The locals call it Seppings Lake and we first came late one afternoon to walk the loop and see what we could find. Djarat was one of the old spirits known to the local Noongar people. He strode through this soggy part of South West Australia to create the south coast leaving his footprint behind. Clear fresh water filled the footprint known to us recent mortals as Seppings Lake.
Quickly the water birds and small animals moved in including the long necked turtle, which we didn’t see but two other beautiful creatures we did spot without any searching required.
The King Skink Lizards were basking in the warm sun on exposed rocks and logs and had the helpful habit of staying put just long enough for me to photograph them before they skittered away. Handsome little creatures they are, harmless and shiny armoured.
The lake itself is suffering from lack of water and the upper little lake which tends to stay reasonably full is feeding the lower main lake with an intermittent trickle. A victim of the long term drought and that old ally, climate change.
It was on our Mount Clarence Circuit walk that I took the photo looking down on the lake and you can see how close it is to Middleton Beach at the head of King George Sound, to the right of the picture and Emu Point to the top of the photo, where the beach ends. Remarkable then that the lake used to be the source of the freshest fresh water, untainted by the nearby ocean and relished by man and Emu alike and I suspect that is why Zoonie’s home is called Emu Point, not because of the shape of any shoreline in the area.
Of course it has been a rag to riches and back again story since Europeans arrived. Settlers valued the freshwater supply from the start, then some had elevated idea to turn it into a botanical garden. Through mysterious circumstances, perhaps political will or ignorant neglect it became the local tip and thanks to more enlightened minds and the power of the community it is now a slowly drying haven for wildlife and humans alike.
Thank goodness there are no social distancing rules on the range of the human voice; we chatted to lots of people and their dogs as we took our two separate walks around the lake. Coming from the causeway across the stream that links the lakes we started out on a clay gravel path and saw a black snake wriggle hastily from one side to the other and climb over a pile of dry grass into the thick green undergrowth, but not before I got the picture you see.
“Ah that’s a tiger snake, there are hundreds around,” the lady in red said, “When people phone the parks office to ask for the snake in their bath/garage/boot or whatever to be removed they release them down here.”
Ours didn’t have the striking yellow belly like the one we saw a few days later, when I was on a camera break, which I always regret because there is a worthy photo every time.
“They won’t hurt you as they are shy, just stay on the path and you’ll be fine.”
They are one of the 50 or so venomous Australian snakes who will strike in self-defence, just like an old lady with a stick.
The rest of our enchanted circuit was filled with calling frogs, tiny yellow bellied birds pecking away at the cracked mud of the lake bed, colourful parrots in the trees, pelicans gracing the waters, a white faced heron fishing and occasional joggers and dog walkers.
Work to clear these precious waters of the harmful fertiliser run off from local gardens is on-going. Man helping nature in her struggle to survive.
Pelicans and Peddlers
We are surrounded by a variety of sea and shore birds as well as the ever vocal ravens and local magpies, but apart from the majestic and aloof sea eagles who command admiration it is the local colony of thirty or so pelicans that I find most friendly and almost companionable, if one can get past that colossal, all enveloping beak.
I remember when we were sailing south from Panama watching V shaped formations flying above us with the odd cormorant in position within the group and welcomed it seemed by them.
Then, more recently if you recall when we were moored in Kangaroo Island we watched a cormorant fishing for a pelican as a kind of servant although I’m not sure what the pelican gained from it.
Alison on Tregoning, now holed up safely in Port Stephens, told us how she watched as a tern sat on a pelican’s head while it fished, the tern taking off every time the pelican ducked his head for a catch. Then as the fish was brought up and bits flew off it the tern cleared them up. I have not yet seen such a relationship with seagulls, they seem to be the rude, short tempered and aggressive members of the bird world.
Here at Emu ‘Haven’ when fishermen come ashore there is a little covered area with the green roof you see and a central stainless counter sloping inwards to the drain hole where they clean and wash their catch. Seeing these pelicans in small groups waiting patiently for scraps showing the height of good manners is remarkable, they are not at all aggressive but just like to keep their personal space, sidling away if one gets too close, eyeing me with those doleful eyes.
I wondered for a while why the back of their heads and neck were grey when the rest of their plumage is the beautiful contrast of black and white. They cannot reach their heads with their beak! They are big birds, they come up to my chest and watching them take off down the fairway between the boat pens, elevating over the harbour and then banking around reminds me of what man has learned from birds in the progress of aviation.
Sometimes we watch them from on board Zoonie as they circle in groups overhead, riding the thermals for exercise and pleasure. They really grace this place with their presence.
There is always a happy relaxed atmosphere here. People come because they love the place and what it offers them, harmony with beautiful nature, rest, relaxation, exercise, company if only at a distance and an escape from the world, where they can be themselves, as eccentric as they wish and others will just delight in their uniqueness, take for example the pedal pusher on his elevated bike out for a ride with his family. Individual human thinking here, no herd mentality, just do your own thing as long as it causes no harm. The young mum with her tiny baby on her chest paddling in the shallow water and lots of people having fun with their children and dogs.
That’s not to say it’s all play, there are a few small commercial fishing boats and Darren and John work every day in the boatyard. There are the two cafes busy providing a take-away service which will be an essential string to their bow when they open up their table and seats again and have to reduce the capacity to comply with social distancing rules. There is a boat sales yard and chandlery and the shellfish plant that processes the oysters and mussels for which the area is famous. And a red and yellow tour boat takes the punter on a trip around all the interesting spots in Oyster Harbour including the Kalgan River. I’d like to do that if and when he opens up again, the harbour is too shallow to explore in Zoonie.
George the Pilot Boat arrives in the Yard
The big blue hoist moved slowly around the yard on most days lifting and laying vessels from the water into the yard, just as it did Zoonie and every time we hear its strong, low engine tone I am up and looking to see who is the latest delivery or which vessel is on its way back to where it belongs, after its beauty treatment or medical operation. We chat to the people as we pass if they are not too engrossed or busy.
Colin and his son run a number of retired pilot boats with plenty of years of life left and the George Vancouver is their smallest. They do various interesting jobs that are outside the range of their past roles, deliveries, transport, you phone up about it and they’ll probably be able to help. Colin was out in one early in the morning on ANZAC Day in Princess Royal Harbour and as the Reveille finished on shore he sent off some flares in salute to the fallen service men and women.
Well our grandson George’s fourth birthday was looming and I thought a story about George the little pilot boat would be a fitting present for George the little Rutland lad. So I had a chat with Colin, ‘Pugwash’ who gave me an idea. I like stories that have an element of truth; so here it is.
‘The Story of George the Pilot Boat 105 – And his boss, Captain Pugwash
Are you sitting comfortably?
Once upon a time there was a pilot boat called George, in fact there still is but this story comes from his past. George lived in a safe little harbour at a place called Albany with his three friends, also pilot boats, called Max, Penelope and Beatty. Max was a big, shiny and very new pilot boat and as a consequence could be a little bit too full of himself at times. Penelope had elegant, sweeping lines and provided the comfort of plush red upholstery and colourful cushions inside for her visitors, while Beatty had the most powerful engines and felt he could take on the toughest task.
One night a most terrible storm was passing across the Southern Ocean just outside the big natural harbour called King George Sound, where the ships would anchor to await the high tide and their journey on to the long ship wharf where they tied up.
The waves were like mountains covered in white snow, that was really frothing sea water and the swell lifted them up towards the black sky and then dropped them unkindly and without warning, thump! A big red ship from far across the sea was caught up in this maelstrom and needed to get into the shelter of the Sound but it could not see the way, nor did it know where it could anchor, so the captain radioed Captain Pugwash who then addressed his little fleet.
“Now my friends, I need a volunteer to take me out to the Clementine so we can transfer the pilot and he can guide her in.” Needless to say this would be a very dangerous task and three of the four pilot boats shook in the water at the prospect.
“Max, what do you think? Is this something you could do?” Max suddenly lost his usual self-confidence, “I would but in those seas I might get my approach all wrong and risk damaging my hull, then what use would I be to you.”
Captain Pugwash turned to Penelope who was pressed hard against the quay and looking a little squeamish, “How about you Penelope, are you prepared for this challenge?”
“Well to be honest Captain I am concerned the seawater might get inside my cabin and spoil my upholstery, I need to maintain standards for everyone you see.”
Beatty was humming and haa’ing as his engines rumbled within his hull, “Your powerful engines would come in very useful today Beatty, What do you think?”
Thinking for a moment Beatty then replied, “Those wicked seas could easily send water into my big exhaust tubes and blow up my engines, Captain, wouldn’t that be terrible!”
“So that leaves just you George, I know you are the oldest and your engines are smaller than Beatty’s but would you be willing to take the pilot and me out to sea?” Captain Pugwash was running out of options so he was thrilled when George replied,
“Ready when you are Cap’n!”
The knuckles on Captain Pugwash’s hands were white he was clenching George’s wheel so tightly and the pilot was hanging on to George’s wooden handrails for dear life. George was buffeted and pushed, lifted and dropped and even spun around as they made their lively way into the raging storm.
For nearly an hour they could see nothing ahead of them in the cruel darkness and then “Look! “George yelled, pointing his bow beyond the next breaking wave charging towards them. The wave pushed his bow high into the air as George pushed through the wave in a cloud of white water, then as he settled downwards for a brief second there were the lights of the bulk carrier directly ahead of them. “Well done Captain, your navigation was spot on.”
George knew he had to go around the stern of the ship and come alongside it on the downwind side, but this was not going to be easy. The ship’s captain spoke over the radio, “I cannot go slower than seven knots or I lose steerage way.” Both George and his Captain knew this was a problem because George’s maximum speed was six and a half knots, “I’ll just have to do my very best,” George said bravely.
Captain Pugwash very carefully moved George forward and closer to the big ship that was providing a smoother sea for them out of the wind, but he couldn’t make up the distance he needed to go to reach the doorway in the side of the ship where the pilot could clamber aboard. He tried harder and harder but it was no use, and he was trying his absolute hardest when suddenly, from beneath him, a long wave arose, tipped him forward and pushed him in exactly the right direction. George was surfing and he loved it! For the essential moments he was beside the open door and the pilot stepped smartly over just before the helpful wave settled back down again and George fell back away from the ship, his task completed.
Captain Pugwash and George followed Clementine into the Sound where she dropped two massive anchors from the bow and settled down to wait out the storm.
Safely tied up back in Albany George’s friends, Max, Penelope and Beatty all congratulated him by sounding their horns and telling him what a brave little pilot boat he was and Captain Pugwash had a nice surprise in store.
“I am so proud of you George I am going to treat you to a haul out at Darren’s boatyard where we will clean and anti-foul your hull.” George was overwhelmed and very grateful, “and that’s not all,” the Captain continued, “as a very special treat I have ordered two brand new propellers which are a little bigger than your present ones and will let you go at eight knots, fast enough for any big ship!”
And it was in Darren’s boatyard that we met the brave George, his kind Captain Pugwash and the Captain’s son, Jason. See the shiny new propellers?’
I hope you enjoyed it, I certainly had fun writing it. George is back in service now and Colin answers his mobile every day to people wanting his services.
The Legacy of Dr Luke Pen – And what you can do with a Chainsaw
Carole and John are working on their 52 foot marine plywood Catamaran they have been building from scratch for a number of years. Working on her has become a sanctuary for mind and body for them and we often chat with them. They even came aboard for drinks once, before the lockdown and that seems a long time ago now.
They have been very kind to us. One day I was working away doing what I’m doing now and there was a gentle knock on the hull, our front door for that purpose. Carole had brought a bunch of flowers from her garden, thoughtfully already put in a jar of water. The big ones are proteas as you may well know and they last for a long time in water. When they went a little tatty I put them on the fire here in the cottage, but I should have kept them as their gradual demise is part of their beauty. The other flowers from the bunch grace our round table here, you will see them soon in the cottage photos. But hey I digress.
Carole also told us about the Luke Pen Riverside walk and a drive in display of wooden carvings, often on still standing dead trees that are worth a view. There is one done by the same master carver on the park area near us at Emu Point. Just how he gets the smooth curves and detailed nicks on the models with a crude chainsaw I do not know. There are over two hundred of the carvings and viewing from ones car because of the ‘dangerous wild animals’ is entirely free but any loose change in one’s pockets is offered a useful home in a box at the end of the looped drive and then given to a charity.
Some of the riverside vistas reminded me of the beauty of rural England and the art work of John Constable. You can see how close to the river edge the settlers came with their ruthless and misjudged bush clearing. How they were ready to destroy in a few short years the free flowing river with its clean river sides when the aborigines had used the same area sustainably and without detriment for eons is astounding. Few Europeans came with any understanding of the lay of the land and the ways of nature around here, but fortunately, as with Seppings Lake, later generations gave and are giving more thought and time to preserving some of the countryside for the future.
I know little of Dr Luke Pen apart from what you and I can read but his contribution during his short life will live on in the papers and books he wrote, his other projects and teachings and in this beautiful riverside area. As we sat and watched the river a flock of about twenty black cormorants made their way as a team down the river, rounding up fish as they went. Every now and then some of the flock would take it in turns to dive for their catch while the remainder swam on, keeping guard. Cormorants seem to be very social and intelligent birds and we’d never seen before this pattern of group behaviour.
The Views from Mount Clarence
The views we gazed upon from the top of Mount Clarence encompass Albany as we have come to know it. Across to Emu Point where Zoonie sits and Oyster Bay beyond. King George Sound where the big ships wait for their escort in to the wharfs. The piles of wood chip in the foreground with Princess Royal Harbour the first band of blue, King George Sound the second band separated by the land mass that leads to Possession Point and the inviting Southern Ocean in the far distance at the top of the picture; the third band of blue. We will be out there again one day. The pilot boat travelling towards the right of the picture has just come through the Ataturk Passage, the only entrance into the PR Harbour, through which all vessels, big and small must pass.
Looking straight across Princess Royal Harbour the yachts on the far side are at the Princess Royal Yacht Club where Jeremy and Kathy live aboard Sal Darago and where we celebrated Rob’s Birthday in the picnic area. The rampant horse statue to the fallen of the two World Wars overlooks King George Sound and shows where we came in on the 24th February.
The circuit track involved climbing over smooth granite rock faces that would be fun if wet and meandering along a well-used and loved track, by humans and dogs, through pretty woodland and up to various human additions like the giant water tank, the communications towers and of course the expansive memorial area; all recent additions in the long history of the area. Typically of a people in tune with nature there is little evidence of aboriginal life except perhaps for the track itself. I have included the information board about Carnaby’s Black Cockatoos, ‘Cockys’ because we came across six in residence along the track but as the light was fading they did not photograph well. We felt privileged to see and hear them as they are endangered.
It has become a regular habit or our after a nice walk to park in York Street and collect two delicious cornets of ice cream from the Gelatia, then drive to the harbour and watch the goings on, usually of a seabird kind, before making our way home.
Goings on in the Boatyard
We spent a total of forty five days in Lockdown in the boatyard and I will remember those times with pleasure for the people we got to know, the discreet freedom the rules allowed us to move around, exercise and explore and the work we completed.
Rob applied his usual thorough and loving attention to the jobs Zoonie asked of him. He serviced the windlass and by fitting a new switch and with a little help got it running again. The ten winches were taken apart and cleaned and re-greased ready for action. One needs sunglasses now to view Zoonie’s hull in the sunlight and her coppercoat Rob has touched up where necessary. The propeller is covered in a very flattering anti-foul layer of Prop Speed to help send her speedily on her way when the time comes and the bow prop shaft is a pretty shade of blue anti-foul which he used on Darren’s advice instead of the copper so there’s no risk of electrolysis on the metal work.
Our working days were often sprinkled with pleasurable chats with John and Carole and David and his lady wife Peter and Craig, a local police detective who would come down to his pretty yacht whenever he could find a few hours or even minutes free from work. We were chatting to John and Carole one afternoon when Craig swept into the yard to measure something on the hull of his 1978 thirty foot pre-osmosis family cruiser, which is now getting the refit he has promised her for years. I called across jokingly “Three foot six inches!” and got the desired result, he came over to join us. Having just come off duty he was wearing all the regulation equipment and someone said, “Good grief Craig you look like a Christmas Tree!”
He concurred and started going through all the gear loaded into pockets on his bullet proof vest and belt, then after more banter he turned sideways and asked, pointing to his uniform trousers, “Do these make my bottom look big?” Well I couldn’t resist that one, could I? “No, your bottom makes your bottom look big!” He has chatted with us many times since, so all is well.
On May the first the Federal government published the first easing of lockdown in that up to ten people could meet socially provided they maintained the requisite one and a half metre distance all round or four square metre distancing rule; so then two significant things happened for us. First I felt free to plan a birthday get together for Rob with our friends Kathy and Jeremy with a walk followed by a picnic which you know all about and second Malcolm and Christine invited us to come and stay with them on their 160 acre life-style farm/station near Kojonup, off the main Albany to Perth Highway. Despite loving our lifestyle aboard Zoonie and partly as an alternative to the visit home we would have been enjoying, as well as an opportunity to spend lots more time with our dear friends Malcolm and Christine, we promptly accepted and set a date of arrival for a few days hence.
There was a mighty early winter storm brewing in the Southern Ocean to the west of us and we wanted to stay with Zoonie until it was passed, as much to assure ourselves she would be fine when more came along to batter the coast while we were away up country as to ensure she was ok on this occasion.
The day before the Windy App suggested it was due to hit we decided a long walk was called for right to the end of Middleton Beach, a walk that would take around two hours. It was yet another lovely day with little sign of the impending wild weather. A dog was so enthusiastic about retrieving the ball in the sea, he was breaking through rollers and swimming well beyond them to grab the bobbing red object. Four ships were anchored in the Sound, the most we had seen, sheltering and ready to move in to Princess Royal Harbour and their mooring. The crew would have to stay on board, I thought, more folk a long way from home in these troubled times.
A more mundane thought we shared was would the loos at the far end of the beach be open. Our loo at the car park near Zoonie had been open all the while, albeit the hand wash had been taken away and a notice stuck on the wall to the effect that the move was due to theft and vandalism, of which there were no signs at all. The loos were no longer washed regularly either, two odd moves when we were being told that additional handwashing and cleanliness was necessary to help stop the spread of infection, but then we know these government agencies work in mysterious ways don’t we.
Piles of seagrass had been washed onto the beach in the far corner providing comfy mattresses for the local seagulls to lounge upon and bulldozers and earth moving vehicles were re-shaping the sand in front of a seawall in the process of being built. And the loos were open! Well the doors were open, so in I trundled through the windblown leaves to find that opening the doors was the first stage. Maybe tomorrow they would sweep and clean and then, on phase three, pop some loos rolls into the receptacles!
There were going to be two blows and by bedtime that evening Zoonie was beginning to wobble in her cradle. During the night it rose to thirty knots in our sheltered yard, surrounded by low trees, buildings and other boats, so it must have been a lot stronger at sea. I remember Zoonie’s wobbling waking me while it was still dark and thinking this is like a night journey from Upminster to Ealing Broadway via the District Line on the London Underground, including the bends.
The next morning it was calm, eerily so, as the centre passed over us. The barometer had dropped 19 millibars to 995 and a thunderstorm complete with rain and hail joined us for breakfast. During the day there were sudden gusts of wind up to 40 knots and we were relieved to talk with Kathy and Jeremy who had moved from their exposed outer pen mooring in the yacht club to a mooring buoy in the northern end of Oyster Bay, not far from us, where they were sheltered. They will leave before long and head around Cape Leeuwin and on up to Shark Bay to warmer climes as they have no heater on board and winter is approaching. We will keep in touch and look forward to the next time.