Sandbagged

Kicking back

There was a chance that I would have been flying solo this weekend. That was until late in the week, when both Mario and Rongy’s partners made plans that didn’t include them leaving them free to play. Rongy decided on the Northern Blocks of Wilyabrup, which I was more than happy with. Partly because we rarely see other climbers here, and never when we have been climbing ourselves. Plus during Mario and my last trip here we spotted a possible new line, which I was keen to check out:

On arrival at the top of the cliff, we stopped for a while to check out the dolphins that were cruising past with young in tow. We were also almost convinced we saw a whale, but due to the distance it was hard to be sure. The Southern Right Whales are on their migration south and we were hoping to see some today, aided by a calm ocean that would make it easier to spot them. But sadly, we didn’t spy any more confirmed or unconfirmed sightings. We did however get to watch the dolphins for quite some time as they played in the bay just to the north of us, which was very cool:

In the words of Apollo Creed when he trained Rocky Balboa, I would say that I would say that of the three of us Mario is the one with the “eye of the tiger”. So it wasn’t too hard for us to get him to take the first lead. Both Rongy and I were thinking this was a good thing, as it would then be Mario that risked getting a flash pump on the first route, allowing us to chill out a bit more with the rope above us. This is exactly what happened, but he also has sufficient experience keeping his cool and finding stances to rest up enough to avoid taking a fall:

The flash pump risk is heightened here as there really are no good warm up routes. They are all a tad steep, a little bit pumpy, and fairly sustained. So I was a little surprised Rongy picked this place for a climb considering his lack of consistent appearances on rock over winter. He even jumped on the sharp end for the next route. Taking on a line I climbed for the first time during my last visit here not that long ago. Never really too hard, but thin and balancy in sections with the spaced gear making for some exposed sections, requiring Rongy to also draw on his experience and keep his cool:

Last night Lisa and I had headed up the road to see the neighbours, as it has been a long time since we have caught up. Something that seems to happen over winter, as people bunker down that bit more. It was intended to be a short hello, and as is usually the case with them it wasn’t so short and also resulted in me having a slightly woolly head this morning. To the point I suggested to Mario and Rongy they might like to take the leads. They however were having none of it, resulting in all my talk about the possible new line while organising the trip backfired on me:

Mick and his son appeared just as they were steering me towards the rock, so I left them chattering as I started. The line links two routes but has a traverse of sufficient length to make it worth investigating. The first route to get to the traverse I knew well, but I have never been on the second route that it finished up. This was due to the lower section of that climb being harder than anything I would tackle. The traverse got more overhung and pumpy as I moved leftwards, and I was almost off as I got myself into the corner of the second line that would take up upwards. I’m really not sure how I held on but I did:

Both Mario and then Rongy followed up and agreed it was a great climb. I suggested a solid pumpy grade 19, but as each of them joined me at the belay and without hesitation they both suggested it was worthy of grade 20. Knowing my propensity to not want to over grade routes, which has led to people claiming a number of my climbs are sandbags, I’ll go with the grade 20. It was my turn to catch up with Mick as Marion took the next lead and hopefully one day we might organise to climb together, as opposed to just randomly bumping into each other:

After following after Mario, Rongy, weary from a 45km mountain bike ride the day before and also admitting to not having the stamina to sustain climbing these steeper lines, decided to sit out the next two routes. Content with laying down to close his eyes and soak up the warmth of the sun, scanning the ocean out to the horizon just in case a whale might appear, occasionally looking down the cliff to see how we were going, and also checking to see if the two boulderers below us managed to battle their way up the pebbles. Despite just kicking back for the last part, we had all thoroughly enjoyed just being out:

Here, there, and everywhere

I feel like I’ve been wandering about a fair bit weeks… and in part blame Josh for it. Not the Josh I climb with, but someone from work. Unlike me his job takes him out in the field a fair bit, to secluded spots where we have stream flow and groundwater level measurement infrastructure. For the sites that in areas of native vegetation, at this time of the year, they are conveniently also places that, as we say to each other, orchidy looking. As such he has been sending me images of his finds, which in turn has enthused me to get out hunting:

Tuesday was my first trip out. And seeing I practically drive past it on the way home, I stopped in at Manea Park. I didn’t stay too long, and the only new find was a common orchid being the Cowslip Orchid (Caladenia flava). As the season progresses this orchid will, like the Pink Fairy Orchid (Caladenia latifolia) and Dwarf Pink Fairy Orchid (Caladenia reptans), litter the ground. I was however interested to learn more about where the rather dull common name of the poor old Cowslip Orchid came from, but have been unable to find anything:

I did however discover the genus name, Caladenia, originates from two Greek words, calos and aden, meaning beautiful and gland. This large genus represents over 350 species of orchids. And the scientific name of the plain old Cowslip species, flava, simply means yellow and is derived from the Latin word flavus. Meanwhile the species name of the above Clubbed Spider Orchid (Caladenia longiclavata), which I found on my Wednesday after work trip to Crooked Brook, not surprisingly means long club based on the Latin words of longus and clavus:

It was the only species of spider orchid I found at Crooked Brook, and I was unable to locate the other one Josh had spotted. But unlike Lisa and my hike in Wellington National Park last weekend there were plenty of other flowers out here. One of the more striking ones being the above Heart-leaf Flame Pea (Chorizema cordatum). This is a plant that helps gardeners due to its ability to extract nitrogen from air and ’fix’ is in nodules of their roots, making it a living fertiliser. There were plenty of other orchids about, but only one other new one for this season:

I was very excited when I spotted a Bird Orchid (Pterostylis barbata), and better still I later found the above specimen. These orchids generally will only have one flower, and it is rare to find a plant with two flowers as the above one had. I haven’t narrowed down where the genus name of pterostylis originates, which covers some 300 species of greenhood orchids. But the species name barbata is a Latin word meaning bearded, and what I didn’t know is that the Bird Orchid is also commonly known as a Western Bearded Greenhood:

Thursday and Friday arrived and these are great days for me as I work from home. Being an early bird I usual start work at 6am and sometimes before that, meaning that I can wrap up a bit earlier than most. So on Thursday I snuck out mid-afternoon to the Ruabon Nature Reserve, a place that Josh had put me onto last year. Although last year I visited this area a little late in the season. And this year I am hoping to find some cool spider orchids here, but it seems that it is still a bit early for them. I did however find a couple of species I found last year:

The taller and green stemmed King In-His-Carriage Orchid (Drakaea glyptodon), is approx. 350mm high. It is the most common of the hammer orchids, and I’m yet to find any of the other ones. The unusually shape of this orchid has a very specific purpose, which is to trick a single species of male thynnid wasp. The dark red flower is both shaped like, and has a pheromone like scent that mimics, a female wasp. The male wasp tries to carry the flower off but is pulled back hitting the top of the stem where the ovary is located:

This process is repeated for each flower the male wasp is lured to, and this results in the flowers being pollinated. It may sound unbelievable but here is a link to a BBC Green Planet Video to prove it: https://youtu.be/6yLnKfhmUzg. The video is of a Warty Hammer Orchid, as opposed to a King In-His-Carriage Orchid, but the process is the same. In the image of the full plant, you may have noticed another small orchid with a brown stem that is a mere 50mm high, being a Flying Duck Orchid (Paracaleana nigrita):

Both of the above orchids have tiny flowers, and the above image gives an indication of scale. This will in part justify why some of my walks with Lisa have to be a bit slow. Although it is amazing that once you tune your eye into what to look for, it becomes quite a bit easier to see even the smallest specimens. Similar to the King In-His-Carriage Orchid the Flying Duck Orchid also uses deception to become fertilized, this one relying on the male sawfly. Pollination results in the ovary forming a capsule that can contain as many as 500 seeds:

I included the above image to show the quite different landscape and vegetation makeup of the Ruabon Nature Reserve, as opposed to Crooked Brook that is shown in the image with the water. Ruabon having sandy soils, while Crooked Brook is underlain by lateritic and granite deposits. We have quite diverse soils and landscapes in close proximity, which provides an opportunity to find a wide variety of species of orchids as well as other plants. The other orchid of note that I found, en masse, on this trip to Ruabon was the Common Donkey Orchid (Diuris corymbosa):

However, the above specimen is rather special as it has three labellums. These look like the bottom lip of the flower. If you check back through previous posts, every other Donkey Orchid, regardless of species, only has one labellum. I checked this find with Noel Hoffman, one of the authors of Orchids of South-west Australia of which I have the fourth edition. Bearing in mind he lives and breathes orchids, he advised me that he hadn’t come across this before for in a Donkey Orchid, but had seen a White Spider Orchid with 3 labellums some 15 years ago. So I feel it is fair to say it was a very rare and lucky find:

I was quite taken by the above peas, but have been unable to identify this species. It is worth including the image, as looking it and the image above it you can see why some people might confuse the two very different flowers. Friday came and as I worked, a message popped up with more images from Josh. This time he had the day off and was on a serious hunt. So I decided on a fourth trip out making it four days of orchid hunting in a row. This time it was to the closest spot to home the Capel Nature Reserve:

I think the above is a Splendid White Spider Orchid (Caladenia splendens), and you’ll see in the previous post that I have and will struggle with narrowing these down: https://sandbagged.blog/2022/08/27/time-for-a-cuppa/. To add to my quandary the above specimen had no red or pink colouring in the flower, something you would normally expect as shown in the linked post and the below image. It is possible that it is a pale form, similar to an albino, and after way too much time trying to figure it out if it is another species I have given up:

The reason for including the above image was to show the colouration variation, but also because I had a lot of fun watching the spider. There was previously a beetle on the flower, but that flew away as the spider closed in. I also found a similar beetle on the flower below. Not on an orchid, but a Jewel Rainbow Sundew (Drosera neesii) that is easily distinguished by the pink flowers. This can form both a free standing plant, but is also known to act like a vine using the sticky pads, usually used to trap insects, to attach itself to another plant or object:

I was quite taken by the sundew flowers, which were out in force. The other prominent one being the Pale Rainbow Creeper (Drosera pallida), this one having white flowers and the image below shows beautifully how it is making use of the tree trunk. Both of these sundews are endemic to Western Australia, and can be found in a wide variety of land forms and soils types. From sandplains to heathlands, and deep sands or lateritic deposits, so I’m likely to see a lot more of them a bit like the Cowslip Orchids. I wonder if I’ll be as well travelled next week:

In need of a recharge

It seems that there is always something on to stop us from dragging the camper trailer out of the shed. Which is where it has been stashed since April this year, but this weekend the stars aligned and we finally got away. The last time, despite it being glorious weather at home, we drove straight into some pretty bad weather that stayed with us for the two day trip. It felt like this might become a bit of a trait, and again left home only to drive through the rain. Fortunately, our destination was dry so we popped the trailer up straight away in case it changed:

It felt wintry and cold and was hard to read the sky. So to warm up we took a gamble and headed out for a hike, which had been our original intention. However, Lisa wasn’t feeling like she had much energy so put a limit of 5km on the walk. We followed the Sika trail, a walk we have done before but neither of us could recall the length. No matter, as Lisa would simply track our progress on her Fitbit and we would do a 180, heading back from where we came when we hit the magical 2.5km. My recent walks looking for orchids have been through bush with flowers starting to burst into life:

And while there were some flowers out today the landscape, like the weather, had that wintry feel to it. We mostly saw browns and greens, with the occasional splash of yellow that was predominantly a result of two plants. The first being the below Yellow Buttercups (Hibbertia hypericoides), which is one of the most common understorey shrubs to be found both in Jarrah forest and coastal plain alike, all the way from Geraldton down to Albany. But today it wasn’t these flowers that caught my eye as I took this image:

I was of course looking for orchids, and there is a Pink Fairy Orchid (Caladenia latifolia) nestled underneath the protective covering of this common shrub. What with Lisa not having her usual energy, I could take advantage of the slightly slower pace and look about a bit more. And whether to reduce the pace further or not Lisa was also on the hunt. Unlike the banksia woodlands on the coastal plains, the orchids here look to be a little slower in making an appearance. And we only spotted two other variety being the below Silky Blue Orchid (Caladenia sericea), and Slender Snail Orchid (Pterostylis crispula):

The other thing that slowed us down, was all the up slopes. This became a bit of a joke as we walked round, and came about from a group of four not so serious mountain bikers. They had just been round this loop, and the one at the tail end had said while it was a lovely trail it was marred by the fact that there was way too much uphill than downhill. Despite the slower than normal pace, which was not due to the orchid hunting for a change, we both enjoyed being out and the need to check for the 2.5km mark was forgotten:

I’m sure Lisa was aware of this, but made no mention of it and I was more than happy to keep walking. As a result we ended up completing double the nominated distance, by finishing the 10km circuit. In addition to the wintery feel and lack of flowers, we also noticed that there wasn’t much chatter in the forest. We only heard a solitary Red-tailed Black Cockatoo, and there were very few other birds out and about. Maybe they were huddled away to keep warm. We eventually caught sight of the reservoir, and then we knew we were close:

Our chosen campsite being Potters Gorge, on the edge of the Wellington Dam reservoir. As we walked the last section the ground looked to be lit up once more by thousands of little light bulbs. Being the bright yellow pompom flowers of an acacia, and the second yellow flower that seemed to be out in force. With so many species of acacia, I am not game to narrow this one down. Back at camp we had a snack and made a cuppa, but once the food was gone we started to feel cold and decided it was time to have a lie down in the camper:

We never came back out, and by the time we thought about it darkness had descended and neither of us were hungry enough to make the effort. And instead stayed warm and cosy inside the trailer. And in the morning, as light crept into the sky beyond the tops of the trees that towered above us, Lisa stayed continued to stay put. Nothing new there from whenever we head out for a camp, and I made a brew for each of us before going on a solo wander as she read her book drifting in and out of sleep:

I walked a short couple of kilometres to the quarry. Knowing that I would have a few hours to kill I the morning, I had brought my climbing shoes just in case the chance came up. the lack of orchids out at the moment resulted in the opportunity indeed presenting itself. Being by myself and only having my shoes, I endeavoured to boulder up to and back down from the first bolt on every line. It may not sound like a lot but resulted in approx. 240m of climbing if I counted both going up and back down. Arriving back at the campsite right on time Lisa had just finished her cuppa and was keen for a second:

The intention was to allow Lisa to continue stay in bed reading until she had finished the second cuppa, but sadly this didn’t happen. It started to drizzle and the clouds were rolling in across the reservoir. And rather than deal with a soggy trailer when we got home, we both agreed it was worth packing it away quickly. Something that takes no more than a couple of minutes. We could still make breakfast in the dry due to the camp shelter conveniently located next to our campsite, which we did before hitting the road. And as we had the day before we drove in the rain. I’m not sure the trip out energised Lisa’s batteries, but we both thoroughly enjoyed and felt better for the short getaway:

A picture paints a thousand words

I’ve stumbled across a new local spot to hunt orchids, and it is the closest one to where we live yet. In fact it is an even shorter distance from where we lived for seven years, and we never checked it out. That might be because it isn’t publicised, has no parking areas, and there are no formal walk paths. There are however plenty of tracks that seem to crisscross through the Capel Nature reserve. I’ve heard that not too many people head out here, so it is a great quiet spot to explore. Working from home and being a mere 10-15min drive away, today was my first trip here to have a quick look to see if was any cop:

The reserve seemed to be mostly weed free. A good sign as the orchids, as well as other native plants, wouldn’t be competing against faster growing and usually bigger invasive species. There were immediately signs of orchids, and the first one to mention is the above Hort’s Duck Orchid (Paracaleana hortiorum). I was super excited last year when I found my first Duck Orchid (https://sandbagged.blog/2021/10/15/the-tipoff/), but those were the Flying Duck Orchids (Paracaleana nigrita) making todays a first time sighting for me. The difference is subtle but the labellum of this species, the bit that looks like the head, is flatter and the glands that look like purple bubbles don’t extend as far back on the labellum:

Next and above, I thought I had found an unusual orchid. Possibly a hybrid of some sort due to the pale nature of the petals with the patterning showing through, and also the column wing almost looking white. At best it may be a pale form, but is still “just” a Purple Enamel Orchid (Elythranthera brunonis). To give you an idea of why I was getting a bit excited, the image below is a classic looking specimen. It made me get up close and personal, capturing some reasonable images of the finer details. This is relevant, as I have in previous years tried to convince myself that I have spotted the Pink Enamel Orchid (Elythranthera emarginata):

The above linked post being one example. However, armed with my more detailed book, the images from today, and having checked past images it has dawned on me that I have never seen one. The obvious sign, now that I am aware, being the centre of the flower. Unlike the Duck Orchid in which the labellum is prominent; in Enamel Orchids it is small and almost inconspicuous being the white looking tongue between the two very dark calli. This part is quite different between the purple and pink species, and should I ever come across the pink species I’ll include an image to show how:

There were lots of other orchids popping up, but yet to flower. Such as the above spider orchid and I’ll have to head back next week to see if any are blooming. I’m not brave enough to try and guess what species they are until they open up. And even then it may be tricky especially if they are one of the white variety. I also saw heaps of withering greenhoods as well as healthy jugs and snails. Again maybe being overly hopeful of a new find, due to the long backward pointing sepals. But there is nothing in my book to indicate I found a different species of Snail Orchids:

It was a reasonably quick visit, so there is only one more image and that is of course of a Donkey Orchid. I’ll guess that I found three species, but I’ll only include this one because it is different to what I recently found at Manea Park. If you are really keen to see if you agree with me check out the previous post: https://sandbagged.blog/2022/08/26/sitting-on-the-fence/. The giveaway being the labellum. A part that is yet again very different to that of both the Duck and Enamel Orchids. For this orchid it is the noticeable pink part that looks like a bottom lip, indicating it is likely to be the Dunsborough Donkey Orchid (Diuris jonesii). As for whether this place is worth coming back to, I think the images speak for themselves:

Training day

Another inclement day, and this time is was Craig who joined me to brave the elements, not walking and hunting for orchids but for a climb. You may recall a few weeks back he joined us for a play at Moses Rocks, after a long absence from rock. I think he may have caught the bug again, as not only did he jump at the chance to get out this weekend but we are also scheming a short trip away in October. So today was both for fun, and also so he check where his stamina was at. He is a little worried he may not keep up with Kym Rongy and I, and therefore I suggested we head to Wilyabrup and pack in eight lines:

I had asked if there were any lines he was particularly keen to have a bash at leading, as I was expecting him to lead four of the eight routes. He only suggested one line, being Waterfall Second Folly direct start. This was probably not the best route to jump on straight up, so we started the session on the north facing wall of the Fat Chance area. Not only does this wall have some more sedate routes, but it also provided some welcome shelter. It was biting cold, clouds hung ominously in the sky and a strong southerly wind cutting across the coastline:

On the first route our fingertips were tingling from the cold, but the friction was great and we balanced our way up. I took the first lead, so by the time Craig jumped on the sharp end he was at least a bit warmed up. Today, in contrast to the view of a tranquil flat ocean that Lisa and I had seen yesterday, here on the exposed west coast the ocean was a mass of boiling white water. Big thunderous waves came in quick succession, and even quite far out to sea they became an indistinct blur of white. That was until they made land fall, sending spray high into the air:

Due to the northerly wind the continuous salt spray, which was giving the ocean a hazy appearance, didn’t head our way and the rock was lovely and dry. The tide and swell were such that the usually sandy beach, just to the south was just a mass of water. I’ve just checked the swell and it peaked at 7am today, which is when we arrived, tipping in at just shy of seven meters. Unlike yesterday’s ocean conditions today it didn’t make me think about snorkelling. It’s a good job that loose flakes such at the one above doesn’t have that same impact on me with climbing:

It is interesting when I hear people who don’t climb, claim without any understanding that climbing is very risky. Even if when they themselves partake in adventure sports, such as surfing or mountain biking, they still see climbing as having a higher risk level. What is so often overlooked is the slow and controlled nature of climbing. Making slow and deliberate decisions. All the time looking at how we can reduce the risk, as opposed to having to make quick changes of tactics when an unexpected wave comes in or the bike track conditions suddenly change:

I guess there is also the need to understand the mechanics of protection. Craig has these wonderful triangular wires and non-climbers, as well as some climbers, would struggle to appreciate just how good the above placement is. Today Craig had his head in the game placing good and trusting in his gear, and showing control and technique. We soon racked up four fine climbs meaning it was time to break out the thermos. A cuppa being most welcome, as we were about to move to the west facing wall and would be right in the path of the wind that still had a cold bite to it:

The cuppa did a great job, and I fired up my next line before Craig then took on the one route he had put forward before our trip out. I have to say that when he suggested the direct start to Waterfall Second Folly, I did wonder how much he might have remembered about this line. As it turned out not as much as he thought, and after the more friendly routes round the corner this one caught him a little of guard. But not so much as to not be able to get up it, and his stamina was certainly holding up well:

With the conditions as they were, we were not surprised to be the only people climbing today. But there were quite a few groups out for a walk, both above and below the cliffs. The second group arrived as we were on the penultimate route, and I gave them a bit of a start when I popped my head over the edge of the cliff while they were stood a healthy distance back from the edge admiring the view of the crashing waves. They then made a beeline to the base and arrived below just in time to watch Craig as he neared the top:

Craig told me that the cliffs of Wilyabrup were on some Facebook group that has a bucket list of places to see in the South West, which explains the increasing numbers of walkers. The walkers were however not the only observers of our antics today. This Southwestern Crevice Skink (Egernia napoleonis) watched us carefully before scuttling away in a crevice, as we got ready to climb right past it. These skinks are from the same genus as the King Skinks, and both are endemic to the South West of Western Australia and relatively common to see. But as with all things nature based, it always gives me a buzz to catch sight of them:

I was quietly hoping to also see a different reptile, and the place to see it was going to be on the last line of the day. Sadly despite the now blue sky and sun bringing out the skinks, there was no sign of any carpet pythons not even a discarded skin. It was a great morning out, as it always is, and Craig can now rest assured that he still has the skills and stamina required. Even leading us out on the last route, alpine style with a pack on. Also what he hadn’t considered is that both Rongy and Kym have hardly climbed for months, so the October trip is highly likely to be a pretty chilled and relaxed event. That said I have no issues with Craig dragging me out for a few more training days:

Time for a cuppa

Despite a not entirely favourable forecast and having driven through belts of rain to get here, Lisa and I were greeted to flat, vibrant, and aqua coloured water extending out into the distant ocean from Castle Rock Beach, which is located in the Meelup Regional Park. Even better, as we stepped out of the car and looked towards the horizon whales could be seen launching themselves out of the water. Crashing back down and sending walls of white water high into the air. So even before we began our walk, we took a load off and sat to watch them play:

Today’s walk took us along a winding coastal path, which at times goes through tunnels capped by the branches of trees entwined above. Where the vegetation receded on the coastal side the flat blue ocean stretched out, and stopped for a while looking out hoping to glimpse a whales or two. Unlike at Manea Park just yesterday there didn’t seem to be too much in flower, and the most prominent flower I kept seeing was the Southern Tiurndin (Tribonanthes australis). First described in 1839 and the scientific name comes from two Greek words of tribon and anthos, meaning cloak and flower respectively. Possibly due to the frilly fabric texture of the petals:

I kept a beady eye out, but the coastal track was still quite damp, with seepages making the path muddy in places. The cool and wet nature meant that it didn’t feel very “orchidy” to me, and as it was I didn’t spot any in flower. With only a few tell-tale leaves scattered in isolated areas. As such our pace was faster than normal. Soon enough we were well past Meelup Beach, and at the point where it is possible to take a left and head up the lookout circuit. Here the track rises up the rocky hill, which provides vistas but also means the land dries up. Whether this was the reason or not there were more flowers to observe, but still no orchids:

While it was sunny, we had little protection from the wind and it had a chill. So we didn’t hang about for too long, just enough time to spot a few whales far out to sea continuing to play. After which we started the descent back towards Meelup Beach, from where we walked at a reasonable pace. At one point Lisa asked if we had far to go, and I could see Copper Rocks not too far ahead. So I guessed it was ten minutes tops, but if we didn’t muck about maybe five. A few yards later I spotted a heap of promsing looking leaves sheltered under a granite boulder and the mucking about started:

As I stared intently at the leaves that had stems with tiny buds atop, almost willing one burst into flower, Lisa spotted the above Spider Orchid claiming her spider senses had told her it was there. I might add, as an explanation, that we recently watched the latest Spiderman film. In my post yesterday I mentioned how many Donkey Orchids there are, well there are even more Spider Orchids. Close to 400 speices and over 130 of them are found in Western Australia. This makes them the largest single genus of orchids, and therefore for me very tricky to identify. That said it was obviously one of the White Spider Orchids, but which one:

I’m tossing up between the Splendid White Spider Orchid (Caladenia splendens) or the Hill’s White Spider Orchid (Caladenia longicauda ssp. clivicola). Based on the known range of each species it makes sense to be the Hill’s White Spider Orchid. Although, I noted a distinct maroon stripe on the underside of the sepals, which is a way to identify the Splendid White Spider Orchid. Something tells me I’m going to struggle this season, as my new orchid book simply has too many subtly different looking species. However, the next find shown above and below, which this time I spotted with my spider senses, was easier to identify:

The Cape Mustard Orchid (Caladenia caesarea ssp. maritima) is listed as Endangered under the Environment Protection and Biodiversity Conservation Act 1999. The range of this species is a mere 3.6 square kilometres, and it was first identified in 1972. So it is a relatively new find in botanical timeframes for Australia. The flower on this species only opens for three to ten days. This does not allow a long window of opportunity for pollination, which is assisted by the male Thynnid Wasp. Although, which of the 2,000 species of this genus of wasp found in Australia, I have not been able to identify:

A short distance on we spotted a King skink (Egernia kingii) basking in the sun, and there was a young one next to it that quickly scurried back under the protection of the rocks. Lisa didn’t think that these lizards looked after their young, but I have seen them with young several times. And the proof is in the research, which I found in an Australian Zoologist article from 2003 that outlined a study in which a breeding pair was observed over ten years. They discovered that the young stayed with the adults and basked with them for the first year before dispersing, but even then a single rock shelter could house up to three cohorts:

Before the final leg back to the car we looked out and again spotted a whale, but this one was only several hundred meters offshore. Maybe the water was too shallow for it to jump out, or maybe it just wasn’t in the mood for play. But the board and long back breached out of the water a number of times as it effortlessly cruised past us. Finally back at the car, and due to a long week at work, Lisa was happy to sit back and have a cuppa while I scooted to Castle Rock. Not to climb, but to check for any more orchids:

I had a theory, as I knew this end of the park has been more badly affected by the fires of January 2022, when approximately 190 hectares or 40% of the park was burnt. Some species will come out after an area has been burnt, so I was keen to see if I could spot any and I did. But just one and again a White Spider Orchid, which like the one Lisa found may be a Splendid White Spider Orchid (Caladenia splendens), or possibly or the Hill’s White Spider Orchid (Caladenia longicauda ssp. clivicola). Either way I was happy with what we had seen during our walk, both plants and animals. And now my cuppa was calling me:

Sitting on the fence

Friday afternoon I would normally be working from home, but due to unavoidable meetings I found myself in the office as the clock clicked towards the end of my working day and week. Earlier in the week I was chatting to a couple of people at work, who also like to check out the flowers, and I mentioned that the orchids were starting to come out at Manea Park. Both of them headed out there during the week and while they didn’t see heaps of variety, they were very happy with their finds. Their enthusiasm encouraged me to head back there myself. And for me, I couldn’t think of a better way to end the working week:

A couple of cars were already parked-up and as I wandered down the track, I came across three women eagerly scouring the bush. I assume they were together as I got chatting to them, it seemed they had driven here from the Wheatbelt in hunt of different varieties of orchids, to what they find out their way. They showed me a selection of the orchids that are flowering in the Wheatbelt, and I have to admit it made me very keen to head out there. Heaps of amazing spider orchid species, along with numerous other species. Sadly for them however, the orchids round our way flower a little later so they are probably two to four weeks too early to see the place in full bloom:

I left them to it, and started to walk a bit faster. One of them however tagged along with me and I discovered Jo was in fact a local. An elderly but spritely woman who over decades has been involved in looking after the land, volunteering with weed control and revegetation of areas such as this. Nowadays, she can’t sustain such a level of involvement but she still gets out and was a mind of information pointing out plants and telling me the names of so many, not that I can recall many of them now as I type. Despite having come out to spend some time alone to allow my mind to unwind, the company made a nice change especially seeing Jo was so interested and enthusiastic about nature:

With respect to orchids we spotted the obvious finds, and she told me she had also heard the recent rumours of the Queen of Sheba being spotted in the Bunbury area. And I note now that this seems to be an rumour that pops up most years, and for most years in just that. We did however spot a small cluster of Midge Orchid (Cyrtostylis huegelii), shown in the first image. And of course there were lots and lots of donkey orchids, which next to Spider Orchids are probably one of the most well-known and easily recognisable genus of orchids. Both have distinct, colourful flowers and being mostly tall they are easy to spot. As we looked at them we wondered if there was more than one species out, and the penny dropped when we came across the small patch shown in second image:

In that patch we found both the Yalgorup Donkey Orchid (Diuris porphyrochila) and Winter Donkey Orchid (Diuris brumalis), in the two images above. The colouration being distinctly different. The yellow and much brighter Winter Donkey Orchid is very similar to the Common Donkey Orchid (Diuris corymbosa), but the range of the latter tends not to extend as far south as Bunbury. Then as I scrolled through the images preparing for this post, I spotted the one below. Again a different colouration in the main flower, but also the two downward pointing sepals. This one being the Kemerton Pansy Orchid (Diuris cruenta), the range of which extends along the coastal plains from Lake Clifton to Capel:

So that is now three species of Donkey orchids this season, but I have a long way to go. There are approx. 120 species of them, of which 48 (so far) have been spotted in Western Australia. These orchids can also be found for a long time, with the first species flowering in May and the last in February. One of the last being the Heberle’s Donkey Orchid (Diuris heberlei), found along the Albany coastline, and which looks quite different to the Donkey orchids we find here. I’ve not seen that one but I have spotted the Late Donkey Orchid (Diuris emarginata) that flowers until January, which is similar in appearance to the Heberle’s Donkey Orchid and an image of that can be found in this post https://sandbagged.blog/2021/11/28/a-most-unexpected-journey/:

As Jo and I came to the end of our wander she told me of another species she had spotted before I had turned up. It was just off the track and I had walked right past it, so we went to check out the above Silky Blue Orchid (Caladenia sericea). This species prefers lateritic soils, which is rich in iron and aluminium, but can also found in the coastal banksia woodlands that are found on sandy soils. And as we were admiring it, Jo spotted our final find shown below. This may be a Little Pink Fairy Orchid (Caladenia reptans), as it has a relatively small flower and the arrangement has the lower four petals pointing downwards. But the stem is mostly green, and the Little Pink Fairy Orchids are usually a purplish colour. So I’m sitting on the fence about this one:

Time to feast

While I managed a trip out on both days this weekend, which were equally fun, both were relatively short. So I have decided to roll them into one, not so long, post. Saturday was a doing day, as several domestic duties called including heading into town. Something I am not particularly keen on, but once in a blue moon it is an unavoidable necessity. However, heading into Bunbury meant I could pick up the new glasses, required to replace the ones I lost to some random bush (https://sandbagged.blog/2022/07/17/a-voice-in-my-head/). After hitting the shops we had the idea to go for a bit of a wander round Manea Park, somewhere Lisa had never heard of before let alone been to:

It was the obvious choice for today, close by and with a number of loop walks allowing us to make it as long or short as we wanted. Since my last visit here there were a few more flowers out, including the above Freesia (Freesia alba). An invasive species from South Africa originating from the Cape Provinces, which has escaped the confines of people’s gardens. Fortunately, it does not seem to have taken too strong a hold in Manea Park, but I have seen heaps of them in the Banksia woodlands alongside the highway I drive to work on. This perennial herb can form dense patches resulting in it competing with our local species, particularly orchids and grasses. Orchids were to be found, but other than the greenhood species they were still at that teasing pre-blooming phase:

Other, that is, than the Yalgorup Donkey Orchid (Diuris porphyrochila). Two weeks back when I had spent three hours traipsing round the area I only found one of these, and I had been tickled pink about the find. Today there were hundreds in large droves; here, there, and everywhere. Sadly we had left the wander a little late in the morning day, and our stomachs were telling us it was time to start moseying back towards the car sooner than I would have liked. So before we left I attempted to redirect Lisa down another path, but she got wise and soon reined me back in. This place is however just round the corner from where I work, so I can envisage another trip here next week during the week:

Before wrapping up about Saturday’s wander we did spy this cool looking fungus. I’m fairly sure it is Witches’ Butter (Tremella mesenterica), also known as Yellow Trembler, Yellow Brain, or Golden Jelly Fungus. I like the name Witches’ Butter more because of its Swedish folklore origins, whereby the witches helpers, which are beasts, is said to steal any food provision they can find and hoarding it by devouring it. Taking so much that they end up vomiting some back up and it comes out in a yellowy golden bile, which is what they called the witches butter. After the walk Lisa and I bought provisions to take home to eat at home, and I am glad to say we didn’t mimic the beasts regurgitation:

Sunday morning arrived and with the less than the normal time and amount of energy that Josh and Rongy would usually have, we planned a quick trip up to Welly Dam. Just like Manea Park, Welly Dam was the right choice being relatively close and with easy access. The climbing here is a bit on the hard side for Josh, but a great place to learn good technique. So despite his need to be out of there by 11am, we could still send him home feeling like he had worked hard. I was so confident of this that I suggested a not so early start allowing me to leave home in daylight. No one objected so I drove out from Peppy Beach as the last of the mist was lifting:

I decided the short session did not require the tea kit to accompany me, thinking time would be short. Josh however surprised us when he arrived with enough provisions to make not just tea but breakfast too, claiming he wouldn’t last too long with the routes here being a tad tricky. Before we could justify any tea or breakfast we had to get a few lines in. Rongy was quite happy to not go hard and slow things down, having had a big day out yesterday and not having been out on rock for quite some time. So we threw Josh at a couple of “easier” lines that were not running with water:

These “easier” lines were still relatively steep, sustained, and technical. So after three routes Josh was pretty spanked and decided to leave us to hit another line, while he got started with the cooking. Rongy and I eyed up a route that would require us to top out, which would mean walking along the top of the cliff to get back down. Near the top of this line I know there is a shelf where donkey and sun orchids grow, buds were forming but no flowers were out. These were the closest to flowering orchids we spied, with only the tale-tell leaves on display as we walked along the top of the cliff:

Despite the lack of flowers, we were treated with the smell of the food wafting upwards as it was being cooked below. And when back at ground level Josh was serving up a brioche bun bonanza, plus a piping hot cuppa to wash it down with. It felt like we had struck gold! Josh had to head off after we had our fill, and as predicted he was feeling suitably worked. Maybe both on the rock and in the kitchen. Despite Rongy and I feeling very satisfied, both with the climbing and food, I suggested one more route before we too hit the road. Which is what we did under the watchful eye of a small crowd that appeared, just as we started to climb, and then disappeared, when we were done:

Whose leading who

With a sunny Sunday forecast Lisa and I headed to Nannup to repeat a walk we did last year on our wedding anniversary (https://sandbagged.blog/2021/10/31/21-again/). One we had talked about as a good place to take the poodles for a walk, for a test run. Being not too long and with a path that remains dry. Also being flat and easy, as it meanders through varied forests comprising Jarrah, Marri, Sheoak, and Balga. I did worry whether my continual stopping may not be tolerated by the poodles, but it is still a little early for orchid spotting so I was hopeful I could minimise the delays:

We saw lots and lots of Yellow Navel (Lichenomphalia chromacea), a bright yellow species of fungi shown above. This species is easily identified by the depressed cap that has a wavy and grooved outer edge, which is called the margin. It is a very common fungus and can grow in many environments ranging from forests, woodlands and coastal heaths across all southern parts of Australia. We also found the usual early flowering suspects from the greenhood family of orchids, including Banded, Jugs and Snails. All in abundant numbers:

There are a quite few different types of snail orchids found in the south west of Western Australia, and I do wonder how many of them I have seen. Taking a few snaps and then trying to identify them when I get home just is not effective. To be certain I need to measure basal leafs, count leaves on the stems, check which parts were hairy, and measures respective body parts. Despite not having done that I think we may have spotted the two new ones today. The first being the Tall Snail Orchid (Pterostylis pyramidalis), which has a similar flower to the Slender Snail Orchid, previously spotted this season, but with a much taller stem:

As we walked Nicka’s tail and head down and as sniffed every inch of the path. Sooky on the other hand was tail and head up, and it seemed that she was the one walking both Nicka and Lisa. Each time I stopped to check out a find, Lisa would walk on with the poodles. Until that is Sooky realised I wasn’t with them, at which point she would come to a standstill and look round for me. As she and Lisa waited patiently, Nicka simply concentrated her sniffing to the one spot. The group did not continue until I caught up. So I didn’t make the observations, notes, measurements and images I needed:

Despite that, and in truth I don’t think I would capture all that information each time, I am fairly confident with the above find being a Red-sepalled Snail Orchid (Pterostylis erubescens). Several aspects allowing me to be confident, such as the obvious pointed and broad splaying dorsal sepal at the front, long sepals pointing above the head, and the reddish-brown tinge that becomes more prominent with age. And despite the next find only just starting to flower this too was an easy one to identify. Named in 1810 from the Latin words latus and folia meaning broad/wide and leaves, respectively. The Pink Fairy Orchid (Caladenia latifolia):

In addition to keeping eyes on the ground, on occasion we both stopped to observe the treetops. Several times we gazed upwards to observe Red-tailed Black Cockatoos foraging on the gum nuts high in the trees, hoping to catch a glimpse of their red tails. Above us, they carried on oblivious of our gaze as they continually dropped nuts, twigs, and leaves to add to the accumulating litter the forest floor. I am going to guess that they were Forest Red Tailed Black Cockatoo (Calyptorhynchus banksii naso), which are only found in south west Western Australia:

They are one of the five subspecies of these majestic birds that are native to Australia, and this is the first time I can recall seeing them being called the Forest Red Tailed Black Cockatoo. As we continued we found a Pink Fairy Orchid in full bloom, the only one we spotted. Like the Yellow Navel fungi these too are widely found across all of southern areas of Australia. In most states they are mostly found in sandy areas nearer the coast. However, in Western Australia they can range all the way inland right up to the salt lakes in the Wheatbelt. A very common orchid that we will no doubt start to see a lot more of:

Heading out for a walk with Lisa, the flask of tea had come with us. And it makes sense that we then stop for a quick brew, when we also broke out the water bottle and bowl to give the poodles a drink. This stop gave me an opportunity to look in a bit more detail around the area, which is where I spotted a few more orchids getting ready to flower. Below the small basal leaves and long leafless stem with a dark red colour at the base makes me think they were hammer orchids, some species of which do flower as early as August. I guess we will just have to come back in a few weeks for another look to see if I am right:

As we walked the final stretch I popped off the track for a quick look at the wetland, resulting in Sooky again stopping and insisting Lisa and Nicka stand and wait for me. I didn’t hang about too long, and soon caught up with them so we could all walk back to the car. We’d spent two hours slowly checking out the area, and it was a successful test run with the poodles to see how they would fare and probably also how I would cope. Needless to say they managed the relatively short wander, which was no more than 5km, with ease:

With plenty of tea in the flask we poured a cuppa for the road, and also poured another bowl of water for the dogs before loading them onto the back seat. To start with, they popped their heads out of the windows as dogs seem to love to, but soon after laid down for a well-earned rest. Rather than head straight home, we took a detour to pop in at Hippo Lakes to visit our old neighbours, and get a bite to eat at their café. Seeing Liz again was lovely, and the poodles were equally happy to say hello to her again. I have to admit it was OK going out for a wander with the poodles, so we will check out other locations where dogs are allowed:

Measuring up

Today Ash posed the question, where does the term sandbagged come from. Before looking at that I checked and found numerous definitions, discovering it can mean both “to thwart or cause to fail or be rejected” and “downplay or misrepresent one’s ability in a game or activity”. Thinking about my, not very good, pool playing days in England the latter definition was something we inferred when we called someone a “a shark”. Pretending to play badly, and then pulling out the moves when it matters to get a surprise win. However, in climbing the term sandbag is used in context of the first definition:

It seems the term has been used for various things through the centuries. Indeed way back in the 1500s it was used to describe filling a bag with sand, for use as a weapon. It is also claimed the noun didn’t come to fruition until the 1800s, when it was used to describe the person doing the attacking with said bag of sand. Then in the 1970s it started to get used as per the latter definition, to describe people who would conceal their real talents during a sporting event. So how does all this then relate to climbing? When Ash posed the question today I suggested it may relate to sandbags used in hot air ballooning, and according to some sites I may not be far off the mark:

Climbers will know it is inferred to mean a route feels much harder than it should, when taking into account the grade the climb has been given. Several sites I found state the term indicates that these routes feel like you are climbing them with a bag of sand attached to your harness. Sandbagging is something I have been accused of several times, as highlighted by last weekend’s trip to Rumploes Rocks where the grades of routes I established were questioned. I occasionally check an online depository of climbing routes, called The Crag, and a number of routes I put up in Alice Springs have also been questioned, With their grades having since been bumped up several grades, by consensus of people who have tried these routes:

Another local place where sandbagging is a term often referred to is Welly Dam, which is where we were climbing. This was even more relevant today, as Mario, Howsie and I were introducing Andreas and Ash to the delights of this place. Whether they would measure up wasn’t the only thing under scrutiny today. You might recall that the sheaf of my rope was ripped open last week. So today was the moment of truth to see if the longer of the two short ropes I now have, after cutting the damaged section out, would be long enough for Welly Dam. The answer can be seen above, not quite for the longer routes here but today we made it work, taking into account rope stretch:

Rope stretch is quite simply how much a rope will stretch when put under load. This varies for climbing ropes designed for different uses, as well as how the load is applied. When I top rope solo I use what they call a static rope and they only stretch by about 10%, whereas a dynamic rope can stretch by as much as 40%. The reason for such a higher percentage for dynamic ropes, being that the stretch results in a falling climber coming to a more gentle stop as the rope is loaded. If it didn’t stretch it would be a very sudden stop and this could cause injuries, such as jarring of joints or worse:

While my new short rope didn’t quite measure up, it will still be very useful at numerous other crags in the area. And as for the two people being introduced to the climbing style here, well they soon came to realise why this place has a reputation. I am however very happy to report that this did not put them off one bit, and they were both very impressed and enthused by the style of climbing. This was even more impressive as they were both thrown in the deep end, following us up some of the stiffer lines. These routes being technical, hard to read and at times powerful while also needing very delicate movements. Resulting in the need for a controlled and precise approach to the climbing:

We hit a few harder lines in part due to the easier lines mostly running with water, but also because Mario, Howsie and I were keen to jump on these more challenging lines. Mario seeking some new projects to work on and Howsie with his 2022 challenge in mind. This didn’t seem to be putting neither Andreas nor Ash off, so everyone was happy. Being such a stiff place to climb, and when we are not on a tight time schedule, it makes sense to slow things down. To the point that this is the place my tea kit is most likely to make an appearance:

That and also because we park our cars practically at the base of the cliff so there is no need to haul the gear any distance. It felt very lucky and almost luxurious to be out on a Friday afternoon, climbing on a sunny day, and to boot have the place entirely to ourselves. No tourists came down to the quarry, although we could hear their voices above us. Although, there was something Howsie and I remarked on that we did not hear on this trip, which was a little disappointing. Neither of us heard a single call from the Red-Tailed Black Cockatoos, which is extremely rare and it is possible that it has never happened before:

Hopefully next time their familiar call will fill the air again. But for now the teas were poured and brewing, as the last of the climbing was being wrapped up. The last of our energy was being expelled, the sun lowered in the sky resulting in the shadows start to lengthen and the air temperature beginning to show signs of dropping. It was the perfect time for a hot cuppa that went down very well with a pack of Tam-tams. Another successful and social trip to Welly Dam, topped off as I got to watch the last of the supermoons, for 2022, rise above the horizon as I drove home: