in nothing but space. This added to the hard work, every time he got back on the rock to give it another shot:
Eventually he conceded and a top rope was set up, with neither Peter nor I keen to lead it. No one got a clean ascent, but Howsie now knows what to expect for next time. Despite expending a fair bit of grunt on the 24, Peter in his completely calm way decided to jump on a fingery and sustained route with two rooflets. Watching him climb was inspirational:
Cool and calm, despite the climb not offering any true rest positions. Just hanging there figuring it all out. Howsie was toasted and struggled his way up and I slipped off the crux sequence several times, as we tried to mimic the clean lead we’d just watched. It was time to dial it back so we went to the Northern Blocks, where Howsie jumped on the sharp end again:
Here we grabbed the “crag booty” Howsie had spotted when we first arrived. A lone quickdraw on the last bolt of one of the routes on this taller wall. Due to the time spent on the harder routes, the sun was starting to edge high in the sky. To the point that Peter had to shield his eyes as he looked up on the last line of the day. One we were glad he led:
Howsie and I both managed to follow up with no problem, but we agreed being on lead with tiring body’s and the sun in our eyes would not have been a good way to end the day. Peter was also content and ready to wrap it up, rightly feeling pretty chuffed with his leads. So we sorted the gear under the watchful eye of this Nankeen Kestrel (Falco cenchroides):
Howsie and I both heard the familiar call of the kestrel, as we climbed. But his eyes were sharper than mine, and spotted it. While he was exhausted from a very fun morning, his sight had not been affected. Proven one more time when he spotted saw this beautiful Rosenberg’s/Southern Heath Monitor (Varanus rosenbergi) as we approached the cars:
I couldn’t make my mind up as to what to do today, a swim was inevitable but where to go. Part of me was not too keen to go too far along the beach, maybe feeling a little weary from yesterday. However, if the conditions were like yesterday then it could be pretty good round the more intact reef system. Eventually I plumped for a walk past the point. Thinking that I have enough days sat at a computer coming up at working next week, so a stretch and swim would be good. And I am glad I did:
My first find was the above strange looking creature, of which I found three. I knew it was a sea cucumber but have never seen this sort before. I think it may be a Snot Sea Cucumber (Leptosynapta dolabrifera), and you may well be thinking I am making that name up but I’m not. These creatures have a transparent body, which this did. They burrow into the sand using the tentacles round its mouth to draw in sand, which is probably why I have seen them before. The Rough Sea Cucumber (Australostichopus mollis) also has tentacles:
However, I’ve always found Rough Sea Cucumber as they are resting up in the daytime, tucked up tightly in some nook. The tentacles have therefore not been visible before and today I also didn’t get to see them as this one was feeding. It’s mouth stuck in the sand with the tentacles busy pulling sand in. What I really liked was seeing the hundreds of tiny tube feet, which like the tentacles are out of sight when they are resting up. In fact I didn’t even realise they had feet until now. The dive had started well and I had picked a good spot:
Plenty of fish were about, but I wasn’t in the chasing mood today. I spent a fair bit of time in the reef where the water was shallow, peering down into the caves below. Lots of Old Wife (Enoplosus armatus) were hiding in these, but not keen to be photographed. Instead we had a face off each time I got too close, making them look very skinny. Here I also came across some more accessible Zimmers Sea Fan (Mopsella Zimmeri), so took a close up to allow you to see the polyps filtering the water to catch zooplankton with their eight tentacles:
In addition to the creatures I have recently seen out in the daytime, when they are normally hidden away, I also came across a tiny green worm. It was clinging to a rock and I tried to get a clear image, but the swell was having none of it. As the worm clung on I drifted away. Being in shallow water above the reef, I was pleasantly surprised at how many fish passed in front of me. For the most part I just watched and also had a laugh when I had to give way to this never ending highway of Western Striped Grunter (Helotes octolineatus):
Despite spending over an hour in the water, on the walk back I went in for another quarter of an hour. This was to say hello to Lumpy a forty year old Bottlenose Dolphins (Tursiops truncatus). She lives between Bunbury and Peppermint Grove Beach, which approximates to their normal range of approx. twenty five kilometres. She is one of the oldest known dolphins of the local population and enjoys interacting with humans and animals alike. So despite the stingers and feeling a bit cold I simply had to jump back in to have a swim with her:
Dumping my gear out of the car after my morning climb, which I only did to test drive the car (not), I felt the need to get my head under water. The images of our local beach that Lisa had sent me this morning, while I was climbing, looked great but I also knew the winds would shift round fairly soon. It seems that she and I think alike. Having sent me the images because she thought I would be pondering whether to go in the water off the cliffs. Lisa was right, and I was almost sold prepared to risk getting in between sets of the swell:
Walking down to the beach it was no longer flat, but the water still looked fairly clear. Clear enough to see the few stingers that were still battling the increasingly less calm upper surface, and also the above school of juvenile Bluespotted Goatfish (Upeneichthys vlamingii). I see the adult of these fish on almost every dive, but rarely include images of them. They check for food in the sand using sensory barbels, located on their chin. Despite trying multiple times to sneaking up on them, as they are foraging in the sand, the adults never hang about:
The juveniles seemed less skittish allowing me to get a bit closer to them, but being smaller the yellow barbels are not visible in the images. The open sandy areas were starting to get a bit more churned up, but I spent a fair bit of time there as it was filled with lots of unidentified juvenile fish. Another creature I usually fail at getting too close to before they hide in their homes, are Hermit Crabs (Paguroidea). I saw quite a few today in the reef, thinking the black eyes on luminescent orange stalks would make it possible to identify them, but alas not:
Back in the sandy bay, and as I was heading towards the shore, I spotted something I have been hoping to see for a few years now. I’ve only seen a group of juvenile Striped Catfish (Plotosus lineatus) a few times, and they are great to observe. I do not recall ever seeing an adult but the juveniles are the fun ones. They can form a dense school of hundreds of fish, packed tightly together in a ball. Then as they move close to a feature, which could be a reef or clump of weed, they form a shape that resembles it:
Even when the mass of fish is pushed about by the swell they somehow manage to stay together. I spent a heap of time watching them and took this short video to show them in action. Due to the changing wind, the detritus previously on the bottom was starting to lift into the water column, and I struggled to stay still. So the focus in this clip isn’t the best at times, but it will give you any idea of why I can spend quiet a lot of time watching them do what they do:
Very happy with my last find I left the Striped Catfish behind, only to spot a Granulated Pebble Crab (Leucosia pubescens). You might be forgiven for thinking it was on dry land from this image, but it was wandering along the seabed. This is my first sighting and they are very different from the crabs I normal see, including being much smaller. The shell being no more than three centimetres across. Many species of pebble crabs, like most crabs, are nocturnal burying themselves under the sea bed during the day. Luckily for me this one was out and about:
My first week back in the office worked in well for when my car was booked in to have some work done. Yes I am still trying to have my overheating problem fixed. The works needed specific tools, a bit like technology manufacturers designing special fittings to make you go to them. This meant going to the main dealer and while the work should have taken a day, they somehow managed to take three. With three months of limited use of the car, my patience to find a solution is wearing a little thin and this latest escapade didn’t help:
They tested the car with a reasonable drive, so things were looking promising. Sadly the warning light came on during my drive home, but only instantaneously so being positive I put it down to being a glitch. There was only one way to check it out and that was to head out. No one was available to join so I headed out relatively early, when the temperatures were cool. Arriving at my destination an hour later, with the sun creeping above the horizon and the car seemingly having worked just fine. It was however a bit of a nervous drive, waiting for the bing bing noise and a flashing red light to come up:
My focus however was soon directed on the present and what I was going to do next. What looked like smoke hung above the horizon out to sea, but the sky above and behind me was clear and blue. I’d come with both my climbing and snorkel gear, as there was a slim chance that it might be good enough for a dip. To start with, out came the climbing gear. I had brought the bright orange 11mm static rope that Craig had managed to get me. Ash, Howsie and I only used it once at West Cape Howe some months, because they were not impressed with it:
Most climbing gear works best with 10mm or smaller ropes. So while this beast matches my helmet just fine, it feels pretty stiff and difficult to use. It just about fitted in my ascender as I was top roping, but every time I had to pop it through my belay device to abseil back down it was a bit of a battle. Once set up I could then completely let go of the rope and the friction held me there. With a narrower rope if I did this, it would run freely through the device and I would fall. Being by myself this was the best image I could manage, and I should include a disclaimer saying “don’t try this yourself”! :
I battled the rope into my belay device for my first three lines, but gave up after that. Walking down for the next three routes. In truth it also gave my arms a bit of a rest between the climbs. This week I have been in the shed three times, twice to do my shoulder exercises and once to have a boulder on my wall. This resulted in me feeling it a bit more than usual, as I packed in twelve back to back laps on climbs that were liberally coated with chalk. Suggesting this place has seen a bit of action recently, but today at this early hour I was alone:
Despite it feeling pretty humid, to the point sweat dripped down my face, my chalk bag stayed in my rucksack. I may have been getting hot in part due to moving fairly fast, and was wrapped up in less than two hours. The whole time I was watched the swell, at times it looked fine and then a set would come in making me wonder. Checking my phone Lisa had sent me a few pictures of our local beach, saying it was complete clear and would be great for snorkelling today. Decision made and I left, as the temperatures were reaching the mid twenties. Just a few kilometres from home the bing bing noise and a little red light came on. Damn:
While I was not driving today, I asked Craig if it would be silly to aim to get to the carpark at first light. He replied “yes it would be silly, but let’s do it anyway”. Working shifts he is used to waking up, and going to bed, at all sorts of weird hours. Plus an early start was more inviting, due to the forecast of a hot day in the high thirties. Setting the alarm for 3:30 was forgotten and forgiven when the sky lit up, as we approached the crag. In view that he doesn’t get out too much, I asked Craig where he’d like to head:
Moses Rocks was his choice, the friendly crag. His reasoning was however somewhat swayed by the unfinished business I mentioned in my post of my last climb with Rongy in the south west https://sandbagged.blog/2023/12/28/placed-on-hold/. It was indeed the last climb here, and Rongy and Sarah finally hit the road soon after New Years and are now somewhere over east. Seeing we were back at Rumpoles Rocks and Rongy and I had climbed every route here last time, I handed Craig the rope and left him to pick a line:
We warmed up on a couple of fun lines, nothing too serious to start with. Although the conditions were not as good as my last visit. The rock had a coating of salt spray making the rock feel a little greasy, and the air hung heavy with humidity despite the early hour. It did make me wonder how the unfinished business would feel, not that I had to worry too much about it myself. When after my warm up lead I again handed the rope to Craig and offered him the opportunity to bag the first ascent:
The route may be deemed a little contrived. It goes up a wall between two existing climbs that use more obvious crack systems. This route is climbed without using the cracks, even though they are tantalisingly. Especially at the two crux sections. The first being a very delicate slab that had Craig foxed for a while. The second being the first rooflet that despite several attempts had him completely stumped. If he’d studied the images in the above linked post, it may have provided him with the all-important beta. Climbing speak for information:
He came back down, happy to have given it a red hot go. After cleaning the gear from the potential new climb, it was my turn. Despite the less than ideal conditions it, not I, fell reasonably easily. And we have once again added another fun puzzle of a climb at this crag, which we called Off the Rails. So named because you need to avoid using the obvious track/cracks that the two lines either side take. While it may seem harder for someone trying to climb it on-sight, with no beta, we decided to grade it 17 (HVS 5a):
This was in keeping with the grading of some of the other climbs here. They really do feel like those little brain teasing puzzles, with two or more pieces that can be so damn hard to separate. I’m pretty good at them, but I do have one sat on my desk that Elseya bought me a year or two back that I still haven’t solved. And yes I threw away the answer that came with it, so I couldn’t cheat. As is usually the case, Craig came armed with a flask of tea. So a cuppa was poured and allowed to cool, while he tackled another line at Rumpoles Rocks:
Upon bagging another fun line, one that was easier to read and not having secret tricks needing to be solved to unlock the sequence required to get up, we supped our welcome teas before moving across to Hands Up Wall. Here, as the temperature was rising and the greasiness seemed to get worse, we picked another four fun routes. On the penultimate climb, my fourth lead, the humidity was wearing me down. And despite my grin, I found myself pulling harder than necessary on every hold. A sure sign I was ready to call it a wrap:
Having already lead almost four routes, due to his oh so close success on the new route, it wasn’t too hard to convince Craig to finish the session on the classic of the crag. But not before we poured yet another brew, and let that cool so it was ready to drink as we sorted the gear when we got down. It may seem strange to be having a cuppa on a hot day, but research has shown that a hot drink on a hot day can aid your body to cool down. As long as you are not already sweating, something we did a fair bit of as we walk out:
With a full moon looming tonight, when the gravitational pull of both the sun and moon gang up on us, the tides have been gradually getting bigger. To be fair the tidal range doesn’t change all that much where we are, but with a lower than normal low tide much of the reef was poking above the waterline. Sadly the winds have been whipping up each afternoon. Therefore, while the water looked flat and the sun didn’t have to contend with a single cloud in the sky, the visibility wasn’t wonderful:
This post will include images from two trips out that way. During the initial swim out I came across a few reasonable schools of Western Striped Grunter (Helotes octolineatus), Grey Drummer (Kyphosus bigibbus), and Australian Herring (Arripis georgianus). But once out at the bommies, caves, and ledges, life on the reef became relatively quiet. I was however happy to see a Southern Garfish (Hyporhamphus melanochir), even if it was a single fish. this fish that can often be seen swimming just under the surface, where it is catches insects:
I also spotted a sandy area littered with egg sacs from Lugworms (Arenicola marina). The worms themselves have alluded me, but their casts are always evident. They create U shaped borrows by sucking sand in through their mouth and excreting it out in the form of cast. So like Sea Cucumbers they vacuum the sea bed and help to maintain a healthy ecosystem. From these borrows the female Lugworms will also create these balloon like jelly sacs, which becomes a nursery for her fertilised eggs. The bags are attached at one end so sway about with the swell:
Another find on the sandy bed was this Cone Shell. Globally there are approx. 600 species, with a quarter of them being found in Australian waters. It is a shame I didn’t get a better image, but the pattern looks akin to Geography Cone (Conus geographus). Found widely in the waters round northern Australia, and as afar down the west coast as approx. Geraldton. Although with warming temperatures it could possibly have made its way further down. Regardless of which one I found it was wise to steer clear of it, as their sting can be fatal:
With the full moon tonight the low tide had crept as low as it would go before it once again commences its upward journey. Sadly the wind was blowing a hooley yesterday afternoon. Lisa advised me that there were ‘proper’ waves off Peppy Beach when she and her fellow plungers went for an early evening dip. In addition as I walked out in the morning the banks of clouds were out to sea, with their wispy edges fingering their way towards the sun. Despite a potentially sediment ladened water column and limited light I kept walking:
My destination being a part of the reef where the bommies were taller, standing above the seabed five to six meter down. As the strength of the sun fluctuated in response to the movement of the clouds, my vision was not always able to penetrate the water to the side and also below me. It would have been enough to put most people off. However, like when I climb you need to be able to control your fear or miss out. Not that there was a whole heap to miss out on today:
In-between diving down to check ledges and caves, a few of the familiar fish I see dart about in the kelp covering the bommies kept me occupied. The kelp forests of the southwest is extremely important to the ecosystem of our local waters. Providing the main food source for the marine food web, but also an important habitat for many species of both fish and marine animals. Such a great habitat that it can be near impossible to see what lies beneath, so I have to be quick to take a snap when a fish pops it head up:
Two images above is Herring Cale (Olisthops cyanomelas), with a nice close up showing the a brown body and blue dots making me think this fish may be transitioning from being a female to a male. And above another nice close up of what I believe to be a juvenile Castelnau’s Wrasse (Dotalabrus aurantiacus). The bright green with black flecks hinting I could be right. The last image is of a Bigscale Bullseye (Pempheris multiradiata), one I could easily creep up on to get the image, as it has either had a scuffle or has been infected such that it has lost sight in one eye:
In theory I would have arrived back on dry land yesterday, after sailing in the Bass Strait and climbing on Deal Island. Instead I’m still, surprisingly, enjoying three weeks off work while staying at home. With no trips planned or taken other than some local jaunts. Lisa is equally bemused by my lack of tetchiness and hankering to get outdoors and do stuff, and both she and I were concerned this may have been an issue. It has helped that I have had the occasional mornings out on rock, and also that the conditions have been reasonable for frequent snorkels. I have also used the time at home to reset my indoor climbing wall:
It seems that resetting my wall occurs by default approx. every three years. Within half an hour placing the last hold, Lisa’s Facebook sent her a “memory” from six years back to the day. Which was when my wall was first completed and ready for a climb, although the second resetting project was not exactly three years in, it wasn’t too far off. Doing it myself this time was a mammoth fifteen plus hour task. I had split the task over quite a few early mornings, before the shed heated up like an oven. Mornings selected based on whether the water conditions were inviting me in or not. The water has been inviting some mornings, although it has at times also been deceptive:
The first two images are the only ones I have kept from my near hour long swim off the beach from the Capel River mouth. The water looked reasonable but a combination of wind, swell, and cloud made it not so great. The first picture is of Finger Zoanthid (Zoanthus praelongus), which for some reason reminds me of a fictional creature in the 2005 King Kong film. They were giant slugs, called Carnictis, but the mouth looks very vaguely like the Finger Zoanthid when its tentacles are out. This generally occurs at night, when they draw in plankton and particulate matter from the water column. Some Zoanthid species have however, like Carnictis, been observed to eat meaty foods for example krill and bloodworms:
The second image was of a Troughtons seastar (Pseudonepanthia troughtoni), easily identified by the skin texture and colour. One that is endemic to the coastline of southern Australia and Tasmania, but I can find very little information about it. Although the Museum of Victoria claims it is rarely seen and little is known of its biology. The image above and the next two are from a different swim this time off our local beach. Lisa later advised me I was in the water when a 1.5m unidentified shark was observed swimming northward along our beach. I wonder if that is why the Rescue Helicopter was flying as low and slow as it was, but sadly I didn’t see the shark. I did however see theses European Fan Worm (Sabella spallanzani):
It has many different common names, and as the name I have used suggests it is an invasive species. Being first observed in Albany in 1965. Probably brought in on the hull of ships, and having now spread round much of the southern coast and also up the west and east coast. Based on molecular data, research indicates the spread of the species along the Australian coast all originated from that single introduction in Western Australia. On the plus side there do not seem to be any impacts, other than possibly interfering with nutrient cycles where dense colonies exists. However, as I have alluded to enough times we manage to interfere to a far greater extent when it comes to nutrient cycles both in waterways and the ocean:
To the left of the above image is Red-mouthed Ascidian (Herdmania grandis). My reason for including the image, was because Dan had read up on these creature after reading a past post of mine, and found out that they eat their own brain. This is not entirely true. To reproduce they release sperm and eggs into the water, and fertilised eggs then become a larvae that resembles a tadpole. The wriggling movement of this larvae is controlled by the cerebral ganglion, which forms a basic brain. As the adult is a sessile creature, attaching to a substrata, the “brain” becomes redundant when the larvae transforms into its adult form. As such the brain along with other body parts are absorbed, so it is kind of eaten:
The above and next few mages are from a far more successful snorkel that was past “The Point”. To get here it is a short one kilometre plus walk from the River Mouth carpark, and a place I should go to more regularly. With way more intact reef and as such far more places to explore. Where I went in the reef was approx. 200m out and the water swimming out was murky, but once at the reef things cleared up nicely. On the way out I spotted yet another Flathead, of which there are some sixty odd species in Western Australia. This one being the Southern Bluespotted Flathead (Platycephalus speculator):
I’ve not included the best image, which was just before it decided to get away from me. But this image does however clearly show the black spots surrounded by white on the caudal fins, as well as the dusky brown blotches on the pelvic and caudal fins. Which is how I was able to identify this species with confidence, but not without a fair bit of checking out the different species. My next sight was another Cobbler Wobbegong (Sutorectus tentaculatus), but much smaller than the adult I recently spotted. They tend to sleep during the day. But this one did not have a very secure position, and the swell was pushing it about. I watched as it was tumbled over the reef and eventually found a place under the weed to rest up:
With heaps of places to dive down too, I didn’t find any other big fish resting up for the day. But did enjoy checking out the Zimmers Sea Fan (Mopsella Zimmeri), which can be found in various colours of red, yellow, white and orange. This coral creates a rigid and flat fan shape, that resembles a tree and can be as big as one and half meters tall. These were sadly tiny in comparison. The polyps, which are the living part of the coral, create the structure by secreting a calcareous sclerites. A fancy name for plates that form an exoskeleton. The polyps then live in this structure and pop out from the branches, extending their eight tentacles into the water to capture zooplankton:
The polyps can be seen sticking out all along the branches in the above image, looking like leaves on a tree. During this dive I was lucky to spot two Blackspotted Catshark (Aulohalaelurus labiosus) on separate occasions. There twenty to thirty species of Catshark in Western Australia, but this is the only species I have been lucky enough to come across. Being an endemic species to the south-western Western Australia it is a nocturnal fish, so I was lucky to see them out and about and took this video as one of them swam below me. They do not grow too big only reaching a couple of feet in length, so this one with be an adult:
The last image is from another not so great dive off our local beach, of a white sea anemone that I have not identified with a small crab lurking in the background. The reason for including one more image is however to allow me room in this post to confess that I had incorrectly identified the large mollusc I recently saw. It was not a Giant Triton (Charonia tritonis), but a Giant Conch (Syrinx aruanus). The former having a pattern on the mustard yellow foot, and the latter not. It did mean that I had found what is reported as being the world’s largest living snail reaching close to a meter in length. But it does not feed on Crown-of-Thorns Starfish but polychaete tube worms:
The upside of not having gone over east is that I got to head out with Mikey and Howsie, on their last climb before Mikey and his family were to head back. You may be forgiven in thinking that we had camped out at Wilyabrup to get a truly early start, but that was not the case. While there were no climbers about at our relatively tardy arrival time of 6:30, a full hour after the sun had come up, a couple were camping at the base of the crag. Smack bang in the middle of the path making it hard to avoid walking right past as they lay in slumber:
Today we were joined by Peter. Peter who, you may ask and for good reason as he hasn’t copped a mention in my posts until now. March last year was when I last managed to get Sam from work out for a climb, and another trip out with him is long overdue. I digress but before I continue and just to encourage Sam back out he may want to revisit that day https://sandbagged.blog/2023/03/25/hidden-delights/. In the linked post I mentioned a couple of climbers who were ascending Hope, while I was belaying Sam who was leading the second pitch of Sirius:
And as I do, and with such a good vantage point I took a few images of them and then offered to send them a copy. Well that was Peter, who was climbing with a mate over on holiday from the UK called Fred. Both of them had an additional decade or more of climbing under their belt than I do; a love for traditional climbing; and knowledge of some of the crags I used to visit back in the homelands. As such we had a good ole yarn. This week Peter happened to be back in the area, escaping the hustle and bustle of Perth, and had reached out to see if I was keen to get out:
Today offered the ideal opportunity, although when I told Peter our arrival time he remarked that it was an early start. Which I had to have a laugh about. When I finally get my car sorted and I can be the lift giver, the start times may well resume back to earlier starts. As it was I had scrounged a lift off Howsie and Mikey today, and during the drive down they said they had already talked about going a bit harder today. Making me doubly happy to have arranged for Peter to join us, which I thought may have allowed me to enjoy a few more mellow lines:
It certainly started that way and after I had worked my marketing skills, as Mikey described them, he started on Golden Buttress. A very exposed climb with a couple of very out there positions, as shown in the second image. This probably makes it a mean one to get someone to lead to kick the morning off. It is however one of the best here. Something he agreed with after climbing it. Peter and I climbed the more relaxed Road Trip and then Hitching. The latter giving Peter some delicate and exposed climbing shown in the third image:
While Peter has climbed here a heap of times, he had not been on the first two lines we hit so it was great to allow him to jump on something new. When we were coming down off our second route we found Howsie was starting up one of lines he had been really keen to complete last year, being 2023. It was his third attempt on Washed up Punks, and as he crept up the wall Peter mentioned he was keen to jump on Mobjob. While three grades easier than what Howsie was tackling, this route has a bit of a reputation and is in fact quite physical. Especially at the start as shown two images above. I’m not one to dissuade people, so went along with it:
Wondering however if I may be being a bit silly. We left Howsie to it and as luck had it Mick arrived at the crag to prepare for a pretty big day with four consecutive groups booked in. He had allowed plenty of time to set up, so sat and watched Howsie get a magnificent clean ascent. As such the picture with the backdrop of the calm ocean two images back is courtesy of Mick. Meanwhile, Peter managed the first pitch clean and on second I found it quite reasonable. And to boot not even a hint of a twinge from my shoulder. Although, it has to be said having a rope above does help to make you more relaxed even when it gets tough:
I topped out on the second pitch of Mobjob, up the fine and much easier corner. Again two images up. Peter followed up just as Mikey and Howsie appeared at the base ready to start the first pitch. In all the years I have climbed here I have never seen a queue for this route, and probably won’t again. And while they jumped on the route we had just climbed, Peter then said he would be keen to give Washed up Punks a go. Any thoughts I had of a more mellow day becoming an even more distant memory, but I was more than happy to climb it with the rope above me. Peter’s idea was however put to bed, as the abseil lines Mick had now set up crossed over the line at several points:
Instead he plumped for Stainless Steel, another route that commands respect. And one that only required us to navigate the two abseil lines for a short period at the start of the climb as shown above. Something we chatted to Mick about so he was aware and comfortable with what we were doing. By the time I got to the roof my forearms were feeling it, making me grunt up the last physical move much to Mick’s entertainment. Meanwhile, Howsie and Mikey had only just finished the first pitch and were now getting ready but not for the easier corner I had climbed. They had their sights set on the face to the left, being Howsie’s first 24 for 2024:
While they took turns at taking whippers and eventually climbing out up the corner, I went up the Unbolted and the Beautiful. Another line that Peter was not familiar with. And one that made him think, along with his experiences at Smiths Beach, that routes I had establish and graded may have a greater tendency to be sandbags. Not that this line presented him with any problems. During our chats I found out he was one of Mario’s ‘partners in climb’. Then later that day when I told Mario I had been out with Peter, and his first response was that he was a strong climber. And hopefully one that I get the chance to climb with again:
Despite seeing the New Year in, my body clock wouldn’t allow a lie in. So bright and early Lisa was off for a walk with the poodles and I went for a dip at my usual spot. In contrast to yesterday’s hustle and bustle on the shore and in the water off Castle Rock beach, our beach was practically deserted. A school of Weeping Toadfish (Torquigener pleurogramma) escorted me from the sand and over the reef. After wondering whether I see many fish from different orders, these are from the Tetraodontiformes order:
The common name for this order being puffer fishes, some of which are poisonous. This includes the Weeping Toadfish and it is not a fish to be eaten by humans or pets. Like our beach the water was relatively quiet, and I didn’t see too much that was out of the ordinary. Although during one of my descents to the sea floor, I spotted the creature below that was an inch and a half long at the most. I wondered if it was a limb that had been detached from a sea star, but the shape does not look right. It may be a Bristle Worm (Polychaetes):
The images I got simply were not good enough to conclusively identify it, and there are no obvious matches from my searches online. My pictures of the following ray were however good enough for me to work out that this was a Sparsely-spotted Stingaree (Urolophus paucimaculatus). In the image below it has a light coating of sand over it, but watching it glide away the dark edging round the tail fin was evident. They are all along southern Australia but the populations in the west do not usually display the spots from which it gets it name:
Today came in a bit cloudy, which meant the visibility could be a bit rubbish. As such I headed to Wave Walk, where the reef comes in close to the shoreline and the water is shallow. My theory being that with reduced light I’d still be able to see OK. Unfortunately while the swell was slight, it seemed to be enough to mobilise the sand and it really wasn’t much cop. But once in there was no point in getting straight out and I scoured the reef, where I literally bumped into huge pockets of Comb Jellies (Ctenophores):
These do not have stingers, but some species are still voracious predators. Preying on other jellies, with some comb jellies able to expand their stomachs to half their size to enable them to absorb their prey. I was about to head back in when during my last intended duck dive I spotted another flathead. Thinking it was probably the same species as the one I found off the river mouth beach. However, the dark band, a bit like war paint, across the eyes had me wondering. And it was different being a Longhead Flathead (Leviprora inops):
I popped my head up to see which way the beach was. Being a little disoriented due to it being pretty murky, so much so that it was hard to see what was below me or indeed what may be off to the side. A couple were standing on the beach looking out, directly towards me. So I did a quick 360 degree scan and saw a fin pop up just a few meters away. I watched it and no caudal (tail) fin followed the dorsal fin. That told me it was likely to be a dolphin, as their caudal fin is horizontal. So I started to breathe easy again:
Despite being really close and getting a great view of the Bottlenose Dolphin (Tursiops aduncus) and it’s calf, this was the best image I could get. The two of them went up and down in unison, like synchronised swimmers. Circling round me but not making any obvious moves to swim away. Eventually they started along the coast and even though they were swimming at what looked to be a very leisurely I had no hope of keeping up. Soon enough they were out of sight and I was alone again in the gloomy water:
So I thought. In trying to swim after the dolphins I had gone out a bit deeper and the water looked to clear up. Enough to see the seabed where I spied another ray. The markings had me intrigued and sure enough it was yet another species being a Masked Stingaree (Trygonoptera personata). Unlike the Sparsely-spotted Stingaree this one had its namesake markings over the eyes, with another dark mark centred on the disc. It is also endemic to Southwestern Australia between, with Geographe Bay being its most southerly range:
With renewed enthusiasm I checked out the reef, which was further out but started to shallow. I spotted more fish all too quick for me take any images, so I just watched them including what I though may have been a spectacular Senator Wrasse (Pictilabrus laticlavius). Sadly I have no evidence, so instead here is an image of yet another near full size one meter long Dusky Morwong (Dactylophora nigricans). These fish have been reported to get used to humans to the point they will let you get quite close, which this one certainly did much to my delight:
One last find to report, and another slow moving one that allowed me to go down and take lots of images. I was drawn by the large shell, from which a yellow foot of a mollusc came out. Attached to the upper surface of the foot the operculum was clearly visible. A bit like a trapdoor used to full seal it’s protective house when the mollusc retracts inside the shell. The shell had a bit of an ecosystem living on it. Various weeds growing out of detritus stuck on the shell, and a Six-armed Cushion Star (Meridiastra gunnii) hitching a ride. Based on the shell shape this looked to be a Giant Triton Snail (Charonia tritonis), one of the largest marine snails reaching up to two feet in length:
This one was probably half that size, but a great find. The unseen shell has a beautiful pattern and was highly sought after, to the point the snail became rare and endangered so it is now protected. These snails feed on Crown-of-Thorns Starfish (Acanthaster planci), which are a naturally found species on the great barrier reef but can kill ninety percent of the reef they live on. As such a Giant Triton Snail breading program was initiated for the great barrier reef. In the hope it would keep in check the number of Crown-of-Thorns Starfish, and the impact they were having on an already struggling coral reef, by increasing the numbers of this protector of the reef. I’ve since worked out that this was a Giant Conch (Syrinx aruanus), but I liked the facts I found out above so haven’t changed them:
Josh was keen to get to Castle Rock, in part so a mate of his who lived relatively close could join us. One day this elusive friend of his will join us but today was not that day, and not for the first time he bailed. This of course did not stop us having a great morning, nor Kellie who joined us but also didn’t join us. While we played on rock she headed off for a ‘short’ thirteen kilometre run and then did a few laps up and down the bay in a kayak. While we decided what to do Josh’s memory was playing games, and mine was also a little hazy on the facts:
He could not recall playing on what is described in the guide as ‘a number of fun 6m chimneys and jamming cracks, some of which you need to traverse out over the water to get into. None are harder than grade 14’. With a low tide and very few of the mass of flies that often lurk in these cracks we played on for of the lines they offered. I had a bit of a blank and for some reason felt they were in the grade 6 to 8 range, but that was certainly not the case and it was also not true that Josh had not climbed any of them:
Here is the proof https://sandbagged.blog/2022/07/05/waving-goodbye/, although back then we only managed to access one. Even that was not from the ground but by stepping in from a boulder due to the higher tide. So missed the tricky start. I have encouraged a few people to have a go at climbing these lines, and nearly everyone I have record of trusting my suggestions didn’t enjoy them. Rounded holds, slick rock, tight squeezes and all up quite physical and at times insecure climbing. Sounds delightful, but it is not everyone cup of tea:
Today we lapped them up, at only 6m high they are short but they felt like they packed a punch and we could feel our bodies working hard. On my side, being that this style of climbing didn’t require the big overhead movements, I didn’t aggravate my shoulder. I do not make New Year’s resolutions, but have made a commitment to do some proper shoulder rehabilitation this year. And reading up on the way to manage a SLAP (Superior Labrum from Anterior to Posterior) tear, they say not to stop everything:
It is about climbing smarter to avoid movements that are not favourable, or at least not doing them too often. This is a good thing as I am sure I’d get a tad irritable and cranky if I couldn’t go climbing. After leading for the first four routes I was happy when Josh said he was keen to have a lead. It meant hitting a couple of easier and more sedate lines, which I was not going to complain about. He racked up one repeat and one new lead, and for the first time ever set up the top belay anchors without a watchful eye guiding him:
In my usual way, while I could see he was a bit nervous I encouraged him to give each climb a go and then to keep going when his mind started to play games. I tend to forget Josh does not get out too much, in fact he didn’t even hit is target of a climb each month this year. And in addition he leads less frequently than that, so all things considered he did really well today. Even more so after having drained a lot of mental and physical energy on the first four lines. In part due to the building heat we were both happy to call it:
The winds were fresh and whipping along the coast line from the south. This was great to help cool us down while we were climbing in the sun, but it was chopping up the water. Still it looked pretty clear, so before we wrapped things up we went in for a dip. As soon as we were underwater we were surrounded by thousands of juvenile fish, often called fingerling. The water swept over the rocks filling the water with bubbles adding the sight. The waves were being driven by the winds and not a swell, so it felt quite comfortable bobbing about:
It even felt like it wasn’t going to push us against the rocks, as I followed fish here and there. This was fortunate for another reason. Being New Year’s Eve the bay was full of boats and jet skis, whose wash added to the chop from the wind. So venturing too far out was likely to be perilous. The people in control of the vessels were highly unlikely to be observant enough to spot us. The whine of engines and propellers became background noise, unlike when there is only one vessel which makes you pop your head up to check there the danger lies:
My focus was squarely on the fish, with such an abundance of species. Above are Stripey (Microcanthus strigatus) with the common name and scientific name coming from the pattern, with the Latin word strigatus meaning furrowed, grooved, or strigate. The latter word meaning ‘streaked with different colours’, something I had to look up. Below are Grey Drummer (Kyphosus bigibbus), not to be confused with Silver Drummer (Kyphosus sydneyanus). Distinguishable by the clear small black spot below the pectoral-fin base:
I was not trying to take photos of the Grey Drummer. It was a single and small wrasse that I liked, only just visible in the bottom right of the image and quick to hide in the weed. I believe it is a Castelnau’s Wrasse (Dotalabrus aurantiacus), a fish of many names including Castelnau’s Parrotfish, Ornate Wrasse, Pretty Dolly, and Pretty Polly. All the fish I have mentioned, including the below Zebrafish (Girella zebra), with a McCulloch’s Scalyfin (Parma mccullochi) sneaking in to photobomb the image on the left, are in the order of Perciformes:
This order includes about forty percent of all bony fish, and is the largest and most diverse group of fish. Making me wonder what fish, if any, I see that are from a different order. But I’ll end this post with one sighting that is definitely from a different order, being Myliobatiformes, which comprises rays from eight families. This one being a Southern Eagle Ray (Myliobatis tenuicaudatus), which I daren’t follow out into the bay in case I drifted into the path of boat or jet ski. So I continued to hug the rocks: