Sandbagged

School’s Out

Having mentioned just a week or two back that the water conditions have been pretty awful, I really hoped that would soon change. Being in need of another activity to fill my outdoor time. To both provide the opportunity to see, and share the wonders of nature. It’s finally hotting up, to the point that a wander in the bush is getting uncomfortable. I do have a limit on how dedicated I am with orchid hunting. It is getting to the point for me that it is not worth getting hot and bothered for what little chance of reward there may be:

In addition I omitted to mention that when Josh, Howsie, and I headed to Moses Rocks last weekend I unintentionally shock loaded my right forearm. This sent me a bit of warning that something wasn’t right. Truth be told, I have been in denial for several months now. That’s changed having had two trips to the physio last week, with quite a few more to come. It seems the injuries from back in May were never properly tended. They will be properly dealt with this time, which I’ve been told is likely going to be a six month process:

That doesn’t mean I have to stop climbing, but I do need to ease off and even passed up a chance to head out on Friday morning. Yesterday evening Lisa and I wandered down to the beach to give the poodle’s legs a stretch, and watch the sun go down. The haze of the smoke from controlled burn-offs hung low on the horizon, making for a specky sunset. The water still looked a little murky but with the swell dropping overnight I decided I would give it a go. My first dip in the ocean this year, which I think is the latest start of all my snorkel seasons:

This morning Lisa went to the beach ahead of me. The Saturday bob starts at 7am, which is a bit early to get in the water. Mostly because the sun isn’t quite high enough in the sky to assist with the visibility once under the surface. Even more so when the water looks a little cloudy. It was not the image of the coast she sent me, to provide an indication of the conditions, but the mention of dolphins being about that urged me to head down not long afterwards. Once down and standing at the water’s edge, I felt that I could be in luck:

Scanning the water’s surface, there was not a dolphin in sight. No matter. For the first dip, whatever I got to see would be a bonus. It felt lush being back in the water, even though it wasn’t super clear. The usual solitary suspects were about, watching me with caution. Not long after a school of Western Striped Grunters (Helotes octolineatus) began to circle me. These fish live in nearshore or estuarine seagrass meadows for the first year, and then migrate to deeper coastal waters. It was not till I got home I noticed they had a friend:

If you check the third image you may spot a single Yelloweye Mullet (Aldrichetta forsteri), hidden amongst the Western Striped Grunters. The big googly eye, along with the body shape and patterning makes me think I have the right identification. A popular angling fish, they are the most common mullet in southern Australia and like similar environments to the Western Striped Grunters. Shortly after I came across a massive ball of baitfish. The low sun and fine particles in the water column meant the image does not give the sight justice:

As drifted further out a third schooling species appeared and followed me for a bit. I think they are Silver Trevally (Pseudocaranx georgianus), another species that moves to deeper waters as they mature. If I am right with the identification these are likely to be sub-adults because for the first 3 to 4 years, of their 20 plus year lifespan, they have a yellow mid-lateral stripe. And this was absent from the ones I saw. While the bright orange of the above Vermillion Seastar (Pentagonaster duebeni) was however impossible to miss:

On occasion I heard the distant sound of dolphins. Popping my head up to look about there were no signs of them, but I did spot a Pied Cormorant (Phalacrocorax varius). Trying to evade me, it’s feather had taken on too much water after diving for food to allow it to fly away. As it paddled furiously I let it be, making my way back to shore. The murky shallows meant that even with images it hard to tell if this was a Masked Stingaree (Trygonoptera personata) or Striped Stingaree (Trygonoptera ovalis). Then I head the dolphins, they were close:

Looking up and scanning the water I saw a fin. Then two, three, four, and more. Being some hundred meters away I felt if I swam towards them they would be gone when I arrived. Risking it anyway I found myself surrounded by a pod of twelve or more, young and old. It was absolute bliss, watching Indo-Pacific Bottlenose Dolphins (Tursiops aduncus) gracefully move about while absorbing their whistles and clicks. Next week school’s out, which means the shutdown at work is soon after. Here’s hoping the conditions continue to improve:

I beg to differ

Josh has been absent for a while, and for good reason. As if moving house wasn’t enough of a drain on time, he also managed to mash up his big toe in the process. To the point the nail detached. Hence, the thought of popping his feet into squishy climbing shoes was the last thing on his mind. Today he decided it was time to risk it, or was it he needed some time outdoors. This found us retracing our tracks as we headed to Moses Rocks, which is where he and I last climbed. Howsie tagged along, assisting in leaving footprints in the untouched sand:

It’s that time that the summer tides replenish the beaches, and it was not just our tracks that were left in the recently deposited sand. Evidence of the night time activity could be found with crab tracks being the only sign that they were here. The tide was very low today and the swell was also relatively low, for the west coast. A coastline that is exposed to a massive fetch of the Indian Ocean. Being fronted by over seven thousand unobstructed kilometres of open water. We were quietly hopefully that the zawn may be in good condition:

Before we got there, Howsie went off track to the small outcrops at the northern end. Last time he and I were here, I once more pointed out a route of mine. The Plough, named in honour of the many great weekends I camped at the namesake pub in Hathersage in the mid-nineties. Hathersage being in the Peak District and home of the very bold climbing style called gritstone. A rock known for its well textured sandstone, often bold routes made all the more bolder by having friction-dependent moves and being a trad place:

No bolts are used on gritstone, even when the trad gear is spaced, limited, or sketchy. I feel this route possess some of these qualities, which may be why no one, to my knowledge, has led it. I of course have, twice. When I first put it up with Craig in 2009 and then again in 2017 with Glen, who thought I was a bit mad. The fact that the base is often waved washed may also put people off, something that was certainly not the case today. And that is why Howsie maybe stood there looking for long enough for me to assume today was the day:

Not having been on the lines in this part of Moses Rocks, I allowed Howsie to warm up by leading a couple of the adjacent routes. One which I now notice we never bothered to write up, something I should fix sometime. Josh was happy to follow on these two, and didn’t even wince when he squeezed his nail-less big toe into the climbing shoe. However, after watching how much work it took for Howsie to find holds of any worth, and then how much gumption was needed to commit to using them, he declined to follow The Plough:

It was great to see someone finally lead the route. I do however wonder if it was at the limits of Howsie’s acceptable psychological intensity and whether he will go back to it himself. He was definitely keen to drop the grades, so we headed to the Zawn. The swell only very occasionally made it into the narrow cleft, making it feel safe. Although the walls were a tad greasy, with seepages evident here and there, making the climbing a little nervous. As such Josh and I were happy to allow Howsie to continue to lead:

I was certainly not complaining with the opportunity to get some images from differing angles. Being able to hop round the rocks to places allowing differing perspectives, and at times from spots that in bigger ocean conditions would not be so wise. With this opportunity in mind I pointed Howsie to Frontpage. Another line he has not been on before, allowing him that great experience of climbing with no idea of what is in store. While a little greasy at the start, this one at least had big chunky holds and great gear to boot:

We stayed in the Zawn for a few more routes, including Dreamweaver below. Another one that Howsie has unbelievably not been on before. The start, before escaping the shade, was hideously wet and slippery. Making me think all the extra focus and tension he chewed up would mean he’d be toast and ready to pack up. Josh was, but Howsie was up for another. He again struggled to recall having climbed it previously. However, for this one unlike the other five he bagged today, I have dug through my images to prove otherwise:

Drying up

There are days you just need to take some time out, and as the year rolls towards a close it feels like they are needed just that bit more. After half a day’s work I was out and about heading south. Joined by Craig, who was also very grateful for a bit of time in nature, allowing us a bit of long overdue catch up time. Our destination was Augusta, a place Lisa and I had spent an overnight getaway in December last year. We had been thinking of repeating that trip next weekend, but the lack of available accommodation thwarted that idea:

No doubt we will think of an alternative location. In the meantime I was still keen to drive the three hour round trip to see if a few of the later flowering orchids down this way may be out. There were two in particular species that I am yet to find. With only one way to see if they are about, and that is get out there. The main area we focused on was Flat Rocks. The low scrub broken up by clear areas created where the underlying granite was exposed. As the name suggests, not standing proud about the ground, but laying down on the ground:

It is an area I should probably come to earlier in the season, with raft of orchids having been found in a relatively small area. Many of which are not found where we live, which is just shy of half a degree of latitude further north, or 50km. It didn’t start too well, stands of dried up sun orchids were all over. On the plus side for next year, their ovaries had swelled up suggesting pollination had occurred. The best we could find, with a little assistance, were a few Christmas Spider Orchids (Caladenia serotine) that were starting to get a little bedraggled:

Being one of the later flowering spiders, they were donned with a very literal species name of serotina. Meaning happening late in Latin. Other small flowers peppered the area, such as the above Love Creeper (Comesperma volubile). It makes use of the vegetation around it to gain height. This a twining plant also has a very literal Latin word for its species name, with volubile meaning twining. Even though the long slender stems that can reach three meters in length, and because it has no leaves, it is not until it blooms that it is really noticeable:

For the above and other than the family name of Tettigoniidae, commonly called Katydids or Bush Crickets, of which there are approx. a thousand species in Western Australia, I have no idea. Katydids are easily distinguished by their long slender antennae, commonly longer than their bodies. Whereas grasshoppers and crickets have shorter and thicker antennae. They are however more closely related to crickets, and the location of the ears or tympanum for both is just below the knee on the front legs. Grasshoppers ears are on their abdomen:

Moving along we found quite a few Christmas Leek Orchids (Prasophyllum brownie), and like the Christmas Spider Orchid, this species is one of the last of their genus to flower in Western Australia. Today only one specimen had its flowers open, of which there can be as many as eighty on one stem. If you want to see the flowers out you’ll need to go back in time to December last year https://sandbagged.blog/2024/12/16/a-pick-and-mix-weekend/. Leeks are amongst the tallest of the orchids in Western Australia, and this species can reach 1.2m:

We did a fair bit of wandering through bush, trying to avoid the many webs. This included the webs of a very pretty arachnid called a Silver Orb Spider (Leucauge dromedaria). The light green translucent legs of this creature, no more than three fifths of an inch long, drew our attention. Glowing when they caught the sun. The humped abdomen helped with the identification, and it is also being known as the Humped Silver Orb Spider. While the upper body was fully of intricate patterns and colours, the underside is where it gets its name from:

This is mostly a plain slivery colour, and intentionally so. Building horizontal webs, from below the colour merges with the sky above making it hard to see and providing a degree of camouflage as insect fly up from the ground. Another colourful find were the flowering Tall Kangaroo Paw (Anigozanthos flavidus), of which there are gazillions about. There are eleven species, and a few sub-species, in the genus of Anigozanthos. This includes both kangaroo and cats paws and the name was derived to describe their unique flower:

Two Greek words of anisos and anthos being combined, which mean unequal and flower. Craig and I continued to scour the areas that the elusive orchid species I was after have been found in previous years. Sadly they alluded us this time, and I do wonder if just like this Rattle Beak Orchid (Lyperanthus serratus), the hunting season may be drying up. Although I imagine there may be a wander in the bush or two still to come. After all the local ocean conditions are still pretty pants, so my attention has not as yet been diverted to underwater discoveries:

The right place

Fortunately during my wander round Crooked Brook on Wednesday I came across a female Milky Flower Spider (Zygometis xanthogaster). At a hefty 6.5 to 8mm, as opposed to a mere 2.5 to 3mm the males can reach, I was able to get a somewhat reasonable image. These spiders can be found in a vast array of hues and patterns, often leading to confusion when identifying them. This one however was the cream-white that the common name relates too. The species name sake feature was also on display, as it hung upside down:

The Greek prefix xantho is an old word meaning yellow or golden, while gaster means belly or stomach. I was hoping to find something else yellow, or more precisely custard, coloured. Sadly the Custard Sun Orchids I spotted just before my car started to play up were all gone, not even a shrivelled up stem remained. So I came away with very few images, one being of this Woodbridge Poison (Isotoma hypocrateriformis). In 1840, this plant was blamed for stock losses, believed to be due to them eating a toxic plant. This one, which is actually toxic:

James Drummond jumped to this conclusion when it resembled a toxic European plant. They trialled various plants on livestock, and it is said even a dog died after eating the meat of livestock that didn’t fare so well from this approach. Through the trail they deemed Woodbridge Poison was not the culprit, and it was a pea-flowered plant in the genus Gastrolobium. There is however literature to say Woodbridge Poison can be a lethal risk to livestock if eaten. Containing fluoroacetate, which is used to manufacture the poison 1080:

Fast forward to Friday morning, when Howsie and I were indulging in our own poison. A phrase used to mean the negative consequences resulting from one’s own actions or choices. Before we get to that, and as Howsie kicked off the proceedings, I was busy trying to get images of yet another ridiculously small spider. I have included an image of the Australian Dewdrop Spider (Argyrodes antipodianus) before, again from Welly Dam. This was several years back https://sandbagged.blog/2023/11/04/another-long-goodbye/:

Check the previous post to find out a bit more about this kleptoparasite species. They only grow to 2-3mm, and are easily identified by their silvery metallic looking abdomens. Said to typically have legs that are light brown with darker tips, which the specimen last time certainly displayed. But not todays find. The above spider looks to have a metallic abdomen and legs, maybe a trick of the light but I’m not convinced. I do however believe that the spider in the previous image was a female, while the above is a male having a smaller abdomen:

Today we stuck to the big walls. There was no sneaking off to climb shorter and less taxing lines. As the sky above shows it was a grey day, hence why I am not so sure the light had played tricks when I took images of the spider. And once the games began there were only pictures of the spidermen on the walls. It felt chilly when we arrived, and it struggled to reach double digits. This meant it took several routes to really get moving freely. It was not until we bagged the last two, of our customary six lines for a before work climb, that I was warming up:

Being sensible I took my harness off, as Howsie rapped off the last line. So as to avoid the temptation of tying in for ‘just one more climb’. I think he was relieved While my body felt like it was just getting into the swing of it, his was wearing down and saying that it was time to call it. After all, Howsie had to get back to the office and make it through a day of work. I meanwhile had the day off. In part as I am watching my hours but also because I purposely work the hours to allow me to have a nine day fortnight:

As we started the drive out I spotted a Leopard Orchid (Thelymitra benthamiana). Still yet to flower, unlike the ones at Manea Park that were all done and dusted way back. This species can bloom anywhere between September to December, and I guess the cooler than average spring weather has resulted in a few plants waiting that bit longer. This find got my mind thinking about where I could pop into, before I headed home to get on with a few domestic duties. Plumping for the Minninup Tuart Woodland to see if there was anything left to see:

During my one and only trip here https://sandbagged.blog/2025/10/02/a-sticky-ending/, which proved very fruitful, our guide had hinted at a November flowering orchid being present. As with other recent places some nice plants were out, but I saw no orchids to start with. The above Narrowleaf Mulla Mulla (Ptilotus drummondii) really caught my eye, and initially I thought I had found a type of thistle like weed below. It is however known as Blue Devils (Eryngium pinnatifidum), and is endemic to the south-west of Western Australia:

And as hinted to above, I did find something. A repeat find or so I thought. But turning out to be a first time sighting for me, of a Tuart Rufous Greenhood (Pterostylis frenchii). Going to show that looks can be deceiving, just like the above find. This is a later flowering species of the eighteen variety of rufous greenhoods in my orchid book. It was a great find, being classified as Priority Two under the Western Australian Biodiversity Conservation Act 2016. This means it is poorly known and only found in one or a few locations, this now being one:

So here it is… almost

It felt a little too blustery and wet for a solo trip to touch rock. In these conditions I would have been more motivated if someone else had shown an interest, but that was not the case. Instead, in part as I had accepted the challenge, I spent an hour or two checking out the Capel Nature Reserve. It felt like a role reversal from yesterday at Manea Park. Pink Enamel Orchids (Elythranthera emarginata) were popping up more frequently than the Bushy Boronia (Boronia fastigiata). This time however it is the latter that made the image cut:

This pretty native is part of the citrus, or Rutaceae, family. A family of plants that generally have flowers with a strong scent. Bushy Boronia is no different, exuding a sweet citrus-like fragrance. However, quite a large portion of the population would not be aware of this. The medical term anosmia describes a complete loss of smell and can also include an impact on taste. And Boronia anosmia is a specific alignment related specifically to the fragrance of Boronia flowers, and a surprising eighth to fifth of the population is affected by it:

The above image, and a few others in this post, is a little out of focus. As I mostly take my images with a phone, I’m not apologising. The tiny spiders at approx. 10mm wide are hard to focus on at the best of times, and even more so when it is windy. The true common name is a Jewel Spider (Austracantha minax subsp. minax), for the obvious reason. The origins of the names are worth a mention. The genus coming from the Latin auster and Greek ákantha, meaning south and thorn, and species from the Latin mināx meaning jutting out or projecting:

The more widely used common name is however the Christmas Spider. They are about all year but unlike most spiders, which will remain active during the cooler and wetter months, these are more active when things heat up. They are quite social and form groups, often sharing webs to catch prey. Looking like a string of decorations hanging mid-air, and there were lots of them out today. The females grow to 12mm and, as is common, the males are smaller at a mere 5mm. I had to keep an eye out as I walked to avoid collecting them:

Today I went to the wetlands area. Not surprisingly, after the rainfall we’ve had this year that has continued long into spring, there was plenty of water about. As such I had to watch my path ahead as well as where I was putting my feet. I gave up trying to avoid getting wet feet, but every so often I’d see things rapidly moving away. Loads of ting froglets, with a body no bigger than my thumb nail were frantically getting out of my way. Too difficult to even try and identify, while the Aurora Blue-Tail Damselfly (Ischnura aurora) was an easy identification:

Quite an apt find considering the recent aurora events we’ve experienced. I found lots of males displaying their a stunning array of colours and just a few females, which are a pale grey. Trudging through the water another apt find was the Swamp Leek Orchid (Prasophyllum drummondii), shown above. Often found growing in standing water, as it was today, and worth getting my feet wet for. This is a species I do not recall seeing before so a good find, and today there were hundreds out. There was however only one of these:

A completely black Christmas Spider, which is called a melanistic form. This occurs as a result of a the birth defect, when too much melanin pigment is generated in an organism resulting in a dark form specimen. This is the opposite of an albino, which has little to no melanin pigment. Following on with the Christmas theme, I was extremely lucky to stumble on a patch of three Christmas Spider Orchids (Caladenia serotine). It felt like a present. They were the only ones I found and I can now say, again the words of Barney Stinson, ‘mission completed’:

Confused by some with the White Spider Orchid (Caladenia longicauda subsp. longicauda), this species however flowers later and holds its petals and sepals more stiffly. The wander had a distinctly festive feel to it, making me think of the words blared out in Slade’s ‘so here it is Merry Christmas’, which is almost the case. The first serious contest to bag the top of the charts on Christmas day was in 1973. Two bands made a conscious decision to get there. One was Wizzard who released ‘I Wish It Could Be Christmas Everyday’, but Slade pipped them:

An angry mob

I’m pleased that Howsie and I headed to the Dam on Friday for a climb. As despite finally having the car back in operation, the opportunities to get out this weekend became limited for other reasons. Another cold front, with lightning and thunder, started to sweep across the south west from the early hours of Saturday; threatened to continue till Monday. In addition pre-planned social stuff meant that Saturday was out also. That said I did squeeze in a quick walk at Manea Park, before needing to hit the road north to the big smoke:

Before we headed north I dropped Lisa off in Bunbury for a massage, and then drove straight towards the darkening clouds. Fortunately, they skirted to the south allowing me a wander in the dry. Not expecting to see much on the orchid front, it was lovely just to back in nature. Below are Drumsticks (Dasypogon bromeliifolius), a small shrub growing to 30cm. Some literature I have found suggest they are also known as Pineapple Bush. This is however the common name for Dasypogon hookeri, another shrub but one that reaches heights of 3m:

The genus name Dasypogon coming from Greek words dasys and pogon, meaning thick with hair or rough and beard. Used to describe the flower heads, of the three species that are all endemic to Southwest Australia that are similar looking. Next up is a Many-Flowered Fringe (Thysanotus multiflorus), again endemic to the Southwest Australia. There are approx. 50 species are found in Western Australia, nearly all of which being native. This one is most commonly found, hence also known as the Common Fringe Lily but also the Purple Fringe Lily:

The upper canopy also had splashes of colour, with many Candlestick Banksia (Banksia attenuate) out in bloom. Flowering from as early as September they are considered a sign of spring in the Perth region. The flowers can still be around as late as February, providing a food source for a wide range of creatures. From insects to birds, as well as mammals including the Honey Possum (Tarsipes rostratus). These small possums are the only marsupials that feed on nectar, not honey as the common name suggests, making them an important pollinator:

Honey Possum’s are pretty high on my list of mammals to see. And while I kept an eye out for any signs of movement on the bright yellow candlesticks my hopes were not high, as they generally emerge at dusk and feed at night. In the shade of the trees to the right in the image below is one of many Bushy Boronia (Boronia fastigiata) I found in flower. Seeing so many of these small pink flowers, I almost didn’t pay any attention to the two pink flowers near the base of the image that are Pink Enamel Orchids (Elythranthera emarginata):

A late flowering species that can be found from October to December, and a great find as they are the first ones I have seen at Manea. Finding three flowering plants all up. There were also Common Mignonette Orchids (Microtis media subsp. media), which can be found in flower across five months from September to January. And the Slipper Orchids (Cryptostylis ovata) were starting to form buds, with a flowering period that starts later from November to February. There is another late flowering species of spider I’ll have to keep an eye out for:

Aptly named the Christmas Spider Orchid (Caladenia serotina), of which there is a single recorded observation at the Capel Nature Reserve. In the words of Barney Stinson ‘challenge accepted’. My last find at Manea was a Female Blue Skimmer (Orthetrum caledonicum). When they emerge from the nymph they all have yellow with black makings. Females mostly stay that way, while the males turn blue as they mature. The name skimmer however relates to a two flanges near the tip of the females abdomen, used to scoop water when laying eggs:

Much later that day on the last stretch home, after Lisa and my trip to the big smoke, a mob of magpies were harassing what looked like a monitor. Going back we found not a monitor but a Southwestern Snake-necked Turtle (Chelodina oblonga). Called a turtle but technically a terrapin, and the species name has also been subject to debate. In 2006 the International Commission on Zoological Nomenclature ruled the northern and southern species were oblonga and colliei, this was then changed in 2020 to rugosa and oblonga:

On the road again

Since Lisa and my trip down to Pemberton, I have been living a relatively secluded life in Peppy Beach. The car troubles that started on the return journey took until yesterday to resolve. There were two faults. And due to the wonders of computer managed engines, these days, pin pointing faults and investigating them becomes that bit trickier. You’d think it was the other way round. Sadly not. A bit like the thought that computers would reduce the use of paper through digital communication and documentation. It isn’t a given:

Living some 30km from what is considered a major town, in our local patch, and with most of my orchid hunting spots and all my climbing spots being that bit further, my trips into nature came, like my car, to a grinding halt. Rather than thinking of the three weeks as lost time, I saw it as an opportunity to chill and practise patience. After all I can work from home, have an indoor climbing wall, and had my health. It did however mean that most of the locally found orchids have gone to seed, so I felt a little robbed of the chance to spot something new:

Speaking of which the first image is of a pair of Robber Flies mating. These can be very hard to identify, and even with the enlisted help of a pretty clued up entomologist we failed to get past the possible genus of Neoscleropogon. Other than that image the only other one related to nature from my last three weeks, was when we were lucky to have had another aurora australis display. Along the southern coast and over east it was spectacular. Whereas where we live it was meh, being barely visible to the naked eye. Hence there is no image:

Unlike the unimpressed feeling of watching a very, very slight pinkie hue hovering on the horizon of the night sky; yesterday picking the car up, fully functional, I was in euphoria. On the chance that it was going to be roadworthy once more, Howsie and I had already talked about an early morning trip to Welly Dam. Now that could happen. He’s had a crook household for a few weeks prior, only coming good this week. Added to that he hasn’t touch rock for quite some time, so his energy levels were not particularly high:

On the other hand, I had been able to pull on plastic a few times to keep some basic fitness. That said I did expect coming back to the dam would feel tough, considering my last serious climb was all the way back at the beginning of October. Our different situations resulted in the routes we had in mind, being somewhat in conflict. It did raise Howsie’s eyebrows when I jumped on first lead on a nervous line. I feel he may have been a little relieved when I took a good whipper half way up. In the best fashion possible, being completely unexpected:

After that slip I powered on. Surprising even myself with the third lead, which really had me a bit unsure as to whether it was a wise choice. I was probably helped by Howsie taking on some pretty easy leads in-between, allowing some recuperation time. We were not alone today. An outdoor education group was on their way, and as we climbed we saw a zip line abseil ropes, and all the hardware being set up and laid out. Fortunately it wasn’t till our last route that the hordes of kids arrived. Peering over the wall above the quarry:

As expected the rock shelf that lay in front of the peering kids had finally and fully dried up. Along with the drying and warming weather over the last few weeks, all the sun orchids I was hoping to find had also withered away. The only flower of note, being at the base of Howsie’s last route. A Yellow Hawkweed (Tolpis barbata), native to southern Europe and considered a minor weed in Western Australia. But pretty all the same. Today we were squeezing in a climb before work, and now it was time to hit the road. Man it feels good to be mobile again:

Keeping the spark

October is a busy month for us with both our birthdays, wedding anniversary, and, as Lisa likes to call it, boativersary. The latter just hanging off the edge, on the 1 November, and referring to when we first met, which if you had not got from the hint was on a boat. That encounter being by chance when we were both heading back from Europe to England, and happen to be in same bar at the same time. A lucky encounter considering the ferry carries approx. 1,600 people, has three bars, and Lisa was only there because she got to the cinema too late:

The film and started and doors were shut, so instead of seeing a film we have vowed never to watch, she went to the bar. The rest, as they say, is history. In a way it was appropriate we cheered our anniversary on the bow of the boat like structure, high atop the Marina Bay Sands, during our recent Singapore trip. And as it was a special anniversary we decided to also do something on the actual day. This saw us plump for a night away, not quite so far away this time, at a place we have stayed once before during the depths of winter eight years back:

Before heading there, we went for breakfast and a game at the South West Bottega, which has cracked a few mentions this year since we discovered it. After whiling away a relaxing hour or more there, we hit the road south stopping for a walk round the Kondil Wildflower Park just outside of Nannup. Another place that we have enjoyed heading back too since we first stumbled across it, which coincidently was on our anniversary four years back. Still enjoying it this time even though the poodles were not lucky enough to join us:

We also enjoyed the wander through the trees despite, as the first image shows, it raining. Not just a drop or two but the sort that soaks into, and weighs down, your clothes. We kinda expected this would happen. All week the forecast for where we were going suggested Friday and Saturday would be soggy. Our wet spring continues, suggesting the Sudden Stratospheric Warming over the Antarctica is losing the battle against the negative Indian Ocean Dipole. That may be why there are still a few fungi worth stopping to take an image of:

We came across the fungus in the second image during our trip to Walpole earlier this year. On the walks down there we had an explosion of fungi finds. So many in fact that I didn’t go through and try to identify them, well not for the post. Later on I did have a crack behind the scenes, and think that I found most of them. But not this one. Take two, and this time I may have narrowed it down to Boletellus dissiliens. However, without looking under the cap I can’t be certain. Something I was not prepared to do, seeing I’d have to pick the fungus:

The next image is of course of the Blue Lady Orchid (Thelymitra crinita). This species of sun orchid being out in the greatest numbers this year, so far, and as such having been included in previous posts. The reason for the repeat inclusion is to show just how pretty they can be when the flowers decide to open ‘en masse’. I have mentioned how while having seen many sun orchids this year, very few have been in bloom. The flowers are generally known to open in the daytime on warm sunny days, closing at night and during cloudy days:

Why this plant, and it was the only one on the walk, decided to go against normal practise is unclear. Not that I am complaining. Back in the car we continued south into the depths of the southern forests & valleys region. Our destination being the Karri Valley Resort, where a lakeside room awaited us. Each time you opened the door onto the balcony the Australian Ringnecks (Barnardius zonarius subsp. semitorquatus) would swoop in, obviously being used to their charms winning people over to give them a feed:

After a cuppa or two and game (of course) in the restaurant, and bit of a slob in the room I convinced a slightly resistant Lisa to head out for a wander round the lake. Unsurprisingly it was raining. Despite being approx. a mere 100km south of where we live, the average annual rainfall here is 40% greater. You may then suggest it is not surprising to hear the place is a little damp. However, the seasonality of rainfall follows a similar pattern to our patch. Meaning you would expect the landscape to start to dry off in spring and have little rain in summer:

Wet or not we enjoyed the walk. To boot there were heaps of Pink Spider Orchids (Caladenia harringtoniae), my first sighting of them. A species first described in 2001 from a specimen collected near Pemberton, so somewhere not too far from where we were. Yet another species that due to our invasive and destructive habits, has found itself on the state and national list of vulnerable flora. On the way back a sign warned of uneven and washed out sections of the track. Something that would normally put Lisa on edge. We pushed onwards:

She indulged me further, when I suggested we took the slightly longer way back to check out the walk through Karri (Eucalyptus diversicolor). My penance being to have to give her a piggy back off the steps down, so she could avoid the puddle. We made it back just about in time to dry off and head to the restaurant. It was time to cheers our anniversary on the day itself, with a glass of bubbly. The outlook from our table not surprisingly being the lake. The ripples on the water generating the illusion of movement, added to a fitting effect of being on a boat:

As is our predictable tradition, it was a meal with a game. In fact when we got home after the trip away, and as we looked back at the post from our visit here eight years back, there were so many similarities between that and this trip. Chilling out, games, good food, enjoying the natural setting, and walking in the rain. I somehow do not think we would get bored of such a routine, if we had more regular visits here. It was a bit by chance that we ended up here, as Lisa had other activities in mind to occupy us on our special day:

We have both very much enjoyed watching The Great Pottery Throw Down, in part due to what is described as being a wholesome and soothing show. So Lisa had looked into pottery courses, and found a hand building course we could have gone to. When she floated the idea past me, I jokingly said I would be more interested in Patrick Swayze and Demi Moore pottery throwing course. Needless to say this didn’t happen. However, on returning to the room after having had our fill, and a little uncannily, that very film just started to play:

After that we just had to watch Ghost! Eventually the TV, as did the lights across the lake that made for a pretty special outlook, were turned off. The morning came in quiet and calm, and being Saturday Lisa had suggested yesterday that she may have a dip at 7am. The time that back home she would usually be walking into the ocean with the Peppy Plungers. Not being very surprised when she didn’t sound quite so keen in the morning, I popped a sippy cup of tea on the bedside next to her and left her reading and dozing:

Heading out to retraced yesterday’s tracks in the opposite direction, as the big trees were calling me. Not to see if there was anything we may have missed, merely to enjoy the quiet peace of the forest while the early morning mist across the lake started to lift. I am purposely endeavouring to labour a point about how wet it still is, however it was surprising to see the moisture loving Midge Orchids (Cyrtostylis huegelii) still in flower. A month later than they are expected too. Wandering along the quiet was intermittently broken by the sound of forest:

Frogs along the fringes of the lake, and birds in the trees and scrub. The only one game to allow me to watch it being the above South-Western Spotted Scrubwren (Sericornis frontalis subsp. maculatus). One of four subspecies, the adult of this one have a slightly yellowing of the mid to lower breast. Then there was of course the sound of water, with Beedelup Falls being at the head of the trail. With a greatly reduced flowrate coming down it, compared to when we popped in a couple of months back on our drive back from a night in Pemberton:

With every intention of making the most of our time in the area, when I got back I suggested the short drive Pemberton where there are some lovely walks. Sadly, by the time we had to check out, it was not due to the rain coming back in that put the brakes on that idea. Several warning lights came up on the dash of the car. The glow plugs were playing up making the decision easy, we would have to head straight home at what was to be a pretty sluggish rate. While the glow plugs may be playing up, after twenty five years the spark is still there:

Uncertain times

Back in August it was claimed that spring and potentially summer would end up a tad wet across all of Australia. So far that prediction is proving right in our south west corner. Forecast of the back of a negative Indian Ocean Dipole forming, which a phenomenon that not surprisingly occurs across the Indian Ocean. Created by the temperature difference of the ocean surface in the west and east. It can form three phases of positive, neutral, and negative. The negative cycle is created when the ocean is warmer in the east than west:

Australia has had its hottest year on record for ocean temperatures between July 2024 and June 2025. In West Australia we experienced the longest, largest, and most intense ocean heatwave on record. Starting in late 2024 and peaking in early 2025, with surface temperatures of the sea being as much as 4 degrees Celsius higher than average. As such the negative Indian Ocean Dipole was not all that unexpected. However, then came along another quirk of mother nature. A sudden stratospheric warming over Antarctica:

This resulted in the air temperature soaring by more than 30 degrees Celsius. Sounds catastrophic, however sudden is probably an exaggeration. It can takes weeks for these sort of temperature shifts. Also this is a warming of the stratosphere, which is the layer of the atmosphere between 10 and 50km above the surface of the earth. So we are not talking an Armageddon weather shift. While these events occur approx. every two years in the Northern Hemisphere, they are however rare in the Southern Hemisphere:

Over some 45 years only three moderate to major such events have occurred in the southern hemisphere. Being in 1988, 2002, and 2019. The phenomena has the greatest impact when it occurs in spring, with the worse recorded impact being in 2019. Off the back of a drought this was the catalyst for the devastating Black Summer over east, during which some 19 million hectares of bush burned. As should hint that the sudden stratospheric warming over Antarctica results in a drying and hot climate in Australia:

The opposite effect of a negative Indian Ocean Dipole. Which one of these mighty weather systems wins out is yet to be seen. For now no one is game to predict the outcome. Indeed most of us, just like the Sand Monitor (Varanus gouldii) in the first image, simply carry on with life. Blissfully unaware of any of this stuff. I find it funny how I spend so many hours traipsing round the bush looking for wildlife. Then as I sit at work a monitor casually walks past the one and only window in our concrete box of an office. Unable to resist I wandered outside:

Oblivious to goings on in the atmosphere above, but the close proximity of a person was enough to make the monitor hide away in a stormwater drain. At least it would have been nice and cool in there, as the temperatures were on the rise. Closing in on thirty degrees on Monday; the day the monitor walked past. On Tuesday it crept higher and after work I headed to Crook Brook where the car thermometer told me it was edging to the mid-thirties. Not put off I wandered round a couple of the loops, to see what I might see:

Not as much as I had hoped. With a blistering sun you would expect the sun orchids to be loving it, but no. They were by far the most prolific of the orchids out, but very few had their flowers open. I only spied one Scented Sun Orchid (Thelymitra macrophylla) and a couple of Shy Sun Orchid (Thelymitra graminea) open, shown in the images. I realise they do not do great in extreme heat but didn’t feel it was ridiculously hot today. Although warm enough for the Bobtail (Tiliqua rugosa) to be active and not wanting to put up with me hovering about:

Both the Slender Sun (Thelymitra pauciflora) and Blue Lady Orchids (Thelymitra crinita) were out, but again their flowers were closed so there are no images. However, the icing, or should I say custard, on the cake was my first ever sighting of a Custard Orchid (Thelymitra villosa). Three plants all up with only one flower open, such a good find there are two images. I knew they pop up here but until this sighting I had not been lucky enough to find one. Despite having found five suns, as with the two big whether systems, this didn’t spell destruction:

I should explain the Aztec myth of creation of the Five Suns is based on the cycles of creation and destruction. Four sun gods, called Tezcatlipoca, Quetzalcoatl, Tlaloc, and Chalchiuhtlicue, each failed to create a world that lasted. The fifth sun god, Huitzilopochtli, was however successful. Although it is said that sacrifices are required to keep the sun (god) moving across the sky, including human sacrifices. Moving onto brighter topics as I finished my wander at Crooked Brook I stumbled across one of the two tallest spider orchid species:

Standing proud at the side of the track two images up, you should be able to make out a magnificent Carbunup King Spider Orchid (Caladenia procera) with two flowers. The only spider orchid I saw, and then at Manea Park on Wednesday in half the temperature I didn’t see any. And despite being not as hot but still sunny, none of the many sun orchids were in flower. Other than one Leopard Orchid (Thelymitra benthamiana), being the sixth sun of the week. The Sixth Sun referring to the next era after the world of the Fifth Sun ends:

The era of the Sixth Sun provides an opportunity. Either move toward destruction or gain a higher state of being and understanding of the world. If it ever came to it I wonder what path the human race would take. For now my path at Manea Park didn’t offer anything else on the orchid front but I did get to see a swarm of bees, which I didn’t dare get any closer to than shown above. Then at the Capel Nature Reserve on Thursday I only found repeat sun orchids. It was raining so this time at least I could understand why they were all clammed shut:

Nature’s medicine

The car remained in the driveway since returning from my climb with Howsie and Craig on Monday. Having forewarned them I had brought an unwanted guest back from Lisa and my travels they said they were happy to take the gamble and get out with me. It took a greater hold after that trip and I spluttering through three days of working from home, so as not to upset my work colleagues by going into the office. Using the power of positive thinking each day, as I wanted to apply a bit of nature-based medicine to vanquish the unwanted guest:

This time no one was available to get out. Top rope soloing at Smiths Beach was on my mind. But when Saturday morning rolled in, my body said it wasn’t a wise choice. Instead Castle Rock won out, with its more relaxed lines and shorter walk in. A rare footprint free beach greeted me, making for a great not so early morning shot. The trickle of water running down the beach comes from Dolugup Brook. Claimed to be the least disturbed of the 14 waterways in the Geographe Catchment. The fact it is running so late in October is very unusual:

We had another front roll through on Friday and overnight, and a rainbow hinted that rain was still falling on Cape Naturaliste as I drove towards it. Fortunately by the time I arrived the skies had cleared. There was hardly a breeze as I slowly ambled the short 500m path to Castle Rock, with not an orchid in sight. However, out to sea a whale, like me, made a slow path along the coast. Leisurely surfacing at a frequent rate to blow, a sight that was worthy of stopping for awhile to enjoy. Two whales are seen here regularly but as you’ll see it could be another:

The Humpback Whale (Megaptera novaeangliae) and Southern Right Whale (Eubalaena australis) are frequent visitors. The latter has distinctive V-shaped blow, while the former has a bushy blow. The initial blow certainly looks to have a bushy look before tapering out into a thin column of mist. Having watched the video too many times trying to pick details, there is another option. I’m not however game to suggest it is a Blue Whale (Balaenoptera musculus), which are seen here but rarely. Moving in opposite directions, we eventually parted ways:

Arriving at the top of Castle Rock, which really isn’t all that high, I had to take five before the next stage. The enviable clear water below, compared to our local beach, looking inviting for a snorkel. The first sensibly chosen line is easy but today felt a little tough. I put this down to being the first climb and needing to limber up a bit more than usual. Nature-based medicine can involve natural remedies and outdoor activities and I was applying the latter so kept going. The body began to move more freely, and while I needed a rest between routes they all fell:

I did not fall, which was a plus. Mind you on these grades and on lines I’ve done countless times, even today that would have been a little disappointing. I purposely did not attempt one particular route. It was within today’s the grade limits and would have even up the numbers, but it is most certainly one of my sandbag climbs. Just as I had when I arrived I took five atop. For a snack, to take in the view, and prepare myself for the walk out. You may think that I would have headed home after what some may consider sufficient medicine:

I however had other intentions. My original thought to go to Smiths Beach was to hunt a spider orchid I am yet to find. It is known to flower in an area that is proposed to be developed, meaning the patch of bush will be lost. Not being keen to drive there today I instead went to the nearby southern end of the Meelup Regional Park. Rewarded with two new orchid finds for the seasons. The Pink Enamel Orchid (Elythranthera emarginata), in an image with a lovely backdrop of pale pink Book Triggerplant (Stylidium calcaratum):

The other find being the White Fairy Orchid (Caladenia marginate). Both were out in good numbers, indicating a shift into the mid to late spring flowering species. Other repeat finds were out but the only spider I was able to find were a few two Rusty Spider Orchid (Caladenia ferruginea), above. I had quietly being hoping to find a few more of the very local species of spiders. In this less than usual season it seems they are not out yet, and the window of opportunity may be closing. Not put off by this I was thinking about another spot:

Feeling like I could manage another short plod I went to the Big Rock Nature Reserve. Only having been here once before. Back then there was nothing that stood out but I thought I’d give it another shot. Quite a few repeat finds and more Blue Lady Orchid (Thelymitra crinita) than I could count. However, none of these sun orchids were keen to open up, despite it being mid-morning and reasonably sunny. The only sun orchid I found in flower was a different species, being a single Slender Sun Orchid (Thelymitra pauciflora):

The above also caught my attention, the narrow leaf indicating it is likely the Shy Sun Orchid (Thelymitra graminea), which happens to be closely related to the Slender Sun Orchid. Both generally have smaller flowers and do not stand as tall as other species. Making my way back to the car I followed a tributary of the Dandatup Brook. This eventually runs through the town of Dunsborough and was also unusually still flowing. Feeling I had had a very healthy dose of nature’s medicine, the thought of a relax and cuppa was now calling me home: