Risky business

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…

Eagle eyes

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:

There and back again a climber’s tale

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:

The Blob

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:

A Reason for Cake

With the changing season we come to expect glorious weather during the week, while many of us are couped up at work, with weekends threatening rain to dampen any idea of outdoor fun.  This weekend was looking, what the 28 day rain forecast predicts, to be the start of this new normal.  During the week plans were made, scrapped and then Saturday morning with clouds gathering in the west Rongy, Steve and I decided we’d risk it:

With the nagging doubt of possibly being rained out we decided to avoid the coastal climbing and do a quick trip to Welly Dam.  A good call.  We were bathed in dappled sunlight, as it broke through the high, white and fluffy clouds that didn’t pose any risk of holding rain.  Arriving first I decided to rack up and be ready to pounce into action, and so as soon as Rongy arrived the games began:

I led Raging Torrent as a warm up, it’s a good one as it provides a huge variety of movements and to be climbed well requires a variety of styles applied.  Gently warming up most of the muscles required for the day, while stretching out those tendons in relatively short and never too intensely sections.  While I led the first line Rongy pulled the rope, as he too wanted to get that feeling of being on floppy end:

Steve rocked up as we were finishing on the first line, he however was not sure where his climbing shoes were.  So as he unpacked his car in search of them Rongy used his rope and ran up Savage Sausage Sniffer.  I had a moment when I led that route and had to down climb the flake and have a little talk to myself before going back up.  After that Steve resided to the fact that he hadn’t brought his shoes, and more worrying was he didn’t know where they were:

So as you’ll see above he borrowed our shoes, literally both of ours… one of each.  They both kinda fitted and so he thought he would test both styles as he followed up Raging Torrent.  In view of his impending surgery he was being wise and only top roping today.  He made short work of this line, and then once safe at the top threw the shoes down.  My memory of why is hazy, it can’t have been to crack on as both ropes were already in use:

We knew what we would hit next, we had joked about it but it looked like I was really going to do it.  I wasn’t all that confident so was happy for Steve who was feeling good to have a bash at Savage Sausage Sniffer.  This time he just used Rongy’s shows, as the preferred shoe shape for his feet.  He wasn’t looking too good in the lower section and by the ledge he was panting away and in no fit state to keep going so he came back down:

So it was then for me to jump on Ear of Fear, a perfect climb for when you are not feeling that strong or confident NOT.  I nervously made my way to the crux, as Steve and Rongy chatted in a relaxed way about life and the universe.  That would normally irk me when I’m not confident, but I blocked it out and pulled through cleanly (with a couple of Chris Sharma audio renditions).  Rongy then followed and also did great on it.  Steve however was now only a spectator:

With Steve now watching, Rongy felt he could push the boat out a little further.  Did you hear me groan?  So the Indian rope trick continued and the rope miraculously fed it’s way in a vertical direction out of the of the basket.  This time up Chasing Mason, we could feel the humidity building during the last climb and you’ll see a rare sight above and below of Rongy with a chalk bag, more amazing being that it was open before he set off:

While we were indulging in this more challenging line, on which we both took a fall or two, Steve had spied a possible new route and was busy setting up a top rope.  So we gave him a belay and watched him climb, which he did very smoothly and confidently.  Following him up it we reckon it’ll be about a Welly Dam 18, and it was really nice, consistent and independent of any other line.  So he now has yet another project to add to his long list of things to distract him:

In view that Steve was looking good on that climb I suggested squeezing in a couple more; ones that he’d like to second.  So we bagged Pocket Knife and A Walk in Central Park while still in awe of the conditions today.  As we climbed these we got talking to a guy who was there with his family, and who happened to be Eric (2), who used to climb with Eric (1) who recently moved over east and was the other owner of the climbing holds I bought of Eric (1).  It’s a small world:

Rongy then had to dash to get ready for a wedding so this time the shoe throwing was justified to allow him to scoot.  Steve and I cleared the rest of the gear before heading off.  On the way home I stopped at the Boyanup Bakery and cake was in order for multiple reasons: bagging an unexpected morning out; Steve’s new route discovery and having had one more climb before the operation; and more importantly being able to get Rongy out climbing on his birthday:

Esperance Revisited

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.  On that trip we saw a number of very interesting creatures including this very colourful and fluffy looking, what took to be a beetle.  Since the trip however Howsie managed to track down that it was in fact a mite:

Now the reason for this post is not to advise you on the taxonomy of one little mite but to write up a little keep sake of the completion are first showing of Wiggin’s video of the trip.  It has taken a long time for him to complete this one, and we were all eagerly awaiting the first viewing.  So we decided that it was high time to open up the shed and put on the BBQ and make a bit of a social event of it:

So as the climbers jumped on the boulder wall, and showed their prowess on artificial plastic holds; the kids enjoyed the trampoline, pulled out the “little kid” toys that we still keep for such occasions and also had a little climb themselves; the non-climbers had a bit of a social and catch-up; while Lisa made sure that everyone was fed and watered.  Um, I sometimes wonder if I take advantage of Lisa’s desire to ensure the food and drinks flow while I just play on the wall but it seems to work:

It was also time to show off the new look garden, after three plus months of major upheaval of having paving, fencing, verandas and the entire garden dismantled… all because of a hole that opened up in the driveway.  The new veranda is not only a nice shady place but also really cool, due to the insulated panels. The garden is now super low maintenance with no grass and a bunch of wicking garden beds to pump out the veggies, herbs and fruit:

After a few hours of bouldering, chatting, relaxing and filling up on snags it was time for the main event.  So some 20 plus people crammed into our living room for the premiere showing of what was a very entertaining film.  Wiggins had outdone himself once more and provided a film that I feel will make climbers and non-climbers laugh out loud, while learning about the area we visited and being in awe of the places we were lucky enough to have climbed:

After the viewing of the Esperance Cape Le Grand film, some were eager for more so we also had a showing of another recent trip Wiggins had captured when we went to Eaglestone Rock.  Then it was time to break out the cakes.  Eyes were firmly fixed on Ram’s Persian love cake, but when it came to the eating Howsie and Nadia’s cherry tea cake provided an equal taste sensation.  After food the boulder wall finally beat us into submission. With the rubber shoes off we then ensured we had our fill of tea, coffee and beer before everyone finally headed home:

If you are keen to see more of Wiggins videos there are a few of them linked on his very own page on my blog at https://sandbagged.home.blog/2020/01/04/wiggins-videos/

It’s all in the tail

It is going to be a busy social weekend for us with the weekend packed with a year twelve ball, meals out and a bit of a shin dig for the premier of the latest Wiggins film, of which you will hear more about after the red carpet event has occurred.  But before the mayhem started we had put the word out on the local snorkel group for a quick Saturday morning escape.  It was a grey morning making it hard to detect the horizon, and as we drove along the beach a large pod of dolphins were heading in the same direction:

Geoff and Nana had replied and so the four of us were heading to a spot they wanted to return too.  While Lisa and I had played off our local beach last weekend they had come to this spot and scored a couple of good finds, include a big blue groper.  Legs, arms, fingers and toes were crossed that a similar find might occur today, in fact Geoff had brought his spear gun just in case.  Despite it being mid-morning there was minimal sun, but the water was flat and so we felt it was still worth a dip:

We all seemed to drift off in different directions.  Once your head is underwater you tend to focus on what is in front of you rather than where everyone else is tootling off to.  The water was clear, but there was very little if any sunlight.  Maybe that is why within meters of heading out an unsuspecting octopus shot across my path, maybe it thought it was still early morning.  It neatly landed in some weed instantaneously changing colour and disappearing from view.  I knew there was little point in trying to find it again so carried on:

There were a great set of limestone rocks near the beach, it is very shallow here and with the low light it was the best area.  The top of the rocks were covered in the fluorescent green sea lettuce, which still glowed that magical green without the sun.  There were also plenty of fish about, this little fish swam circles round me keeping a safe distance.  I thought it was a juvenile Truncated Coralfish but the markings now tell me that it is a juvenile Moonlighter, so is not even in the same family as the coralfish:

Despite the low light it was still very beautiful, the clear water compensated for the dimness and we were greeted with plenty of variety.  Here a shoal of adult Western Pomfrey was not what caught my eye, it was the solitary Old Wife just below them.  The Western Pomfrey moved on relatively quickly leaving the Old Wife by itself, it was a shame as the contrasting colours of these two species would have made a great image if they had stuck together.  I popped my head up and could see people were out deeper, so I left the shallow and made my way out:

In the deeper water it was harder to spot much below, but it was impossible not to see this huge plate coral.  I’ve mentioned this species before as being hard coral of the Astreopora genus.  It was pretty cool to see such a large one, which was spreading out encrusting the ground around it.  As I went along I thought that I had found a couple more smaller specimens of this coral so duck dived down for a closer look to see if I could get a few close-up images:

In one of the corals the corallites were really pronounced looking like little tubes, and in the image you can see the coral polyp sticking out of the end of the bony houses that the corallites form.  These polyps are soft-bodied organisms that are related to sea anemones and jellyfish.  Corals get most of their nutrients from particles, which are the by-product created when algae’s photosynthesis.  The small tentacles that you can just make out, filter out and draw these particles into the body of the polyp.  However, some corals can also have venomous tentacles used to snare zooplankton and even small fish:

With such low light I didn’t take many images out deep instead just looked round to see what might be about.  Plenty of good fish but there was little point in attempting to take a snap, and so I soon decided it was time to head back to the shallow area.  On the way back I passed over a huge flat sandy patch area that looked like a meadow.  It was the same seagrass I has seen before, called Halophila, and with Ryan’s previous comments that Dugongs eat this grass I was hoping to see something grazing on it.  While there was nothing eating it, there was a nice little Stingaree that was happy for me to sneak right up to it:

Back in the shallow I joined Lisa for a little while and we saw some nice fish up close.  The swell was starting build up and so it was harder to stay still and get any great images.  So I decided that I would inspect the limestone rocks, on which the cormorants would often perch to dry their wings.  I had to hold onto the rocks and let my eye’s adjust, quietly hoping to find some nudibranchs or something similar.  Instead what caught my eye was what I believe are cleaner shrimps, but what type I have no idea:

Now that my eyes had adjusted and I knew what I was looking for I saw them all along the rocks, which offered a level of protection in very shallow waters.  If I got too close they would seemingly jump from sight, sometime to another part of the rock and at times into the open water swimming to another hidey hole.  Their translucent bodies, with white and red spots were very striking.  But it was the beady eyes on stalks that really caught my attention, and I spent a long time holding onto the rocks watching them:

While watching the shrimps I also noted small fish, but only when they made a super-fast dash to get away.  While they were still it was hard to see them, so again I had to readjust what I was looking for and eventually I managed to sneak an image or two of them.  This one was keeping a close eye on me as I steadily crept up on it, literally millimetre by millimetre, but before I could get a good look at its body it shot off.  Meanwhile the shrimp behind it continued to happily scavenge away:

I eventually managed to get a few images, but none too great.  Having worked with our native south west fresh water fish at work I thought I had an idea what it was once I had seen it, and believe it is a Goby.  I have not however been able to narrow it down to a particular species of Goby.  That said this is the largest family of marine fish, with an estimated 1500 species worldwide of which 350 are found in Australian waters.  So I’m not really surprised I’ve had difficulty in identify it.  While I was busy with my small finds Lisa and Nana, not too far away called me over:

They had seen a large fish that, as they described to me, sounded like a Wobbegong or Catfish.  It was close to a meter in length and they had been able to observe it for some time, but sadly it had slunk away by the time I had come over.  They had purposely not call Geoff over with his spear gun, just to make sure that the fish lived for another day.  Checking the books back home they are convinced that they had discovered an adult Estuary Catfish, also known as an Estuary Cobbler, with Nana claiming of the positive identification that “it’s all in the tail”:

By now all of our finger tips were saying it was time to head back.  On the way in we came across the remains of a couple of wobbegongs, one of them shown above.  These had however not been speared by Geoff, who had come back empty handed.

Into the deep

After a great mornings climbing at Smiths Beach Rongy and I had always intended, if the conditions were good, to head out for a snorkel.  The intention being to check out some new territory.  Just along the coast from where we had been climbing is a place called the aquarium, a local secret before social media came along and told the world.  We intended to go there but got a little side tracked and instead ended up at Canal Rocks.  In rough conditions this place is spectacular with the swell sending crashing waves through this channel, today it was calm:

We really had no idea of what to expect once our heads were under the surface, and it took me a little by surprise.  The channel was deeper that I thought it may have been in places 6 or more meters.  On either side were steep slabby walls descending into the depths, covered mostly with weeds.  The base varied from weedy to open sand patches, boulders were strewn haphazardly creating a varied landscape for the fish below to feel safe in.  There were many fish but being so deep it was hard to get down before they swam off:

In the image above I’m pretty sure these were Western Drummers, but if you look closely you’ll see one towards the left hand side which has what looks like yellow spots.  Getting closer this is what I found, the facial marks are more akin to a Southern Silver Drummer.  And the way the others flocked about his one fish, getting as close as they could and even pestering, it I am assuming that this was a female.  If not then I’m a bit baffled at the behaviour that I witnessed, as the spotted one didn’t make any attempt to flee the pack:

We continued on our journey up the channel, and after all my snorkelling off the beach this felt cavernous.  Duck diving down to the base was hard work and I wasn’t able to stay down for very long at all.  A shame as there were lots of fish at the floor, many I could make out such as Scalyfins, Drummers, Zebra Fish, Wrasse, Sweetlips, Sweeps, Old Wives, Cales, etc.  There were also many I didn’t recognise and a good number of large fish too:

On the slabby granite walls I found this limpet, while in the snail or gastropod family it actually descends from a different species.  They are quite different to snails with a single muscular foot and no discernible head or tail.  Not to say they do not have these features, and in fact while most of their body is made up of the digestive system they are very complex creatures.  I’ve never seen one with so much of its body exposed, so couldn’t resist taking a snap:

Searching along these rocks I also found a true gastropod, this one too had not recessed into its protective shell.  At the base of the conical shell its siphon is sticking out.  Water is drawn through this tube and is used for many purposes including movement, feeding and breathing.  The limpet on the other hand has teeth for feeding, using them to scrap material off the surface, it can have as many as 100 teeth although on a handful are used at any one time with the others ready to replace the worn out ones, a little like shark teeth:

I happened to look back at one point, being in such deep water I felt it was prudent to be aware of my surroundings.  While I had seen lots of larger fish down in the depths I was also quietly hoping to see something much bigger.  I was not disappointed and below along the surface a huge stingray was gliding along at a relaxed pace.  This one had a wingspan in excess of 2m, much larger than the rays we have seen off the beach.  Rongy was thinking to duck dive down to it to get some scale into the image but while it was only cruising along it was too fast for that:

We continued up the channel to where a little bridge crosses over a narrow gap in one side of the valley.  Here during rougher conditions the water gushes through the narrow gap providing a spectacular wave action on the surface.  Not surprisingly just downstream of the narrow channel it got very deep, too deep to make it all the way down for us.  It is certainly an eerie feeling being is such deep water, but that said I reckon I would be tempted to come here again for another looksee:

After we made our way under the bridge, with the tourists above us looking down, we popped out into the bay that separates Canal Rocks from the place we had been climbing in the morning.  We followed the shoreline of the bay only a short distance to the boat ramp.  It was very shallow here allowing a closer look at some of the fish.  Here I found a very skittish shoal of what I believe are Small Scale Bullseye, who just didn’t want to settle down for a family photo.  The single Western Striped Cardinal Fish was however not so phased by my presence:

Rongy was getting pretty cold now and had scooted ahead to the boat ramp, while I was getting absorbed by the opportunity to see a bunch of fish up close in the shallow waters.  Fish that would normally dart away quickly at our local beach seemed more at ease with me floating about next to them.  That includes these McCulloch’s Scalyfin, a fish that I have so often chased round the reef without being able to ever get too close too.  Here they seemed to be in abundant numbers and all very relaxed:

Another one that would usually run for cover but not here was Old Wifes.  So for the last image I’ve included the Old Wife that was right next to the boat ramp before I got out.  This fish is endemic to Australia, and is the only listed species in the family.  It does bear visual resembles to a number of other species, such as boarfish, but no link has been proven.  I didn’t want to get any closer than this as the dorsal fin has a spine that carries venom:

Poor casting

Rongy has been dropping hints about getting back to Smiths Beach for a long time now, the last time I had been here with him is close to three year now.  So today we finally got there, and it had been a long time since I have climbed here.  A top rope solo mission in March 2019 and the last person to want to climb here was Howsie in December 2018.  So you may ask why, with such a great selection of routes, this place been absent from our climbing destinations for so long:

The answer is simple, it has a bit of a reputation and I liken it to the big brother of Moses Rocks.  Being all trad climbs and having a serious feel to the place with rounded holds, bold leads at the grade, and at times crashing waves to create a fantastic atmosphere.  I’m not aware of any local of visiting climbers who come here, and there is no activity recorded on The Crag.  It is a shame as there is so much on offer.  Today neither Rongy or I were feeling particularly bold so we decided to start easy and see where things ended up:

In view that he had been busting to get back here I offered up the floppy end to him, which he gratefully accepted before jumping on Photographic Belayer, above.  He promptly started to run it out after placing the first piece making me redundant and allowing me to take some more images.  It was not intentionally and as he placed a few bits higher up I could hear him say to himself “welcome back to Smiths Beach”:

I took a much more leisurely stroll up Side Walk.  A line that never gets serious and allows plenty of opportunity to lace it up, which I did.  There was no risk of a ground fall on my watch.  Now while the day had started somewhat uncertainly with the first leads I did mention a route that as far as I am aware has never been repeated.  Doubtful Casting is a short but feisty leaning crack line in an exposed position.  He eyed it up and was keen, but first we had to get the small gear:

That meant a return to the main crag.  After picking up the small gear we decided that while we were here I should jump on my second lead.  I was thinking maybe to jump on Lady of the Lake but after getting to where that branched off I chickened out and continued up Excalibur.  The route was still awesome with plenty of gear so it is never too scary and being direct, sustained and with great moves.  The only issue for me was the sun was in my eyes, this being the one downfall of Smiths.  The sun creeps round to blind you and heat you up from early on:

We then hoicked back round to Doubtful Casting, a line that sits away from all the other areas.  Rongy started strong working the gear in and having to fiddle about with it a fair bit.  The line leans ferociously to the right and is very steep, so there are no real rests.  The next sequence was on the steepest territory and required commitment to run it out to the next gear and hopefully better holds.  Commitment that just wasn’t in his tank:

I laughed (inside) when Rongy offered me the sharp end to finish the route off.  I too only got to the last piece of gear and bottled the next sequence.  My arms or was it my head, like Rongy, was not up for the challenge.  So we cleaned the route and headed back to the smaller of the two zawns.  Here I sat with a stunning view, laid back against a rock armchair that would make my wife Lisa envious:

While I soaked in the magnificent sight in front of me Rongy set off up the Bellowing Sails.  Personally I feel this route has the best exposure of any at this place, following up the arête high above the water.  It takes in some steep territory with hidden holds that you have to find to make it work.  While I laid back Rongy was making his way up the line making very satisfying sounds, as he slowly unlocked this gem of a puzzle:

We were both pretty happy with the leads we had bagged today, and were not feeling the need to push things anymore.  The lines had created that satisfying feeling in our arms to tell us we had worked enough.  There was also another reason for wanting to head off, and that was the conditions in the bay behind us were looking very good for a snorkel.  We had come prepared for this so we packed up and headed back to the car for part two of our morning out:

As we walked out Rongy admitted that he was glad I hadn’t finished Doubtful Casting off, as it would allow him to try again with no prior knowledge of what lay above his highest point.  Maybe next time his casting will be more successful…

Nice to see you again (maybe)

As I drove home from Welly Dam, after a morning out climbing with Steve, the wind was strong and the trees were bending this way and that.  However, it looked like it may have been a southerly wind, i.e. offshore, so I checked the beach before going home and it was looking good.  When I got home Lisa was looking sprightly, her migraine from the last few days had finally left her with a clear head.  So it didn’t take much convincing to get her to come down to the beach for a snorkel:

It felt like the wind could be turning soon so we walked down to the local beach to avoid chewing up time before it did change.  At the water’s edge the tell-tale shapes of rays could be seen, four in all, so we decided to go in near where these were.  Four Eagle Rays were feasting on the carcasses of fish that had been cast back into the water after they had been filleted by the people who had caught them.  While we got to see them the rays did not hang about and soon they were lost from sight.  So we worked our way towards the reef:

The water didn’t seem super clear, the sand along the shore was being stirred up.  However, as we went out to the weed and reef section I normally check out it improved.  This was a good thing as Lisa had so far only been out a few times in areas where the water was shallow, here it got deeper and I wasn’t sure if that with poor visibility would have made her too nervous.  We have lived in Peppy Beach for coming up to eight years and this was the first time she has snorkelled off our local beach:

Due to the depth of water here while it is possible to see things from the surface, to get a really good look you need to duck dive down and check out the many hidey holes.  From above I spied a fish that I hadn’t seen before, a colourful orange with a few vertical white bands near the face.  Sure enough under a shelf I saw a Scalyfin, it was watching me closely and probably weighing up what direction it should go for to get away from me.  We saw lots of sea stars, this originally named Red Sea Star was snuggling up against an equally originally named Purple Sea Urchin:

I thought that after the close encounters she had had in the shallow reefs past the point that Lisa would not find this area as interesting.  I needn’t have worried and she soon had a go at duck diving so she could also check a few finds out that bit closer.  After initially struggling with the additional buoyancy that the wetsuit gave her, she soon got the hang of how to get down more efficiently before then swimming along the bottom:

Many other fish were lurking but all were too quick for me to take a snap, this Herrmann’s Sea Cucumber was however going nowhere.  I was going to show Lisa but by the time I popped my head above the surface and managed to get her attention the swell had shifted my position and I wasn’t able to recollect where I had found it.  The wind was turning as predicted and with it the surface was no long flat, and so it was getting close to time to head back to shore:

I kept duck diving along the way finding more interesting finds and of course sea stars, including this Echinsaster Arcystatus.  Lisa asked me afterwards how often I felt that I had seen the same creature from a previous snorkel, an interesting question but one I thought would be impossible to answer.  In her usual inquisitive way she then asked how old sea stars get, so I had to check that out and while each species is different some can live for up to 35 years:

As we were swimming over the last of the weed we came across a Bight Stingaree, it was quick to see me and slunk into the weed.  This time I kept an eye on it while I managed to get Lisa’s attention.  We hovered over it for ages just watching to see if it would emerge, not that it would.  Eventually I was starting to cool down. While Lisa was snug in her full length wetsuit I was only in my boardies and starting to feel it.  Time to really start making our way back.  Lisa thoroughly enjoyed the local snorkel, but one thing did put her off:

Being a long weekend there were more people than usual on the beach and that included a group who had brought a jet ski.  I felt like they knew where we were and had stayed away from us, but underwater you can hear them from miles away and it is impossible to really tell just how close they get.  When we got back to shore the jet ski started to come over where we had been, making me think they had kept an eye out for us.  Regardless of that it still doesn’t stop you feeling on edge when you are in the water:

We were hoping to get out past the point on Monday but a fresh easterly was blowing from early morning.  So we plumped for a local snorkel of Wave Walk, with no beach driving and only a short road drive required.  The last time we came here it was also choppy and Lisa had opted to walk the poodles rather than come in for a snorkel.  One day I might get here in better conditions, it will probably be worth it as while I’ve never been in during good conditions I have always seen plenty of life:

As soon as our heads were under we saw a huge shoal of Garfish, and while we were pushed about by the swell in the slightly murky waters we saw heaps of Western Gobbleguts, Banded Sweeps, Western Pomfrey and Herring.  Other fish, which Lisa can now add to her tally include a Shaw’s Cowfish, Southern Goatfish and the impressive male Humpback Boxfish.  In fact thinking back to Lisa’s question yesterday about whether any of my finds are repeat finds, I think the Humpback Boxfish may well have been exactly that from my last snorkel here:

Fingers crossed conditions will be slightly better next weekend.