Sandbagged

Anyone fancy a dip

Not that there are any orchids I was particular looking for, a wander in the Capel Nature Reserve was in order today if only to stretch the legs. Quite a few Globe Heath (Brachyloma preissii) were in flower. Normally blooming in autumn, they are however highly adaptable to unseasonal rains and have been found to flower anytime from February to September. Endemic to Western Australia, it is one of a staggering 200,000 specimens collected in Western Australia over four years from 1838 by Johann August Ludwig Preiss, who it is named after:

They may be small , but the nectar-rich flowers are shaped perfectly for native Australian honeyeater birds. While it may not be needed for honeyeater bird species, a term in ornithology is LBB standing for “Little Brown Bird”. By coincidence the common name of a bird called a Dunnock (Prunella modularis) loosely means “little brown bird” in Old English. This term is used for hard to identify species without a close up inspection, and today I came across a similar term used in mycology or mushroom science:

LBMs, and you may have guessed meaning “little brown mushrooms”, is often used. There are hundreds of small, dull-brown mushrooms that look almost identical. Without a spore print or microscopic analysis, a true identification can be near impossible. However, I’m quite confident the above LBM is highly likely to be a Common Bonnet (Mycena subgalericulata). They are often found in colonies but can fruit singly as this one is. The next two may not fit the term LBM, but I am still not too confident I have identified them correctly:

The above could be a Yellow Fieldcap (Bolbitius titubans), being a widespread species found on every continent excluding Antarctica. And is one of the shortest-lived mushrooms, sprouting in the morning dew and can be completely withered or faded by the afternoon sun. And below I may have come across some Plums-and-Custard (Tricholomopsis rutilans). Non-native to Australia, it usually prefers dead pines of the Northern Hemisphere but has grown to enjoy various native hardwood trees in Western Australia:

It may look like it is growing out of the sandy soil, but if I am right it will be feasting on the rotting wood buried underneath. Next up is an easy one, the Dung-loving Deconica (Psilocybe coprophila). I really like the image, and while you may not want to look at dung, the more you do the more mushrooms you’ll see. They only grow on the dung of herbivores, as dung from carnivores contains too much protein and lacks the right plant fibres this mushroom needs. It gets even more fussy, and only grows on dung that is not too fresh and not too old:

Another easy one to get right is the Yellow Navel (Lichenomphalia chromacea). These pop up in groups of varying sizes during autumn, and always in association with a green algal mat. In fact without this lush spongy garden bed it cannot survive. The algae makes sugar from water and carbon dioxide, which the mushroom uses as food. And in return the caps provides an umbrella so the algae is at less risk of drying out. This teamwork allows the pair to grow in poor soil where neither could survive alone:

One last easy identification, a Beefsteak Fungus (Fistulina spiculifera). This specimen has a really cool patterned upper side. Underneath there are millions of tiny, tightly packed tubes instead of gills. The genus name of Fistulina comes from Latin meaning “small tube or pipe”. Tiny Fungus Gnats (Mycetophilidae) lay their eggs in-between these tubes so when their larvae hatch they have a safe, food-filled home. Mind you they are not too fussy what mushrooms they make use of, so are not only attracted to ones with tube like structures:

Fungus Gnats (Mycetophilidae) don’t only visit mushrooms. They are also the primary pollinator of Mosquito Orchids (Cyrtostylis robusta). I came across a patch of leaves near the car with a few in flower, and after my research last weekend took the time to take a close up look. As with other Cyrtostylis species it has a unique labellum, which acts as a landing pad for the Fungus Gnats. They are attracted by a tiny puddle of nectar held in a small pool at the base of the labellum, which is secreted by the two Calli that arch over the pool:

The last song

I can’t say my motivation was very high today. Blame the winter blues, no one being available, needing to be mindful of my dodgy joints, or possibly the imaginary tickle in the back of my throat courtesy of Lisa. She is weary, so much so she didn’t even go down to watch the Peppy Plungers, well plunge. At least I was not feeling weary, but I did leave a little later than usual. Waiting till she stirred, before deciding to go for it, so I could check in to see how she was going. Heading somewhere cruisy, where the final bit of the drive can be rough:

This would normally be no problem in my big rig. However, we recently sold that and I now drive a ‘normal’ car. One in which I would feel every bump of a rough corrugated dirt road. Fortunately, they must have graded it recently and it felt pretty good. I went slow anyway, as I had a nagging feeling. Sure enough, over three separate stretches, five Western Grey Kangaroos (Macropus fuliginosus) did their level best to put a dent in my car. The first of which can be seen cheekily looking at me, after safely making it across my path and into the scrub:

While now focused I had been a little distracted, in part due to the 12”single mix playing. A form of vinyl I always thought had been invented purely to make money. Encouraging avid fans to part with even more cash, as they keenly collected every bit of vinyl released by the artists they revered. But I was wrong, the magical 12” single came from a mistake. In 1975 a disco DJ named Tom Moulton used a blank of this larger disc for a test press, by accident. Singles up until then were pressed on the 7”disc, or as we knew them the good ole 45:

The name 45 coming from the revolutions per minute that it was played at, and being a smaller disc song lengths were limited to 5min. A 12”disc, played at 33 revolutions per minute, and enabled the grooves to be cut deeper and wider while allowing for a 12min song. This gave a louder sound with a punchier bass, which was perfect for the era of disco. It also meant the spacing between lull points in a track were more clearly visible. Making it easier to merge and/or mix songs, which revolutionized the DJ dance music genre:

Having safely arrived at my destination, with no dings in the car, during the walk in my joints did not complain. I was then greeted by an unexpectedly dry crag, with only a hint of where water had been running down a day or so before. It was my turn to get into the groove and start lapping up line after line. A bit like the songs on a vinyl LP it was a smooth transition from one route to the next. And just like a 12” LP that can generally fit 4-6 songs on each side before being flipped over, I had to change the belay anchors every 4-6 laps:

You may wonder why a 12”single can only have a track up to 12min long, when a 12” LP can hold 4-6 songs that would require twice the duration. It again comes down to the width and depth of the grooves, and the same as used in the humble 45 is applied to a 12” LP. And as you may have guessed from above, this results in a quieter sound and less punchy bass. While I never jumped on anything too punchy today, it all felt good and the body, for the most part, didn’t complain. So I climbed quietly, not needing any vocal encouragement today:

I only broke out the chalk on one route, and then just for two holds on a short sequence. Talking of short periods, the music cassette and CD, only lasted for a relatively short duration of approx. 30 and 20 years respectively. And while there may have been a lull between the mid-80s to mid-2000s, it is fair to say that the humble vinyl has lasted the test of time since it made its first appearance in 1948, with its resurgence lasting to present day. The last track to play in this post is from a Southern Brown Bandicoot (Isoodon obesulus subsp. fusciventer):

The slow walk

Of the myriad of small basal leaves I spotted at Castle rock a few weeks back, only one had a stem and was in flower today. Even when flowering these can be pesky things to differentiate but I feel confident to say this is a Mosquito Orchid (Cyrtostylis robusta). As with several orchids here, they do not grow from a seed but a tuber. Resulting in each years plant effectively being a clone. The seedless process results in large colonies forming, in which every plant is genetically identical. It is common for only a few plants in a colony to flower:

Digging deeper into these, and other Cyrtostylis, there are finer details that I have previously overlooked. Next time I will have to take the time to take some macro images. A bit of a silly term considering it means to take close-up images of the small or micro details. One of the features I want to check out are the two glands on the labellum. Said to resemble eyes. These are used to attract Fungus Gnats (Mycetophilidae), and also other very small flies, to aid pollination. But these fooled insects are not the only way pollination can occur:

With approx. 450 species of orchids in the region very few are known to use autogamy, which means it can pollinate itself. Most species have a barrier between the pollinia, which hold the pollen, and the stigma, which is the ‘gatekeeper’. The gatekeeper makes sure the pollen is worthy, which is a whole other story for another time. If Cyrtostylis are not visited by any pollinators the pollinia breaks down and makes direct contact with the stigma, resulting in fertilization. This may explain why some species are out in larger numbers nearly every year:

I was however not here to hunt orchids. Climbing was on the cards. But I had a bit of time to kill when Craig was delayed, due to having trouble wrangling Henry and Charlie who were a bit resistant to leaving the house. A slower walk to the crag looking for orchids and a bit of bouldering kept me busy until they arrived. Needless to say it was a late start. By the time we touched rock it was close to three hours after the Peppy Plungers had submerged themselves in the ocean. Not that Lisa managed to get in the water today:

As the images show there was a bit of a swell, and as she walked in a wave came in loaded with a good sized rock that caught her right on the shin. That was enough to put her off. The waves were also a problem for Henry, not being the best conditions for fishing. Charlie however had a few things packed away to keep him occupied. Including a book that he can be seen reading in a nook he found that was protected from the fresh wind. While the sun was high in the sky and offer some warmth, the wind countered this in equal measure:

A high veil of cloud was tempering the effects of the sun’s rays. In the third image Charlie captured a great image of a sun halo, an effect caused as the sunlight was distorted by millions of microscopic ice crystals suspended in high-altitude cirrus or cirrostratus clouds. Today they were cirrostratus clouds, which forms veil like sheets covered larger areas as opposed to wispy hair like features of cirrus clouds. We witnessed a 22° halo, the most frequently seen and common of halos. They can also form horizontal lines, pillars, and various arcs:

While the waves never stopped, Henry did eventually find a perch from where to throw a line in. Not that he had any success. Meanwhile Craig and I did what we came here to do. Ticking off a few lines. Nothing too serious, meaning we could go lead for lead. Craig was looking very calm and collected on rock today. There were no slips or rests on our chosen lines, and today I did have more focus and bagged the route that spat me off last time. Soon enough lunchtime caught up with us, which we were alerted to by the boys who were getting hungry:

Before we could get them back to the cars, where they had left their lunch, there was the short 600m walk. Made all the slower when Craig pulled out his macro lens in case there was anything worthy of an image. And of course we found a few things. He was taking a much more professional approach with artificial lighting and image composition, whereas I went for the point and shot approach. We only stopped a couple of times, sensing that food for the boys was a more pressing matter and they were going to hang about afterwards anyway:

The first find was a Waxcap (Hygrocybe polychroma). Only a few of the thirty odd species of Waxcaps in the south west are known to grow in sandy coastal heath environments. This is one, and it has no specific common name. The scientific name is however interesting comprising Hygr and cybe meaning moisture and head, and poly and chrom meaning many and bright colour. Mushrooms comprise 85-92% water, and Waxcaps are in the upper range. This Waxcap species is also one that comes is a myriad of colours from yellow through to red:

The next fungi has features from the Lepiota genus, and the closest match is an introduced species. The caps size, central knob, scaly surface, brown colour, and white gills along with a scaly stem that is chestnut-brown all point to a Chestnut Dapperling (Lepiota castanea). This species can contain lethal amounts of amatoxins that attack the liver and kidneys. However the toxin levels vary wildly based on geography, and is completely absent in some regional populations. While something looks to have had a nibble on it, we left it alone:

Cumulative impacts

A month back I mentioned how I had been told I needed to get up and about more regularly, leading me to go for a brisk walks. Not long after that breaking news my right knee started to play up. This was something I had been worried about before my trip to the Stirling Ranges with Howsie. A heavy pack with good length steep hikes, plus of course all the climbing, had weighed on my mind. Were my legs up to it or not? During and after the trip I had no problem. It was not until I started my brisk unladen walks that things started to unravel:

When it got to the point that I felt I should not be heading out for the regular walks, it was back to the physio. Here is where we started to unpick what was happening. Over several sessions this resulted in us tracing things back quite a way. I feel like I have managed to stay relatively injury free when it comes to climbing. Yes I have had a few spills that have slowed me down but I have always bounced back. But my problems started before my climbing did. I have always had a duck-footed gait, I realised this after a nasty groundball during a silly solo:

I’ve read that adults can develop this gait from muscle imbalances, sedentary habits, or skeletal alignment. Mine has been with me the whole time I have played hockey, which I started at a tender age when I ran every day so it was not due to sedentary habits. I have also in my younger days had a healthy balance of upper and lower body sports. So I struggle to see that it was a muscle imbalance, but it could have been. As for skeletal alignment, I have no idea. Regardless of why I have had this silly walk for decades, it can result in joint pains:

The solo I feel from, which Kym will recall from 2013, is what alerted me to all of this. Bad compression damage in both ankles meant I had to learn to walking with better alignment from the hips down. Then three year later in 2016 came a fall off Wiggin’s indoor wall. One that ended with a nasty landing on a low hold. Hollering out in pain, and then saying don’t worry I’ll be right for our Welly Dam session in the morning. I was not. I severely damaged my deltoid ligament on the inside of my right ankle. That took some work before I was back up and out:

Next in line came a fall on my own creation at the place that Howsie and I were heading to today. Back in 2024 I took a quite long pendulum swing that saw me damage my medial collateral ligament, on the inside of my right knee. I have to ask why does it always have to be my right side? That again slowed me down for a wee bit but I bounced back. Or so I thought, until I started my brisk walks. And this recent issue came down to my safety sandals. Or more precisely the biomechanics of my body, and how my safety sandals don’t help with that:

The previously busted right ankle means my right foot arch is weak and collapses. This then pulls on the inside of my right knee, which has already been weakened. Added to that while I have learnt to walk not quite so duck-footed, it is a bad habit that I do slip back into at times and is one that again puts pressure on the inside of my knees. The really funny thing about this, is that walking aggravates it by climbing does not. Again thinking biomechanics it makes sense. Climbing puts pressure on the legs in a purposeful and direct way:

Very different to when you walk. The solution, other than physio and rehab exercises to build up the necessary muscles and once again learn how to walk, is to wear shoes. Admittedly shoes with a heighted arch for added support and to improve my skeletal alignment. The safety sandals, at least when I go walking, have to be left behind. Today Howsie decided not to jump on my route, which I fell off two years back. Despite me packing the essential few bits of trad gear in my crate. Due to the conditions, so he says, which resulted in us both falling of the last line several times:

The woodchip hobo

The ocean is too rough for the Peppy Plungers to dip today. A sure sign the weather has been and continues to be a bit naff. And as a result I’m not likely to get out for a wander in the bush, let alone touch rock this weekend. I have however had a couple of quick wanders during the week to see what may be out and about. Mostly because I wanted to find the one species of orchid that I wasn’t able to spot at the Capel Nature Reserve a few weeks back. I have seen it just once in the coastal dunes just out the back of our home, so I started there:

I didn’t have too much orchid success but stumbled across a little patch someone had cleared and popped a couple of chairs in. It seemed a little random. The track to get to them is fairly overgrown and they are tucked away from anywhere, but the chairs look to be in good nick so I’m guessing must have been placed there recently. While the orchids evaded me I did spy a slimy egg shaped bulb coming up, being a Common Rosegill (Volvariella gloiocephalus). The species name aptly coming from Greek words meaning ‘glue’ or ‘slime’ and ‘head’:

It was nothing special. Being a species that grows in temperate areas, is not too fussy about its habitat, and is found on every continent except Antarctica. Slugs and snails are the most notorious consumers of this fleshy mushroom, often leaving visible and irregular bite marks on the caps. No slugs or snail on this one, although I have no idea what insects were taking advantage of what may be a bite mark, which had provided them with a way through the defensive skin. My next image if of a Golden-eye Lichen (Teloschistes chrysophthalmus):

These are said to rely on highly specific coastal or temperate, sun-exposed habitats. Something we have in abundance, as such I do get to spot these every so often despite being considered highly localized and relatively rare in Western Australia. In the UK they were thought to have been extinct for over a century, until staging a quiet natural recolonization. While they may not be everywhere and are general small, it is hard to miss their incredibly bright and cheerful colour. As for the lichen to its left, I have had no luck in identifying that:

The above is a Powdered Ruffle Lichen (Parmotrema hypotropum). Several lichen found here have cup like structures that release spores, very clearly seen in the Golden-eye Lichen, but not this one. As the name suggests the margins feature a powdery edge, called soralia and these produce and release its spores. It also has distinctive black hairs along the edges. As mentioned before, lichen are a symbiotic relationship between fungus and algae or cyanobacteria. Being entirely fungal the purpose of these hairs has baffled botanists:

The next species shown above, Cartilage Lichen (Ramalina celastri), also clearly shows the cup or saucer like structures. As with all lichen because they have no roots they absorb trace minerals, nitrogen, and moisture directly from rainwater, dust, and the surrounding air. This results in them being high susceptible to poor air quality, making them a great indicator of how fresh the air is. They can be one of the first things in the ecosystem to die or disappear when the air quality degrades. We are lucky here and have an abundance of lichen:

I was going to give up and head back when I decided to look for gems hidden under the blankets of the incredibly invasive weeds, the Arum Lily (Zantedeschia aethiopica), which were starting to take over big patches. Here I found a solitary Jug Orchid (Pterostylis recurva) with its flower preparing to emerge. This Greenhood species is a little different to most in that the labellum remains entirely hidden within the flower, rather than sticking out. On the flip side it is similar to others as they can from large colonies, but with few flowering plants:

The non-flowering, or sterile, plants form a ground-hugging basal rosette of leaves. Whereas flowering plants will not have this feature. The leaves are instead above ground and distributed along its stem. The species of orchid I was really keen to find also displays this trait, and I found heaps of sterile plants in the area I have previously spotted a flowering specimen. The other weekday trip out was to the Minninup Tuart Woodland, with a mixture of tall Tuart trees and lower Peppermint trees. Here I could not resist taking this image:

A very vibrant cluster of Banded Greenhood (Pterostylis vittata). The star was however the Brown-veined Shell Orchid (Pterostylis aspera), which I finally found. Only one small cluster came into view for me. They are quite low to the ground, that and their drab colours result in them being very well camouflaged. On this specimen there is a Spittlebug larvae (Bathyllus albicinctus). Partially hidden in the foamy white mass, often referred to as ‘cuckoo spit’, which they discrete to both protect themselves and avoid dehydration:

After finally finding what I wanted to, I headed off but will close with this Chip Cherries (Leratiomyces ceres). While native to Australasia it has taken advantage of the global landscaping trade. Australia has a massive wood chip export market forming one of the largest segments in the country’s forestry sector. This has allowed this species to spread to North America, Europe, and elsewhere. And as such can now be found over much of the world thriving in mulch and woodchip beds. Earning it the title of the ultimate ‘Woodchip Hobo’:

Breaking things down

For several reasons Howsie and my fortnightly trip to the quarry was a much later start today. Arriving mid-morning under a mostly clear sky. This meant the sun bathed the lawns where Western Grey Kangaroo (Macropus fuliginosus) lazily switched between grazing and basking in sun. The main walls, where we started climbing, were tucked on the north east side of the amphitheatre and as such were in shade. The shadows extend that bit further this time of the year, due to the low winter sun. And as we prepared to start our session it felt cold:

Unlike yesterday, I pondered if I should have rugged up a bit more than I had. These walls never get any sun on them, and during winter once lost the thermal mass is not easily replaced. The rock gets cold and stays that way. A few more of the black streaks were starting to succumb to seepages, and it felt like the walls had a slight damp feel to them. Various mosses and lichens live on the walls, and the below is a Granite Moss (Andreaea). Individual black, dark brown, or reddish cushions form clumping colonies:

Brittle during dry periods, this patch was hydrated. With no root systems they absorb water directly through their surfaces. From the morning dew, direct rainfall, or the seepages that run down the steep walls. They are found primarily on acidic granite outcrops, and while these faces are quarried, as opposed to natural, the moss isn’t that fussy. The granite here is felsic. Rich in quartz and potassium feldspars results in it containing lots of silica, and gives it a pale look. The silica makes the rock naturally acidic, which also affects the local soil makeup:

These resulting slightly acidic soils aid in defining the ecology of the areas flora. Acid-loving native species like Jarrah and Marri trees thrive, as well as various understory species. Lichen, which is a composite organism resulting from a partnership between a fungus and algae or cyanobacteria, secretes acids that very slowly break down the granite. Which transfers some of the chemical composition, including the acidity, into the soils. The lichen shown below is likely to be from the Rock-Shield (Xanthoparmelia) genus:

These thrive on exposed granite outcrops, and there are over 200 endemic species in the South West of Western Australia. Making it one of two global hotspot for its diversity, the other being southern Africa. Based on the darker colour of this specimen, I’m tempted to say may be a Xanthoparmelia pulla. A rebel of the genus, as it lacks usnic acid that is contained in most species of the genus. This results in it having a dark-brown colour, instead of the more usual yellow-green hue. Below is a close up of the poorly fringed cup-shaped fruiting bodies:

The lichen expands at just over 1mm a year, resulting in this one being between 80 to 100 years old. This aligns well with the age of this quarry, which was first mined in the 1930s. The granite was blasted and then crushed to provide the aggregate required for the concrete to build the dam wall. As demand for water increased the dam had to be enlarged, resulting in the quarry being reactivated twice in 1945 and 1956. This lichen was however closer to the outer walls, so I’m guessing may not have been disturbed during these two later operations:

In 1960 the quarry was cleaned up and transformed into a recreational space. The dam engineers put their skills to designing and building the unique concrete and stone picnic shelters, which still stand strong today. After yesterday’s battle on the one and only tough route Seb and I climbed on the warm coastal environments, I was a little worried about how strong I was. Howsie looked at me questioningly, when I started proceedings on a spicy grade 20. Despite the coldness that numbed the fingers and wet moss ridden patch, I cruised it:

As did he. After that and due to Howsie’s chosen line we kept our sights on a few of the tricky grade 21s we have only in the last few visits started to attempt. With the blood starting to flow the fingers no longer felt numb, and the rock also felt, for the most part, dry. Today was my day, the next three 21s felt great. Howsie, was however having to battle hard and taking flight on several occasions. Next time the roles will no doubt reverse, as so often happens. Our last two line were in full sun, which reflected off the mica at the base of the last climb:

This route has a steep pumpy start, which didn’t pose any issues. At the end of the steep stuff it transitions to a selection of tiny crimps, with not a great deal to work with for footholds. From here the crux of the route is the transition onto a near featureless slab. Once the crimps are chosen it is hard to change the sequence, and several times I chose a sequence that led to a dead-end. Resulting in me taking several falls. Howsie decided in his exhausted state he was better off having the security of the top rope, which was a good call:

Gearing up

Seb is back in town after several years in tropical climates. But only for a few days before he hits the high seas. Having succeeded in scoring a job on a superyacht. Although the vessel is at the smaller end of what is classified as a superyacht, so don’t expect him to make an appearances on Below Deck just yet. Before heading off he was keen to hit rock, and my calendar allowed me to help provide an experience that was to be unfamiliar in several ways. Firstly it is winter and he hasn’t experienced a South West winter for some four years:

We came well rugged up, but unexpectedly my buffalo and beanie stayed in the bag. It felt quite comfortable being a couple of degrees above the forecast, at approx. ten degrees, and was completely calm with not a breeze. Even Seb, used to tropical winters, didn’t find it at all bracing. Next he has only climbed a couple of times this year, so wasn’t sure how he would go stamina wise. No matter I’m more than happy to hit lower grade routes. Thirdly, he has climbed on trad is twice, both times at Wilyabrup with me and over a year and a half back:

Seeing he was warmed up enough, and in my usual manner, I suggested he rack up and take the first lead. Nothing too serious to start with. Long slabby lines to get the body moving, start to remember how to place trad gear, and figure out the art of setting up belays. All of which seemed to come back to him very quickly, as he gobbled up the first two lines. Above while on the second one a Welcome Swallow (Hirundo neoxena) is taking a dive. Named as the sight of these aerial acrobats were a sign for early sailors that land was not far away:

These birds are a common sight in the area. Found year round but more so from September to February, before on the onset of Autumn. They rarely perch, and seem to do everything on the wing. Not only do they catch and eat prey during flight but also skim freshwater bodies to drink, even feeding their fledglings while flying. After a couple of gentle climbs it was time to steepen things up. With Seb taking the lead of course, as I belayed from higher up than he was. Just for the photoshoot. His preferred gear was wires and tricams, all placed solidly:

Not bad considering so few times of climbing on trad and an eighteen month abstinence. And when required his cam placements were also well thought out and bomber. With so few visits here, it was easy to pick lines that he had not been on before. Allowing him the chance to nab them as on-sight leads. The best way to climb! I also suggested he have a crack at one of my most recent creations, The Christening. And just like Howsie had on the second ascent, Seb snuck a little to the left as the gear got further below on the runout section:

Sorry Adrian we think my original thought of grade 13 was right. Our intentions today were very much fun lower grade stuff, but all that changed when Seb spied gear high up on Steel Wall. Yes we could have rapped in from above to retrieve it, but that felt like cheating. As such after four stellar leads under his belt, it was my turn to tie in and take and floppy end. Needing to change my mindset and also prepare for a sharp increase in grade. Luckily the gear could be reached from a line I have led many a time, so that’s the way I went:

While it was a well-rehearsed climb for me, it felt really, really tough today. Several times I felt like I was going to peel off. Added to that the spaced gear made it a nervous lead. Luckily no one else was about, as they would have wondered what the hullabaloo was all about each time I noisily pulled on small holds. Seb managed to get up, but had to fight hard testing my belay set up several times. I thought he may have been toasted after that, but as we came back down he was keen for another lead. On a route that was now in full sun:

This not only warmed us up, but also woke up heaps of Buchanan’s Snake-eyed Skinks (Cryptoblepharus buchananii). These were racing across the ground at break neck speed. Assisted by a low centre of gravity and long toes, especially on their hind legs. They are also capable of leaping right into the air to snatch flying insects, not that I’ve been lucky enough to witness that. And as I watched the skinks, just like when Rongy and I were here last, here is a blurry picture of a Nankeen Kestrel (Falco cenchroides) circling above watching Seb:

Being the smallest Australian falcon and one of the only Australian raptors that can hover in one spot. Something it does as it looks for prey. Not that this female, determined by its more rufous (rust-coloured) crown and tail, was eyeing up Seb. It was more likely watching what he was looking at. While they are known to go for them, snakes are not the small falcons primary food source. So this Southwestern Carpet Python (Morelia imbricata) may well have been safe. The name imbricata coming from the Latin word imbricatus, meaning overlapping:

Referring to the snakes overlapping dorsal scales, that look like roof tiles. Although why is unclear as it is not something that is unique to this species, being common for terrestrial snakes. When I followed Seb, and again like last time, the Nankeen Kestrel sat and watched us. Not flying off until we had packed up and started to walk back down. Where I tied in for the last lead, using my crag booty on the first piece of gear. It was a great session made all the better due to the perfect rock, wonderful conditions, and having the place all to ourselves:

Fire and ice

Another weekend of trying to dodge the weather led to a quick Saturday morning out while Lisa was hoping to bob in the ocean, if it was not too rough. Unfortunately being the one of the two days no one was free to join, I contemplated my options. The forecast for Collie, near Welly Dam, was for the mercury to dip to below zero. This made it very tempting with the strong possibility of seeing ice encrusted vegetation. A rarity for us. But it would also mean cold heat sapping rock and harder routes, which I was not sure if I was all that motivated for:

The other option was to head to Castle Rock, from where I was hoping to be able to watch a fiery sunrise light up the sky across the bay. And as the images indicate the latter option won out. Being greeted by a more forgiving balmy 14 degree morning. Much more pleasant. Even better were the lower grade routes, which my body was more accepting of. For the first few climbs, each lap on the top rope was interspersed with sitting watching the sky change. The thin sliver of horizon below the cloud promising and giving a spectacular view:

The crag lit up briefly, before the sun was hidden behind the cloud. Allowing the climbing to continue without as many interruptions. It feels like it has been a while since I have climbed here, unlike at the Dam. The only downside being that the last route left me with a several battle scars when it spat me off on both laps. Not that I can complain, seeing it is one of my creations. So for several reasons it felt like I made the right choice of fire over ice, and most of the images relate to the display the sun created during my two and half hours at the crag:

Looking into references of fire and ice. I came across a 1920 apocalyptic poem, that concludes both elements are equally destructive. It is also the title of a dark fantasy-adventure sword-and-sorcery film that didn’t go so well in the box office. But has since been granted the status of being a 80s pulp-fantasy masterpiece, one in which fire won. Then there is the 80s classic rock track that use the term as a metaphor and assisted the singer in being given a Grammy award. A song she was forced to release as a single by her record label:

And while this post may also feel a little forced, I was keen to share the images. Including one not related to the sun. Whether it is a Mosquito Orchid (Cyrtostylis robusta) or slightly later flowering Midge Orchid (Cyrtostylis huegelii) is impossible to tell at this early stage. If I am really lucky it may also be the even later flowering Cape Mosquito Orchid (Cyrtostylis Cape Naturaliste). I’ll have to come back to see which it is, and when I do I also need to jump on that climb of mine. This time on lead to focus my mind and put a bit more fire in my belly:

Quantity not quality

It feels like I have gone off the boil on the search for orchids this season. I’m not alone and a few others at work have expressed the same lull. In an attempt to reinvigorate the energy a trip out to the Capel Nature Reserve was in order. Here lost in my own thoughts and nature I whiled away a couple of hours, with three species on my wish list. The first two came to view within the first ten minutes, starting with the Banded Greenhood (Pterostylis vittata). Oh so very common, but there is something special about this species:

It is described by some as an overachiever. Not in terms of how many plants will regularly flower nor in terms of how long they can remain in flower for. It is because of its ambitious bloom output, standing up to 45cm high with as many as 25 flowers. There are other species that can match the flower power, Leak and Sun Orchids in particular. The Banded Greenhood is however different in that it also has a greater number of relatively large leaves, which extend up the stem. Making it look more fleshly and even weedy, unlike any other species:

The second quick find was one of many Autumn Scented Leek Orchid (Prasophyllum sp. ‘early’). The last few years I have struggled to find these, but this year there are heaps out. Many of the leak orchids do not have a particular pleasant odour, but this species is known to have a ‘delightfully sweet and perfumed flowers’. Not that I was able to detect it as it was masked by the stronger scent of the Peppermint Trees (Agonis flexuosa) on this dewy morning. The closely related Autumn Leek Orchid (Prasophyllum parvifolium) is also about:

But I have not seen that yet. Interestingly the latter, which has more colour in the flowers, usually blooms a month or two after the former. Scouring the floor there were some fungi starting to pop up. The above has given me no end of pain in trying to work out what it is, and I eventually gave up. Whereas the below with it’s white flap on the margin of cap yielded more easily, being a Golden Wood Fungus (Gymnopilus allantopus). Being a very common wood-rotting fungus found in forests across southern Australia:

In Western Australia the species is particularly fond of feeding on fallen Banksia logs and branches, as this one was. The below Rhubarb Bolete (Boletellus obscurecoccineus) was also an easy identification, one that I no longer need to look up. I saw mature specimens but the young are equally fun. They can change colour over time, which may be triggered in differing ways. The first being age. As the velvet-red cap dries and splits, it reveals a bright yellow layer of skin similar in colour to the pores on the underside of the cap:

The colour of these pores can also change, but only when they become bruised. The change in colour depends on where it is located, and unfortunately in Western Australia we do not get to see this transformation into a blue colour. Next up is one of several cocoons I found sandwiched between the leaves of a Grass Tree (Xanthorrhoea), which I assume is from a moth. There are few local moth species that favour grass trees for their cocoons, and this may be from a Bag-shelter Moth (Ochrogaster lunifer). Although I am not convinced:

I’m also sitting on the fence with this find. Could it be a White Bunny Orchid (Eriochilus dilatatus subsp. dilatatus), or am I just living in hope. The distinguishing feature of the dilatatus subspecies is the leaf. Being either a egg-shape or narrowly lance-shape, the leaf is the longest of all Bunny Orchids measuring up to 29 to 100mm long and 4 to 15mm wide. It also generally sits a bit higher up the stalk. Seeing I didn’t find the third species I was hoping too, and based on the evidence, I’m going to count this one as a positive identification:

Last but not least I have included a repeat find of a Hare Orchid (Leporella fimbriata). I found a clump of them right at the end of my walk. This one is well past it’s best but was still a special find. Typically they have one to three flowers. Four flowers can be found if you are very lucky. However, to see five is a rarity and very uncommon. Going to prove that sometimes quantity is better than quality. Needless to say I was chuffed to bits, as this orchid should be with three flowers having been pollinated, and also possibly a fourth:

Close encounters of the feathered kind

A few weeks back I mentioned an unearthly being that I hoped would still be about on my next trip out this way. One I first sighted with Josh. Today as Rongy and I headed out in darkness, I remembered to keep an eye out. And there he still was. Marvin the Martian. Although his name wasn’t known until 1979, this softly spoken extra-terrestrial first graced us with his presence on earth in 1948. He was known to pursue just one objective, and that was to destroy the Earth. Merely because it obstructed his view of Venus:

I didn’t hear him say, in his gently voice, “bow before me, inferior beings” or “brace yourself for immediate disintegration”. Nor did I see any sign of his Illudium Q-36 Space Modulator. As such it looks like he may no longer have a hankering to rule as Emperor Marvin, or to blow the earth up. Maybe this time he has come in peace. We left him to continue to greet others as they passed by, continuing on our journey to Wilyabrup. Where it was time to dust of the trad gear, as it feels like I have been doing a fair amount of bolt clipping and top rope soloing:

The waves were putting on an epic show as we arrived. Big, clean sets coming in. Trailing mist behind them as they broke. Most came in as spilling breaks, with the wave crumbling and cascading upon itself. Some attempted to form plunging breaks, where the crest curls over the front of the wave before coming down. These were not able to provide that highly sort after barrel that surfers seek. But did result in a more booming sound as they broke. Further north at the beach where the Wilyabrup River meets the ocean, mist streamed off the ocean:

It was a beautiful morning. In our favour the rock was dry and felt good. A gentle offshore that was forming the trailing mist behind the waves also kept the salt spray at bay. Added to that we had the crag all to ourselves. Today was a day to pick the fun lines, and play it by ear. Seeing how the mood took us and what our bodies felt like after each ascent. During each of which we relished placing trad gear, looking for funky placements for added entertainment. Rongy took first lead, and found this pocket that was the perfect brown tricam size:

During my first lead about six meters up and as I approach a big horizontal break, a Nankeen Kestrel (Falco cenchroides) flew out. It was a great sight, but did make me wonder if I should back off. However, with winter having just kicked in there was no way that I had disturbed a nest. And hopefully it had merely been resting up. Climbing on and as I passed the break, it came back. Flying along the front of the cliff at about my head height. There was no keek-keek-keek or killy-killy, in fact it didn’t call out at all. Indicating it was not alarmed by us:

We assumed it had just been curious. And after the flyby inspection it settled not too far away. Not moving the entire time I was sat atop the route, belaying Rongy up. After which I wandered over and it allowed me to get really close to take the above image. It wasn’t till we walked back down that it flew off, heading south and landing in the scrubby headland some way away. I swear I saw it come back as Rongy then took on his next lead. Chosen for fun and also length. And on which he found a great red tricam sized pocket:

On my last trip here I top rope soloed the below climb. However, due to the overhanging nature and resulting phaff with the rope work, I avoided the low down crux moves. Having mentioned on the drive down today that I could be tempted with it, I reckon Rongy had also chosen his route so we would walk below this mighty line. To further encourage me to jump on it. The start certainly felt goey, as I felt the weight of full rack pulling me down. Mind you, as I made my way up, I was thankful for the safety the gear offered as I slotted it in:

It was tempting to link the two pitches but Rongy felt it may be better if I didn’t. Being concerned that if the crux spat him off, the stretch of the additional rope would see him hit the deck. It was a fair call, and as it is always does safety comes first. This saw him take on the fine second pitch. And only after we had five pitches under our belt did others drift in. Back at the base we were drenched in sunlight and the spray was making land fall, due to the off shore wind having turned. A sign for us to call it a wrap, but not before we hit one more great line: