Surrounded

Still trying to be sensible, I passed up a chance of scaling the stiff and technical granite walls at Welly Dam for a second weekend.  Hoping instead the ocean conditions would be in my favour, however Saturday morning came in a bit breezy.  Good enough for Lisa’s bob but sadly too choppy to contemplate a snorkel.  With a forced day of relative rest, I contemplated how long I can be sensible for.  Lisa deepening my thinking about this, when she told me how she’s been researching differing thoughts on the best way to recover from and manage injuries:

There is a view that you should not stop your usual form of exercise completely, but back off the intensity and ease up the frequency.  Funnily enough my physio had advised against climbing just yet.  Although, as I wrote to Tomski today, my compulsive and obsessive climbing disorder had been acknowledged. Resulting in a similar approach with gentle routes been accepted.  I did not head out today, admittedly because those I touched base with late yesterday were not available, but I’ve certainly got plans brewing for some low grade fun:

I did however have a swim with the fish today.  Overnight the wind reduced to a mere tickle, the swell dropped, low tide hit the right time, and as a result I was greeted with flatness as I looked out.  So inviting I decided to walk out past the Capel River mouth where the reef is way better.  Wandering along several cars were already parked up.  Not so many that I wouldn’t find a quiet bay.  The traffic will undoubtedly intensify significantly after Christmas when droves of holiday makers descend, and then it will be trickier to find a spot away from people:

Along the way small gelatinous blobs were on the sand, and could mean only one thing.  It is the time of year when the South Western Stingers (Carybdea xaymacana) come in.  Today I saw very few in the water and only near the shore, but just like holiday makers it won’t take long before more arrive.  My entry point today was an unoccupied bay.  Here the tops of the reef poked out above today’s low tide mark, providing a perch for many a bird.  Including several Australian Pelicans (Pelecanus conspicillatus) who kept a wary distance from me:

The water felt warm and once a bit away from the beach, there was good visibility.  Schools of Australian Herring (Arripis georgiana) were immediately evident.  Like the Australian Pelicans treating me with caution, and parting as I swam towards them.  Leaving them be, my first image of living marine life is a very well camouflaged Eleven-Legged Sea Star (Coscinasterias muricata).  Some people kill these, mistaking these important native creatures for the highly invasive and very different looking Crown of Thorns Starfish (Genus Acanthaster):

The Crown of Thorns Starfish is however found in tropical and subtropical regions, and is not present in our part of the ocean.  Not being able to correctly identifying an Eleven-Legged Sea Star which, in my opinion is very distinctive, seems strange.  While I feel I could be forgiven for not correctly identifying the small marine gastropod mollusc in the next image.  It is highly likely to be one of the Dove Snails in the Columbellidae family, and based on the shell size and shape I’m even game to suggest it may be a Dotted Dove Shell (Euplica scripta):

If you look closely you’ll see it’s inhalant siphon.  The low number of only three commonly found Euplica species in this area assisted me.  What did not is the Crustose Coralline Algae (CCA) that has coated the shell.  Concealing the pattern that would normally be used to aid the identification.  CCA is a rock-hard calcareous red or pink algae that forms on reefs and shells.  For reefs if can assist in providing stability to the reef structure, and has a secondary benefit of being the perfect surface for the larval stage of many benthic organisms:

It also aids shells, making them less attractive to collectors.  The chemicals needed to remove the calcareous algal, also risks dissolving and damaging the shell.  Next up the only ray I saw, a Southern Eagle Ray (Myliobatis tenuicaudatus).  Minus its tail, which is sadly a common sight along southern Australia and I’ve seen a few.  The most common reason is anglers who cut off the tail to prevent being stung by the venomous barb.  The tail has a large vein in it, and this unnecessary action can result in fatal blood loss.  The tail is also of course it’s primary defence:

Onto brighter things with a solitary Moonlighter (Tilodon sexfasciatus).  More commonly seen in pairs when they are adults, as this one is.  With the ocelli, or false eye-spot, that juveniles display no longer present.  Now only showing the six dark bands that relate to the species name, with the Latin words sex and fasciatus meaning six and banded.  Over an hour later I came out.  Then walking back it looked so inviting I went in again.  Rewarded with another reef to explore with more fish and the above Pustulose Wart Slug (Phyllidiella pustulosa):

Classified as a nudibranch, despite not having the distinctive feather-like plume of gills protruding from its back.  Only a few nudibranch genera do not breathe using external gills, this particular genus is one.  Using leaflets between the mantle and foot to breathe.  Feeling like I was ready to get out, for the second time, as I headed to the shore as the swell was picking up just enough to murky up the water.  Not so much that I wasn’t able to enjoy being surrounded yet again by shoals of Australian Herring:

The wild west

This was an on again off again weekend away, and that was several times over.  In part because it is getting to silly season, and places are booking up rapidly.  We were however keen for a night away, and eventually found a spot to our liking.  With a stinker of a weekend, predicated to be in the mid-thirties, it was never going to be a trip with walks.  More so a stint away of mostly slobbing; or more politely said, relaxing and recharging.  A good choice as on the way home today, as we dove through Busselton, the car hinted it tipped over forty:

Saturday afternoon was filled with a nice lunch and dinner out, plus games of course.  Interspersed with a bit of tellie to watch a dreadful Christmas film or two, as we quite literally chilled out in the cool of the room we had booked.  There will be no Instagram style images of food and alike here.  So the pictures in this post dive straight into Sunday morning.  When, wanting to make the most of being away, after a much later started than we would normally have at home we made the short drive to the White Elephant Café at Gnarabup:

We’ve only been here once before, and really liked the place.  It overlooks a very inviting and protected bay that includes a good looking reef.  While I have harked on about water quality taking forever to come good off our local beach.  I have been aware that the waters off other beaches being pretty good, due to differing bed materials that settled out much quicker.  It just feels a tad wasteful to drive for a few hours, just for an hour in the water.  That said today we were already here and after yesterday’s great snorkel I was busting to get in the water:

For various reasons Lisa was not so keen.  Fortunately for me the café has good coffee and a vista that she could happily watch for hours, so she told me to go in.  The beach was way busier than what we are used to back home, but once under the water the crowds who stuck close to shore were a distant memory.  Not far out I came across a Southern Eagle Ray (Myliobatis tenuicaudatus) heading in the opposite direction.  Most times I see these they try to swim away, this one however cruised right past me not even bothering to speed up:

Like the Southern Eagle Ray I too slowly carried on.  Making my way out, past the limestone pillars sticking out of the water, and then disappearing from Lisa’s sight round the headland.  The reef was as good as it looked from the café.  Lots of shelves and caves to explore.  Not wasting the opportunity, I checked out quite a few of them but found surprisingly little.  The fish life was way less than yesterday’s dive back at Peppy Beach, although the change in ground and a bit of a different makeup of marine vegetation made up for it:

The reef is made up of limestone, and I noticed that the vertical walls were mostly clear of weed.  Being covered with limpets and what I believe are Giant Chiton (Plaxiphora albida).  There are around 1,000 worldwide and about 150 species in Australia, many being endemic, so I cannot be completely sure.  They are a kind of mollusc, protected by a ‘coat-of-mail’ shell with eight segments.  Described as a primitive animal that is believed to have been about well before the dinosaurs, with fossils found dating back 500 million years:

On the way back in, my slow and meticulous scouring of the weed paid off.  I thought I had come across a collection of eggs, it is however a Wandering Sea Anemone (Phlyctenactis tuberculosa).  These anemones do not anchor themselves to a spot, and are described to ‘wander the ocean like an underwater tumbleweed’.  It’s bubble-like sacks can come in a range of colours from brownish orange, mauve, light grey to brown in colour.  If you look closely these ones also display a stripy pattern.  During the day they are bundled together:

When night time comes in, it can detach its basal disc from wherever it has rested during the day so it can become mobile.  It is even able to move along the seabed using its disc to creep along.  Liking to find a high point where it will unfurl from the daytime spherical shape into a tube.  This allows the stinging tentacles to face out and collect food.  This singular find more than making up for the lack of fish today.  Although I’ll finish with a King George Whiting (Sillaginodes punctatus), found right on the shoreline not at all worried about the crowds:

School’s Out

Having mentioned just a week or two back that the water conditions have been pretty awful, I really hoped that would soon change.  Being in need of another activity to fill my outdoor time.  To both provide the opportunity to see, and share the wonders of nature.  It’s finally hotting up, to the point that a wander in the bush is getting uncomfortable.  I do have a limit on how dedicated I am with orchid hunting.  It is getting to the point for me that it is not worth getting hot and bothered for what little chance of reward there may be:

In addition I omitted to mention that when Josh, Howsie, and I headed to Moses Rocks last weekend I unintentionally shock loaded my right forearm.  This sent me a bit of warning that something wasn’t right.  Truth be told, I have been in denial for several months now.  That’s changed having had two trips to the physio last week, with quite a few more to come.  It seems the injuries from back in May were never properly tended.  They will be properly dealt with this time, which I’ve been told is likely going to be a six month process:

That doesn’t mean I have to stop climbing, but I do need to ease off and even passed up a chance to head out on Friday morning.  Yesterday evening Lisa and I wandered down to the beach to give the poodle’s legs a stretch, and watch the sun go down.  The haze of the smoke from controlled burn-offs hung low on the horizon, making for a specky sunset.  The water still looked a little murky but with the swell dropping overnight I decided I would give it a go.  My first dip in the ocean this year, which I think is the latest start of all my snorkel seasons:

This morning Lisa went to the beach ahead of me.  The Saturday bob starts at 7am, which is a bit early to get in the water.  Mostly because the sun isn’t quite high enough in the sky to assist with the visibility once under the surface.  Even more so when the water looks a little cloudy.  It was not the image of the coast she sent me, to provide an indication of the conditions, but the mention of dolphins being about that urged me to head down not long afterwards.  Once down and standing at the water’s edge, I felt that I could be in luck:

Scanning the water’s surface, there was not a dolphin in sight.  No matter.  For the first dip, whatever I got to see would be a bonus.  It felt lush being back in the water, even though it wasn’t super clear.  The usual solitary suspects were about, watching me with caution.  Not long after a school of Western Striped Grunters (Helotes octolineatus) began to circle me.  These fish live in nearshore or estuarine seagrass meadows for the first year, and then migrate to deeper coastal waters.  It was not till I got home I noticed they had a friend:

If you check the third image you may spot a single Yelloweye Mullet (Aldrichetta forsteri), hidden amongst the Western Striped Grunters.  The big googly eye, along with the body shape and patterning makes me think I have the right identification.  A popular angling fish, they are the most common mullet in southern Australia and like similar environments to the Western Striped Grunters.  Shortly after I came across a massive ball of baitfish.  The low sun and fine particles in the water column meant the image does not give the sight justice:

As drifted further out a third schooling species appeared and followed me for a bit.  I think they are Silver Trevally (Pseudocaranx georgianus), another species that moves to deeper waters as they mature.  If I am right with the identification these are likely to be sub-adults because for the first 3 to 4 years, of their 20 plus year lifespan, they have a yellow mid-lateral stripe.  And this was absent from the ones I saw.  While the bright orange of the above Vermillion Seastar (Pentagonaster duebeni) was however impossible to miss:

On occasion I heard the distant sound of dolphins.  Popping my head up to look about there were no signs of them, but I did spot a Pied Cormorant (Phalacrocorax varius).  Trying to evade me, it’s feather had taken on too much water after diving for food to allow it to fly away.  As it paddled furiously I let it be, making my way back to shore.  The murky shallows meant that even with images it hard to tell if this was a Masked Stingaree (Trygonoptera personata) or Striped Stingaree (Trygonoptera ovalis).  Then I head the dolphins, they were close:

Looking up and scanning the water I saw a fin.  Then two, three, four, and more.  Being some hundred meters away I felt if I swam towards them they would be gone when I arrived.  Risking it anyway I found myself surrounded by a pod of twelve or more, young and old.  It was absolute bliss, watching Indo-Pacific Bottlenose Dolphins (Tursiops aduncus) gracefully move about while absorbing their whistles and clicks.  Next week school’s out, which means the shutdown at work is soon after.  Here’s hoping the conditions continue to improve:

I beg to differ

Josh has been absent for a while, and for good reason.  As if moving house wasn’t enough of a drain on time, he also managed to mash up his big toe in the process.  To the point the nail detached.  Hence, the thought of popping his feet into squishy climbing shoes was the last thing on his mind.  Today he decided it was time to risk it, or was it he needed some time outdoors.  This found us retracing our tracks as we headed to Moses Rocks, which is where he and I last climbed.  Howsie tagged along, assisting in leaving footprints in the untouched sand:

It’s that time that the summer tides replenish the beaches, and it was not just our tracks that were left in the recently deposited sand.  Evidence of the night time activity could be found with crab tracks being the only sign that they were here.  The tide was very low today and the swell was also relatively low, for the west coast.  A coastline that is exposed to a massive fetch of the Indian Ocean.  Being fronted by over seven thousand unobstructed kilometres of open water.  We were quietly hopefully that the zawn may be in good condition:

Before we got there, Howsie went off track to the small outcrops at the northern end.  Last time he and I were here, I once more pointed out a route of mine.  The Plough, named in honour of the many great weekends I camped at the namesake pub in Hathersage in the mid-nineties.  Hathersage being in the Peak District and home of the very bold climbing style called gritstone.  A rock known for its well textured sandstone, often bold routes made all the more bolder by having friction-dependent moves and being a trad place:

No bolts are used on gritstone, even when the trad gear is spaced, limited, or sketchy.  I feel this route possess some of these qualities, which may be why no one, to my knowledge, has led it.  I of course have, twice.  When I first put it up with Craig in 2009 and then again in 2017 with Glen, who thought I was a bit mad.  The fact that the base is often waved washed may also put people off, something that was certainly not the case today.  And that is why Howsie maybe stood there looking for long enough for me to assume today was the day:

Not having been on the lines in this part of Moses Rocks, I allowed Howsie to warm up by leading a couple of the adjacent routes.  One which I now notice we never bothered to write up, something I should fix sometime.  Josh was happy to follow on these two, and didn’t even wince when he squeezed his nail-less big toe into the climbing shoe.  However, after watching how much work it took for Howsie to find holds of any worth, and then how much gumption was needed to commit to using them, he declined to follow The Plough:

It was great to see someone finally lead the route.  I do however wonder if it was at the limits of Howsie’s acceptable psychological intensity and whether he will go back to it himself.  He was definitely keen to drop the grades, so we headed to the Zawn.  The swell only very occasionally made it into the narrow cleft, making it feel safe.  Although the walls were a tad greasy, with seepages evident here and there, making the climbing a little nervous.  As such Josh and I were happy to allow Howsie to continue to lead:

I was certainly not complaining with the opportunity to get some images from differing angles.  Being able to hop round the rocks to places allowing differing perspectives, and at times from spots that in bigger ocean conditions would not be so wise.  With this opportunity in mind I pointed Howsie to Frontpage.  Another line he has not been on before, allowing him that great experience of climbing with no idea of what is in store.  While a little greasy at the start, this one at least had big chunky holds and great gear to boot:

We stayed in the Zawn for a few more routes, including Dreamweaver below.  Another one that Howsie has unbelievably not been on before.  The start, before escaping the shade, was hideously wet and slippery.  Making me think all the extra focus and tension he chewed up would mean he’d be toast and ready to pack up.  Josh was, but Howsie was up for another.  He again struggled to recall having climbed it previously.  However, for this one unlike the other five he bagged today, I have dug through my images to prove otherwise:

Drying up

There are days you just need to take some time out, and as the year rolls towards a close it feels like they are needed just that bit more.  After half a day’s work I was out and about heading south.  Joined by Craig, who was also very grateful for a bit of time in nature, allowing us a bit of long overdue catch up time.  Our destination was Augusta, a place Lisa and I had spent an overnight getaway in December last year.  We had been thinking of repeating that trip next weekend, but the lack of available accommodation thwarted that idea:

No doubt we will think of an alternative location.  In the meantime I was still keen to drive the three hour round trip to see if a few of the later flowering orchids down this way may be out.  There were two in particular species that I am yet to find.  With only one way to see if they are about, and that is get out there.  The main area we focused on was Flat Rocks.  The low scrub broken up by clear areas created where the underlying granite was exposed.  As the name suggests, not standing proud about the ground, but laying down on the ground:

It is an area I should probably come to earlier in the season, with raft of orchids having been found in a relatively small area.  Many of which are not found where we live, which is just shy of half a degree of latitude further north, or 50km.  It didn’t start too well, stands of dried up sun orchids were all over.  On the plus side for next year, their ovaries had swelled up suggesting pollination had occurred.  The best we could find, with a little assistance, were a few Christmas Spider Orchids (Caladenia serotine) that were starting to get a little bedraggled:

Being one of the later flowering spiders, they were donned with a very literal species name of serotina.  Meaning happening late in Latin.  Other small flowers peppered the area, such as the above Love Creeper (Comesperma volubile).  It makes use of the vegetation around it to gain height.  This a twining plant also has a very literal Latin word for its species name, with volubile meaning twining.  Even though the long slender stems that can reach three meters in length, and because it has no leaves, it is not until it blooms that it is really noticeable:

For the above and other than the family name of Tettigoniidae, commonly called Katydids or Bush Crickets, of which there are approx. a thousand species in Western Australia, I have no idea.  Katydids are easily distinguished by their long slender antennae, commonly longer than their bodies.  Whereas grasshoppers and crickets have shorter and thicker antennae.  They are however more closely related to crickets, and the location of the ears or tympanum for both is just below the knee on the front legs.  Grasshoppers ears are on their abdomen:

Moving along we found quite a few Christmas Leek Orchids (Prasophyllum brownie), and like the Christmas Spider Orchid, this species is one of the last of their genus to flower in Western Australia.  Today only one specimen had its flowers open, of which there can be as many as eighty on one stem.  If you want to see the flowers out you’ll need to go back in time to December last year https://sandbagged.blog/2024/12/16/a-pick-and-mix-weekend/.  Leeks are amongst the tallest of the orchids in Western Australia, and this species can reach 1.2m:

We did a fair bit of wandering through bush, trying to avoid the many webs.  This included the webs of a very pretty arachnid called a Silver Orb Spider (Leucauge dromedaria).  The light green translucent legs of this creature, no more than three fifths of an inch long, drew our attention.  Glowing when they caught the sun.  The humped abdomen helped with the identification, and it is also being known as the Humped Silver Orb Spider.  While the upper body was fully of intricate patterns and colours, the underside is where it gets its name from:

This is mostly a plain slivery colour, and intentionally so.  Building horizontal webs, from below the colour merges with the sky above making it hard to see and providing a degree of camouflage as insect fly up from the ground.  Another colourful find were the flowering Tall Kangaroo Paw (Anigozanthos flavidus), of which there are gazillions about.  There are eleven species, and a few sub-species, in the genus of Anigozanthos.  This includes both kangaroo and cats paws and the name was derived to describe their unique flower:

Two Greek words of anisos and anthos being combined, which mean unequal and flower.  Craig and I continued to scour the areas that the elusive orchid species I was after have been found in previous years.  Sadly they alluded us this time, and I do wonder if just like this Rattle Beak Orchid (Lyperanthus serratus), the hunting season may be drying up.  Although I imagine there may be a wander in the bush or two still to come.  After all the local ocean conditions are still pretty pants, so my attention has not as yet been diverted to underwater discoveries:

The right place

Fortunately during my wander round Crooked Brook on Wednesday I came across a female Milky Flower Spider (Zygometis xanthogaster).  At a hefty 6.5 to 8mm, as opposed to a mere 2.5 to 3mm the males can reach, I was able to get a somewhat reasonable image.  These spiders can be found in a vast array of hues and patterns, often leading to confusion when identifying them.  This one however was the cream-white that the common name relates too.  The species name sake feature was also on display, as it hung upside down:

The Greek prefix xantho is an old word meaning yellow or golden, while gaster means belly or stomach.  I was hoping to find something else yellow, or more precisely custard, coloured.  Sadly the Custard Sun Orchids I spotted just before my car started to play up were all gone, not even a shrivelled up stem remained.  So I came away with very few images, one being of this Woodbridge Poison (Isotoma hypocrateriformis).  In 1840, this plant was blamed for stock losses, believed to be due to them eating a toxic plant.  This one, which is actually toxic:

James Drummond jumped to this conclusion when it resembled a toxic European plant.  They trialled various plants on livestock, and it is said even a dog died after eating the meat of livestock that didn’t fare so well from this approach.  Through the trail they deemed Woodbridge Poison was not the culprit, and it was a pea-flowered plant in the genus Gastrolobium.  There is however literature to say Woodbridge Poison can be a lethal risk to livestock if eaten.  Containing fluoroacetate, which is used to manufacture the poison 1080:

Fast forward to Friday morning, when Howsie and I were indulging in our own poison.  A phrase used to mean the negative consequences resulting from one’s own actions or choices.  Before we get to that, and as Howsie kicked off the proceedings, I was busy trying to get images of yet another ridiculously small spider.  I have included an image of the Australian Dewdrop Spider (Argyrodes antipodianus) before, again from Welly Dam.  This was several years back https://sandbagged.blog/2023/11/04/another-long-goodbye/:

Check the previous post to find out a bit more about this kleptoparasite species.  They only grow to 2-3mm, and are easily identified by their silvery metallic looking abdomens.  Said to typically have legs that are light brown with darker tips, which the specimen last time certainly displayed.  But not todays find.  The above spider looks to have a metallic abdomen and legs, maybe a trick of the light but I’m not convinced.  I do however believe that the spider in the previous image was a female, while the above is a male having a smaller abdomen:

Today we stuck to the big walls.  There was no sneaking off to climb shorter and less taxing lines.  As the sky above shows it was a grey day, hence why I am not so sure the light had played tricks when I took images of the spider.  And once the games began there were only pictures of the spidermen on the walls.  It felt chilly when we arrived, and it struggled to reach double digits.  This meant it took several routes to really get moving freely.  It was not until we bagged the last two, of our customary six lines for a before work climb, that I was warming up:

Being sensible I took my harness off, as Howsie rapped off the last line.  So as to avoid the temptation of tying in for ‘just one more climb’.  I think he was relieved  While my body felt like it was just getting into the swing of it, his was wearing down and saying that it was time to call it.  After all, Howsie had to get back to the office and make it through a day of work.  I meanwhile had the day off.  In part as I am watching my hours but also because I purposely work the hours to allow me to have a nine day fortnight:

As we started the drive out I spotted a Leopard Orchid (Thelymitra benthamiana).  Still yet to flower, unlike the ones at Manea Park that were all done and dusted way back.  This species can bloom anywhere between September to December, and I guess the cooler than average spring weather has resulted in a few plants waiting that bit longer.  This find got my mind thinking about where I could pop into, before I headed home to get on with a few domestic duties.  Plumping for the Minninup Tuart Woodland to see if there was anything left to see:

During my one and only trip here https://sandbagged.blog/2025/10/02/a-sticky-ending/, which proved very fruitful, our guide had hinted at a November flowering orchid being present.  As with other recent places some nice plants were out, but I saw no orchids to start with.  The above Narrowleaf Mulla Mulla (Ptilotus drummondii) really caught my eye, and initially I thought I had found a type of thistle like weed below.  It is however known as Blue Devils (Eryngium pinnatifidum), and is endemic to the south-west of Western Australia:

And as hinted to above, I did find something.  A repeat find or so I thought.  But turning out to be a first time sighting for me, of a Tuart Rufous Greenhood (Pterostylis frenchii).  Going to show that looks can be deceiving, just like the above find.  This is a later flowering species of the eighteen variety of rufous greenhoods in my orchid book.  It was a great find, being classified as Priority Two under the Western Australian Biodiversity Conservation Act 2016.  This means it is poorly known and only found in one or a few locations, this now being one:

So here it is… almost

It felt a little too blustery and wet for a solo trip to touch rock.  In these conditions I would have been more motivated if someone else had shown an interest, but that was not the case.  Instead, in part as I had accepted the challenge, I spent an hour or two checking out the Capel Nature Reserve.  It felt like a role reversal from yesterday at Manea Park.  Pink Enamel Orchids (Elythranthera emarginata) were popping up more frequently than the Bushy Boronia (Boronia fastigiata).  This time however it is the latter that made the image cut:

This pretty native is part of the citrus, or Rutaceae, family.  A family of plants that generally have flowers with a strong scent.  Bushy Boronia is no different, exuding a sweet citrus-like fragrance.  However, quite a large portion of the population would not be aware of this.  The medical term anosmia describes a complete loss of smell and can also include an impact on taste.  And Boronia anosmia is a specific alignment related specifically to the fragrance of Boronia flowers, and a surprising eighth to fifth of the population is affected by it:

The above image, and a few others in this post, is a little out of focus.  As I mostly take my images with a phone, I’m not apologising.  The tiny spiders at approx. 10mm wide are hard to focus on at the best of times, and even more so when it is windy.  The true common name is a Jewel Spider (Austracantha minax subsp. minax), for the obvious reason.  The origins of the names are worth a mention.  The genus coming from the Latin auster and Greek ákantha, meaning south and thorn, and species from the Latin mināx meaning jutting out or projecting:

The more widely used common name is however the Christmas Spider.  They are about all year but unlike most spiders, which will remain active during the cooler and wetter months, these are more active when things heat up.  They are quite social and form groups, often sharing webs to catch prey.  Looking like a string of decorations hanging mid-air, and there were lots of them out today.  The females grow to 12mm and, as is common, the males are smaller at a mere 5mm.  I had to keep an eye out as I walked to avoid collecting them:

Today I went to the wetlands area.  Not surprisingly, after the rainfall we’ve had this year that has continued long into spring, there was plenty of water about.  As such I had to watch my path ahead as well as where I was putting my feet.  I gave up trying to avoid getting wet feet, but every so often I’d see things rapidly moving away.  Loads of ting froglets, with a body no bigger than my thumb nail were frantically getting out of my way.  Too difficult to even try and identify, while the Aurora Blue-Tail Damselfly (Ischnura aurora) was an easy identification:

Quite an apt find considering the recent aurora events we’ve experienced.  I found lots of males displaying their a stunning array of colours and just a few females, which are a pale grey.  Trudging through the water another apt find was the Swamp Leek Orchid (Prasophyllum drummondii), shown above.  Often found growing in standing water, as it was today, and worth getting my feet wet for.  This is a species I do not recall seeing before so a good find, and today there were hundreds out.  There was however only one of these:

A completely black Christmas Spider, which is called a melanistic form.  This occurs as a result of a the birth defect, when too much melanin pigment is generated in an organism resulting in a dark form specimen.  This is the opposite of an albino, which has little to no melanin pigment.  Following on with the Christmas theme, I was extremely lucky to stumble on a patch of three Christmas Spider Orchids (Caladenia serotine).  It felt like a present.  They were the only ones I found and I can now say, again the words of Barney Stinson, ‘mission completed’:

Confused by some with the White Spider Orchid (Caladenia longicauda subsp. longicauda), this species however flowers later and holds its petals and sepals more stiffly.  The wander had a distinctly festive feel to it, making me think of the words blared out in Slade’s ‘so here it is Merry Christmas’, which is almost the case.  The first serious contest to bag the top of the charts on Christmas day was in 1973.  Two bands made a conscious decision to get there.  One was Wizzard who released ‘I Wish It Could Be Christmas Everyday’, but Slade pipped them:

An angry mob

I’m pleased that Howsie and I headed to the Dam on Friday for a climb.  As despite finally having the car back in operation, the opportunities to get out this weekend became limited for other reasons.  Another cold front, with lightning and thunder, started to sweep across the south west from the early hours of Saturday; threatened to continue till Monday.  In addition pre-planned social stuff meant that Saturday was out also.  That said I did squeeze in a quick walk at Manea Park, before needing to hit the road north to the big smoke:

Before we headed north I dropped Lisa off in Bunbury for a massage, and then drove straight towards the darkening clouds.  Fortunately, they skirted to the south allowing me a wander in the dry.  Not expecting to see much on the orchid front, it was lovely just to back in nature.  Below are Drumsticks (Dasypogon bromeliifolius), a small shrub growing to 30cm.  Some literature I have found suggest they are also known as Pineapple Bush.  This is however the common name for Dasypogon hookeri, another shrub but one that reaches heights of 3m:

The genus name Dasypogon coming from Greek words dasys and pogon, meaning thick with hair or rough and beard.  Used to describe the flower heads, of the three species that are all endemic to Southwest Australia that are similar looking.  Next up is a Many-Flowered Fringe (Thysanotus multiflorus), again endemic to the Southwest Australia.  There are approx. 50 species are found in Western Australia, nearly all of which being native.  This one is most commonly found, hence also known as the Common Fringe Lily but also the Purple Fringe Lily:

The upper canopy also had splashes of colour, with many Candlestick Banksia (Banksia attenuate) out in bloom.  Flowering from as early as September they are considered a sign of spring in the Perth region.  The flowers can still be around as late as February, providing a food source for a wide range of creatures.  From insects to birds, as well as mammals including the Honey Possum (Tarsipes rostratus).  These small possums are the only marsupials that feed on nectar, not honey as the common name suggests, making them an important pollinator:

Honey Possum’s are pretty high on my list of mammals to see.  And while I kept an eye out for any signs of movement on the bright yellow candlesticks my hopes were not high, as they generally emerge at dusk and feed at night.  In the shade of the trees to the right in the image below is one of many Bushy Boronia (Boronia fastigiata) I found in flower.  Seeing so many of these small pink flowers, I almost didn’t pay any attention to the two pink flowers near the base of the image that are Pink Enamel Orchids (Elythranthera emarginata):

A late flowering species that can be found from October to December, and a great find as they are the first ones I have seen at Manea.  Finding three flowering plants all up.  There were also Common Mignonette Orchids (Microtis media subsp. media), which can be found in flower across five months from September to January.  And the Slipper Orchids (Cryptostylis ovata) were starting to form buds, with a flowering period that starts later from November to February.  There is another late flowering species of spider I’ll have to keep an eye out for:

Aptly named the Christmas Spider Orchid (Caladenia serotina), of which there is a single recorded observation at the Capel Nature Reserve.  In the words of Barney Stinson ‘challenge accepted’.  My last find at Manea was a Female Blue Skimmer (Orthetrum caledonicum).  When they emerge from the nymph they all have yellow with black makings.  Females mostly stay that way, while the males turn blue as they mature.  The name skimmer however relates to a two flanges near the tip of the females abdomen, used to scoop water when laying eggs:

Much later that day on the last stretch home, after Lisa and my trip to the big smoke, a mob of magpies were harassing what looked like a monitor.  Going back we found not a monitor but a Southwestern Snake-necked Turtle (Chelodina oblonga).  Called a turtle but technically a terrapin, and the species name has also been subject to debate.  In 2006 the International Commission on Zoological Nomenclature ruled the northern and southern species were oblonga and colliei, this was then changed in 2020 to rugosa and oblonga:

On the road again

Since Lisa and my trip down to Pemberton, I have been living a relatively secluded life in Peppy Beach.  The car troubles that started on the return journey took until yesterday to resolve.  There were two faults.  And due to the wonders of computer managed engines, these days, pin pointing faults and investigating them becomes that bit trickier.  You’d think it was the other way round.  Sadly not.  A bit like the thought that computers would reduce the use of paper through digital communication and documentation.  It isn’t a given:

Living some 30km from what is considered a major town, in our local patch, and with most of my orchid hunting spots and all my climbing spots being that bit further, my trips into nature came, like my car, to a grinding halt.  Rather than thinking of the three weeks as lost time, I saw it as an opportunity to chill and practise patience.  After all I can work from home, have an indoor climbing wall, and had my health.  It did however mean that most of the locally found orchids have gone to seed, so I felt a little robbed of the chance to spot something new:

Speaking of which the first image is of a pair of Robber Flies mating.  These can be very hard to identify, and even with the enlisted help of a pretty clued up entomologist we failed to get past the possible genus of Neoscleropogon.  Other than that image the only other one related to nature from my last three weeks, was when we were lucky to have had another aurora australis display.  Along the southern coast and over east it was spectacular.  Whereas where we live it was meh, being barely visible to the naked eye.  Hence there is no image:

Unlike the unimpressed feeling of watching a very, very slight pinkie hue hovering on the horizon of the night sky; yesterday picking the car up, fully functional, I was in euphoria.  On the chance that it was going to be roadworthy once more, Howsie and I had already talked about an early morning trip to Welly Dam.  Now that could happen.  He’s had a crook household for a few weeks prior, only coming good this week.  Added to that he hasn’t touch rock for quite some time, so his energy levels were not particularly high:

On the other hand, I had been able to pull on plastic a few times to keep some basic fitness.  That said I did expect coming back to the dam would feel tough, considering my last serious climb was all the way back at the beginning of October.  Our different situations resulted in the routes we had in mind, being somewhat in conflict.  It did raise Howsie’s eyebrows when I jumped on first lead on a nervous line.  I feel he may have been a little relieved when I took a good whipper half way up.  In the best fashion possible, being completely unexpected:

After that slip I powered on.  Surprising even myself with the third lead, which really had me a bit unsure as to whether it was a wise choice.  I was probably helped by Howsie taking on some pretty easy leads in-between, allowing some recuperation time.  We were not alone today.  An outdoor education group was on their way, and as we climbed we saw a zip line abseil ropes, and all the hardware being set up and laid out.  Fortunately it wasn’t till our last route that the hordes of kids arrived.  Peering over the wall above the quarry:

As expected the rock shelf that lay in front of the peering kids had finally and fully dried up.  Along with the drying and warming weather over the last few weeks, all the sun orchids I was hoping to find had also withered away.  The only flower of note, being at the base of Howsie’s last route.  A Yellow Hawkweed (Tolpis barbata), native to southern Europe and considered a minor weed in Western Australia.  But pretty all the same.  Today we were squeezing in a climb before work, and now it was time to hit the road.  Man it feels good to be mobile again:

Keeping the spark

October is a busy month for us with both our birthdays, wedding anniversary, and, as Lisa likes to call it, boativersary. The latter just hanging off the edge, on the 1 November, and referring to when we first met, which if you had not got from the hint was on a boat.  That encounter being by chance when we were both heading back from Europe to England, and happen to be in same bar at the same time.  A lucky encounter considering the ferry carries approx. 1,600 people, has three bars, and Lisa was only there because she got to the cinema too late:

The film and started and doors were shut, so instead of seeing a film we have vowed never to watch, she went to the bar.  The rest, as they say, is history.  In a way it was appropriate we cheered our anniversary on the bow of the boat like structure, high atop the Marina Bay Sands, during our recent Singapore trip.  And as it was a special anniversary we decided to also do something on the actual day.  This saw us plump for a night away, not quite so far away this time, at a place we have stayed once before during the depths of winter eight years back:

Before heading there, we went for breakfast and a game at the South West Bottega, which has cracked a few mentions this year since we discovered it.  After whiling away a relaxing hour or more there, we hit the road south stopping for a walk round the Kondil Wildflower Park just outside of Nannup.  Another place that we have enjoyed heading back too since we first stumbled across it, which coincidently was on our anniversary four years back.  Still enjoying it this time even though the poodles were not lucky enough to join us:

We also enjoyed the wander through the trees despite, as the first image shows, it raining.  Not just a drop or two but the sort that soaks into, and weighs down, your clothes.  We kinda expected this would happen.  All week the forecast for where we were going suggested Friday and Saturday would be soggy.  Our wet spring continues, suggesting the Sudden Stratospheric Warming over the Antarctica is losing the battle against the negative Indian Ocean Dipole.  That may be why there are still a few fungi worth stopping to take an image of:

We came across the fungus in the second image during our trip to Walpole earlier this year.  On the walks down there we had an explosion of fungi finds.  So many in fact that I didn’t go through and try to identify them, well not for the post.  Later on I did have a crack behind the scenes, and think that I found most of them.  But not this one.  Take two, and this time I may have narrowed it down to Boletellus dissiliens.  However, without looking under the cap I can’t be certain.  Something I was not prepared to do, seeing I’d have to pick the fungus:

The next image is of course of the Blue Lady Orchid (Thelymitra crinita).  This species of sun orchid being out in the greatest numbers this year, so far, and as such having been included in previous posts.  The reason for the repeat inclusion is to show just how pretty they can be when the flowers decide to open ‘en masse’.  I have mentioned how while having seen many sun orchids this year, very few have been in bloom.  The flowers are generally known to open in the daytime on warm sunny days, closing at night and during cloudy days:

Why this plant, and it was the only one on the walk, decided to go against normal practise is unclear.  Not that I am complaining.  Back in the car we continued south into the depths of the southern forests & valleys region.  Our destination being the Karri Valley Resort, where a lakeside room awaited us.  Each time you opened the door onto the balcony the Australian Ringnecks (Barnardius zonarius subsp. semitorquatus) would swoop in, obviously being used to their charms winning people over to give them a feed:

After a cuppa or two and game (of course) in the restaurant, and bit of a slob in the room I convinced a slightly resistant Lisa to head out for a wander round the lake.  Unsurprisingly it was raining.  Despite being approx. a mere 100km south of where we live, the average annual rainfall here is 40% greater.  You may then suggest it is not surprising to hear the place is a little damp.  However, the seasonality of rainfall follows a similar pattern to our patch.  Meaning you would expect the landscape to start to dry off in spring and have little rain in summer:

Wet or not we enjoyed the walk.  To boot there were heaps of Pink Spider Orchids (Caladenia harringtoniae), my first sighting of them.  A species first described in 2001 from a specimen collected near Pemberton, so somewhere not too far from where we were.  Yet another species that due to our invasive and destructive habits, has found itself on the state and national list of vulnerable flora.  On the way back a sign warned of uneven and washed out sections of the track.  Something that would normally put Lisa on edge.  We pushed onwards:

She indulged me further, when I suggested we took the slightly longer way back to check out the walk through Karri (Eucalyptus diversicolor).  My penance being to have to give her a piggy back off the steps down, so she could avoid the puddle.  We made it back just about in time to dry off and head to the restaurant.  It was time to cheers our anniversary on the day itself, with a glass of bubbly.  The outlook from our table not surprisingly being the lake.  The ripples on the water generating the illusion of movement, added to a fitting effect of being on a boat:

As is our predictable tradition, it was a meal with a game.  In fact when we got home after the trip away, and as we looked back at the post from our visit here eight years back, there were so many similarities between that and this trip.  Chilling out, games, good food, enjoying the natural setting, and walking in the rain.  I somehow do not think we would get bored of such a routine, if we had more regular visits here.  It was a bit by chance that we ended up here, as Lisa had other activities in mind to occupy us on our special day:

We have both very much enjoyed watching The Great Pottery Throw Down, in part due to what is described as being a wholesome and soothing show.  So Lisa had looked into pottery courses, and found a hand building course we could have gone to.  When she floated the idea past me, I jokingly said I would be more interested in Patrick Swayze and Demi Moore pottery throwing course.  Needless to say this didn’t happen.  However, on returning to the room after having had our fill, and a little uncannily, that very film just started to play:

After that we just had to watch Ghost!  Eventually the TV, as did the lights across the lake that made for a pretty special outlook, were turned off.  The morning came in quiet and calm, and being Saturday Lisa had suggested yesterday that she may have a dip at 7am.  The time that back home she would usually be walking into the ocean with the Peppy Plungers.  Not being very surprised when she didn’t sound quite so keen in the morning, I popped a sippy cup of tea on the bedside next to her and left her reading and dozing:

Heading out to retraced yesterday’s tracks in the opposite direction, as the big trees were calling me.  Not to see if there was anything we may have missed, merely to enjoy the quiet peace of the forest while the early morning mist across the lake started to lift.  I am purposely endeavouring to labour a point about how wet it still is, however it was surprising to see the moisture loving Midge Orchids (Cyrtostylis huegelii) still in flower.  A month later than they are expected too.  Wandering along the quiet was intermittently broken by the sound of forest:

Frogs along the fringes of the lake, and birds in the trees and scrub.  The only one game to allow me to watch it being the above South-Western Spotted Scrubwren (Sericornis frontalis subsp. maculatus).  One of four subspecies, the adult of this one have a slightly yellowing of the mid to lower breast.  Then there was of course the sound of water, with Beedelup Falls being at the head of the trail.  With a greatly reduced flowrate coming down it, compared to when we popped in a couple of months back on our drive back from a night in Pemberton:

With every intention of making the most of our time in the area, when I got back I suggested the short drive Pemberton where there are some lovely walks.  Sadly, by the time we had to check out, it was not due to the rain coming back in that put the brakes on that idea.  Several warning lights came up on the dash of the car.  The glow plugs were playing up making the decision easy, we would have to head straight home at what was to be a pretty sluggish rate.  While the glow plugs may be playing up, after twenty five years the spark is still there: