For those that may be wondering if I have given up looking for orchids, the response is both a yes and no. Certainly as summer approaches and the land dries and temperature warms up, the abundance and variation of orchids on display in our area is declining. I’ve been out hunting a few times, but have not come across any new finds or anything particularly startling. In a way it feel like it has all come to a rather abrupt end this year, and the only orchid that I am hanging out to see come into flower are the Slipper Orchids (Cryptostylis ovata) at Manea Park:
I’ll be heading back their next week to check in on them, but have a feeling it may be a few more weeks before they start to flower. In part as the warming weather is being interspersed with bouts of almost winter like spells. This is not stopping all plants from continuing on their expected flowering timeframe, such as these Pixie Mops (Petrophile linearis), yet another plant that is endemic to southwestern Western Australia. That said their flowering period is relatively long being from August to December:
It is not an uncommon plant and can be found in woodlands and heathlands along the coastal plain stretching some 400km down the coastline of Western Australia, from Jurien Bay to Yallingup. Although it has also been found in some areas along the south coastline. While common to see I really like these flowers. Like the Rose Coneflower (Isopogon dubius), which also grows in Ambergate Nature Reserve where Lisa and I were walking today, it has delicate protrusion that come out of the end of each limb of the flower, as shown below:
I wonder if maybe the name also is why I am drawn to looking at these plants, with the Genus name meaning rock (petros) love (phileo) in Greek. Lisa and I spotted several orchids, such as the Swamp Spider Orchid (Caladenia paludosa) in the first image, but most of my attention today was more drawn to the insects. And one that can be regularly found between November and December is the Christmas Spider (Austracantha minax). This is the female, which you can tell as they are one ones that sit in the middle of the web, while the males lurk unseen in the vegetation round the edge of the web:
The females grow to just over a centimetre, while the males are half that size further adding to the difficulty in spotting them. While we tend to only see the females in abundance for these two months, they are still about for the rest of the year. The reason they are hidden from view is that during the earlier stages of their life cycle they are much smaller. These cheeky little spiders are known to hook their webs onto those of other spiders, which is thought to be done to allow them an increase their foraging area. While the above spider was easy to identify the next one, despite much research, has alluded me:
I also have spent a long time trawling through sites to identify the beetle below, which is happily assisting with the pollination process of a Yellow Flag (Patersonia umbrosa). In trying to identify this beetle I did however find out the difference between a beetle and bug. The former have mandibles, or chewing mouth parts, whereas a bugs mouth is designed to eat by piercing and sucking on plant tissue. Also while both beetles and bugs have wings the way they are structured is different, with the wings of beetles being protected under a hardened forewing that forms part of the shell:
The mix up between beetles and bugs for some is no doubt created by the names, for example what is known as the Ladybug over here is in fact a beetle not a bug. That said, back in England we always knew them as a Ladybird Beetle. One last image from our walk today, before we headed off to find some food. This dragonfly, if you can spot it, didn’t allow me to get any closer. So any attempt to identify it would be as futile as my attempts with the spider and beetle above, and be a complete stab in the dark:
Recovering from his first taste of COVID Howsie was keen to get out, but seeing it had taken it out of him he was also to take things easy. So we agreed to hit a few familiar lines so he could ease his body back into exercise, without fear of pushing it too far and becoming exhausted. This also meant a slightly more, in the eyes of most, reasonable start time to avoid the need to get up in darkness and compete for space on the roads with the kangaroos. And despite this, we still had the place to ourselves on arrival:
Howsie was up for taking the first lead, and being focused on the easier routes he was eyeing up a couple of lines that I had raced up with Rongy last weekend during our 300m sprint. Therefore, I was more than happy for him to lead both of these routes, but did encourage him to begin the day on Glory. My reason being that I wanted to check out if the young Carpet Python I spotted last weekend, which Rongy in his haste had missed, was still there. I did not mention it in my post of that trip due to Sarah’s more impressive finds:
Today I am pleased to say, with a more relaxed pace, both of us were lucky. And while you may have been expecting another image of a Carpet Python, and indeed I did take an image, it was almost in the same position as last weekend and when we saw it in late September: https://sandbagged.blog/2022/09/22/d-mob/. Instead I have included an image of a Horse Fly (Tabanidae) that was having a lazy moment on my first lead of the day. Well it was, until I came along and disturbed it. The same could be said for Howsie, and the relaxed pace he had started the morning off with took a sharp turn in the wrong direction:
I have no real reason, but today I felt like jumping on the routes that do not get much attention. I have only climbed this route once before, and have only ever seen it being climbed by others once. Despite the innocent grade of 19, and also despite multiple efforts I simply could not unlock the crux sequence of Battling the Bulge. Today at least the bugle was victorious, making me wonder how long it will be before I am again foolish enough to try this route. Howsie too battled hard but was unsuccessful and like me was left perplexed as to what to do, and we both came back down with tired forearms:
This was due to the spaced and slopey holds, only wide enough for the pads on the distal phalanges, or in layperson’s terms finger tips. But also the fact that our feet were both below and underneath the bulge, resulting in much of our body weight being transferred to our forearms. That, with each failed attempt, became more and more weary. Howsie taking the next lead decided to ease the pace and while he racked up, we saw the first signs of other people quite literally dropping in. Just like last weekend it looked like another group was about to descended on Wilyabrup:
Howsie enjoyed the pleasant line of Hope, and it seemed just in time. Topping out he was greeted by a couple of guys setting up two top ropes, one for Hope and one for Glory. At least this time they were checking for climbers below and not just throwing ropes over the edge without a care. We found that the group comprised people from the Mandurah Climbing Gym. It was not as big a group as the school group last weekend, but they were setting up just as many ropes. We were keen to keep away from where the ropes were being dropped down, and we pondered our choices:
And after a bit of procrastination we, or should I say I, set my sights on a route that I have never climbed. I’ve looked at many times, but have to date not been brave enough to lead so each time have walked past it. Howsie had played on it before in 2020 with a top rope due to the lack of gear, and Nadia has made him promise that he would never lead it. But there was no mention of not belaying someone else on it, or seconding it so he was more than keen and almost encouraging for me to have a crack at it. And all I can say is oomph, it was brilliant but also very goey and poorly protected:
It was great to climb it in the, no doubt, intended style that the name English Ethics suggests, ground up with no inspections. There was a moment where I felt like I was going to fall and even shouted it out to Howsie, but somehow managed to keep moving. Getting higher and higher above the last piece of protection, with arms getting more and more tired. Needless to say I was a wee bit happy at managing to on-sight this gnarly grade 20. While it could be said I had made Howsie work hard again, he was partly to blame this time. So once again he dialled things back for his last lead:
That said Hitching has got one spicy moment, at the grade, that is a little run out. So hopefully Nadia won’t read this. Howsie did however stick true to his intention, with three fun and gentle paced grade 14 routes. While I had pushed the boat out a little, I had also done what I was keen to do. Which was to jump on a few of the routes that do not get many ascents that may be because they present a greater mental challenge. And while my last lead was merely a grade 18, it was once again a climb that is relatively poorly protected, which might explain why it is called Blubber Boy. Something Howsie and I didn’t do, because Boys Don’t Cry:
What with visiting the same locations for a climb as many times as we do, you sometimes have to shake things up to make them interesting. This weekend Rongy was first to jump on the bandwagon to say he was keen to get out, and I threw out the idea of aiming to achieve what Bob, who I used to climb with in the Lake District, would consider “a good day out”. And that was to have ascended 1,000ft, or for those modern metric people approx. 305m. So to prepare for the day I pulled out the route database I prepared when I wrote the climbing guide for the area:
In selecting the climbs we applied a few criteria, which included only considering traditional routes (i.e. no bolts) that were between grades 13 to 19. Or in British climbing speak HS 4b to E1/2 5b. While 305m may not seem too bad, the route length at Wilyabrup averages around the 20m mark. As such it meant packing in a few more lines than a normal morning out, plus with multiple short’ish routes we would have more belay stations to set up. We would also have to walk back down to the base quite a lot, as we had also set ourselves a condition that we would not abseil to get back down:
Ash was intending to join us, but sadly was a no show. Sarah also indicated that she was keen to get out again. However, forewarned of our challenge this time she stuck to reptile hunting, and you may remember she loves our scaly friends. At the top of the first route I thought I was lucky to spot the above exoskeleton, which I think is from a Huntsman Spider (Sparassidae). However, back at the base my find was well and truly trumped when we found Sarah handling a Carpet Python (Morelia imbricata) she had spotted and managed to catch. So no matter what else she might find, she was happy as a pig in poo:
Based on our plan we had agreed we would need to hit 12 climbs (comprising 13 pitches), which is double what we would normally climb in a morning at Wilyabrup. Our thought being to climb them from right to left, but today was shaping up to be a glorious day so we mixed things up to hit the more popular routes first. That way if anyone else turned up they would hopefully not get in the way of our plan. Needless to say today was about efficiency, Rongy had asked me how long I thought it would take us and I had guessed about six hours. Basing my estimation on half an hour for both of us to climb each line and get back down:
Rongy was on a time schedule needing to walk out by midday, and as such I hoped I had not underestimated how long it would take otherwise we would not get all the routes in. Our confidence was boosted as we knew the lines well and are both reasonably efficient climbers. But to save on time we made sure the gear was ready for the second person up, so they could quickly get ready to lead the next climb. We also focused on neat rope work, to ensure we were not delayed by having to unravel a knotted mess. Added to that and to speed up the descents we took our shoes up with us. This provided an added benefit of giving our toes a bit of relief from being stuffed into our climbing shoes:
We started well and as we closed in on the half way mark, climb number six, Rongy showed signs of becoming weary. He has not been out much recently, and while I took the lead from him Sarah wandered past and Rongy confessed to her based on how he felt he wasn’t sure if he would be able to complete the mission. I didn’t know this but seeing he was weary, we had a chat and adapted the plan. Rather than alternating the leads he could pick which lines he would go on the sharp end. Having a rope above you on a climb, usually results in using less energy so by me leading the tricky lines that were left he would hopefully conserve his strength for when he really needed it. Although he might have regretted picking the climb below:
Unbeknown to us, a tour group operator was getting ready to set up ropes above the wall, and they threw a line down without checking below. The guilty person was very sheepish afterwards, and rightly so it was both sloppy and dangerous of them not check below first. Fortunately they didn’t knock Rongy off the cliff, but their arrival meant we once again had to revisit our plan of attack. Once more shuffling the route order to now hit the climbs on the walls the group proposed to set up top ropes and abseil lines on. As we kept cranking, every so often Sarah would pop by, and as fortunate would have it at the top of the ninth route she wandered by just as these two good sized King skinks (Egernia kingii) came out for some sun:
It seemed that she had spotted a good number of skinks and lizards, but no more snakes. Unperturbed she set off again as we headed back down. Ropes were now hanging all over the place, as the group finally arrived. A huge school group of over 50 kids, but because we had left the climbs on the more obscure parts of the cliff till the end we managed to avoid feeling like we were in amongst the crowds. So for the last three lines it almost felt like we had the place to ourselves, and more to the point with no one watching on. It was a little surprising that on such a lovely day only a couple of recreational climbers were out today, but this did mean we also managed to avoid getting tangled up with them:
Our deviations along the way had helped Rongy keep going, and finally we were ready to hit the last line. One I knew he would want to lead. It was a climb we were absolutely certain no one else would be on, and also that we would be away from any groups. It was also the longest climb of the day and we both agreed it was a fitting way to finish the session. We climbed this one with packs, thereby avoiding the need for one more trek back down just to have to walk back up again. And my toes only now started to complain, as I followed up, of being squished in my climbing shoes. So it was that we hit our target of climbing 310m or 1,017ft, which had taken us nearly bang on six hours and the way things panned out Rongy led six pitches and I had led 7:
There was still one more surprise in store. Walking out, leaving the hoards behind us, I spotted a tail sticking out from under the scrub and stopped in my tracks, as did Rongy and Sarah. Sarah then very slowly put her bag down and pounced managing to get hold of this unsuspecting Southern Heath Monitor (Varanus rosenbergi). It was pretty impressive watching her go for it with such confidence, and great to get a close up look at the monitor before she released back into the scrub. It had most certainly been “a good day out” for all three of us:
My usual radio station while driving is Triple M. Probably, as my daughter would say, because it plays old stuff. Mixing up tunes from the 60s through to the 90s. Although they also throw in what they consider the better tracks from the more modern era of music, i.e. since the start of the second millennium. As such, and is often the case with these sort of stations, it is relegated to amplitude modulation airwaves commonly referred to as AM. Amplitude modulation was first used for radio in Australia in 1923 whereas frequency modulation (FM), which the more “popular” stations use, wasn’t available until 1980 (if you exclude the initial experimental period):
The problem with amplitude modulation is the radio waves used are more prone to effects from static, which can come from a variety of sources. And today driving out the songs were on occasion interrupted by that familiar crackling sound, indicating electrical interference in the atmosphere. I didn’t notice any sudden flashes above, indicating lightening, but drops of water were hitting the windscreen in line with the forecasted high probability of rain today. I knew it was a risk not heading out with Howsie and Josh for a before work climb on yesterday, but it was a calculated risk:
I do not just use the standard forecasting apps, but also the interactive forecast maps. These show how the pressure systems are expected to shift across the state in three hourly time steps, providing a much better idea of what might or might not be. All indications were we would get rain, but it would likely initially come from the north and not hit the area I was going to until mid-morning. Sure enough darker clouds loomed in that direction, while Wilyabrup and the surrounding area was rain free and dry. Plus the wind was light meaning that the clouds would not be rolling in to quick. In fact the conditions were perfect to be out for a climb:
Knowing it would rain at some point, I was up and out of the house by 5am. Always intending for it to be a short sharp session going solo, as once again as no one was available to join. And not surprisingly I didn’t see another sole today. Not even someone braving the forecast for a walk. The session was all planned out and I had picked the areas and climbs based on ease of setups; only needing to use two anchor systems to allow me to hit five lines. The first four were on the well-rehearsed Innerspace Wall. Using an adjustable double figure of eight, the adjustments required to the system to make sure both anchors were tensioned for each line was quick and efficient:
This did not however allow me much rest time, and after the rapid fire eight laps in just over an hour my forearms were getting pumped. While I alluded to timeliness being important due to the high probability of rain falling, there was also another reason. Howsie and I are considering a trip next spring for which we will need to be fit as fiddles. A place with big approaches, long routes, and adventurous descents made all the more challenging as neither of us have been there before. As such we will need to be hiking and climbing fit, to allow us to move efficiently and safely and avoid being benighted on the cliffs. This may seem a long way off still, but I had this in mind today as I packed in the meterage and moving at a quick pace:
The second anchor set up for the last line, was on a much taller part of the crag for a route that rarely gets any ascents. Craig led this and I followed up way back in 2006, and since then I have not been on it. I checked The Crag and the only recorded ascents are from 6 and then 3 years back, with comments of “hard and committing”. It was a lot of faffing about, swinging about and prusiking, to get some gear in the route so the rope would follow the line, as the bottom half is completely overhanging. But it was worth the effort and it was awesome, big corners and lots of exposure. And my rationale for jumping on it after all these years also has something to do with next year, as this grade 23 will be on Howsie’s tick list for 2023… and I can’t wait to watch him have a crack at it:
After the relative lack of success in finding orchids at Crooked Brook, I was determined to see if the same fate of “orchid exodus” had befallen my other local spots. As such I popped out to Manea Park after work on Tuesday, and while there are signs of lots of sun orchids either just starting to or preparing themselves to bloom, there was not a huge amount of other finds. Not even any Pink Enamel Orchids, at the location Elspeth had told me she had seen some a few years back:
I recognised some of the basal leaves of sun orchids preparing themselves for a later show, but the above one had me puzzled. I thought it may have been a Custard Orchid but I was wrong and it was not till Friday that I found out what they are. I’ve only seen one before in mid-November 2020 and that was a fair way to the south, and it was only because Howsie pointed it out that I saw it: https://sandbagged.blog/2020/11/13/south-coast-revisited/. Therefore, I’ll definitely be coming back here over the coming weeks if only to check how these Slipper Orchids (Cryptostylis ovata) are going:
While I didn’t find too much I wasn’t completely put off, and working from home on Thursday I thought I could duck out to the Capel Nature Reserve. My intention being to go a bit earlier in the afternoon, hopefully when there may be a bit of sun to encourage the sun orchids to open up. But work seemed to get in the way and despite starting at 5:30 I was still staring at my screen ten hours later. I eventually got out but again there was nothing to report and I didn’t even take one image, although as I wandered round I did catch up with Howsie on the phone:
It has been a busy month for many in the local climbing fraternity, and as such we have not caught up as we would normally on rock. Howsie did say he was heading out with (climbing) Josh early Friday for a before work session at Welly Dam. I pondered my options that evening, and while it was very tempting to meet them up there, for a quick couple of hours, I decided against it. This may seem out of character for me, but it is a reflection of what I’ve got happening at work and I would have been thinking what I had to get done rather than focusing on the climbing, detracting from the enjoyment:
Instead of an early morning climb I was back at the screen at 5:30, about the time the boys would have been arriving at the crag. And I was pleased I didn’t go, as it was a hectic morning. Although on the positive I got another retirementitis update from Verity, an previous work colleague. And in that she had a whole bunch of images of the orchids she had spotted round Perth this year. It was her update that enthused me to give the little plants, one more go this week and so after a mere seven hours of screen time I headed out:
Today it was time to check out Ambergate Nature Reserve, which had been lacking in spider orchids the last few times I had been there. I decided to walk all four quadrants in reverse order. It was more of a speed march round the first three, and I only spotted a couple of orchids. The second image in this post shows the conditions, the sun was out and there was plenty of colour about. A good day to be out and as I had suspected, the place came alive in the fourth, or first if I had gone the normal way round, quadrant:
The next image from Ambergate is of a small sun orchid, possibly the Slender Sun Orchid (Thelymitra vulgaris). I have to admit I have been having real trouble in trying to identify the various species of sun orchids and the differences are very subtle. Seemingly even more so than the variances in white spider orchids, which I kind of gave up on a bit earlier this season. The next two spider orchids (images above) are repeat finds, being the Swamp Spider Orchid (Caladenia paludosa) and Rusty Spider Orchid (Caladenia ferruginea) but I couldn’t resist including them:
Then I got really excited, even though some may say what I spotted is a little common and plain. Having finally found the White Fairy Orchid (Caladenia marginata), which are about half the height of the Pink Fairy Orchids and also have a smaller flower. So I know what I have seen in the past has been albino Pink Fairy Orchids, as opposed to the true whites. I again did not find any Pink Enamel Orchids, so feel even more lucky to have spotted them at Dunsborough a week or so back. On the final leg more and more spiders were popping up, unlike at Crooked Brook the pest controllers had not been here:
The specimen two images above initially had me stumped, but now looking in more detail it is probably another Swamp Spider Orchid. Similarly the one below, which is the taller of the two plants in front of the trunk in the above image, had me foxed. But now I am confident it is a Rusty Spider Orchid, and flicking between images in this post you can see how much each species can vary in appearance. The final image from Ambergate is yet another spider orchid and this one I am hoping is something different, but I can’t figure it out:
The proportions just seem different enough but I’ll have to wait for Noel to come back to me to provide some advice. As I was getting to the end of the walk I came across a lady, camera in one hand and umbrella in the other. She too was out hunting and was somewhat more serious than myself, as the umbrella was to remove the issue of glare to achieve better images. We pondered a few of the finds and had a chat during which she kindly advised of a spot that I have to date not check out. I left her to enjoy hunting in Ambergate and set off to check out the place she had suggested:
It was conveniently on the way home, so I popped off the highway onto Ruabon Road and as per the directions given drove a short way up until I could see all the sun orchids. Back on foot I started to check out the scrub, and found plenty of Scented Sun Orchids (Thelymitra macrophylla), of all colours from pale blue through to a deeper purple. But that was not what I was after and I kept looking about. I found the familiar basal leaf, but none of the plants had an open flower. This is an orchid that (work) Josh was very keen to spot, so I kept looking. Eventually I found one that was open, and as is often the case I then spotted another, and another, and so on:
Being the Leopard Orchid (Thelymitra benthamiana), and like the Slipper Orchid I have to date only spotted one before: https://sandbagged.blog/2020/10/18/creepy-crawlies/. This year however it is a bumper year, this place was littered with them and Manea Park also looks like it will have a bumper crop of them too. It was a surprisingly good spot and I also spotted some Sandplain White Spider Orchids (Caladenia speciosa) shown in the next image, and as I was driving out I saw an elderly couple obviously also on the hunt. I stopped for a chat and they too had been advised of the bounty of Leopard Orchids here, and we got chatting:
Long term fanatics, they gave me a few pointers for some other areas to check out, as well as some very specific details of places I have been too. They were also the people who told me about the Slipper Orchids at Manea Park. I stored the additional information for later use and for now it was time to get back home to the screen, and my first task was to tell Josh where to go to see the Leopard Orchid. Today the old saying of it is not what you know but who you know proved its worth. Although, in the sometimes cut-throat pursuit of orchid hunting, it can also be a question of whether who you know is willing to tell you what you would like to know:
October seems to be a busy month for all my usual climbing partners, so today I was out by myself. There was the option to head out with Mario, but after the big trip down south last weekend I didn’t fancy the five plus hour round car journey to Perth. Instead I headed back to Welly Dam to have another play on the potential new routes. And after today I’m now set on equipping three of them. The next step will be to clean of loose rock and figure out bolt placements. It was a fairly quick in and out session at the dam, and I was on the road by nine:
On a lovely day like today the place should already have be filled with mountain bikers and sightseers, but there were very few people about. The four day Cape to Cape mountain bike race had probably drawn all the two wheeled people south, while the Brunswick Show was no doubt drawing the usual sightseers northwards. As such it would have been the perfect day to be knocking loose rock off the walls. However, like this Bobtail as it plodded slowly off the path in front of me I am in no rush with the route development:
Taking advantage of the relatively quiet day, I took a slight detour on the way home and popped into Crooked Brook. Just three’ish weeks back I had great success here with spotting spider orchids (https://sandbagged.blog/2022/09/28/unlucky-for-some/), so I was hoping to continue with that theme. However, despite searching high and low I wasn’t able to locate one spider orchid. Not even an end of life bedraggled specimen. It was as if a pest controller had been through and eradicated all the spiders, or I had just left the return trip too long:
I was however a little pleased not to find any Pink Enamel Orchids. If I had found them here after the success down at Dunsborough (https://sandbagged.blog/2022/10/20/tickled-pink/), it may have indicated I simply had not been looking hard enough for all the years of searching for them. The most prevalent orchid on display and out in flower today was the Blue Lady Orchid (Thelymitra crinita), above. There were also quite a few Scented Sun Orchid (Thelymitra macrophylla), below, but it seemed too early for them to open up:
Of all the sun orchids the Blue Lady and Scented Sun Orchids can have more flowers on each stem, at fifteen plus. So based on the number of buds and colours it was pretty clear that the above orchids were the Scented Sun Orchids. Only the Plain Sun Orchid (Thelymitra paludosa) can have more flowers, at a whopping twenty plus per stem. They however prefer winter-flats and do not flower till Nov, so I might come across them at Manea Park next time I head there:
I’ve previously mentioned that one of the ways to identify similar looking sun orchids is to check out the column and wings, https://sandbagged.blog/2022/09/24/let-the-hammer-fall/. So when I spotted a few non-Blue Lady Orchids that were open, such as the ones above, I took special note of the centre of the flower to allow me to check them out later. I was also intrigued by the small plant and flower size, but the big give away was the upward pointing column tufts due to the right angle bend in the arms:
Sure enough I had spotted the Slender Sun Orchid (Thelymitra vulgaris), and it is always possible that there was another species I stumbled across that I just was not observant enough to notice the difference. To finish with and to show I also appreciate the many other flowers, below is a Fringe Lily (Thysanotus multiflorus). This flower is endemic to the Southwest Australia, but is also a popular clumping grass-like perennial used in domestic gardens. It is also known by the potentially politically incorrect name of Frilly Knickers:
I make no apology for not working today, and instead getting out to hunt for orchids. It is the one day of the year that I really should not be stuck in an office. But now that I have been out I am once again stuck in front of a screen, and have been for a while. My trip today was guided by one of my orchid books, which has a bunch of mud maps of places worthy of a visit. I decided on a bit of a road trip to a few of them and started with two worthy spots just out of Gracetown, not too far from the coast:
The landscape here comprised low scrub, with no protection from the elements. And today there was a stiff westerly coming from the ocean, and above it was all a bit grey and murky. In fact it had rained most of the way down and I did wonder how I would go. The condition was however not such a bad thing, as direct sun tends to result in capturing good images a bit tricky. The white and yellows tend to reflect all that brightness back into my ‘point and shoot’ camera and stuffs up the contrast:
I do wonder if I need to consider a phone upgrade at some point, as my iPhone 6 just like my Olympus tough camera does not use any image modification. The images taken by others, with more up to date phones, tend to provide an image more akin to what we actually see by taking a number of images at different exposures and then layering them. You could call it auto ‘photoshopping’. And while I do not like the idea of modified images, as I feel it takes the skill out of taking good images, it would be handy:
Today started very well. I was a little surprised that a spot like this, being exposed to the full force of whatever the Indian Ocean might throw at it, would have been a bit harsh for plants as delicate as Orchids. I could not have been more wrong and managed to find lots, including the one that I was very keen to spot. That is the first orchid image and is the Funnel-web Spider Orchid (Caladenia infundibularis). The one above is not so clear and may be the same, but the clubbing on the petals is more prominent. I am however not game to try and identify it:
I also tried my contacts, but they also were not convinced on that one, but it is clear that the above image is of two Forest Mantis Orchids (Caladenia attingens). I thought they looked pretty unusual with the forward facing labellum on both of them, but I have been advised that they are just getting old and past their best. Funny how I felt they looked really interesting, as opposed to old and tired. The next spot on my list was literally several hundred meters up the road, and it may seem a little strange to expect anything different:
However, the vegetation complex changed here and was more of a banksia woodland, which provided bit more protection. It also had different understorey vegetation, as well as some open sandy areas. I mentioned at the start that I had been on the computer for a while, as it has taken me a long time to try and work out what I had seen. While I do have access to a very friendly and helpful expert, I do not like to use them unless I have given identifying my finds a good crack and I am still really stuck:
Lisa and I spotted the above and below orchids recently, but I was still excited about seeing them for only the second time. As such I have included an image of both, being a Scott River Spider Orchid (Caladenia thinicola), above, and Swamp Spider Orchid (Caladenia paludosa), below. These two I was able to identify, although it did feel a little strange finding these on a high sandy ridge. I thought they would prefer wetter conditions. But this year I have been fooled a few times by believing what I read, so I should be used to expecting the unexpected:
Due to claggy weather, while I found lots of sun orchids none had fully opened up. In fact most looked like they had decided to stay asleep for the day, keeping their flowers safely tucked up in their closed buds. This was the only one I found that was anywhere near open, so it was the only one I could identify. Being a Blue Lady Orchid (Thelymitra crinita). I feel the water beading on its petals may have made it think that it had made a mistake by starting to open. Although it did make for a lovely image:
There were of course a few usual suspects in addition to what I have included, and below there are two images of Cowslip Orchids (Caladenia flava) I found. My reason being that the one on the right is an albino form, the only albino I have found of this species to date. Even with the relatively dull weather taking an image of the albino form was a tad tricky with my basic cameras. That wraps up the finds at Gracetown, and it was then time for me to drive to the next spot:
I took Caves Road towards Yallingup, but stopped before I got there. These spots are noted in the book as being a few kilometres before getting to the road that takes you down into Yallingup. The landscape was again Banksia woodland, and this time I lucked out. Finding a few orchids but nowhere near in the quantities as the first two spots and also not the range of species. In fact I would go so far as to say they were a little disappointing, especially the second one closer to Yallingup as that one seemed to be full of weeds and not much else:
Not put off I drove on towards Dunsborough, and had in mind to try a spot that is not listed in the orchid guide. We have driven past Big Rock Reserve many times and I have often said it looks like it would be a nice spot. This reserve comprises ironstone flats, with more rocky soils but also including sandy rises. And has a variety of vegetation complexes, but mostly comprising Jarrah, Marri and Banksia woodlands. And I had more success here than at the documented sites:
The reserve seemed to be relatively weed free and had many flowers, including quite a few repeat orchid finds. The above Giant Spider Orchid (Caladenia excelsa) was a new one for me, as was the Giant Donkey Orchid (Diuris amplissima) below. I spent more time here than at both of the last two spot. This is a reserve I will have to remember for earlier in the season next year, to see what else might be about:
As I started to make my way back to the car I came across, and had to include an image of, this Forrest Mantis Orchid (Caladenia attingens). While a repeat find from today this specimen is in its prime. In fact I do not recall ever seeing one looking quite so vibrant, with the lower sepals being almost entirely red. Even checking back through my images from today, and before all the other specimens I have seen of this species look positively dull in comparison:
Driving on to Dunsborough I headed to the Blythe Nature Reserve, a tiny reserve surrounded by houses. But reputed to be very good for flowers and orchids. Signs requested visitors to stick to the path, and I had to laugh as this Common Bronzewing (Phaps chalcoptera) was also adhering to the rules. Walking some 5 to 10m ahead of me for over 200m and even taking the turns that I was taking in the path. And it didn’t take flight until it had literally just got past one of the entrance gates to the reserve:
I feel like I missed the best time to visit this reserve, and there wasn’t much about to see orchid wise. But it was definitely worth coming, as after years and years of thinking I might have seen a Pink Enamel Orchid (Elythranthera emarginata) I have finally come across them. And now that I have seen them there is no way I could ever get them confused with the Purple Enamels again. I thought the best way to identify which is which by checking the labellum, but they are also clearly different in shape and size:
Very excited with the above find I had one last place to check out, again in Dunsborough and being the Meelup Regional Park. I have been here plenty of times, mostly it has been to the middle and northern parts of the park. Therefore, today I wanted to check out the southern section that is right on the edge of Dunsborough. So I finished as I had started, being close to the ocean. The key difference being the Geographe Bay is protected from the wrath of the Indian Ocean, so the waters here looked calm and blue:
I was again not disappointed and also was a little amused when I came across hundreds of Pink Enamel Orchids, this time some of them were mingled in with Purple Enamel Orchid (Elythranthera brunonis) proving a perfect photo opportunity to show you what I mean about how different they are. Even though the Purple Enamels can and do change the hues quite considerably with age, there really is no way to get these two mixed up now. Also seeing so many today I wonder if I have simply not been looking in the right places for Pinks Enamels all these years:
Mind you I didn’t find them in the first five places I had been today. I might check a few of the other spots near Capel and Collie to see if they are sprouting there this year too. Enough talk of the Pink Enamels, as I wandered about I came across some poorly looking Chapman Spider Orchids (Caladenia chapmanii). It seems their time is over, but others were coming out now including the Dunsborough Spider Orchid (Caladenia viridescens). Yet another first time sighting for me:
As was this Tuart Spider Orchid (Caladenia georgei), which is the last one I found worthy of inclusion. My road trip had taken me to seven sites, and all had provided finds of some sort although there are definitely two places I would not return to. So all up it had been a very successful morning out, and then it was time to head home to start unravelling what I had found. It was a perfect way to spend today, but sadly tomorrow it will be back to work:
Even with the best of intentions and early planning, things can unravel. We started planning several months back and the original plan for me to catch up with Kym and hit some south coast granite, picking the weekend such that it aligned with Rongy and Craig’s shifts. Kym and then only a week out Rongy had to drop out. Even on the day we were supposed to depart it was hit and miss as to whether Craig and I would actually get away. But get away we did and as the afternoon was coming to a close on Friday, we rolled into the Mount Trio Bush Camp:
A new place for Craig but a familiar spot for me and one I will never get tired of coming back too. I snuck up on the owner John to surprise him and say a quick hello, and was soon after told by the resident orchid specialist Jarrod that there was nothing to see. Of course I didn’t believe him and was keen to have a quick walk round while there was still last half hour of light available, hoping to catch up with John and Margot the next evening. I am not going to include images of the orchids I spotted until the end of this post, except for two:
The above orchid simply has to be included now, and is yet another unusual find. It is the second time I have found an orchid with three, instead of one, labellum. This time being a Butterfly Orchid (Caladenia lobata). So it was a double whammy for me, as it is also the first time I have spotted Butterfly Orchids. You may ask why after mentioning that we were going to climb some south coast granite cliffs, that we found ourselves about 75km inland at the Stirling Ranges:
Some may feel that I steered the trip this way drawn by orchids, and while it would be a very plausible reason it is not the case. Craig is not particularly climbing fit, and we were after some long mid-grade climbs. Added to that and having tracked the weather it looked like the coast may not have been as dry as inland. It was an early night, with the hope of an early start for a big day on Saturday that was forecast to be good. In the morning and despite camping in the Stirling Ranges, we aimed to drive approximately half way towards the coast:
Getting up in the morning was easy. I am a light sleeper and now that watching the sunrise from the top of Bluff Knoll is a bucket list thing for so many people, the campsite has quite a few very early risers. Bluff Knoll is close to a half hour drive away and then there is a two hour hike, and with the sunrise being at 5:30 people were up and about from 2:30 getting ready. Add to that sound seems to travel well, and almost feel like it is being enhanced, in the quiet darkness of night:
As such I could have been up at silly o’clock, but decided five o’clock was a more reasonable time for a cup of tea. This timing got us to the tree in a rock car park in the Porongurup Ranges, ready to hike in at seven. As it was this was well and truly early enough, as the Porongurup’s were completely obscured. I pondered whether I should call it fog or mist, and was thinking mist but that would have been incorrect. Now I known fog lasts longer and is denser, resulting in a reduced visibility compared to mist:
If you can see less than one kilometre it is fog, and at times we could barely see 100m. Even as we made the turn off Wansbrough Walk to head steeply up to the tip of the Devils Slide, with ever increasing elevation, the fog continued engulf us. It is well known that the Porongurup’s receive far more rainfall that the Stirling Ranges. The southern side receives on average 800mm per year, with the northern side getting 600mm. Compared to the Stirling Ranges southern and northern sides being dumped on by on average 575mm and 400mm:
While there was a bit of rain, as we started the walk this soon stopped. However, having rained overnight everything was dripping wet. These conditions made it very interesting to find where we had to go. We had no idea where the 150m high cliff was and there were gullies separating tall and at time steep granite boulders that we had to negotiate. But taking things slowly we worked it out and eventually found ourselves atop Marmabup Rock, with ever so fleeting glimpses of the landscape below just starting to form:
This is a place neither of us had been, so the conditions had made the hike up a real adventure. Comprising approx. 4km walking with 250m of ascent, and lots of pondering. Nothing too serious but with a pack full of trad gear my legs were feeling it on arrival. You might even be asking why we carried on, as surely the prospect of climbing was low. There is however one route on this crag that when developed was described as being an ideal climb for the not so usually misty and less than ideal conditions often experienced here:
This route was a sport route, fully equipped with bolts. So the trad gear stayed in the pack as we rapped down 100m to the start of the climb. This line didn’t start from the base, which was a blessing as much of the base had dense vegetation right up to it and/or was covered in green moss, and it would have been a very soggy battle to get to it. As we rapped down the fog began to turn to mist, and soon the mist began to rise as the day was warming up. As I finished the first pitch we could finally see the landscape below, above, and to the side of us:
The views down the valley we had walked up, with Nancy Peak on the opposite side was spectacular. The gentle granite slabs were covered in moss that seemed to be in hues of yellow through to green and then red. A testament to the amount of rain this place has had, and continues to get despite spring being well and truly upon us. The rock on which we climbed was like a cheese grater, all you needed was faith that the soft rubber soles of our climbing shoes would stick to it. For much of the climbing there were no handholds, resulting in Craig not been too keen to lead:
It didn’t worry me as I enjoyed leading all three, very fun pitches of Beckey-Gledhill-Swain. A route that wove a line, which on occasion had mounds of bright green moss scattered on the rock either side of where we climbed. A bit like landing lights on an airport runway, standing out when the sun hit them. It was not the trad climbing we had come here for, but all things considered it was the perfect introduction to the place. A place that was hard to navigate even when it was not shrouded in fog or mist, as there was no easy way to look at the faces from the top:
Before we decided what was to happen next it was time to have a spot of lunch. The hike, careful navigation on top, rap down, and climb had well and truly chewed into the day and midday was upon us. Sitting back and having a bite to eat allowed us some contemplation time, our only way down was to rap down the same line with no real idea of where any other routes were. The available guides did not seem particularly helpful on that front, and not having seen the cliff as we had walked up made things even more difficult:
Craig had already hinted, as we prepared for the trip and drove down that he was after some good walks and a few fun long routes. And faced with uncertainty of what lay below us, and the fact that the cracks and corners the trad lines would undoubtedly follow, likely holding onto the water and being covered in moss, there was an air of reluctance to go back down. So it was decided that we would hike back out, but not down the same track. Instead we would continue on the Nancy Peak loop, taking us over the ridge that can be seen below:
Nancy Peak is about the same height as Marmabup Rock, but we had to hike back down the valley between the two ridges and then all the way back up. The hike up the other side felt like it went on for ever. While I reckon I could easily have climbed another 150m route, hiking up the track with the full pack made my legs feel like they were going to burst. But it was worthwhile and provided us with great views back towards where we had just been, which was the large dome on the left hand side in the image below:
We could now see the features clearly and some of the other routes started to make more sense, something to put in the memory bank for the next trip out here. It is the sort of place that won’t get much traffic, so being quiet and with long multi-pitch climbs and views like this it will definitely be worth coming back to. It did surprise us that the ridge we had been on is flanked by Marmabup Rock on one side and Gibraltar Rock on the other. I have been to the latter several times, and never considered investigating Marmabup Rock:
The other thing that surprised us, was that for all the talk about the Devils Slide it really wasn’t an obvious feature to be seen as you walked the Devil’s Slide spur. Looking back we can only guess it was the long slab to the left in the image above, but this is not visible from the hike up, nor the top. As we continued on the hike over Nancy’s Peak we saw a few orchids along the way, but only very few and nowhere near what I was expecting. In fact there were generally very few flowers out, and had thought it would be more colourful:
In past years when we have been here in spring time the Porongurup’s, with more rain, has had a lot more flowers than the Stirling Ranges. But this year it seemed to be the opposite way round, and I wonder if this is because it has remained cooler and wetter for longer this year. There were however plenty of small birds about in the dense vegetation, and when they all kicked off we knew to look about for a bird of prey. That on most occasions ended up being a Nankeen Kestrel (Falco cenchroides):
By the time we got back to the car we were very happy to take the packs off, and sit down for a bit. And with a few hours up our sleeves before the sun would sink down, I suggested we hoick it back to the Stirling’s and hike up another peak. This time without a pack on, which we thought might not be too bad. However, we neglected to take into account the hundreds of steps to take us up our chosen peak of Mount Trio. We picked it, as it is probably the quickest walk of the main peaks, plus there was one type of orchid I was keen to see:
There seemed to be an abundance of flowers, and that included the one species of orchid I was keen to see here. The same one that Lisa and I found up here a couple of years back, which was very soon after the place had been ravaged by fires: https://sandbagged.blog/2020/11/02/ten-years-on/. Fair to say we were both pretty pleased to get to the top, enjoy the view of the many peaks stretching out west, and even better have the place with no one about. We were also both happy that we didn’t have to go up any more:
Instead it was just a slow and steady pace back down, being mindful not to rush and do any damage. While there was still a bit of light left at camp, we both had tea and food on the brain so we tended that need first. And then watched the evening draw on as we wandered out to the National Park to bag a few more orchids to add to the list. After which we had a well-deserved beer sat by the fire pit. Sadly John and Margot were nowhere to be seen and I knew we would be up and out early again the next day, so I’ll have to catch up with them next time:
Sunday arrived and this time I opted for a cuppa at 4am. We had already decided we would climb in the Stirling Ranges, and had three spots in mind. First Mount Trio, but we decided against that as we had already walked up there and the routes were nearly all sports and hard. Barnett Peak was very inviting but that would be a 2 hour hike each way, with no defined track and we were not sure our legs would cope with that. Also the forecast indicated rain might be on its way by midday, and the thought of getting soaked walking out wasn’t too inviting:
There were a few other contributing factors that resulted in us going back to the third place on our list, an old favourite. We knew the walk in and the climbs, so it added a factor of comfort and safety. You might be able to tell that this trip was not about going out on a limb, and it was more of a chilled trip. As we drove out, as shown above, Mt Toolbrunup was capped with cloud. I can still hear Elseya’s voice twelve years back saying “I want to walk up that hill and be in the clouds”. But today our focus was on Talyuberlup:
I’ve climbed here three times, and every time have done the same routes. The last time was with Craig and Howsie: https://sandbagged.blog/2018/04/28/a-pot-of-gold/, and on that trip it had been wild weather and we knew Howsie would love being on the pointy end. Today it was calm and clear, so I quietly hoped Craig might jump on lead. Before that, however, we had to hike up the steep incline with packs on again. It felt like a slog, but I did spot a few orchids in flower and also the above very interesting find, which I will come back too:
Craig also spotted this weevil, which I have not been able to identify with confidence. I believe I have seen them before and did wonder if it was one of the Amycterini weevils, which are supposed to be an iconic Australian weevil. It looked to be scaling its own cliffs, and like us as we observed it, it seemed to be having a rest from its upward journey. We left the weevil it to its own devices and continued on the final leg of our trek to the cliffs. Today at least the trad gear that we had hauled up would be used:
The two climbs we were aiming for are both recorded as multi-pitch routes, but I knew we could stretch the 50m rope and do each of them in a single pitch. Last time we came the conditions would have made the steeper, harder, and more exposed Nailbite a very scary proposition. But today was perfect, and so I set off up that, hoping to warm Craig up and get his mind straight for a lead on the second easier line. It was glorious, there is nothing better than a true rope stretching pitch:
I topped out as the rope ran out, but the belay ledge is perfect and has great gear close to hand. And better still it provides an eagle eyed view of the cliff below, allowing me to watch Craig’s progression up the towering face. There are heaps of climbs here, many of them are a very easy grades and a bit on the rambling side, but these two lines are clean and direct. With classy climbing from top to bottom, in a stunning position. And while I could see Craig was loving it, I could also tell he wasn’t in the right headspace to lead:
We sat atop for a while before setting up a rap anchor. I do not like abseiling at the best of times but will use it for access and ease. And in this case we could avoid a long scramble down, plus it provided a great photo opportunity as Craig came down second. The stunning blue sky above indicated that like yesterday the high peaks were once again going to make a fool of those brave enough to forecast what the weather would do here. So we didn’t need to rush into jumping on the second line:
While Manicure ends up at the same belay ledge, it follows the corner and as such feels completely different and bears no resemblance to the first climb. What with the ability to keep one foot on either side of the corner it does make for easier climbing, three grades easier, but just as good fun and again is in a great position. The only risk being that it is possible to put so much gear in, and run out of protection as you approach the final and steepest part of the corner:
Howsie had almost fallen foul of that, but what with the conditions he had to deal with it was not surprising he put more gear in. Today in these conditions I was happy to run sections out a fair bit and half way up the climb I had only put my second piece in. Craig was looking very comfortable following up, and while he wasn’t kicking himself that he hadn’t led it he did commit to leading it if we came back. Scrambling down the back of the cliff, we came across two new bolted lines. We looked at them but compared to the awesome natural features we had just climbed they didn’t look too inspiring:
Needless to say we walked on by, and back to the packs. While I’m sure they may be fun they will have to wait for another day, our target of bagging the two classics was met and time was ticking. And we had definitely met Craig’s intention of getting some good hiking in and hitting a few great long climbs. So even though the weather was holding out, we still had to get a mosey on and head home at a reasonable time. There was still time for a quick snack, while taking in the views from up on high for one last time:
The sun was well and truly out and above us making for a warm walk down. As such the Southwestern Crevice Skink (Egernia napoleonis) were out and about again, but unlike yesterday when the broken cloud had made it feel a little cool at times, today they were warmed up enough to scamper away as we got too close. All bar this one that sat still just long enough for me to take a snap. I was also hoping that the sun would have activated something else, and on the way up we had purposely marked the spot to check:
Unfortunately the sun orchid with that a single curly leaf, shown in the image before, was not giving any signs of opening up. I researched it when I got home and thought it could have been a Curly Locks Sun Orchid (Thelymitra spiralis), but the usual habitat of that orchid is near winter swampy land and this one was half way up a peak. I have sought some assistance from Noel, and while it is not certain until the flower opens he feels it may have been a Curly Locks Sun Orchid, making it a rare find in the Stirling Ranges:
And as promised for those floristic nerds (like me) I will leave you with images of the fourteen species of orchids we spotted that were in flower, and of which I took an image. We also spotted the ever present Cowslip Orchid (Caladenia flava), which I refrained from taking any more images of, but it does make it a nice round fifteen species. Not a bad tally considering the brief opportunities to take the time to look about. And I’ll start you off with the below Sugar Orchid (Caladenia saccharata), and then leave you to enjoy the rest with limited words from me:
Driving out today, like yesterday, the electronics in my car notified me that it was only 4 degree Celsius, the rationale for the warning no doubt being that there could be ice about. However, unlike yesterday there was no hiding in the fog with the morning arriving crisp, cold, and clear. It is hard to believe that the image below is taken at the same time of the day, as the first image from my last post. Sam and I were not the first to arrive at our destination although I suspect the surfers, some of which were already in the water, had camped out overnight:
For Sam’s third trip out for a climb I suggested Moses Rocks. In part as it is a favourite spot of mine but also I have to admit that was also keen to have a quick sticky beak for a particular orchid that is only found these parts. However, other than briefly scouring the scrub as we walked in we didn’t spend any time looking, and as such were not successful. In addition to my own selfish reasons I also feel it would be good for him to sample the climbing style required on a different rock formation Moses offers:
Being his first visit here we headed to Hands Up Wall, with generally longer lines. And I was pleased to observe that while the rock beckoned, Sam took a moment to soak in the setting. Cleaning rolling waves out to sea, crashing white water below, a picturesque rocky landscape, and he even spied a couple of ‘whale blows’. Something that is a technical term in the whale watching world, defined as ‘a cloud or column of moist air forcefully expelled through the blowhole when the whale surfaces to breath’:
I’ve also heard it called a spout, and this term is referenced in the glossary of whale watching language. They discourage the use of the term spout, as it indicates mostly water is being expelled, which is not the case. The blowhole is the whales nostril, but unlike other mammals it is not connected with their esophagus. As such whales can only breathe through their blowhole, or nose, and not being fish they do not have gills so immediately after the blow they take an enormous inhale. I’ve also read that each species has a distinctive blow:
The above image is the best I managed to capture, failing to get the blow. So from memory and based on what I have found out I think we saw two humpback whales. My assessment was made a bit easier by the fact that we generally only get humpback and southern right whales along this coastline, although there is a slight chance of spotting blue whales. So today I learnt all about whale blows, and have more facts stored in my memory for another time, while Sam was being introduced to the joys of the rock at Moses:
The rock is generally rounded and smooth, but the fine grained granite provides amazing friction. If it didn’t the climbing here would be extremely difficult. That said this is how it can feel until you fully trust that climbing shoes and fingers will stick to the slightest of ripples on the rock. On occasion, as below, there may be no holds of note and you have to have faith in nothing but friction for all four points of contact, which is created by body tension. It can be a very disconcerting feeling, and one that requires a slow and steady approach, and a cool head:
Over stretching to find a better hand hold, that invariable is not there, can lead to becoming unbalanced and losing the required body tension to maintain that precious friction. Sam did remarkably well and only slipped once. Mind you that was on the hardest climb he has attempted to date at grade 18 (E1 5a/b), so he could be forgiven for that. On the second attempt, after lowering him back down, he got up it clean by using and trusting his feet more. It wasn’t all slabs today and there are a few steeper faces, and even a couple of great cracks:
The cracks allowed for jamming, which is probably the most secure and least energy expending type of climbing style. If you do it right. And it is something Sam seems to have a knack for, and as a result he found the slabs way harder than the cracks. The last few climbs today felt a little harder than usual for me, and I put that down to being at Welly Dam yesterday in addition to leading every climb today. So next time Sam tags along I might need to get him to take a lead or two:
For those familiar with the place this may seem a little unlikely that there may be new route opportunities at Well Dam, with so many bolted climbs packed on a relatively small rock face. But I reckon I have found a few, and in the climbing community developing new areas and even routes can be a very secretive business for some. As if they are afraid that someone might sneak in and beat them to bagging the lines. So it may have been considered perfect this morning to arrive cloaked in fog, as if my activities today would remain undetected:
While I’m not too worried about people finding out, I can’t imagine anyone will be that interested. After all Welly Dam is not on many people’s list of favourite places to climb. Also mucking about to try new sport climbs can be a time consuming business, checking where the route goes, whether the line can be escaped, if it is worth the effort, and where to place the bolts. New trad climbs are easier, and if you have the gumption you just jump on the line and climb it. Hoping the climb will go and there is sufficient protection:
There are four lines I had in mind. One spotted by Steve, which Rongy and I have climbed before and knew was worthwhile, and one attempted by Aaron. Both are still waiting to be equipped, so today I threw a rope down Aaron’s to see what it was like. It was fun and had some great moves, but it was a little contrived with the best technical climbing being easy to avoid. I therefore need a second opinion before I decide if it is worth pursuing. Next I attempted what I thought would be the better of the two lines I had spotted, and from which as shown above I pulled off a holds as I tried it:
The loose rock didn’t worry me, as cleaning the line would be part of developing it. What put me off was that sections of the climb got a bit too close to the routes on the left and right so it was not independent enough. It seems that past climbers had also spotted this possible route, and had gone a step further by drilling a few holes for bolts. And like them I too will not pursue it any further. Looking at my last possible climb from the deck it seemed it might be too easy, but I was wrong and it was great. Better still it was completely independent, inescapable, and had no signs of prior interest:
So I’ll be back sometime with a willing assistant, to get a second opinion on Aaron’s find, and clean and decide on bolt placements for the two that I feel are worthy. From what I have described it may not sound like I did a lot of climbing. That was however never the intention, it was about knowing what was worthwhile and what wasn’t. That said it still took a fair chunk of time and the fog was well and truly gone, as I got ready to pack up. While sorting the gear a male and female Splendid Fairywren (Malurus splendens) started to work their way towards me. The above female was the brave one, while the stunning blue male kept his distance:
There were also other signs of life at the top of the crag, and I spotted a few orchids including the above two Sun Orchids getting ready to open up for the day. I didn’t pay too much attention, but checking them out on my return I feel like I should have. The orchid book indicates there are quite a few species round these parts, so I’m going to have to collect more detailed images and information next time. The sign of several orchids at the quarry gave me hope for the second part of my morning out, which was a stroll along the Collie River:
I was feeling hopeful, as I have found heaps of species on this walk in past years. Plus I saw loads of Acacia and Peas, see above, as I started the walk. Scouring the area as I strolled I spotted heaps of Cowslip Orchids, which may seem a bit unexciting. There are however a few sub-species, and this one is the Karri Cowslip Orchid (Caladenia flava subsp. sylvestris). Being later flowering and taller, with narrower petals and generally a paler yellow than the Cowslip Orchid (Caladenia flava). But there was not too much else to see:
I came across the odd Snail and Donkey Orchid but event they were few and far between. Certainty not the plethora of finds I was hoping for, so like the climbs I’ll just need to come back another time to check again. It was still a lovely walk, and again like the climbing my intention was a not to get heaps in. I wasn’t intending to complete the river walk or any of the loops, but when I saw the spur track that leads up the ridge closed off with a danger sign I simply had to have a look:
There were several fallen trees, all with evidence that others had managed to safely negotiate the new obstacles. So I carried on with the thought to make it to the look out, and with the higher and drier country hoping my luck would change. It didn’t, although like my walk up this path in early July I did spy some Midge Orchids in flower. My legs felt like they had worked enough when I made it to the lookout, so back down I went happy with having tried the potential new routes and also checking out the orchid situation on the river walk:
