Strangely I cannot properly remember the first time I met Krish. I’m think it was at Wilyabrup and a group of us met him down there but whether I tied into his rope or not I’m unsure. However, two early memories of what he taught us sticks to mind and I still do to this day.
The first was stacking rope into the bag rather than always having it coiled and getting tangled, the first time I tried it I thought it was magic. The second was not needing to call out to your belayer every time you clipped a runner making for a much more enjoyable and peaceful climbing experience.
Many others would have already mentioned Krish’s uncanny ability to:
1 – Convince you to climb something you think is too hard for you but actually isn’t.
2 – Convince you to do those extra climbs at the end of the session when you think you are too tired but actually aren’t.
3 – Convince you to set your alarm for 2:30am in summer to hit the crag at first light, with first light meaning by head torch.
Krishs’ enjoyment of being out on rock and in nature is infectious. Climbing grades don’t generally mean a great deal to him. His pursuit of an ascent is more about hunting exciting or new locations and finding a fair bit of exposure. He is happy to climb with people of all sensible abilities, young or old, new or seasoned. He is the quickest belay station setter I know (and still willing to learn that sometimes an extra piece or directional line is more appropriate). There’s always a laugh, plenty of banter and tea, and you never expect to be on belay until after your first clip.
Krish would be what I call the second generation old school climbers, he has a trad preference but uses modern ropes, gear and climbing shoes with toes hanging out, which I think is because his approach shoes are Source sandals.
He is also an excellent muse for my videos since he has no aversion to being serious or hamming it up for the camera.
Everyone loves climbing with Krish. He knows the south west well, being the author of mini and full guides. Krish is the glue, the god father, the sensei, the friend, and now officially the blogger that keeps us tight as a climbing crew. He inspires me to continue climbing with passion and trusting that I can do so for many years to come.
In recent years Chris Wiggins has created entertaining short films of our climbing trips. He has a good eye and creates a story that give a sense of the area, climbing and/or mood of the people on the day:
My last trip away before COVID hit Western Australia was a big day trip to meet Rongy and Wiggins at Mount Frankland. This video starts off here but includes so much more than that. It’s about climbing and friendship and in his usual fashion, Wiggin’s has filled it with laughter, emotion, stunning scenery, the little details we often walk past and of course climbing.
This is a collection of footage that he has taken during a number of trip and social events that are not captured in any of his films below. There are too many places, people and events to mention here so you’ll just have to watch it.
Back in September 2019 Howsie, Wiggins and myself made the big trip down to Cape Le Grande past Esperance on the south coast of Western Australia. It was a magical trip with glorious weather, incredible scenery, scrumptious food, delicious homemade beer and of course stunning climbing recounted in my post Take Rope.
On a wet morning Rongy and I headed out ahead of the crowd. We thought they may be put off by the weather but after we had smashed out a good number of climbs they arrived. While Rongy and I were going hard at it, the rest of them were in a more laid back mood, as the above video shows. Read more in my post called A Packed Crag.
The above video covers Rongy, Wiggins my trip out to this impressive pimple on the landscape. It was an unexpected trip for me the tale of which is recounted in my post called Crowded House.
This video came soon after a day out with Rongy and Wiggins detailed in the post called Hold Still for the Camera. The story behind the pink tri-cam relates to another post called Crag Booty – Up for Grabs, and this piece of booty is referred to in number of other posts since then. Soon after Chris’s training laps he bagged Washed Up Punks and then immediately afterwards also claimed Heavy Metal as it started raining, finding the later easier as it is not as sustained even though it has one harder move in it.
I have no post related to this trip for which Wiggins had the primary intention of making the above video, of just one specific climb at the awe-inspiring West Cape Howe. However, the first time that Rongy led this route is recounted in my post called South Coast Trip. While making the video Rongy had to lead The Climb numerous times placing the same gear on each ascent. And with the help of Rhys and numerous strategically placed cameras Wiggins created this very cool must watch video.
It has been close to a months since Lisa and I had a dip at our local beach and got up close and personal with a friendly cuttlefish. In that month I started working from home, giving me a perfect opportunity to make the most of the best midweek and weekend conditions to swim with the fish. While the midweek days offered up a couple of great opportunities, something called work ethics or pure dumbness prevented me from being able to take an hour out to go for a dip. Instead I chanced it on the weekends, which as you probably guess didn’t work out to well:
Each weekend the weather came in and the ocean looked started to take on that choppy and grey appearance more akin to winter. Lisa I went out for a few walks with the dogs and each time it looked hit and miss. The image above was taken on Monday 6th April, it was the first day the cut opened up connecting the Capel River to the ocean. It didn’t stay open too long and within a few days had closed back up. So on Easter Friday, seeing the water looked reasonable I thought I’d take the plunge. I walked down to the River Mouth and dived in, and as you can see I couldn’t see too much:
It was thick and soupy, as soon as my head went under I knew it was bad but I was also too stubborn to give in. Something told me if I went out further it might clear up, fat chance. I felt like the Titanic as I almost collided with a bommie or two due to not seeing them. I knew it was a hopeless course, and resided to just swimming parallel to the beach back along the way I had walked. Occasionally it cleared a bit and I could not only make out the bottom but I also saw a few fish, only briefly before the murkiness returned. Getting out I felt a little sea sick from the swell that had been pushing me back and forth the whole way:
Easter was also the start of a two week holiday for me. I was supposed to be heading to Melbourne to climb in the Grampians on Easter Monday, that was obviously canned. The backup plan was to go to South Coast to climb for a few days, but the interregional travel ban put paid to that too. So I had the thought of a two week holiday at home, luckily I can still get out to the rocks by myself, and I thought that I’d be able to have a snorkel or two. But each time Lisa and I went for a beach walk it just wasn’t looking inviting. Above was on Easter Monday, and below the next day:
The swells and winds were generally up, and every few days it would really come in. The calm and flat summertime beach was slowly disappearing. During winter the shape changes and there is a stepper incline into the water. The waves erode the sand creating these little steps and you know that the water is likely to be like pea soup, this image was from Thursday 16th. So while it was great for beach walks and the dogs loved our almost daily long walks I was beginning to think that my last snorkel had been a sad way to end what has probably been the best snorkelling season I’ve had:
The forecast did however offer me a window of opportunity. This morning the swells were down, there was practically no wind and it was mostly a clear sky. Rain and fresh winds were forecast for the afternoon and tomorrow the swell would jump from a calm meter to three meters. This would be my last reasonable opportunity to end the season on a better note. Wandering down to our local beach and it was looking pretty good, people were fishing and the rays were gliding up and down the beach feasting on the burley and any other bait that fell off the line. The water temperature doesn’t vary too much year round and certainly would have only drop a degree or two in recent weeks. But tell that to my body, it felt cold:
The visibility was reasonable but there was that misty look to the water, the penetrating rays from the early morning sun picking up all the floating particles. There were lots of red Seastars and I as I dived up and down I soon spotted the usual Sweep, Pomfret, Triggerfish, Gobbleguts, Wrasse and others. One fish caught my eye, and I’m pretty sure it was a Grass Flathead but it didn’t stay around long enough for me to get an image. Likewise I didn’t stay out too long. It was a bit too chilly and so I said my goodbyes to the reef, happy to have had a more pleasant last snorkel. It certainly has been a an awesome season, but now it was time to head back in and have a hot shower:
Conditions were looking better for heading to where I intended to go on Monday. Clear skies, light winds, and no chance of rain. I thought that by going on a Friday, as oppose to the weekend, it would be quiet and secondly it might also make me feel better about being on the road. There would likely be more people driving about for work due to being a weekday. It might sound silly but on these solo missions I keep having the question in the back of my mind, it this essential travel? Directly opposite the style that gets you onto the access track is a gum in which I often hear and see Wattle Birds. Today a number of the nuts were a bright red with the yellow stamin of the flower just starting to emerge:
It felt like a crisp morning, and I almost put the heater on in the car when driving down. The temperature dropped below double digits, like the flowers above this is another sign of the seasons really starting to shift. Across the bay the sun was just hitting the main cliffs of Willyabrup, clean waves rolling in. It would have been a great day on the water for the surfers, something that really has never taken my fancy. My vantage point today was the top of the Terrace at the Northern Blocks, at Willyabrup. I setting the rope up fully aware that there would be a challenging line or two, and I was not sure if I was really ready after feeling that I had being well and truly spanked at Welly Dam on Monday:
The morning began with me being sensible and starting at the left hand end. Ideally I’d like to get up six lines today but if I didn’t make that many I wouldn’t be too upset. With the rope set up back from the edge I could easily adjust the direction on the anchors to accommodate my first three chosen lines. Unlike the other places I have been recently the top of this wall is a slightly narrow ledge. The sort of ledge with just enough space to walk about on, but you always feel like you are right on the edge. So today I was tied in the whole time I was up there, which adds to the tension and nervousness of the place. The first line of the day was the easiest, Metamophic Sausage, but it felt hard and sustained. The steep wall never giving my arms a chance to truly rest, two laps and I was not feeling confident for what lay ahead:
Thrice Bitten, at four grades harder, actually felt easier and I made both laps without having the same tired feeling. Admittedly stemming allowed for complete hand free rests at several points, in-between the harder moves. Then it was time for the real action to start, another four grade jump for Bearded Dragon. At the first overlap the flattop block that is one of the biggest holds on the route, and normally feels so comforting, had become loose. It looked wedged in, but I didn’t fancy pulling on it in case it dislodged and smashed into my face. This resulted in me attempting several approaches to work round it and pumping out. Disappointing but not unexpected, it’s a pretty sustained and technical line. However, on my second lap and knowing what to avoid I managed a clean ascent, I was very happy:
Next up the rope had to be moved. The Future Grins, another grade up and on much steeper terrain. That did mean bigger holds, the first three climbs required a lot of finger strength and this was more about brute strength and core work. I’ve only lead it once before, failing at the crux from exhaustion. I it was intimidating knowing what to expect and that I hadn’t got it clean before, but two clean laps in and I was on fire! I sat atop and allowing a bit of time for my arms to relax, I contemplated whether to try the line just to the right again. Another couple of grades up, and even steeper and more sustained climbing. Why not! I approached it fearlessly pulling hard, working my feet, and being pretty vocal with every move. Lots of strenuous laybacking on overhung ground resulted me in being gassed by the midway point, it took a long rest and a few attempts before I was ready to get going again:
I didn’t manage the top half in a single push, and was utterly shattered when I topped out. Looking back down it was obvious that there was no point inflicting that on myself again. I’d be dogging the whole way up and might even need to resort to other unethical tactics to get up. So decision made, but I couldn’t end the day like that so I slipped down five grades and enjoyed the delights of Silver. Fingery like the first three routes and overhung like the last two, I managed a clean ascent just. One lap would do to even up the tally of the day, I was pretty happy with how it had gone on the rock. Sitting back to let my body relax, and allow that tiredness seep into every part of my body as the effects of the adrenalin dissipated. I watched the waves and noticed people stood on top of Willyabrup (above), and wondered if they had heard me encourage myself up the second last route:
It was warming up and my legs felt like jelly walking back out. It had been a slightly sweaty morning. The humidity was just enough to make the holds a little greasy, and I was surprised that hadn’t halted my progress. It did mean the helmet, top rope gear and shoes needed an airing out on the walk back. So with gear swinging off my harness I made my way back. Up the ridge (the hard part), across the open paddock and finally down across the little creek. Here with the cooler days coming on, the Arum Lilies were out in force. Doing what weeds do best, chocking up the creek and blocking any light that would be needed by any native plants trying to get established below it. One last short incline got me to the carpark, where I was surprised to see a five other cars. As I drove out on the gravel road two more cars were coming in, with all this traffic at Willyabrup it almost felt for a moment like life was back to normal:
Like probably everywhere else Easter was unnaturally quiet at Peppy Beach, normally it would be crawling with people due to being a favourite place to get away and spend time on the beach. On Sunday night we met up with the neighbours in our cul-de-sac for a drink, each bringing our own chair, drink and glasses. We sat in a wide circle observing the recommended social distancing. He I sat listening and occasionally adding to the conversation, during which time I had two light beers. I wondered if I might regret that in the morning, I really don’t drink much anymore. Easter Monday I woke at 6:30, which is late for me, and got up to make a cup of tea and check the weather radar one last time. Decision made, avoid the coastal crags and head inland:
I had originally planned to head to the Terrace at the Northern Blocks of Wilyabrup, a steep place with at times smeary holds and mostly harder (for me) lines. I knew from experience that wet conditions were not ideal for the Terrace, but as I had been keeping an eye on the weather pattern I already had a backup. As I drove to Welly Dam it was lightly raining; making my way “up the hill” it was clearing but the roads were wet; and finally as I drove down into the “bowl on top of the hill” where Wellington Dam can be found, the place was shrouded in mist. Today I didn’t park at the bottom by the picnic area but at the top, as this saved me needing to walk back up to set up the top-rope:
The mist was lifting before my eyes, so hopefully the conditions might be reasonable. Hauling my gear over the wall to the ledge on top of the steep granite walls I could hear that familiar sound of gear clinking. I popped my head over the edge and saw a top-rope setup with no climber. The car was tucked in the corner but before I had time to work out who this might be, a familiar face popped over the stone wall that keeps the normal punters away from the edge. It seems that Howsie too was eager to touch real rock and had been here since 6, a time of the day that unusually I had not seen today:
We kept our distance and I set my line up on Ebonie Road. I found out that Howsie had already done two laps on Taj, a line I jokingly told him a few weeks back that he should be doing laps on rather some of the easier or more familiar lines. He admitted to finding the start super hard to read and link, and so in a tired state his second chosen line of Flight Simulator was near impossible. He was just about to pack up, as he had said he would be home by 9. I however encouraged him to do one more lap on Flight Simulator so I could point out the holds and moves to see it that would help. Sorry Nadia it really was my fault that he was late leaving:
Flight Simulator is a feisty route and super pumpy. I first unlocked it’s secrets with Howsie and Rongy way back. But despite that knowledge it still scares all three of us. On this lap Howsie worked his way past the first bolt and it was the moves to get past the second bolt that was shutting him down. After pointing out a few holds and tricks he made the moves, which allowed a somehow rest before the crux sequence starts. As he attempted that section I jumped on Ebonie and did my two laps. It felt harder than I had hoped, and I was starting to wonder if I should have set up on some of the easier lines. Hindsight is pretty useless really:
From atop Ebonie, after my second lap, I had a great view of Howsie still battling the crux. He was looking tired and was going up and down like a yoyo on holds that I knew were small and draining. After taking some snaps of his position I hopped on top and set my line up on route number two. Gumby Goes Bolting was next for me. Meanwhile Howsie was trying, falling, sitting, trying, falling, sitting, trying, falling, sitting and all the while inching his way upwards. I did wonder if he was going to be a bit annoyed at me suggesting he do another lap:
He was dripping with sweat, the moisture from the night before was saturating the air giving Welly Dam a heavy feel. Eventually he made it up and we had a quick chat about how some days you just have to struggle on the routes. Words Wiggins had said to me at Mount Frankland came to mind. Regardless of how you climb, is it ever really a bad day when you are out climbing? Howsie and I looked out at the view, as I made use of Wiggins wise words. With that Howsie’s struggles just became part of a great morning out. He pulled his system apart, as I rapped down to do my first lap on Gumby:
The first lap went OK’ish. My arms where feeling pumped and the holds had that greasy feel that the humidity brings. Before I rapped back down I said my goodbyes to Howsie with the usual salutations of the moment, “stay safe”. I rapped back down and did my second lap, the moves felt more familiar, as they should, but the arms and holds didn’t feel a whole heap better. Back on top and time to move the rope again. Seeing Howsie had just climbed Flight Simulator, which had been on my hit list for the day, I did the right thing and passed that one by:
Instead I set up on Ear for Fear, wondering what I was thinking as I rapped down. Feeling weary and tired, was it the two beers or the humidity, I tentatively launched myself at the crux. Greasy holds made it feel very tenuous. I put that to the back of my mind and as soon as I got my right toe on that high right edge I knew I could pull it off. At the top my arms were burning, but I knew what I had to do… so back down I went for lap two. The holds, my fingers or something else was not as forgiving this time and I was spat off at the crux and then above again. Finally at the top I sat heavily on the rope and pondered my next move. I knew that with the rope here I could put in a draw on the last bolt of Slay Away next:
So that is what I did, and so I started up the steep, fingery and balancey sequence that requires lots of core work. After that comes the crux, I was shattered but determined to try. I attempted my usual approach of using a smooth sloper hand hold and smeary feet, that no one else seems to like. I got to the next not so great pocket past the sloper and rock blew sending me flying, so now I needed a completely new sequence. I eventually worked one out, but it was draining and even then I was only half way up the wall The second lap was no better the crux was way too pumpy for me and again I fell into the safety of the harness. Sweat pouring down my forehead and arms ready to burst I made it to the top and decided that was enough… despite having only been on four lines it still felt like a great morning out.
While you may laugh, in recent times it feels like I have lost the confidence I used to have on lead. The likelihood of being able to get out with anyone, to be able to build that confidence back up by leading climbs, is very slim to non-existence for months to come. With that in mind I’ve set myself a routine on my boulder wall. The aim is to build my stamina and contact strength, without risking reinjuring the joints that I have been foolish enough to damage on indoor boulder wall in recent years. In the week gone I had three sessions, so for my weekend trip out I felt that I needed somewhere not too hard and just fun:
As I was making Lisa a cuppa at just gone 6am I could see the sky was a glorious red turning orange. By the time I drove out of the driveway the oranges had turned to yellow, and as I left Peppy Beach they finally faded into a mottled white. The high clouds didn’t seem to suggest any rain would fall and despite being a bit of a non-descript colour they still made for a spectacular sky as I drove towards Moses Rocks. On arrival there were a few cars in the carpark, and several people were on the beach fishing as I walked towards the rocks:
I view Moses Rocks as the friendly crag, some don’t like it here due to the rounded nature and often flared cracks.. This can make it, at times, fiddly to place gear but as I was going solo today that wouldn’t be a stress. Another reason I like it here is that it gets you that bit closer to the water and more times than not, even with just a slight swell, the waves come in crisp and clean. They look amazing and the booming sound of the barrels as they collapse brings the place to life. Today I walked past the Hand’s Up Wall and continued south, I decided to leave that for another morning out:
I unpacked my gear and was slowly getting myself sorted. I had made a beeline for Rumpoles Rocks, and if I was smart this place would allow several lines to be picked off from each set-up. And in the end I only had to move the set-up four times. I wasn’t in a great rush, so stopped to check out the waves for a bit. I had my eye on the barrels in the bay to the south, with Wilyabrup in the distance. Then out of the corner of my eye I caught sight of eight or so dolphins surfing in on a wave very close to me. They jumped high out of the back of it as the wave crashed into a mass of tumbling white water:
They came on the next wave for a second run, and I was too wrapped up in watching them only just remembering to grab my camera at the last moment. As such all you get is one not very good image of a single dolphin escaping out the back of the second wave. That was the end of their playtime and they then travelled north out of sight. I finished off getting the rope ready and rapped down to start the session. Going left to right meant the first line was Rude Awakening, and that it was. It felt hard and I slipped off the crux on the first lap:
The last time I came here was with Mikey, Rongy and Craig and the place was wet. The pool at the base of the crag was full of water and there was a risk of big waves sending spray all over the belayer. Today the pool was dry, as mostly was the rock. That hadn’t helped me on the first line but thankfully the next was Rarely Wild, a much more forgiving route that allowed me to relax a bit more. That got me back in the right mood for Moses’ rounded holds, as I next manage to unlock Hexed relatively easily. A line that had got Rongy thinking on the last trip when he led it, mind you he also had to battle with wet rock:
Next up was Burning Both Ends, which the rope below is set up for. It’s one of the original lines and is a bold lead. Today it definitely felt like one of the more sustained routes, not only was the flared crack testy but the overlaps above kept you working. I’m not sure if was all the plastic I had been pulling on my boulder wall but the tops of many of these routes felt steep. Next was Yogurt and I then skipped Hot and Spicy as it is a bit of a ramble and shared the start of Yogurt. Also I felt that if I did every line here that may be a bit much:
Five lines in and the dolphins returned, at least I’m guessing it was the same pod as before. Finding a comfy rock armchair I kicked back and watched them, hoping that they were back for playtime and not just to cruise past. They seemed to loiter in the area that I had seen them surfing, but this time they didn’t follow any of the waves in. Instead, after a while they did a complete U-turn and headed back north from where they had come. Disappearing, once again, from sight. Bit of a shame but all the same it was great to have been able to watch a good sized pod twice in one day:
With the dolphins gone I jumped back on the rope. The routes at Moses are relatively short, and at Rumpoles Rocks the first five of so meters are a bit of a stroll. So with shorter lines I wondered just how far down the crag I could make it before time caught up with me, or my body started to suggest I should call it a day. Next in line was Chillies and Garlic, followed by Jugs Galore both of which were quite simply just good fun. The latter is one of mine, in fact this crag only had six routes when I first climbed here and since then I’ve been lucky to have been involved in putting up another six with Wiggins and Kym:
Above was the only wet hold I came across, not that I needed to use it, and with the water drying up the salt was forming. None of the other holds I came across felt salty, and to be honest I couldn’t have asked for better conditions. The rope was moved for the third time as the lifesaving helicopter came into view. I carried on setting up as it flew overhead, and then it came back round over the ocean directly in front of me. They were obviously intrigued to see what I was up too, I guess the sight of a climber makes a change to looking for sharks and surfers. I wondered if they might recognise me, as I’ve certainly seen them fly past dozens upon dozens of times:
I then tackled No Spinach for Popeye, a route with a very thrutchy start. So much so that I did wonder if that would be the time my body would say enough. However I managed my two laps and then decided that I would miss out Wiggins’ Square Cut, as it used the same hideous off-width start and having done it twice today was quite enough. That only left me two lines, for which the rope had to be moved for the final time. The lower wall of Olive Oil fell much easier than when I followed Howsie up it last time. I’m not even sure why it felt so challenging last time. The hold are big and positive, not the normal rounded Moses holds but with good clean edges:
It was then time for the last line of the day Finger Licking, and it was absolutely Finger Licking good! In view that I had a rope above me I decided to climb the unprotected arête of the tower instead of the southern face, and damn it was good. Nice exposure and good holds, it’s a shame there is no gear on it. There is something wrong with the image above and I’m intrigued to see if anyone can spot what it is. With ten routes under my belt it was definitely time to call it a day, I took my time to pack the gear so I could take in the great position for just a bit longer. Finally I hit the track out, and I could see ahead of me that the main beach looked reasonably busy with surfers in the water and fishers on the beach, all observing their social distance:
Unlike my last trip, and other than the dolphins, I didn’t see any creatures worth including in this post. No roos, skinks, lizards, dragons, birds or interesting insects. It was not for looking about, and I guess that being so close to the ocean while creating a great atmosphere also has a down side. I retraced my steps and when I hit the first sandy bay the encroaching tide had already washed away half of my footprints. By tomorrow they will all be gone and there will be no trace that I was ever here, but I’ll be back:
With the way the world is going I felt that the great trip down to Mount Frankland last week may have been the last climbing trip for some time to come. I did touch base with Howsie before this weekend to check if he was still keen, it was a silly question really. But despite our initial keenness we decided that with the strong recommendation not to socialise we would not head out. While Western Australia will, as of Tuesday, put in place inter-regional travel bans, so far we are not in full lockdown. As such I decided to head out while still self-quarantining myself:
The forecast was a mixed bag with fresh south westerlies, the chance of a light shower and a rough to very rough sea. Whichever way you looked at it that it meant wetness in some form, whether from the sky or the spray from the ocean. I was however not worried about that as the conditions offered a great atmosphere in which to empty the mind and just live in the moment and enjoy the setting. It rained as I drove down but brightened up as I walked in, clouds were however dark, ominous and moving relatively fast towards the coast. I sheltered briefly in the toilet admiring the secret stash of gold:
It cleared up and I could see a break in the weather coming my way. Shouldering my pack I headed to my chosen destination, a place that I wouldn’t be surprised if I have climbed at more than anyone else. Short routes but quality lines. It is away from the crowds on a busy day, in fact I have never seen anyone else ever climb here. The Organ Pipes also offers the opportunity to find new lines and before today I had already been on two that I was keen to one day lead. As soon as the anchors were in and the static rope was ready for action the next wave of water, from above, started to descend on me:
I wasn’t put off and my spirits were far from be dampened. At some point they will put us into lockdown and then opportunities like these will be gone for some time. In a way, while I think it is something I do nearly all of the time, it is at times like these that you really have to live in the moment and appreciate even the small things that make you smile. I rapped down to be greeted by the wet corner of Spraying, at least the rock under the capping roof provided dry handholds. A blessing as the slopey and smeary feet for the traverse under that roof were sure to be soaked, and they were:
I was back in top-rope mode and that meant ascending each line twice. The first to get a feel for it and for some lines to remind me just how tricky there were. The second usually feels much smoother. Maybe because there is something in knowing what is coming, that plus the fact that you’ve just done it relaxes the mind and makes the movements flow that bit smoother. That was certainly the case to start with, after Spraying I moved rightwards and it was time for Knocking on Heavens Door. It is worth checking the route description, as on the first lap I didn’t knock hard enough and sure enough the door opened as a decent sized block came off in my hand:
I’m not sure that anyone else has led that route, and it felt a little testy. As I rapped back down the sun was starting to poke it’s face out. The next route to the right is one of the original lines and the crag classic, Heaven Calling. This route is recorded as being one grade lower than my route Knocking on Heavens Door. I had put my route up with Wiggins and recall umming and ahhing about the grade. Now having climbed, and walked up, Heaven Calling immediately afterwards I am wondering again. It’ll be great to get a second “on-lead” opinion about the grade:
The last time I climbed here was with Andrew, just over a year ago and also in March. I reread that post and it includes an image of this creature at the end of it. I now know that this little fella is in fact the caterpillar of the Tower Case Moth. It uses sticks of equal length, attaching them parallel to the axis of the case. As it grows it attaches the next set of sticks to make the conical house longer, up to a usual maximum length of 3cm. It is open at both ends, and no prizes for guessing why the narrow end is pointing down:
It was now time to move right to The Reaper Man, this route of mine made it into the guide despite not having led it. I hadn’t claimed it, putting it down as a top-rope, and have on numerous occasions come along all bold as brass expecting to send it. But it is a tad run out and the top head wall feels very sketchy and blank. As such I was very surprised when I managed to cruise up it without a worry on my first lap. Had I overestimated the holds and sequence, and if so why haven’t I led it before? On my second lap I was brought back down to earth, as I struggled to link the upper moves and slipped of numerous times:
I couldn’t blame the rock conditions, the gneiss here is quick to dry and with a south westerly and clearing sky you couldn’t ask for better conditions. I was a little surprised that I wasn’t been hit by salt spray, but was certainly not complaining about that. The time had come to move the line to a new section of the crag. While I had a plan in my mind I changed it at the last minute and decided to try another project of mine. This is one that I tried ground up with Andrew and failed. It’s a little contrived but still fun, and today it felt pretty easy. I’m a little confused as to why I hadn’t got it last time:
I then got back to my original plan, time to check out another potential new line. One I have looked at numerous times from afar but never inspected. I had hoped that Mikey was going to try it when I brought him here. He was however after meterage and had stuck to the easier lines. As I got the rope setup I got a shock when I discovered a ring bolt that I can’t recall ever seeing before. It does surprise me where you find these single bolts popping up, making me wonder if I am really finding new lines. As with many other bolts I have come across is the lesser visited places this one too was right next to great trad placements:
This route, when I eventually lead it is a climb of two halves. A lower coarse granite slab with a upper headwall of the more usual less textured Wilyabrup Gneiss. For some reason I have never got round to trying it. One aspect that has maybe put me off is that it just didn’t look like there was going to be much gear in the top headwall. That and the flakily and blocky look of it has also made me wonder just how many of the holds are secure. Today was however the day for it, I rapped down and as I went down I found a large loose flake that came away relatively easily:
Behind the flake and still holding onto the rock I saw what I believe is a Marbled Gecko, Howsie let me know if that is right and if you can break it down into a sub-species. This image is taken from below looking up, and I felt really bad that I had just destroyed it’s home. For that reason I made myself secure and attempted to pick it up to relocate it. I needn’t have worried as it escaped my clumsy clutches and scampered across the near vertical face literally jumping across sections. Finally it disappeared into a wider vegetated crack several meters to the right:
The route was great and everything I hoped for. On the first lap I accessed the slab as Mikey had done for his line 10K. For the second I approached it via a hanging flake which added a fair bit of spice to the line. The upper wall was great but thin on gear, as I had suspected it would be, would I ever lead it… who knows. As the start to get to the slab was so good I decided to have a bash at the pillar to the right as it looked to have a more a defined and protectable crack running up it. That too was great fun and had more gear that I was willing to trust. So if no one else beats me to it that is now four routes that I need to polish off with a clean first ascent:
The damp and gloomy start to the day, weather wise, had turned into a perfect conditions. I was keen for more. For those who like to tally my routes and make sure I keep an even keel, yes I had climbed seven lines today. I would normally I’ll aim for six when I tope-rope solo, but the last line was just too good to pass by. However, seeing I did each line twice made it feel like I hadn’t ended in an odd way. It was regardless of my urge to keep climbing time to pack the bag, and as I pulled out the phone to check the time I realised it was definitely time to go:
I had told Lisa that being by myself I would probably be finished quite early and the very latest I would be on the road would be midday. While I didn’t feel like I had dillied and dallied I had spent four hours at the crag, if you include the walk-in/out. It was midday when I got back to the car, which was still in self-quarantine as it had been when I arrived. I’d had the place to myself and my guess is that this may well have been in part due to the forecast. The regional travel bans may also have had some influence, but on the road back there were plenty of cars and cyclists zipping all over the place:
While I had managed to not meet a sole and certainly kept within recommended social distancing guidelines, the riskiest part of the trip was yet to come. Lisa had, upon request from Elseya, put in an order for pizza. So I had to pop into Busselton and pick up the order. On the flip side the order was also helping to keep the local economy going. Such confusing times are ahead…
It had been predicted to be a breezy weekend with the wind direction not being ideal for going for a dip. However as I drove Steve home from the hospital after his last operation, which I might add he only just had done in time before they start to can elective surgery, I was watching the wind and my hopes lifted. Getting back home I did the customary loop to check the water and it looked very snorkelable, and convinced Lisa it was worth trying:
With the way the world is going Lisa and I feel very lucky to live where we live. A quiet out of the way place, no shops to attract the hoarders, and just a few minutes stroll from the beach. So if we do have to go into lockdown and self-quarantine we can still wander to the beach, and keep a safe distance from anyone else. We thought we would use today do a practise run and sure enough social distancing was easy to observe, as indicated by the image above:
There was plenty of life below the water. Fish darting here and there, sea stars and urchins abound. I was on the hunt and dove down checking under ledges, and found heaps of small colourful fish sadly all too skittish to take images of. I did however manage one reasonable image (above) of a spectacular Fire Damsel. At the bottom of the shot is also what I believe, due to the black spot by the tail, is a Four Lined Cardinalfish:
While ducking down trying to get images of all these little fish I noticed a sudden movement, and there plastered spreadeagled across the rock was an octopus. It had been on the ground and had quickly retreated further under the ledge as I went down, but it hadn’t managed to find a big enough crevice to hide in before I took the image above. The next time I went down it had changed colour and was practically impossible to see:
My narrative seems to be one image behind today, no matter. The fish above is the same one that I talked about in my last underwater post. It hung about for a while but never stayed still and if I got too close would dart off until building up the courage to check us out again. In the image I got you can’t see the two teeth, but a bit more of the body is visible. Not that this detail has helped me identify it! It also seems to have been in a bit of a scrap:
As we were hovering over the area where the octopus and the toothed and scrapping fish were Lisa started making a lot of noise. She pointed in a direction and try as I might I couldn’t see what all the fuss was about, check out the image above and see if you can spot why. Below is a much clearer image of the reason for the well-deserved excitement. This cuttlefish, which is the first one Lisa has seen, dipped down into the weed on first sight and my hopes of getting a good look faded:
However it came back up and cruised at a very leisurely pace over the weed before hiding under a ledge. We bobbed up and down with the increasing waves being very patient and it emerged again and swam across an open area towards a larger ledge. I waited a while to make sure Lisa had a good watch before I went down each time, just in case I had scared it away. But I needn’t have worried and it didn’t seem too phased by me:
After going under the ledge the cuttlefish somehow disappeared and we weren’t able to see it again. With the waves getting more choppy we decided it was time to headed back to shore. Walking the short few minutes home we felt incredibly lucky with our finds, thanks to Lisa’s eagle eyes, and also for where we live. The next two to six months are likely to be very strange, but at least we have a playground on our doorstep, assuming the weather doesn’t turn too quickly:
For a few months now Howsie and I had a plan to head to Mount Frankland, and the timing coincided nicely with a south coast trip that Rongy and Wiggins had concocted. Howsie’s got a plan to hit grade 20s and Hannibal was in his sights. However, in the week before the trip Howsie was forced to self-quarantine due to someone he recently worked with having flu like symptoms. During that work trip he also managed to get ravaged by ticks and then to rub salt into the wound he was attacked by bees and ended up with an inflated foot, so needless to say he couldn’t make it:
The others were still going and I was, of course also keen. However, both Lisa and I really look forward to our tradition of fish and chips on a Friday night after a week of work, and it was a shame to miss that. So that is how I found myself being woken up by the alarm at 2:45 on Saturday morning, and ready to start the three hour trip by myself. Rongy and Wiggins had gone down the day before and so I made a beeline for the campsite. Half way there and the drizzle came, then it rained and finally it really rained. This continued on an off until I was almost there, and I nearly turned back because of it:
I arrived at first light, quite literally. It’s a dodgy road to be driving along in the twilight hours and the chances of seeing a roo are high. But I managed to get there without any incidents or near misses, and only three roo sightings plus two Tawny Frogmouths. Rongy was wandering about as light entered the world, but they had yet to really wake up or have anything to eat. So I left them to it and went for a walk to explore Fernhook Fall campsite, through which Deep River runs. Being the end of summer there were no river flows and the falls were dry and silent, but the pool was full and serene. It really was a beautiful place:
As it is nestled miles from anywhere in remote patch of native forest with towering karri, jarrah and tingle trees the only noise was that of the morning chorus, birds chirps and chattered. I would occasionally see a glimpse of them, large and small, as they flew between perches. Both the lower and upper storey was thick and with the low light it was hard to make out exactly what birds I saw. Up above was the familiar sound of the red tailed black cockatoos, it felt like I was back at Welly Dam, they were flying high above and I watched them circle round and land on a perch some thirty to forty meters above the forest floor:
When I got back to the campsite where the boys had settled the night before, they were tucking into their breakfast. The campsite was empty bar for them, and that was lucky as they were able to nabbed one of the two cabins that are available at this location. It’s a first come first served basis, no prior bookings. After the night of heavy rain that had fallen they were quite happy to have had a cabin and not to have been in a tent. There was certainly no rush to get to the crag, as we already had a very good idea of what to expect. So I made myself a cuppa, as they got themselves ready to head out:
It’s about 25km from the campsite to the crag, on a mostly straight gravel road that cuts through the towering trees. Unlike the campsite which had lots of understorey and stunning grass trees the forest floor on the drive was mostly a reedy or flax grass. This is where we needed Howsie so he could tell us what we are actually looking at! While it was overcast and still relatively low light the grasses were still a vivid almost fluorescent green, making the forest floor literally light up. So much so that we stopped along the way and Wiggins and I were attempting to capture this impressive sight:
This forest is part of the Walpole Wilderness Area, which was established in 2004 and is an international biodiversity hotspot. The centrepiece of this particular national park, which is called Mount Frankland, is not surprisingly Mount Frankland. An enormous, for this landscape, granite monolith that sits high and proud at 411m above sea level and offers 360 degree views of the landscape that it sits below it. Being the highest peak in the area, and while it dampened the spirits just a touch, it was not surprising to see it shrouded in mist. The walk in is short only ten minutes tops, and as we skirted the base Wiggins got to work:
The climbs are all on the western side of this massive granite dome, a number of two and three pitch climbs some of which top out. The climbs generally have long pitches up 35m upwards so offering an opportunity to really work out those calf muscles and punish your toes. There are a few vertical walls and even some overhangs but on the whole this place is all about slab climbing. Having to start from the bottom up there was a need to tackle the lower slabs that are in the shadow of the trees and get less sun. This plus being the place where all the water ends up, makes them less than inviting on days like today:
I was a little surprised when I looked back at images in my archives to find just how long it had been since I had climbed here, almost six years back. It was in winter (June) and the rock was in really good condition, much better that what we were facing today. Despite being at the tail end of summer it felt like we were in the heart of a wet winter. There were no dibs put in to take first lead, so I started the climbing on a route that I thought I had not climbed before called Free Willy. As I slipped (quite literally) my way up the wet rock I wasn’t sure what the day would hold for us:
The crux is half way up on this route and I had managed to get there without a fall, the route felt familiar and sure enough I had climbed it before. Despite prior knowledge creeping back into my mind I simply couldn’t get the rubber shoes to stay put on the rock, with its thin coating of moss nicely moistened up to make it feel like ice. Others however were quite at home and enjoying the conditions, such as this slug. It made a mockery of my attempts to get up the rock as it slowly and without any panic was solo down climbing head first. I eventually got up and was heartened when the last five to ten so meters felt a little drier:
Wiggins came up second, and found it challenging. He has not been climbing much of late and is certainly not at his ideally climbing weight (his words). We ribbed him a bit on that as technically with slab climbing more weight could arguably mean more friction based on the smearing technique required and basic physics. That said it was Rongy, the lightest of the crew, that seemed to be the master of these wet slabs as he made a clean ascent of every route whether on lead or second. While I pondered my slips and falls wise Wiggins said, as we sat on top, that it didn’t matter what happened as just being out climbing was the reward:
He was right I just needed reminding on that fact. The conditions brought character to the day and the mist continually rolled in and then out, making for an eerie but calm feeling. There didn’t seem to be much wind, which was unfortunate as that would have helped dry the rock. But enough to make the mist seemingly creep up from the valley and flow through the trees up the rock face. It only ever got as high as the first pitch, about 40m, before then tumbling back down the rock face and disappearing into the woods. Once we were atop the first climb Wiggins got a call for his dad to say happy birthday; I didn’t even realise that it was his birthday:
This first line was a one pitch climb, so now it was time to head back down. There are a number of routes that start from the terrace we had reached, but they are generally steeper and mostly harder routes so in these conditions we opted for another wet and slippery lower slab as the next climb. Rongy had indicated that he fancied climbing a classic traditional crack, called Silence of the Cams, but upon inspection the crack was running with water and thick with moss. On almost every trip that I have climbed here that route has been considered, but I am yet to climb it as it never has seemed to be in condition:
As Rongy prepared to lead on Burmese Tiger I wandered round checking out to see what else the moisture had brought out. I searched high and low but found nothing of interest or that seemed unusual. There were some very fine and small cobwebs with water droplets on them, Wiggins had tried to capture them earlier but the camera just wouldn’t focus on them as they were so fine. I thought there may have been some fungi about, but again nothing in the area that we were currently in. So I had to make do with checking out the droplets that were forming on the vegetation, providing a miniature upside down view of the world beyond:
Rongy was however not at all interested in what I was looking for. He started up the base of the route, the wettest and slimmest part. Despite the time we had taken on the first route, the conditions weren’t really any better and the rolling mist that just kept coming wasn’t helping. He was certainly very focused and somehow managed to stick every hold and move, climbing in these conditions makes you work so much harder. Some ten meters up he said that the conditions improved, or was it that the holds got marginally bigger and there weren’t so many challenges. In these conditions it’s all much of muchness:
Wiggins went second while I continued to hunt for something different. It wasn’t until he had got to the top and the second rope was being pulled in and began to tug at my harness that I spied a little millipede. It worked its way across the flaky bark of one of the towering trees. As I was taking images as I watched it’s journey I could Rongy and Wiggins trying to figure out what I was up to. I was however in no rush to get onto wet rock I stayed for a while before finally having to commit myself to another slippery slab:
During Rongy’s accent I had chatted to Wiggins about whether to bring up the large cams, which the guide says were required for Dickheads and Dinosaurs. A towering 45m pitch on the upper wall, that provided steep slab climbing at a higher grade. My thinking from looking at it below was that it looked dry enough and that meant the cams came up with me. It sits above the tree line and the mist had not got to it, so I was hopeful. We wandered over and set ourselves up, and it wasn’t till I had tied into the ropes ready to set off that Rongy touched the rock and realised that it was not soaking wet but there was just enough damp moss to make it dicey. At grade 21 we thought it best to wait for a drier day:
It was a shame and then I was faced with what to have a bash at next. The only line up there that looked in half reasonable condition and wasn’t a silly grade was Three Sheep Twice a Day. Well to be honest we only did pitch one which is called Sheep One, of course. We had all led this climb before and we knew it was a real puzzle of a climb, some long reaches, high steps, balancy moves and all this while you zigzag your way up to unlock the sequences. It took me an age but I hung on and made it up in one hit, and the others followed up thankful for some almost dry rock:
The only downside of the great pitch was that the last 20 odd metres was unprotected. The final slab was never too hard but did contain patches of moss that threatened to make you slip off if you made a sudden movement. It kept me very focused and we all three thought that it was a bit daft, maybe we had all climbed it before in dry conditions and hadn’t given it a second thought. The great thing about having done a second pitch was that we got to have a higher view of the trees below and landscape stretching out. This place really is stunning:
Three climbs in and it was time to get some tucker. As we walked out we had to pass Hannibal, which Rongy also had his eye on. So we walked to the base to check it out, but it was no use a coating of wet moss again told us it would be a stupid idea to attempt it. During the last climb we could see that the clouds were starting to break up. And by the time we got to the car blue patches were opening up and taking over the previously overcast sky. There was hope once more that the rock might improve, so we gave it a bit more time for the warming temperature to do what it had to do as we munched on wraps, bars and made a hot cuppa:
We had left our bags at the crag, and on the way back in Wiggins took his big back of toys. Due to the damp start to the day he wasn’t keen to take all his camera gear out for the morning session. Seeing things were looking up it was now time to bring out the fully array of equipment. He had already decided that with three climbs under his belt he was happy. Not being climbing fit these days and also due to the conditions he turned his attention to looking through the lens. I can feel another Wiggins production night coming on, if we are allowed to have such gatherings by the time he’s finished it:
Rongy had chosen Where Eagles Dare for the next line, a stonking three pitch climb. Well the first two pitches are stonking the third is a bit of scramble to the top. So with slightly drier rock under his toes and the sun on his back he set off. The issue with all of these slabs is that the first five or so meters of rock are fairly well worn and as such the holds are super small and it is like climbing on razor blades. So for probably three of the four pitches we did from the deck the crux was on the wettest rock with the smallest holds:
That said, what makes this climb so memorable is that after the crux start the rest of the climb is wonderfully sustained. Great edges on steepening rock to a point where it almost feels vertical. Rongy was relishing this pitch as Wiggins was busily running back and forth with various filming devices catching a variety of angles. I meanwhile was content to hold the rope and look out for more bugs, and this time I was not disappointed as this colourful beetle no more than 5mm long crawled all over the rope:
After following Rongy up we were both sat at the belay in the sun. I was wearing my buffalo jacket and starting to get pretty warm, so did something that I rarely do. The jacket floated back down to the deck as I set off in skins up the next pitch. The rock was warm to touch and dry, bliss! It’s supposed to be the crux pitch but we both agreed, and have also previously discussed, that the first pitch is harder. I almost ran up it, having to stop myself at certain places to enjoy the position and take it in. It was great fun and on the final few meters here is Rongy showing true slab technique by padding with feet and hands, just using friction and no edges:
The next pitch was Rongy’s and he managed to land another ground up one, he did mention that he had an unfair amount of pitches of the deck. To which I replied, well you didn’t fancy the first lead… So after the wonderfully dry rock with super friction of the last pitch I’d done it was a bit of a struggle to get the head back into the idea of wet rock. I was glad it was his lead, and as he set off I concentrated on something far more interesting that was growing out of a crack in the bark. I got a little too distracted and Rongy was already going past the second bolt as I scrambled to put him on belay. I fessed up to my wrong doing and he just laughed and said he wasn’t surprised. Hopefully he will agree that it was worth it for this image:
Above the rock was much better, it was improving more and more now and he relished the pitch. We only intended to do the first pitch of the Granitarium, in part as it evened up the leads and also because the next pitch was described as a mossy slab that wasn’t very hard. I followed up struggling on the small holds, maybe due to the 3am start or was it that my toes were starting to hurt or that I had been pulling too hard on those holds. Whatever it was we decided that six long pitches was a good day considering the conditions. So we rapped down and started to pack things away:
I had already hinted that I might drive back that night. Even if I had stayed I wouldn’t have climbed in the morning as I had to pick Steve up from the hospital. You can find out why he was in hospital in my fishy post. Anyway, I could tell that Rongy was keen he was looking up longingly at the blue sky and sunbathed rock above. So I folded and found myself getting ready to lead the first pitch of Well Stoned a true 50m rope starching pitch. Rongy then continued up the second much steeper pitch, and it almost felt like we could be climbing in Italy or Spain with the blue sky above:
It was a good call, there was still daylight and it would have been a waste not have used it climbing. Plus the route was a lot of fun with both pitches almost completely dry and having a bit more steeper ground to shake things up. At the top of the final pitch Rongy reminded me that in the morning I had hinted at wanting to bag eight pitches, and he was not wrong, I just hadn’t expected to achieve it when we saw the conditions on arrival. But now my toes really had enough and the shoes had to come off, we admired the view and as the sun was starting to sink lower and finally rapped back down:
It was a quick pack up and then we walked out with the sun poking between the trees. Back at the car we threw everything into the back and drove out. It was a slow paced drive as it was again time to spot some roos of which we only saw one. I dropped them off at the camp twelve and half hours after I had arrived, we had certainly made the most of the daylight hours. Despite the sun dipping down and darkness creeping in I decided that I would still drive back home that night. So I left them to their glamping in the cabin and headed out:
By the time I got off the gravel road it was dark, and so the three hour return trip started. Lisa was expecting me to stay over and I hadn’t told her otherwise. I counted down the towns as I passed them, the big milestone being the first one. Getting too Manjimup was the longest leg and once I was passed that there was less forest to go through. I called Lisa on the way home and chatted as if I was down at the camp. She never twigged so when I pulled up at the house I sent her a message to make me a cuppa and check the front door. As she popped her head out her smile and the hug I got was priceless:
Last weekend I squeezed in a quick snorkel before everyone rocked up to our place for the first viewing of Wiggins latest video. I had two reasons for this, well maybe three. The conditions were lovely and I knew that the rest of the day would be chewed up so it was my only chance; I had not had much sleep due to being the taxi service for my daughter and her friends year twelve ball and after party and what better way to freshen and wake up to prepare for the hectic day that lay ahead; and thirdly I guess also because we live by the beach and it would be criminal not to go in and appreciate our surroundings:
The water was reasonable and just being out there is reward enough after having had such an amazing snorkelling season. While I’m always hoping to find something new, I am also very content to see whoever and whatever might want to say hello. Above I found a Globe Fish that I’m guessing had a fight with something or got an infection and was now in the recovery stage. The blister over the eye was allowing the healing process to occur. In researching about how and whether fish eye injuries heal I found out that, unlike humans, fish are able to regenerate injuries to the retina:
The Herring were out in force and I was surrounded by them on several occasions. When I first went in the beach was empty but as I got out there were a number of people fishing, no doubt they managed to get a feed assuming the fish were biting. There were also many other small fish about, which were near impossible to photograph in the early morning light. After a while I decided it was time to check out the ocean floor. So I took pot luck and picked various spots to dive down to and see what I might find:
I have seen many squirts in the area but nearly all of them have openings which have more of a red colour. As such the one above with what looked like four yellow petals caught my attention. If I got too close or moved towards it too quickly the opening clamed shut and it was impossible to even see it. So it took a few dives to get my approach right and secure the above image. While I was out there for a while I didn’t take many images, I was however very grateful for the dip in preparing me for the day that lay ahead:
In view that I didn’t take too many images on that dive I have included them in this post with a few from my trip out this afternoon. After a great climbing session in the morning what better way than to freshen up than jump in the ocean, we certainly live in a great outdoor playground! It was cloudy but the water was flat enough and the water seemed reasonably clear underneath. Above is a fish that I have yet to identify. It has two very distinct canine teeth that protruding from its mouth, which are unfortunately masked by the weed in which it is hiding. One on my hit list to get a good image of both of the whole body and also a close up of the mouth:
Above are the same little fish that I had photographed in front of the herring the weekend before. This time they were more clearly visible and I got a really good look at them, as they hung about for ages. They had a very distinct yellow caudal fin, shape and facial features, a pinkie/orange sheen to the upper body turning to silver on the belly especially towards the head. Despite all these features and browsing my two field guides from cover to cover I have yet to identify this fish, any help would be most welcome:
I kept duck diving down to check out other the ledges and came across the above sand anemone in a small cave, and just couldn’t resist including the image. I also saw loads of Gobbleguts and Cardinal fish, not the same Cardinal Fish I saw at Canal Rocks the a couple of weeks back. I went down several times by failed to get any sharp images, that was despite staying down for longer than my lungs would normally allow. The fish just didn’t want to stay still! For this particular ledge the speckled looking yellow sponge a bit deeper in caught my eye, so went back up and took another deep breathe to take a closer look. It was only when I went close to look at it that I realised there were two eyes watching me from within:
I’m always very happy to find an octopus and this one, unlike just about every other one I have ever seen, didn’t try to suck itself deeper into the crevice. Normally I get to see the legs pulled in tight with the eyes just visible. This time however I could see the mantle clearly, which is the large body mass at the back of the head in which most of the organs are found. The muscular tube can be seen on the side behind the eyes expel water after it has been drawn in through another opening and passed over its gills. While it has gills, to extract oxygen from the water, when an octopus is resting it can absorb approx. 40% of its oxygen demand though its skin:
After disturbing the octopus way too much I made my way back to shore. On the way I came across what looked like a tangle of hair. I kept my distance as I took some images and it turned out to be a jellyfish. I think this might be of the Hydroza taxonomic class and going further would even suggest it is called a Hydroza Medusa. I say this due to the long hair like tentacles along with the shorter more defined and colourful tentacles and shallow saucer like body shape, which was just over a centimetre in diameter. If I’m right I was glad I kept my distance as it is likely the sting would have been worse than that of the Southwest Stingers we often see here:
On the final leg of my journey back in I came across another very small creature, this one would was also about 1 centimetre in length. It looked in a way like an early stage of the jellyfish above but didn’t have any long tentacles. That said the shape was however more sausage like and there was a distinct body inside the balloon looking exterior, with only a few short legs or tentacles sticking out the bottom and one tentacle or antenna sticking out the top. This blob certainly had purpose as it moved about, and now it was my turn to have purpose and head for shore:
Sandbagged 