On occasions Rob comes up with the most delightful ideas for an excursion and I became curious when he disappeared into the kitchen yesterday and started making noises not linked to washing up dishes or pouring drinks. Upon exploration I discovered he was packing a snack of Fruit cake and chocolate biscuits and filling a thermos with heaped teaspoons of coffee and boiled water. “We’ll circumnavigate Lake Towerrinning today, poppet.” I was delighted he was getting back into the circumnavigation frame of mind too.
The lake has only been a permanent water filled lake since the land around it was cleared for agriculture, otherwise it would be like Lake Indoon, with its indeterminate periods of dry. The water once became saltier until a plan was carried out to divert a number of freshwater streams into it.
We chatted with the lady cleaning the loos with the help of her dog Max, but she had no idea of whether one could get right around; so there was our challenge.
We walked along a good track through the campsite, saying ‘hi’ to the few campers there. No boats were on the water; in the summer the lake is popular with water skiers; Malcolm and Christine used to love bringing Kylie and Tennille there for some skimming over the flat surface.
All the while we could look back over the lake at our starting point to see how we were doing. Rob suddenly noticed where something had dragged across the track leaving a shallow groove. I followed it and found this beautiful Egerina Skink, coincidentally after we found another one exactly the same on a recent walk around the station. It had fortunately successfully negotiated the track and remained motionless while we chatted and photographed it.
You will see from the aerial view (many thanks Mr Google) that some way beyond the campsite area as we walked in a clockwise direction from the orange pointer there is a thin strip of land that goes almost right across to complete the circle of the lake. Well we weren’t sure if we’d get across and we wanted to explore the smaller lake anyway so we continued along the track until it made a definite left turn away from the area. There was a clear ford across the creek here to the right and back towards the lake side so off came shoes and socks and cool muddy sand oozed up between our toes as we carefully waded across.
There were a few more soggy patches so we walked on barefooted until I had the brilliant idea of photographing Rob paddling over the soft ground. That is why there is a photo of him going back to do the same bit again, for the sake of the blog of course. What a guy.
The lower lake was a haven of bird life. Apparently 128 species either live permanently or migrate here each year. From a distance we saw a tree with a colony of spoonbill perched on its naked branches. Black swans preferred this area to the bigger lake along with pied stilts, seagulls, ducks and tall white storks. One or two nest boxes were strapped to the trees but more were in the water having fallen off.
As we approached the tiny gap I mentioned before, it looked as if it had been made to allow freshwater from the creek we had just waded across, which fed the smaller lake, to flow into the bigger lake and some kind soul had placed a canoe there on enough line at each end attached to both shores so it could be used like a ferry.
Hair-like weed had been blown off the lake and accumulated on the beaches and looked like sails drying in the sun and paperbark trees, much loved by aborigines for their myriad of uses, thrived on the lakeside.
Someone’s secret hideaway awaited their return half a mile from where we started and the whole walk took just over two hours. We were glad of our bottles of water before we drank the coffee and ate our snack trying to work out the area of the lake. A strange clarity of memory set me multiplying pi (3.142, not bad after 50 years of neglect) X our estimated radius of the lake to establish its area, but as we could not decide on the radius I can tell you from further research the main lake is 265 hectares in area and very beautiful too.
In Like A Lion
And the hunt for a Donkey Orchid 34:59.66S 117:56.56E
The weather has raged and blown, rocked and shoved, in our neck of the world since we came back onto Zoonie seven days ago. And we are glad because it has found three leaks on Zoonie that Rob has strived to fix which may not have become apparent in good weather. Unscrewing, drying with a hairdryer and squeezing on the marine adhesive/sealant with mixed results. Illusive are these leaks; they can creep in through a tiny gap and the water will run unimpeded, making it hard to find the source of the leak. So the search goes on.
For my part I teamed up with my good friend the Pfaff 6 hand sewing machine and together we sewed a new plastic window into the bimini mid-section and two leather strips on the top corners of the sprayhood where the bimini webbing straps were wearing the fabric, which would eventually result in the failure of the hood. The dan buoy has a fine new red and yellow diagonal flag and a cover to protect it and the life-ring which remains tied to the boat at the end of its line in a man-overboard situation has a new back to the bag Rob made a while ago from fabric that was more worn than we thought it was!
In between blasts from the heavens and much whirling of billions of water droplets we have managed a couple of walks, both of which had highlights you might like to hear about.
I have the permission of our talented on-board wildlife photographer to copy, by photographing directly from the screen of his phone, the shots he took at Seppings Lake and the sandy track behind the dunes of Middleton Beach.
Seppings Lake, unlike last time when we viewed the diminished lake beyond quite a few metres of mudflats, was overflowing with gusto and the path was under inches of water in places, necessitating my taking frequent piggy backs on the same broad back of our resident photographer. Holding on while he took the Ibis in the tree was fun, should have done a selfie! It was the Ibis in the tree, not us.
We had just returned to the main path from the bird hide, where the water lapped the underneath of the floor boards, when we came across the long-necked tortoise hatchling striding confidently towards us, all by himself. Was he lost? Was he the first to hatch and out scouting the area? As soon as our shadow went over him he bent his long neck around his head, whether to make himself look smaller, invisible or just because it was too long to retract into his shell I do not know. We walked on and turned to watch him eventually assume the danger had passed before he continued.
It is early springtime here, and as the season has started in ‘like a lion’ we hope it may go out ‘like a lamb’. In the meantime the signs are all there. In the shallows at Seppings and in the puddles in front of Zoonie the frogs are croaking relentlessly and have been busy mating; and tadpoles abound. We even spotted a bandicoot on the path and Rob was lucky to get the photos as they are very shy creatures, like a big rat with a short tail. There were numerous King Skinks soaking up the sun’s heat on branches beside the road as we made our way back to the car.
Yesterday we walked through the natural bush near Zoonie, allowing ourselves to be side-tracked along what were clearly old animal paths. On the sandy path with the roar of the surf in King George Sound in the distance, we met a man coming the other way with his yappy little, white fluffy dog. “Let me show this to the lady, she’ll appreciate it,” he pulled out his IPhone and showed us his picture of the Donkey Orchid, “isn’t that pretty, right in the middle of the path too, I wonder how long it will last before someone picks it.”
We agreed and followed his directions and found the rare little plant ourselves. I though afterwards, what a gift he gave us, sharing something rare and beautiful; what a kind man.
Another reason we are happy the weather is not conducive to a re-launch any time soon is that Darren has dismantled the hoist track, that goes out over the water and along which the suspended Zoonie will pass before she is lowered back into the briny. It was due for some maintenance and of course from his point of view there is never an ideal time for this as he cannot haul or launch any vessels while it is out of action. These massive Lows look as if they will continue into next week, so hopefully by then the tracks will be back in place and ready for use again.
We have been in touch with Fremantle Sailing Club again where Jason has given us the most convenient berth right in front of the Club. I mentioned Jeremy and Kathy of Sal Darago who were there a few weeks ago and he replied, “Such a lovely couple, you can have their berth, the VIP pen, it’s still warm from their stay.” I asked him, tongue in cheek, if there was a special dress code if it’s VIP.
“Well not really. Not being a royal yacht club things are fairly casual round here. The club house is shoes and shirt as a minimum, so pretty much the same around the club. As far as Zoonie goes she will no doubt speak for her self being an Oyster.”
Natalie Griggs at Christmas Island, who overseas Cocos Keeling, our first port of call, sent us a bizarre letter. Firstly it was addressed to Sal Darago, with Zoonie’s name used just twice in the text. The letter states that on 16th June the quarantine requirement for IOT (Indian Ocean Territory) residents and people from Western Australia was being lifted.
On 29th July she announced that this only applied to air arrivals and not sailing yachts.
The next short and blunt paragraph that needed to be deleted stated that Zoonie was not permitted to travel to Cocos Keeling.
This little blow was immediately followed with ‘The Territory Controller and I have agreed to allow SV Zoonie to moor at Cocos……but do not have permission to go ashore…..’ Well that’s fine; we can rest, refuel, take in stores with the help of the TC and communicate with folk near and far before we move on. That was what we planned anyway, but we hear it is a very lovely place, so maybe they will consider our passage as quarantine time, so we can explore a little, we will see.
Jerome at La Reunion is looking forward to our arrival and has our papers sent by email, so we can look forward to the dramatic skyline of that island as we cross the Indian Ocean centre.
We will clear out of Fremantle as and when we arrive and are ready with a favourable weather window to get us offshore.
Up Amongst the Tingle Belles
My sixty eighth birthday started in fine style with an all blue sky, which was welcome after many early spring days of winds and rain. Before Rob and I headed off for the Valley of the Giants (Western Australia’s giant Eucalyptus Tingle Trees that grow to 75 metres) and while standing at the top of Zoonie’s steel stepladder, no doubt uplifted not only physically but also by the beauty of the day and the small fact it was my ‘special’ day, I announced across the puddled boatyard to our friends Peter and her hubby Dave who were working on their super cruiser/racer “Today I am sixty eight and we’re off to explore!”
If they thought I was slightly mad they didn’t show it but instead insisted we go and have a great time.
The same day two years ago we were in the village at Fulanga, Fiji where Mare and Jone, our hosts and Bill, the late chief’s grandson, arranged a lovely day of celebrations culminating in a feast and Kava session that will not be easily forgotten.
This year my day out is surrounded by thoughts of the voyage we have ahead of us that is unique in our circumnavigation in that we may have to sail home, the remaining 17,000 miles with few or no stops, instead of enjoying the Indian Ocean Islands, which brings to light the need for new plans on victualling for many months at sea and researching rounding South Africa into the South Atlantic avoiding the worst of the Agulhas Current as it meets the Southern Ocean area and using or dodging the Low Pressure systems that will be travelling east towards us.
A day out was much needed.
Walking amongst the giants along the suspended steel pathway that moved gently beneath us, and seeing how prehistoric forest can live on if it’s left alone, helped me start to put the next few months into perspective. Our timing of the voyage is unchanged, we would be leaving Australia at the right time, and sailing around South Africa at the right time too. So that was a good start. I would research other sailors who have done the same journey and see what I could learn from them.
I loved the way the young trees were growing upwards with perfect peaked tops as soon as there was space in the canopy for them; and looking down at the forest floor at the naturally fallen trees wondering how long ago they fell. They can live to over 400 years old, so the fallen ones will provide food and shelter to the forest creatures for around 1200 years making their existence something like 1600 years, providing food and trapping carbon in the most efficient botanical way. One could do the circuit along the 600 metre elevated walk as many times as one wanted. The walkway itself was designed along the lines of two of the forest plants, the strong sharp leaves of the Sword Grass for steel supports and the star-shaped Tassel Flowers that provide the steel viewing platform supports. The entirety elevated so the tender toes of the tingles are not compressed and broken.
Towering Tingles to Weeny Wrens
One thing that really struck me in the valley was the contrast in size between the tall trees, mighty in stature and age, and the tiny flowers and birds we saw as we walked the trail in ‘The Ancient Empire’. It became an exercise in flower spotting and the little orange flowers are from the Holly Flame Pea plant. I didn’t find the name of the yellow flower with the frilly edged petals. There was plenty of wisteria around which reminded us of home but the best treat of all in the valley happened back at the car park as we sat in the car and supped our Mochas while sharing a round carrot cake lavishly topped with lemon icing.
I heard a woman say “Look at that cute little mouse,” never thinking it would appear within our vision range from the car. But it did, quickly followed by the colourful red winged fairy wren and his more modestly attired mate. They move about so quickly it is difficult to get a sharp picture, what you see was my best effort. I was amazed at the Fairy Wren coincidence. A few days ago Alison and Randall, aboard Tregoning, sent me a lovely birthday card of the little Superb Fairy Wren you see in the picture and taken by Alison, and then on the actual day I see another Fairy Wren wearing a slightly different outfit. So enchanting.
Gold Leaf Olives and Seagulls on Sentry Duty
On the delightful rural drive from Albany, through Denmark, to the Valley of the Giants we passed pretty countryside of lush hills and valleys, lots of woodland and, on the human side, retreats, a monastery, secluded holiday homes and niche farming products like ice creams, sweets, gourmet pies and cakes, local beers and wines, Devonshire Cream Teas and of course, fish & chips; to say nothing of the arts and crafts. From farmyard stays to isolated retreats, campsites to motels and for many the welcome to their holiday homes. No wonder people love this area for living and holidays.
Winding our way back along the Valley of the Giants Road I remembered seeing a sign to an olive and wine farm; so we turned smart left onto a dirt track that led up and around a hill past small paddocks and random, natural looking woodland and a very languid kangaroo watching our progress. Groves of sage green olive trees looked beautiful in the sunshine. Just over the top of the hill we came into a grassy yard and a pretty little homestead of two linked hexagonal sandstone brick buildings. Bella the golden Labrador, colour co-ordinated with her home, came bounding out to greet us followed by her smiling lady owner, whose name I am ashamed to admit I did not ask for.
Like so many European youngsters she came on a walkabout from Switzerland to Aussie many years ago, met her man and together they bought this farm. They now produce organic olives and wines but their early attempts to distract sweet toothed birds from eating the grapes by putting bowls of sugar water around the vines failed when the feathered friends polished off the sugar water and moved swiftly on to the grapes for dessert. Today the vines are netted and they accept that they share the olive crop with the local birds.
We tasted plain olives, pressed by her husband in a nearby town, and then the ones she infused with rosemary, her favourites. Our favourites too. I couldn’t believe how the sunlight caught the edges of the air bubbles in the jar making it look like gold leaf floating around the plump little olives. I wonder where we will be on our voyage home when we enjoy them.
They produce Sauvignon Blanc and Rose wines and as we are used to the first we decided on a bottle of Rose, before we set off to the beach, near Walpole and down Coalmine Road. There are numerous big lakes set just inland from the coast in this region; some linked to the ocean by small channels. The effect is numerous calm shallow area of water, perfect for water-sports and walking.
Over the years folk have carved names and messages into the soft black outcrops of rock along the beach. It certainly looked like compressed plant matter; coal in the making. The water we looked out over was Nornalup Inlet, an ancient name that sits well in the present day, and a little further along was the small yacht club and a group of yellow buoys moored offshore for some safe, fun racing in the warmer months. Back in the car we drove the loop around the headland that rose high above the water and was buried in dense bush before following yet another dirt track uphill to see some more Tingle trees.
The views over the Indian Ocean from a clearing beside the track reminded us that we are on countdown to leaving and this final glimpse of the once great forest of SW Australia would remain in our memories for a long time. The white clematis was so exquisite I doubted if man could make an artificial version and the fact that these trees have adapted to thrive despite fire and infestation certainly gave me hope for the future. Adapt or Perish – a mantra for survival.
We stopped in Denmark on the way home and I had a lovely pre-arranged chat with Emily to catch up and share the day. Back on board a chocolate cake with cream and strawberries, washed down with cool Prosecco wasn’t a bad way to round off the day – don’t you think!