Our last two days in WA were full of exploring and food – what’s not to love! Waking up early we headed to Busselton Jetty for a stroll. Only locals were going for their morning exercise when we arrived. Plaques and poems accompany you along the full 1,841 metre length of the southern hemispheres longest jetty. Walking back we spotted dolphins surfacing. They were about ten metres away but the sounds of them blowing air out of their blowholes carried across to us. We made it back to shore before the crowds arrived to pay for a train ride up the jetty.
We’ve been looking forward to today for some time. You see we’d grabbed a map of all the foodie places in Margaret River and planned to spend the day collecting yummy things for a picnic. Each place we stopped seemed to be logistically spaced apart far enough so you always had enough room for tastings. We followed our map crossing off a woodfired bakery, two dairy’s (cheesemakers), two chocolatiers, a coffee roaster, multiple providores stocking locally made goodies, olive oil producers, locally made soft drinks and even a nougat shop.
A highlight of our exploration was spending time in Cowaramup, the self-declared ‘cow town’. Here life size cow statues abound and there are plenty of quirky shops and beautiful murals which make wandering the main street a delight. By the time we arrived back at the motel the weather and darkness made our picnic an indoors affair, albeit a very tasty one!
We discovered an unexpected local in the gardens of our motel – the Western Ringtail Possum! Around town there are yellow street signs with a black silhouette of these critters warning people to watch out for them. These shy creatures are listed as critically endangered on the IUCN red list so we never expected to see one. After spotting one walk along a gutter, hop onto a branch then shimmy down it to the next tree we decided to do a bit of spotlighting. Grabbing a camera and headlamp we set off on the main motel footpath which loops around the buildings. Once we slowed down and knew they were around we spotted these possums everywhere! Just in the gardens here we saw 3 possums, happily munching leaves unnoticed as other guests walked past below. It’s amazing what you find when you look.
Our last day of holidays was spent seeing trees. Not just any trees but the famous karri forests and tingle trees. To get there we had a few hours of driving. It was a grey morning, rain fell on and off as we wound our way inland. Finally we arrived at the Valley of the Giants. A light rain fell as we braved the tree top walk – a metal path suspended 40 metres high amid the tingle tree canopy. Now is the time to confess I’m a little scared of heights. But I thought I’d be fine.
I was very wrong.
You see, as soon as someone steps onto the path
For the whole walk I was very aware that I was no longer on solid ground. The rain fell harder as we progressed, Mitch taking photos of the giant trees around us, me staring at his backpack and taking one slow step at a time. Sliding my hands off the wet railings we made it back to solid ground, my legs were shakey and I vowed never to do anything so silly again!
The forest walk below was much nicer. Water dripped from leaves, wrens flitted through the bush and 400 year old tingle trees towered over us. My favourite kind was the red tingle which grows up to 70 metres tall and has buttressed roots so large you can walk underneath them. But this isn’t advised as trampling the soil around the roots slowly kills the trees. Boardwalks let us safely peek inside. It feels like you’re in a cave, sounds from the world outside are dulled and if you look up you see nothing but the inside of a tree stretching upwards. I scanned for microbats roosting in the trunk but couldn’t spot any. Driving back the way we’d come up a muddy mountain road led us to the Giant Tingle Tree. Fire has hollowed out its base leaving a cavernous gap big enough to park a car in. And that’s exactly what people did, with photo’s of families with their car inside the trunk, including an old Combi. This spot has been a tourist attraction since the 1920’s but is better managed now to protect the ancient trees.
Back in the car the rain fell heavier again as we moved on. Next stop was the Gloucester tree. You pass through the back streets of Pemberton to get there, by the High School and houses then back into the bush. It was a huge Karri tree that had been used as a fire lookout tree before spotter planes existed. 153 metal pegs have been driven into it, curving around the trunk and up to the lookout platform 53 metres above the ground. A wire mesh encircled the tree around the pegs, providing a false sense of security for those that chose to climb it. Up they went yelling at each other from the base, posing for photos 5 to 10 metres off the ground then climbing back down. Some went all the way to the top, letting their children climb with them despite the warning sign. It was terrifying to watch, there was nothing to catch you if you fell. We quickly left the crowd and followed one of the paths into the bush. Purple crowned lorikeets were feeding in the karri flowers at the top of the trees. ‘Zit zit zit’ they’d call before zooming between branches. We saw part of the Bibbulmun track before heading back to the car for our final stop.
Beedelup Falls – ‘partly closed for maintenance’ greeted us at the carpark. Unfortunately the hand rail was being upgraded but we still managed to walk over the creek and have a look at the falls. Heading back up the path felt a bit sad, this was our last day in WA. I’d spent 11 weeks away from home and now that adventure was coming to an end. But WA had one more highlight for me – a red-winged fairywren! If you’ve read our blog before you’ll notice my obsession with wrens and here was a species I hadn’t seen before! A male popped out of the bushes and hopped along a fallen log. His blue head and bright reddish brown wing feathers glinted in the mid-afternoon sunlight. Further along we heard squeaks coming from the underbrush. A male red-winged fairywren was being closely followed by a juvenile begging for food. Around the bush they flew, the male hopping up the sides of trees and along branches to catch bugs, the young one following it and noisily begging for food. A female also had a young one following her, I loved hearing them and trying to keep track of where they were as they moved through the scrub. The wrens had come to say goodbye!
The next day we were back in Perth. I handed over the keys to the hire car (goodbye Rotty!) and we were flying back across the country. We had the most incredible time getting off the beaten track and finding our own places to love in Western Australia. We saw so many animal species we never expected to come across, ate amazing things in beautiful places and are already vowing to return and keep exploring this state which is so far away but full of surprises.
We found an unexpected aspect to tourism in West Australia. For every couple of natural places free to explore, there is one human made heritage feature locked away. We first encountered this at Cape Naturaliste National Park. This sits on a headland jutting into the Indian Ocean a half hour drive west of Busselton. On the headland walking trails meander through the coastal scrub. One winds down to a whale watching platform which overlooks the calm waters of Geographe Bay, a nursery and rest area for migrating whales. A lighthouse, built 117 years ago still stands twenty metres high, overlooking the bay.
Arriving at Cape Naturaliste we jumped out of the car, keen to stretch our legs and have a closer look at the historic lighthouse. We quickly discovered it would cost $5 each to walk up the path to the base of the lighthouse and decided to give it a miss. We felt disappointed that seeing cultural heritage was going to cost money. We didn’t want to do the tour, or walk into the lighthouse and up its 59 stairs but a fenced building, also separating the lighthouse keeper cottages, kept us out. We chose to explore one of the walking tracks instead, the lighthouse peeked through the scrub at us the whole way. Our track took us to ‘the other side of the moon’. This oddly named area is on the wind exposed western side of the headland. Bushes struggle to gain much height, clinging to the bare rock. It felt like the wind was blowing straight up from Antarctica. The blue ocean stretched into the horizon, meeting only the sky. The next closest land would be Africa, only a short swim really. You feel like you’re on the edge of the Earth here.
Our next stop was Sugarloaf Rock. This unremarkable lump pokes out of the sea. Waves crash endlessly against it, filling the air with sea spray. But this unassuming, wind and salt blasted rock is the southernmost breeding site for red tailed tropic birds. Thirty pairs used to breed on this rock but now only a few scrape out nests and raise a single chick here. I’ve seen these birds at Lady Elliot Island before. They have evolved to live on the wing and spend their lives at sea, only coming ashore to breed. This means they are very clumsy on land. They have two long red tail plumes and a bright red beak, distinguishing them from other seabirds. Sadly, we didn’t see any today, maybe they use the more sheltered side of the rock.
The next day we were back at Cape Naturaliste early in the morning. Spots of rain fell as we peeled ourselves out of the car. We tackled the Bunker Bay walk which winds around the headland. Rocks and tree roots litter the path making every step a chance to twist your ankle. Wrens called teasingly from in the scrub but I never spotted one. Arriving at a lookout we could see across the blue water of Bunker Bay to caves at the top of the cliff face. Stalactites hung from the cave roof, there was no way to get any closer with a sheer drop below us into the sea.
Our next stop was an hour’s drive south, Eagle’s Heritage Raptor Centre. The place was run by a couple who took in injured raptors, owls and tawny frogmouths (which are nightjars, not raptors). Admission fees funded their work so to entice visitors in they held two free-flight raptor shows every day. We were there an hour before the first one and had a good look at all the enclosures. It was a cool, overcast morning so most of the birds were fluffed up. A large wedge tail watched our every move as we entered. Barn owls huddled next to each other, in pairs and threes. Another pen contained five boobooks, two snuggled together at the front. When we approached their heads swivelled to watch us. I’ve never seen so many birds of prey up close. It made me sad to see them in cages. Especially when I read about the powerful owl who was waiting for a mate and kept laying unfertilised eggs on her own every year.
By 11am we seated for the bird show. An older man came out with a long, leather glove on his wrist, perched on top was a barn owl. This was Ivy, he’d known her since she’d been an egg. He gave an interesting talk skipping from owl biology to Australia’s treatment of it’s endemic raptors. We learnt so many incredible facts about barn owls, they:
consume 1000 mice per year (that’s 900 more than the average snake)
can see in ultraviolet light (tracking prey from sweat or urine trails invisible to us)
have incredible hearing because their face feathers funnel sound to their ears which internally point up on one side and down on the other
have bristles on their feet, so if prey move to bite their toes they’ll detect it first.
Next in the show three black tailed hawks were released to fly free, being enticed closer with food. Evolved to catch insects on the wing these raptors were so fast they would swoop in, catch the food thrown mid-air and be gone before my autofocus could lock onto them (though we both have some very impressive looking blurs).
We drove on to visit some caves. Very excited, we drove to the first one to find another tourist trap. Entrance to the cave cost over twenty dollars, and was blocked by a shop. We could see a long line of people winding around the shelves of t-shirts and fridge magnets. Only a certain number of people were allowed in at a time, so as one person came out, you received their headset and could go in. Definitely not the kind of experience we thought of when we read about caves you could explore yourself!
We drove further southward towards Cape Leeuwin-Naturaliste. There was another lighthouse there, older than the one at Cape Naturaliste, at 125 years. It is the tallest lighthouse on the Australian mainland reaching 39 metres. With these more impressive stats it wasn’t surprising to find it cost $7.50 to get close to this lighthouse (see bigger is better). Bypassing this we followed part of the Cape to Cape track which wound out of the carpark and onto large smoothed rocks next to the ocean. The Cape to Cape runs from Cape Naturaliste down to Cape Leeuwin, a distance we’d managed in a day by car, but would take a few more on foot to cover its 123km. Walking along the shore we turned onto a path through the scrub and came across an old waterwheel. It had been built in 1895 to pump water up to build the lighthouse and provide water to the lighthouse keepers cottages. The water was being drained from a wetland spring to our right. The spring had been drained so low an electric pump was needed to keep the water wheel supplied after over 100 years of flow. The wheel itself was covered in calcified lime and looked as if it was turning to stone. Green moss grew all over it, hanging in clumps.
Heading back north as the afternoon crept in, we arrived at Ellensbrook, unsure if we would be locked out. You see this historical homestead was closed to visitors the day we arrived. We’d read about a walk starting on the property that led to a cave and Meekadarabee Falls. We were pleasantly surprised to find we could wander in freely, look around the old farmhouse and head up to the trail. We stumbled across the first evidence of residential hydroelectricity in the state built near the house. A failed project by its original owners to deliver power to the farm house. Apparently, they could never quite get the turbine to produce enough power. We then wound our way along a boardwalk, lizards dropped off into the grass as we approached. The scrub changed, thinning out, the path turned to a sandy track. A boardwalk appeared which let us overlook a waterfall in front of a cave. We were the only ones there. Ellensbrook was very peaceful after visiting more tourist heavy places. It was just what we needed!
It was getting late so we headed back, driving to Margaret River for dinner. We’d reserved a table at La Scarpetta Trattoria, an Italian restaurant run out of the heritage listed Bridgefield Guesthouse. The building was originally an old coach house, it was all arching timber curves and stained glass windows. Cushioned bench seats lined the windows overlooking the garden. A mulberry tree drooped over a bench seat outside. Just sitting there was relaxing, there was so much to take in. But the food was also incredible! Starting with arancini dipped in steaming Napoli sauce, we continued with fresh filled pasta and grilled seasonal vegetables. For dessert we tipped over into heaven with caprese al cioccolato and citrus cream filled cannoli. After all this food we needed a brief waddle up the street. What we saw of Margaret River had us very excited for our foodie tour here tomorrow. As the sky darkened we drove home, weary from a day spent outside but very, very content. While it was disappointing that we couldn’t see everything without paying, what we did find by exploring a little further afield and walking mostly unused trails was definitely worth it.
We were back on the road together at last, heading south along the West Australia coastline. There’s no better feeling then eight days of exploring ahead of you! Mitch’s flight arrived around 3pm so it was our goal to go for a snorkel at Coral Bay (about an hour and a half southwest of Exmouth) then sleep at Carnarvon, a bit further down the road. Along the way there were a few spits of rain, and small perenties (goannas) on the road. They were an orange-brown to match the desert sand. More and more termite mounds were popping up in the low scrub as we travelled south. At Coral Bay there was a lot of cloud, the first I’d seen in weeks. It was super humid so we walked down to the bay to see what the water looked like. A legless lizard in the centre of the sandy path gave me a fright, reminding me of the snake the night before. The tide was very low so we decided to give it a miss and keep going to Carnarvon. Two and a half hours later, we arrived just as it was getting dark.
We’d already spent a week seeing the sights along this stretch of coast so had planned a 10-hour driving day to cover some ground. This would get us south of Perth so we could spend our time exploring the south west part of WA. The bush changed along the way, with shrubs getting taller then disappearing to salt flats then turning into trees, finally trees! A few dead roos at the start had wedge tailed eagles feeding on them, surrounded by loitering crows. The eagles are such big birds, with wings spread they are bigger than the roos they’re feeding on. Goats were everywhere in pairs or small groups, some with kids alongside. They came in browns, blacks and whites with multicoloured splotches, small upturned fluffy tails and huge backwards curving horns on their head. The kids were cute to see even though they are a pest. Onwards we drove, podcasts and music helping us concentrate as the hours passed. The goats dropped off, the trees continued getting taller. We left the straight, flat road behind and wound our way towards Perth.
After spending the night at our new base in Rockingham, about an hour south of Perth, we were up early. With snacks and water packed we set off to explore Yalgorup National Park, on the coast about an hour’s drive south. Named the Place of Lakes in the local Indigenous dialect, Yalgorup has 10 lakes in the area. We visited Preston Lake first, the enticing photo showed hundreds of black swans serenely sitting on the water. From October to March the swans arrive here in high numbers to feed on the musk grasses. The sign dashed our hopes of a swim (the lakes are just for birds) but we could still do the 5km walk. It wound through bushland, with 10-metre-tall Tuart trees shading the track. This is a species of eucalypt found only along the coast from here to Jurien Bay (just north of Perth).
We walked along the sandy management track for a long time, not seeing much. At last we came to a 300-metre detour to the bird hide, finally a glimpse of the lake! Disappointingly there were no birds on the water, or in the air, or even near the bird hide for that matter. On the shore over 200 metres away some plovers were running around but not a single swan was present, I guess they decided not to visit this year. Back on the trail we saw wrens flitting around in the bush. We froze, they grew brave enough to land on the path 10 metres away. I took a photo and zoomed in. They were blue all over, splendid fairy wrens! You can’t imagine how excited I was to see a new wren species!!! The male’s entire bodies are a bright, fluorescent blue yet when they flit into the bush they can disappear from sight in seconds.
Walking on we found a shingleback sunbaking in the leaflitter on the side of the path. Cicadas hummed in the trees around us while large, orange butterflies floated serenely over our heads. Their wings were backlit by the sun and seemed to glow against the cloudless blue sky. Back at the car we sat at a picnic table surround by bush with only the noise of cicadas and the odd ute leaving the nearby camping spot. It was a really peaceful place for a snack.
A short drive took us the next walk. We went out on a very small boardwalk to view the thrombolites. These were growing in the freshwater of Lake Clifton and looked very similar to the stromatolites we saw at Hamelin Pool on our previous trip. Except these were rounder, almost perfectly circular rocks about 30-50 cm high in shallow water. An interpretive sign showed the internal structures were different, thrombolites existed first and have clumps of photosynthetic cells. Stromatolites evolved later and had a layered structure, like an onion. Thrombolites produce their own food because they host photosynthetic algae which converts sunlight into food energy, similar to a coral. They aren’t much to look at though, so we didn’t spend much time in full sun watching the rocks.
We did the Lakeside Loop walk which promised an easy 5km return stroll through scrub where you could spot long-necked turtles in the lake. It turned out to be a 7 kilometre walk mostly in full sun. It was at this point we started to wonder about some of the guidance material. We were walking along a dirt path, not quite wide enough for two people with long grass and spiky bush on either side. Over the path were the webs and bright yellow patterned bodies of small spiders. They were everywhere, Mitch had to keep ducking so he didn’t end up with a spider on his hat. While they were small, around the size of a five cent piece they were numerous. I stopped and counted 36 in one web complex on a tree on the side of the path. Some webs also contained golden orb spiders. These were much bigger and ran very fast if you leaned near one for a look, making you jump back quickly. An interpretive sign on the side of the track identified the little brightly coloured arachnids as Christmas spiders. Their hardened carapaces allow them rest to in the centre of webs in direct sunlight, while tolerating the withering heat. Worryingly, there was no information on whether or not they were venomous.
We saw filtered glimpses of the lake to our left, about 30 metres away, but never got any closer. After walking for 4 kms we looked at the track notes again and found we’d made a wrong turn. Heading back we quickly found the fork and took the path to the right. It looped us back to the carpark, Mitch still ducking and weaving amongst the hundreds of spiders. I’m not sure where these mysterious turtles were hidden! We saw two young emus and their dad ahead of us on the path. They put their heads down and ran quickly in the opposite direction along the path, bodies shaking like giant feather dusters. I felt sorry for scaring them in the heat. Back at the car we stopped to eat a sandwich. A black spider crawled onto my leg from the picnic table, making lunch after that a hasty affair.
Our second day in Rockingham was spent at Penguin Island, only 700 metres offshore. A ferry putted us across in five minutes. It was a perfectly flat, calm day with not a cloud in the sky. This island is home to the largest population of little penguins in WA. Being daytime though it was highly unlikely we would see one because they would be out fishing. They return to the island at dusk, long after the last ferry leaves for the day. The waters surrounding Penguin Island are part of the Shoalwater Islands Marine Park so we’d packed our snorkelling gear. Penguin Island is tiny, only 12.5 hectares with a boardwalk that loops around the island. You can walk this in about 20 minutes if you don’t stop to look at anything, but there were so many distractions!
At the first beach we saw an odd shape resting in the shallows. We headed off the boardwalk and onto the sand to investigate. A male sea lion had hauled out to rest in the sheltered bay. He had his eyes closed, nose pointed up and was enjoying the sunshine. Soon children were walking in front of me, asking their mum if they could get close. Her advice to the kids showed she was clearly no expert in marine mammals, “oh you can go closer, if you get too close he’ll just do a little growl at you”. Out they waded towards the 100+ kilogram wild animal. We decided to leave them to it (natural selection and all that) and headed back to the boardwalk.
We passed caves in the rocky headland sprawled along the beach. There were limestone arches and an unnaturally squared door frame. An interpretive sign filled us in (we like signs), Paul Seaforth McKenzie squatted on Penguin Island from 1914, living in one of the caves. In 1918 the island was gazetted a reserve, and McKenzie was given a lease on the island. He acted as island caretaker and host, establishing a food store and rooms in the caves and rudimentary houses before welcoming tourists until his lease ended in 1926. We wondered what drove him to this remote place, possible escaping the war (or the wife and five children he’d left behind in New Zealand).
Onwards up the path, you can’t help but notice the bridled terns. These birds are everywhere, wheeling above us in the sky, heading out to sea, sitting sedately on the boardwalk stairs and not caring as you walk past. These birds are smaller than your average magpie, white with grey wings and a black cap that connects to a black band running through each eye. The island has that seabird smell, a mix of guano and fish, but this isn’t overwhelming and most of the time you don’t even notice it. The sound of the terns is fantastic, males were trying to impress females with squeaks and contorted bodies, wings lifted out sideways, neck extended, yellow beak pointing towards the ground. Others were calling their chicks, small grey fluffballs hidden beneath bushes or under the boardwalk.
At the lookout we could see the pelican colony. Pelicans come here to breed but we couldn’t get close because a pair had decided to nest next to the higher lookout point, closing off the path. We had to appreciate them through our telephoto lenses instead. About 500 pelicans breed on the island, they all seemed to enjoy sitting together in the sun. Occasionally one will glide back in after fishing, throat pouch swollen with food. On the west side of the island we discovered the crested terns returning to feed their chicks. The chicks were scattered over the shore, some sitting in the seaweed, others falling asleep near the water’s edge.
Each tern flying in with a fish in its beak made a repetitive cry to summon its chick. Watching them for a while it became apparent this was not a peaceful place to be a seabird. Other half-grown terns surrounded younger chicks, trying to steal food from the incoming parent. This caused the chicks to run and hide, so when the parent flew in to where it had last been there was no chick there. Multiple fly-bys ensued, sometimes with other terns chasing the parent to steal its fish. Eventually when the parent on the ground kept the teenage birds at bay, the chick was seen by the incoming parent and finally had a meal stuffed into its beak, bird parenting teamwork at its best.
We spotted a sooty oystercatcher, running around on the rock platform feeding. Pigeons flew past, making a strange addition to an island covered in seabirds. This brought the total to six bird species. Young seagulls looked similar to the tern chicks with brown-flecked grey wings and white tummies. The black crests of half-grown terns were blowing up in the breeze, making them look comical. One flew in with a small fish, as if proud to show the other adolescents it’s catch.
After many photos and over an hour of bird watching we made it up to the lookout which had 360 degree views. Looking to shore we could see the city of Rockingham, behind us the Indian Ocean stretched into the distance. The water was dark blue, closer to the island it changed to green with patches of seaweed and seagrass beds just below the surface. We set off back to the west side to explore underwater. Walking past the grassy, shaded picnic area we saw a buff banded rail. This small, brown quail like bird was splashing around in a shallow water dish.
We came full circle back to where the sea lion had been resting in the bay, he’d wisely vacated his spot, giving the beach back to the tourists. It was a sheltered spot and looked like the perfect place for a snorkel. There were some rocks jutting out of the water with more birds on them so we headed in that direction. The tide was low leaving less than 30 cm of water between us and the seagrass we were floating over. Small brown fish swam in schools, terns and pelican flew overhead. Reaching the rock, we found two types of cormorants basking in the sun, wings outstretched to dry them. This brought our total up to 10 bird species that we’d seen in one day. There is a discovery centre where orphaned penguins are kept and fed in shows for tourists, we didn’t feel like seeing that after exploring the island ourselves and seeing so much wild bird behaviour. Back on the ferry, the ride home flashed by, we piled off, happy with our day exploring Penguin Island.
We started our last morning in Rockingham with a walk at Cape Peron. Even though it was an overcast day and a bit windy it was nice to be out somewhere new. We started by walking around the headland and down onto the beach. Big brown, jelly like lumps were strewn along the tideline. These were as big as half a cushion. Looking closer we could see small antennae-like pieces poking out near one end. These must be sea hares! The parts sticking out would be the rhinophores. Looking in the rockpools at the end of the beach we saw three more brown sea hares and two small yellow ones that would fit into your palm. Thankfully these were alive, not rolling in the wash on the edge of shore.
Further on we walked through coastal scrub winding into small offshoot paths to look over headlands and out to a funny mushroom shaped rock that seemed to hang over the ocean. Larger rockpools dotted the shore below the cliff we were standing on and we could see the shallower rock platform spreading offshore. It looked like a good snorkelling spot. Walking further around we found old gun emplacements and a lookout with signs that talked about barricades in the water, the remains of which could still be seen today. At the last bunker it started raining so we scurried back to the car. Time to leave Rockingham and see what we could find further south.
Today marks the start of the last week of my internship. I was up at 5am to go look for turtles at Five Mile, hoping to see some hatchlings. A cyclone was building further to the north, it wasn’t expected to hit Exmouth but was driving increased humidity here. Just getting out of the car left me covered in sweat. There was only one turtle in my favourite rockpool, doing its best rock impersonation. I walked all the way to the totem which marks the end of the section, but saw no signs of a hatchling emergence other than old tracks. A Rufous fieldwren was hopping around in the dunes, from one clump of grass to the next. I walked back down the beach, past the carpark and continued towards Trisel hoping to see something. I didn’t see any turtle tracks or turtles but there was a blue and white kingfisher flying from rock to rock. Looking it up in my bird books later, we identified it as a juvenile sacred kingfisher because of its brown tufted belly and brown-white brow colouring. It found a crab and seemed to struggle to swallow it whole, banging the crab on a rock as if to squash it down. It’s surprising seeing these two birds on the beach after only ever seeing seagulls here before.
The day only got hotter and sweatier from there. We dropped the volunteers off at the airport then spent the rest of the day cleaning the Turtle Bus. After vacuuming, pressure washing, wiping down every surface and window it looked better but I don’t think all of the sand will ever come out. The next day was also focused on maintenance. We unrolled all 16 swags, to check for any repairs needed or missing parts. We moved on to washing all the backpacks taken monitoring every day. So much sand came out when I shook them, but also rubbish and bits of fishing line as the volunteers like to clean up the beaches they work on. Washing them turned the water brown very quickly, at least it was so hot they should dry fast.
I was up and out on the beach again on Wednesday. It was really muggy and the sea mist was so thick it looked like a layer of fog over the landscape, turning the world grey. There were no turtles on the rock platform at Five Mile which was a real surprise, the first time this season. There were barely any tracks either. Further along the beach I noticed a group of seagulls down near the water. There was seaweed and debris everywhere, shells, broken urchins, bits of sponges, even a lobster antenna. Then I noticed one seagull had something white in its beak and was being chased by the other gulls. Walking closer I noticed there were white things scattered everywhere among the seaweed. They were broken turtle eggs! They were all fresh, there were no signs of yolk or blood, no yellow aging on them from being in the sun. My best guess is a turtle released eggs into the water and they’ve washed up so the seagulls have had a party. I counted 36 shell fragments (the larger pieces that looked like most of an egg) before stopping. There were 50 seagulls around looking content and well fed.
Back home I put in a full day behind the computer. Editing photos, writing a new Standard Operating Procedure with recommendations for next season’s intern, preparing all my photos for the articles I’d written and finishing off interview captions, before sending it all on to the NTP coordinator. I ended the day back at Five Mile hoping to see some hatchlings around sunset. I walked up the beach and found a seat near a clump of spinifex where I could watch over the whole beach. The other direction was a blaze of light from the setting sun. It was slightly cooler, a turtle head popped up to breathe just offshore. It was a nice place to watch the sun go down. I read my friends blog on a handicraft market she’d visited in Pakistan, feeling even more remote on my beach. It was almost dark as I headed back to the car, no hatchlings tonight.
Thursday. My last full day here, so I was out at Five Mile. Again, there wasn’t much turtle action to see. The high tide had seeped most of the way up the beach to the edge of the dunes so only tracks above that hadn’t been washed away. No turtles on the rock platform or beach. I walked to the totem then beyond, looking at urchins, one had its Aristotle’s lantern clearly intact. Wet chocolate cowries the size of 10 cent pieces littered the shoreline, glistening in the early morning sun. Pied oystercatchers hurried off when I approached. Seagulls pecked at urchins and stood quietly.
I went to say goodbye to the osprey at Tantabiddi. For the first time there were none on the nest. A single bird out of the family of five stood on a pole in the carpark. It stretched its wings upward then sat calling as I took some photos. It eventually flew off, much smoother than any flights I’d seen around Christmas. The fledglings had grown up during my time here. Making the most of my last day I went to Lakeside for a snorkel. There was an osprey perched on the sanctuary post, just like the first time I’d come. In the water it was hard swimming out, I kept getting pushed sideways by the current. Grey drummer were everywhere, feeding near the surface on clumps of floating algae. They were moving much faster than I’d seen them do before. Even though it was a bit murky I saw two species of clownfish, some angelfish, wrasse and a school of different surgeonfish species.
Onwards I drove for one last snorkel at Turquoise Drift. The Rufous fieldwren (I think!) I’d seen many times in the carpark flew under my car as I opened the door, new bugs! The water was its normal vivid turquoise colour and so inviting. A bit murky again in the water yet the fish seemed active. I saw a few new fish species I still couldn’t name, that list seems endless even after nine weeks! Driving the long road back into town I reflected on how much I wouldn’t miss this long drive…just all the places hidden along it.
The farewell dinner was at a local restaurant. While the food was okay the real highlight was a brown snake moving around the outside seating area. A bamboo fence was stopping it from easily escaping so it just kept slithering along the fence. A chef came out to shoo it off with a broom but five minutes later it was back on the opposite side of the courtyard. One of the rangers at dinner with us called it a Gwardar, identifying it as the poisonous western brown snake. I wonder if he was here for the chicken with seasonal veg too? We all kept still and lifted our feet up until it had been shooed even further away. Before dessert we were given thank you presents and cards, it was finally sinking in that our time here was ending.
Friday was a whirlwind of busy-ness for me. I cleaned the dirt and sand off my hire car in the morning before scheduling all the NTP posts for the next month and entering a photo competition. It was sad handing in my key to the office and saying goodbyes. This took much longer than you might think, leaving me scurrying into the apartment at 12:30 to eat and pack everything in an hour and a half. This included the fun Tetris game of getting it all to fit into the car while leaving room for Mitch’s bags. At last I was packed, said goodbye to the other team leaders and had dropped my key at reception. I was off to the airport at last! Mitch’s plane touched the runway but was being pushed by a westerly crosswind so it took off again. Everyone in the terminal was left wondering what happened. Almost ten minutes later we heard the plane approaching again. We crowded around the windows to see it land safely, but on two wheels. Watching the people file off the plane and down the stairs I spotted Mitch’s Akubra bobbing along. I finally got the hug I’d been waiting three weeks for! After picking up his bag and bundling him into the car we were off. Goodbye Ningaloo you were incredible, now it’s time for the next adventure!!!
Since finishing the program I’ve heard some interesting figures from the NTP coordinator. In total during the peak season (four weeks) we counted 1,227 turtle nests across the three different species (green, loggerhead and hawksbill). This reflects a quiet season as the average total number of nests since 2002 is usually around 1,913. I’m not sure how many false crawls were recorded but it was always much higher than the number of successful nests. As usual the majority of nests were made by green turtles (71%) followed by loggerheads (25%) and hawksbills (4%). This puts into context just how special it was for me to see a hawksbill laying!
The opportunity to spend over two months as a Multimedia and Communications Intern was an experience I won’t forget for many reasons. Every day I had the chance to walk along a beach taking photos and collecting stories to promote the program. This taste of another field has left me wanting more and will keep me motivated to forge a career in science communication so maybe one day I will be getting paid to do something I love. This is the only internship of its kind in Australia where someone can practice their science communication skills in a real-world setting. It was definitely pivotal in making up my mind about a career change so I can only hope more opportunities like this will be created. The autonomy I had to learn about the program then communicate it with the public is a unique freedom I won’t get anywhere else. It left me feeling like I had contributed something significant to turtle conservation at Ningaloo.
I also had the chance to immerse myself in a new and very different place. Exmouth is a fantastic town to call home, even for a short time. The locals are friendly and welcoming. If you ever get the chance be sure to say hello to Jess at Ningaloo Bulk Foods who set up her shop to give people the opportunity to reduce waste, especially single use plastics (she also makes the world’s best peanut butter, a tasty souvenir). I had a blast exploring the area, above and below water and meeting all the creatures that call Ningaloo home. While I’ll probably never be able to name all the fish it has been fun to try! My brain is still overwhelmed by the experience and processing everything I’ve taken in as I write these posts weeks later. If you are considering joining the Ningaloo Turtle Program or doing some other science-based volunteer work all I can do is encourage you. This program relies on volunteers to function, while funding from sponsors provides a rental bus and accommodation and food allowances for team leaders there is no money to pay for people to do the actual work. Although getting paid to spend a few hours walking up the beach each morning is a marine scientist’s dream that just isn’t going to happen unless funding for science increases exponentially (hey, a girl can dream!). I’d encourage everyone to make the most of volunteer opportunities to do things they never otherwise would, how else would I get to spend two months at Ningaloo taking photos?! Finally, I’d like to thank the Ningaloo Turtle Program and all the staff at Exmouth Parks and Wildlife for an incredible summer!
It’s the external volunteer’s last week with the program. For weeks I’d been heading out with each one to take their portraits and have a chat for an interview series. I’d finished the series so could choose any beach to tag along on, of course I picked Five Mile. With its huge rocky platform and stretch of dunes there was always something to see here. Today I wasn’t disappointed. There were three turtles along the first half of this 800-metre stretch. As soon as I stepped out of the car park, I saw tracks in the sand moving parallel to the rock platform. Instead of heading out to sea a turtle had gone for a 100 metre walk along the beach. She was still doing circles in the sand as I approached. She was quite large and clearly exhausted from her wandering. I squatted down and remained still. She took so long to crawl five metres onto the rock platform I wasn’t sure if she had the energy to make it. She found a pool of water deep enough to fit her head in and drooped it into the water. Falling asleep instantly in this uncomfortable looking position. Turtles often rest with their heads underwater. The first time I saw this I was worried, would the turtle drown?! Then I felt silly, of course not, these animals are used to sleeping underwater. It probably helps them cool down and feels familiar when they’re out of their natural environment. Green turtles can hold their breath for around 6 hours when resting.
The tide was coming in so I left her to snooze and continued along the beach. Soon I arrived at my favourite spot, a rockpool about knee deep and five metres squared. There were two shell shaped rocks submerged in the rockpool. One of the rocks started swimming around and on getting closer the other was clearly turtle shell patterned where it was wet at the edges. This turtle was motionless and clearly asleep. She didn’t move the entire time I was there, instead she waited for the tide to come in and swam off once fully submerged. A lot of turtles use this tactic to avoid dragging themselves over the rocks, instead calmly resting in any water they can find. I’m not sure how they know the tide is coming in. I watched the water move in over the rocks near my feet, almost as fast as I could walk. The other turtle was swimming around, looking to be enjoying itself. She moved into a deeper part of the platform closer to the ocean and kept swimming around. Eventually she slipped over the edge and was gone. It’s always nice to watch them return to where they belong.
This week we also had a behind the scenes tour of the local aquarium. One of the aquarists was training to become a local volunteer for the Ningaloo Turtle Program and had offered to show us around. The aquarium was very new and only had one main display tank. It stretched from the floor to the top of the second storey and was about three metres in diameter. It contained live corals, over 80 reef fish species and a painted crayfish. Most of the fish and corals are collected from the west coast by collectors with permits. The fish were constantly moving. Even clownfish and humbugs which in the wild stick around an anemone were swimming freely because they realised they had no predators. With so many species it was a flurry of colour and shapes. Some were hard to spot, like the yellow boxfish, and the tiny toby. Others, like rabbit and butterflyfish moved near the glass, picking algae off the window sills. The aquarist clearly loved his charges and told us stories about the fish. Like the cheeky wrasse that moves rocks and small corals when he adds them to the tank. And the crayfish stealing tools when he dives in the tank to clean the glass, dragging them under the rocky outcrop.
We went out the back to see the quarantine tank. This is necessary as fish are collected from the wild and are kept separate for observation or treatment before release in the main tank. There were two wobbegongs the size of my forearm and a blue spot stingray out the back, waiting for their lagoon style tank to be built. The ray kept surfacing, swimming straight up out of the water. Having people standing over the tank is what happens during its feeding time, shame I didn’t have a snack for him. We saw the coral tank where new fragments were being separated. For every piece of coral collected for the display tank a fragment is kept to produce more. There are fish in here which don’t get on with others or are good at eating algae or copepods, keeping the coral healthy. They were also trying to grow fragments suspended from fishing wire. This allows the water to move around them and they grow better from each side, instead of sitting on a plastic plug. They had already grown over the fishing line so you couldn’t see how they’d been attached, this is based on overseas experiments and are doing really well. It was great to have a peek behind the scenes but hard to justify the expense of this controversial new aquarium. Why look at these fish in one small tank when you were within driving distance of Ningaloo, a world heritage listed coral reef?!
Another day at Five Mile began similar to the last with three turtles resting on the rock platform. When I was photographing one, I heard two seagulls squawking behind me. One had something in its beak the other was trying to get. Taking a photo and zooming in on the screen I could see it was a turtle hatchling. It was flopped unnaturally upside down with its flippers dangling limply. It was dead, this was my first glimpse of a hatchling at Ningaloo. I followed the volunteer I was with up into the dunes. She showed me a nest that hatchlings had emerged from the day before. It was just a small funnel-like depression in the sand, no larger than a saucer in diameter. It was hard to imagine over a hundred baby turtles had come through this tiny area. Around the depression hatchling tracks spilled in every direction. Seagull footprints covered the sand, not many hatchlings could have escaped. There were three dead hatchlings near the nest depression. They were all smaller than my palm in length and looked so fragile. Little broken bodies scattered on the sand. The white edge on their flippers helped me identify them as green turtle hatchlings. They were starting to smell, I wonder if we’d just missed them hatching. Burying them I flipped one over and saw a hole in the top of its head. Probably where a seagull had pecked it. These birds are so wasteful not eating every hatchling they kill. It’s no wonder all the volunteers dislike seagulls so much, even though they are a natural predator.
We began the volunteer’s farewell by heading to town beach for nibbles, drinks and a swim. It looked like it was about to storm, we heard thunder on the horizon. Back on shore we formed teams and did another trivia session before heading to a local brewery for pizza and farewells. Five weeks had passed by so fast, I only had one week left here myself!
I headed out to Bungelup remote camp for the night, driving through a wind driven sandstorm. Red dust was flying across the road in a cloud and swirling above the ground. It was so windy, rattling past at 35-55kms an hour. It shook the car when I stopped. Arriving at camp the stationed team said they had barely slept the night before. I set up my swag then joined everyone reading, slipping into the very cruisy Bungelup routine. The remote camp has been set up to allow monitoring of the beaches here, which are part of one of the largest loggerhead turtle rookeries in the Eastern Indian Ocean Basin. I was here to brush up on everything I needed to know about running the remote camp before running one in 4 days’ time.
We made pizza for dinner in the BBQ and played uno, it was too windy to consider anything else. In my swag it was as if someone had left a light on, the moon was shining straight in. I zipped my swag up further. The wind was relentless. The trees and bushes around us shook all night long. My swag wobbled, the wind blew through it making me huddle further into my sleeping bag. I woke at 4am, when we said we might go looking for turtles coming to nest on the high tide. No one else moved. At 5.30 I heard movement and put my jumper on, ready to go monitoring. The tracks had almost been blown away.
Even the turtles didn’t want to come out last night. Along five kilometres of beach we only had two nests and one false crawl. Back at camp we had a quick breakfast, packed up and headed home. I hoped the Bungelup trip I would lead in a few days would have better weather.
Back in town the next day the wind had died down. I went walking from Hunter’s to Mauritius. Along the way I saw a turtle digging a body pit in the side of a sand dune. I watched her for a while, thinking her head was towards the dune because of the direction she was flicking sand. She moved a lot. Her whole shell kind of wobbled side to side then she’d do a flick then another wobble then flick the other flipper. This went on for some time. It was close to 7am but she was shaded by the dune so maybe she didn’t know how late it was. Then her head popped up in the dune at the opposite end to where I thought. She’d been flicking sand over her head with her back flippers. Could turtle’s need a few years to practice what we assume are intuitive skills? This one certainly hadn’t read the how-to-nest manual.
That afternoon around sunset we all went looking for hatchlings at Five Mile. We walked up the beach then had to stop because a Hawksbill turtle was dragging herself out of the water. It was broad daylight and still quite hot, but off she went. Halfway up to the dunes she positioned herself parallel to the water and began digging a body pit. We crept up behind her when she began scooping out her egg chamber. She alternated using her back flippers to scoop a handful of sand out of the chamber, and dump it next to the hole. Her flippers were so dextrous, it reminded me of someone using their hands to scoop up free cherries at Christmas. She moved over the hole and began laying eggs.
We couldn’t see them but her body moved back and forth each time an egg came out. Finally she began covering, patting sand down on the eggs with her back flippers so skillfully. We slipped back as she began to camouflage the nest. This meant she was using her front flippers again to create a drag mark along the beach. The aim of this is to confuse predators because all the extra digging hides where the eggs are buried. Job done she headed back out to sea, the sun still hadn’t set. Hawksbill turtles are listed as Critically Endangered on the IUCN redlist. It was incredible to finally see a Hawksbill, in full daylight, and nesting too!
The next was a very busy day. I finally got to monitor Burrows to Jurabi Point. This is the last section on the North West Cape completed by the leader that drives the bus. There were six nests and seven false crawls, all from green turtles. I’d been running a photo competition for all NTP volunteers (local and external) to enter. This was to encourage sharing photos, telling stories about their experience and collecting relevant images for the program to use in the future. Today was judging day, it was great to look through and pick winners. Once packed I headed to the ute where my two Bungelup volunteers had already started stowing their things. It took an hour to drive out, it was very windy all the way. Once settled in we spent the afternoon reading. A butcherbird sat on the fence and sang through its repertoire of bird noises including magpie, galah flying away, wren chirp and I think rosella. I used the camp stove to make veggie burritos followed by hot chocolate. After dinner we went out on the beach to look for loggerheads nesting but only found more wind and sand. The moon was about three quarters full so we didn’t need torches to find our way back to camp.
I woke up a lot from the wind during the night. Monitoring the northern two sections we only had one nest and seven false loggerhead crawls. There were a tracks where it was obvious the turtle was missing a flipper, perhaps it had done multiple false crawls in the same night. Other turtles had been making sandcastles. After breakky we headed to Osprey Bay for a snorkel despite the wind. It’s a beautiful bay, with a campground sprawled along the coast beside it. We went in near the small boat ramp which is just an area of sand that cuts a path between the rocks lining the water’s edge. I saw a green turtle swimming along, convict surgeonfish picking algae off her shell, flippers and neck. Picasso triggerfish were everywhere, looking bluer than normal in the shallow water. They ducked into holes in the rock, which were full of tiny orange fish. There was no reef here, it was mostly algae, seagrass and tiny tufts of coral. I spent the afternoon back at Bungalup reading and writing until I cooked a curry. While we were eating a male dingo trotted along the road behind camp. It sniffed a bush, marked its territory then went back out along the road. I got up and closed the gate but it didn’t come back again.
Our last morning at Bungelup saw more tracks action, four nests and 18 false crawls. It seemed like the turtles were all going further into the dunes to avoid the wind. One track went off the beach into the dunes about 40 metres back before looping around on itself and coming back the same way. We saw an osprey sitting on a rock on the beach eating a fish, but it quickly left as we approached. Walking back, we came across a brown snake in the middle of the beach. It seemed angry about our presence, curling into an S shape and rearing its head up. We backed away instantly but it moved around tasting the air with its tongue as if to work out where we’d gone. We went around behind the dunes to get past, the fact there was no antivenom in Exmouth running through my head. We found we were only 15 metres from the turnoff back to camp. After breakky we packed up and headed back to town, such a relaxing couple of days even with the wind and unfriendly snake!
This morning at Five Mile was magical. When I was trying to work out where the first two overlapping tracks went I saw sand spraying into the air. Looked again. Yup, it couldn’t be the wind making it do that. Then I heard the noise, kind of like a dry scraping thump. A turtle was nesting! I gave her plenty of space and saw two more turtles behind her, one on the rock platform between the sand and ocean, another making her way down the beach. We watched the other turtle make its way past the one lying on the platform. As soon as she got to the rockpool nearby she started swimming around, did a loop and swam up to the other one as if to check on it. Then she continued out over the rocks into a deeper pool where she swam around while I continued checking tracks.
The nesting turtle was still flicking sand everywhere but then began making her way out of the hole she was in. She must have been covering her eggs. I watched her make her way down the beach. There was sand across one of her eyes and the salty excretion dripping down her face was also covered in sand. She moved onto the rocks. They were high and jagged so she had to climb up and over them. She crawled slowly up and over. Slowing down on the flat stretch, she seemed to catch her breathe. She went straight towards the ocean and disappeared over the lip of rocks into the sea.
I had my own section to monitor on Monday, from Hunters to Mauritius. It was really nice just walking alone along the beach. There were a few fishermen at the start of my section, yelling to each other and breaking the morning peace. Otherwise I had the beach to myself, only 3 nests and 3 false crawls along the 2.5 kilometre section. This was very quiet as I found out later the next section along had 24 turtle tracks recorded. Reaching the end I was still overwhelmed by flies. They were relentless. Sitting on the sand I tried to bury my head between my knees with my arms over my head, it kept all but one off my face. I went for a swim but they seemed to follow me, even the water wasn’t safe! Back on the beach I watched the water. Everyone who did this stretch knew a loggerhead frequented the shore here. As if on cue she popped up to take a breath. Loggerheads are not as elegant looking as other turtles. They have black around their eyes and a large jaw for crushing their invertebrate prey. This combines to give them a big headed, eye-bulging appearance.
Woodside Energy is the major sponsor for the Ningaloo Turtle Program this year. They have sent two representatives up to learn about the program. This is a good photo opportunity to post about on the NTP pages. There’s no room on the bus so I drove myself out to meet them at the end section. Along the way I saw a pack of five dingoes around a kangaroo carcass on the side of the road. Most of them ran off as I slowed my car down, pulling up on the opposite side of the road. One male continued to feed. Flies were everywhere, it kept stopping to snap at them. Shooting through the window I watched as another dingo joined it. This second dingo was a young female, only half the size of the male. The smaller one pulled at the kangaroo’s tail. They fed side by side for a bit, then the male started pulling out the kangaroo’s leg bones, cracking into its thigh. The smaller one decided to grab the spine and pull it from the body at the same time. Flies were all over it’s face. The male ran off behind my car and into the low scrub. The bush is short but thick, so he quickly disappeared. The smaller one continued feeding then did the same thing. What an incredible start to the morning!
We went up to the lighthouse to watch the last sunset of the year, and the decade. There was a lot of haze on the horizon and otherwise a clear sky. It eventually went golden then the sun turned into an orange ball and drifted into the haze, turning into funny shapes, becoming square then just a smudge. We went down to Hunters beach and walked along it looking for hatchlings but saw none, just got sandy feet. Walking to my room later, I saw a flock of corellas fly over, white bodies contrasting starkly against the black sky.
The start of new year’s day, I could hear the usual corellas moving about as I got up at 5am. Heading out early I didn’t see any wildlife along the way apart from three bustards at the Lakeside turnoff. It was already windy there so I moved on to Turquoise Bay and did a walk around the bay. It was so calm. I saw a shark fin while sitting on the rocks at the northern end, staring at the sea and thinking about how full the last decade had been and how much I’d done that I never thought I would. It didn’t have a black tip, just a silver fin so I wasn’t sure what kind it was. I forced myself into the water at turquoise drift. The wind was coming up stronger, making the surface choppy and there was already a strong current so I didn’t stay in long. A blue spotted lagoon ray was feeding, kicking up clouds of sand with its movements. It allowed me to take a few photos then swam off, flapping its body over the coral.
On the section Jacobsz South to Wobiri I came across a turtle still covering her eggs. In doing so she’d almost completely buried herself in her secondary body pit. There was sand all over her shell and head, you just saw the occasional flick of sand, sometimes a flipper. I waited for over twenty minutes and she was still covering the eggs, I waited some more. Eventually she’d covered them to her liking and dragged herself out of the hole this in itself took some time. Turtles must have extremely strong pectoral muscles because they only use their front flippers to pull themselves along. I’ve seen them heave themselves over rocks, down the beach and where they’ve gone up steep sand dunes I struggled to walk up myself. Turtles constantly amaze me with their strength and stubborn determination to nest and get back to sea.
Sand poured off her but there was still a layer on her shell and head as she began crawling down the beach. Luckily she didn’t have far to go, it was starting to get hot. There were no rocks to cross either so she made her way back into the water quite quickly (for a turtle). Once her flippers were underwater a wave broke over her shell washing off the sand and leaving only patterned shell. She started flapping her flippers wildly to swim away. She poked her head above the water and snorted a jet of water from her nostrils. Walking back up towards the carpark I spotted a shovel nosed ray in the shallows. There can’t be a better start to the day then a walk on the beach at Ningaloo during nesting season.
Since Mitch and his parents arrived only two days ago it feels like a week has passed, we’ve fit so much in. The first afternoon I took them to Bundegi for a snorkel under the boat ramp. There were only a few schools of fish at first, then I saw a giant shovelnose ray. He quickly swam off across the bay though with his entourage of remoras. Looking in the shadows we found our first stonefish. A big reddish brown fellow, with a massive head, its body tapering like a teardrop from the large head and downturned mouth. It has the weirdest way of moving, instead of swimming it hops along the bottom. Knowing how it moved we could follow its strange hopping trail along the sandy bottom, winding its way from the base of a pylon into a discarded concrete cylinder. Somewhere along the way we picked up a juvenile trevally. This little yellow fish was about the size of my pinky, bright yellow with black vertical stripes. It had a large eye so when it slowed down I could clearly see it looking up at me as if to work out what I was. The little fish stayed with us no matter how fast we swam and when we hung around in the shallows would try to swim in the shade we cast.
The next day we were up early to head out into the park. Along the road we saw plenty of bustards. Stopping at Tantabiddi boat ramp to show them the osprey we were rewarded with one in the nest and another soon landing. We saw the parent osprey flying in carrying a surgeonfish and give it to the fledgling on the nest. A squabble of flapping wings and piercing cries quickly broke out over this new morsel, before a flurry of heavy wing beats. One flew off holding a damselfish that must have been delivered earlier. Not bad for a first day with the osprey!
Mitch: Watching this was incredible, but the opportunity to capture it was even better. I was lucky enough to be using a 70-200mm lens with a 1.7x teleconverter on my D850 body. This combination allowed me to fill the frame with the ospreys. It’s safe to say without the teleconverter these images just wouldn’t be as close. I’d be relying on a heavy crop to fill the frame. Not necessarily a problem with the resolution you can get out of the 850 but still potentially limiting. When shooting I used a fast shutter speed to freeze the action. The rest was time, patience and a bit of luck.
Continuing on we saw a dingo, more bustards and even snakes crossing the road, possibly pythons, they were very shiny and black. They also moved like lightning, so a quick glimpse was all we got. A black snake on a black road in 35 degrees makes for a very fast reptile. Yardie Creek is literally the end of the road as you need to go through water to cross it. Here we went for a walk along the top of the gorge overlooking the creek. More osprey were hanging around near the Yardie Creek tour boat. We could see the cliffs on the opposite side of the creek. They were red and perpendicular to the creek. A row of oysters grew straight at the waters edge, kept even by the tide. We saw black flanked rock wallabies in amongst the bushes, fossilised coral imprints were everywhere in the rocks. At a particularly steep downward section we turned back, a swim was calling us.
I took them to the Turquoise drift, it was cold but nice and clear again. We saw some sharks a black tip and a white tip. They always seem to be heading out in the northern section of the reef just before the rip. Mitch’s parents saw a turtle and there were the usual suspects of reef fish. I also saw a nudibranch swimming on the sand as if it had just been knocked off its perch. Next stop was Lakeside. It was very choppy but we had a nice quick swim with a few more sharks. One seemed to be circling its patch of reef. The osprey was on the sanctuary marker and today there were about five blue spot lagoon rays in the shallows where you walk onto the beach. The rays were skittish quickly taking off if you stepped into the water to get a closer look.
Another morning found us back at the ospreys. One fledgling was on the nest, another tried to fly in but the wind was so strong it couldn’t land, settling on a nearby post instead. The parent brought a fish and the one on the nest was all excited, flapping its wings and screeching as she flew closer. Another fledgling sat on a pole head into the wind down by the boat ramp. It was quite fluffed up and looked very unimpressed with the weather. Yet another osprey was sitting on a dead branch on the opposite side of a small lake next to the carpark. That makes five, so the two parents and three fledglings, what a good crop of young!
Lakeside was less choppy than the previous day and definitely worth it. A large grouper was resting next to a coral bommie, blue fish swam above it near the coral. A green turtle about 20-30 years old swam up, she was happy to hang out with us and take a few breaths before swimming on. Further along we saw a black tip. I was filming it when mitch went to duck dive and it suddenly shot up to the surface then away into the distance. I don’t think it had noticed Mitch was there. Out best guess is the shark thought the large shape moving above it was a much bigger predator. Heading off again I failed to film the blue spot stingrays resting in the shallows, they just didn’t want me close to them.
Christmas Eve was spent running around food shopping and preparing bulk salads for the 20 person lunch we were holding on Christmas day. Christmas morning was fairly relaxed, we set up gazebos, organised the tables and chairs and decorated with tinsel and lights. Lunch went down well, even if it was over 40 degrees and very humid. We went for a swim at Bundegi to cool off afterwards. The school of fish under the boat ramp seemed thicker than last time and swirled around the pylons endlessly. We followed a giant shovelnose ray away from the boat ramp across the sandy bay, it had three juvenile trevally with it. I wondered if one was our friend from the other day. We swam out to the white buoy about halfway across the bay and found a yellow sponge and fragments of algae covered coral.
Mitch and I went to watch the sunset at Hunters Beach. It was a nice night, we saw turtles mating near the shore and a few pop up for breath. The sun set to our right instead of over the ocean behind us, confusing my sense of direction. Afterwards we went for a walk along the beach and I showed Mitch turtle tracks in the sand. He loved watching the ghost crabs in the wash. Some would bury themselves under the sand others would be hit by waves and go tumbling. There was a new moon so no turtles were coming up to nest where we were. We headed to Surf Beach to look for more and saw an owlet nightjar on the road. It’s huge eyes fluoresced under the cars headlights before it quickly blasted off into the night. There were no turtles nesting at Surf Beach either.
Boxing Day I was monitoring Five Mile to Five Mile North and took everyone with me. Halfway along we saw a turtle heading back out to sea along the rock platform. It always amazes me how tough and leathery their flippers must be as they drag themselves over the sharp, rocky surface. She didn’t nest just a false crawl. No one was happy to hear that after seeing how much effort she must have put in to drag herself up the dunes, dig a body pit then crawl back across the rock platform. It was a lot of energy expended for no reward.
Mitch: Taking photos of a turtle dragging itself back into the water was always going to be a new experience. What I wasn’t ready for is realising they manage to lift their upper bodies up off the ground on their front flippers! There was no secret for capturing her hard slog down the beach, it was all about taking the time to watch her and understand how she moved. This includes the moment she found a rockpool deep enough for her head and decided plonking her face in and ignoring the world was a good idea. Not something I’ll forget anytime soon.
We went out for a snorkel at oyster stacks, there weren’t as many fish as other times I’d been and it was quite cold water for 9.30 in the morning! It wasn’t as clear as usual either and there wasn’t as much frenzied fish feeding. We spent most of our time finning hard against a surging current as the waves pushed us towards the sharp coral beneath us. We headed to Lakeside next which offered a little more sanctuary from the surge, but the same roaring current. Seeing a huge grouper under the coral, a turtle happy to have us swim near her made the leg burning swim worthwhile. We still ended up sucked down the length of the beach by the rushing water. On leaving we ran into the NTP group, all standing under their gazebo on the beach applying sunscreen. We told them about the current then were off to say goodbye to the ospreys.
Breakfast on their last day in Exmouth at Social Society was a large affair (the meals that is). I ordered avocado toast and it came piled high with pepitas, feta and a poached egg. After dropping everyone at the airport the car temperature gauge read 50 degrees as if to remind me it definitely gets hot here. I headed back to the office to catch up on a few things and found a book on turtles with lots of pictures, perfect for me and a slow afternoon. After grocery shopping my fridge was full again. I settled down with a mango smoothie to read the turtle book and get used to being by myself once more.
The week passed in a blur, every day I am out with one of the volunteers shadowing them while they do their section of beach. It’s a good chance to take photos and chat. The north west cape is split up into ten sections that are monitored every day for a month and a few weekends every fortnight either side of this peak season. We have a roster to know who is doing what section every day, but as the media intern I only have three monitoring days myself so I am free to go wherever I choose. Luckily, this week, I was tagging along on one of the middle section beaches and we came across a turtle returning to the ocean. She was a large green, with a shell around a metre long. To be nesting she would be at least forty years old. We were on a sandy beach so at least there were no rocks she had to cross. Just dragging herself down the sand looked like a supreme effort. Every couple of minutes she would stop, lift her head as if she were in water and breathe. It was so funny to see but I guess if you spend the majority of your life underwater that habit would be ingrained. Finally, she slipped into the water, job done.
After monitoring, myself and the other team leaders head to the local school to talk to different classes about turtles. We cover every year from kindergarten to year four. The turtle skulls and taxidermied turtle we bring with us are a big hit. We also demonstrate a turtle nesting in the sandpit while trying to get across the turtle watching code of conduct by playing games with the younger kids. They all have plenty of questions or stories about when they’ve seen a turtle. The most challenging class was a group of pre-primary kids (the first compulsory year in WA) that had spent the morning at the school’s Christmas concert. They put their hands up then talked over one another, one boy seemed to like rolling around on the floor. The holidays were just around the corner so attention spans were very short. We got through it though, handing out stickers and surviving our stint of school talks.
After rushing down a peanut butter sandwich we all piled into the bus and headed for oyster stacks. It is gin clear again and full of life. I swim out as far as the waves but get distracted on the way by a school of convict surgeonfish. They are a blur of yellow with black horizontal stripes as a wave pushes them past me. They are feeding on the algae, stopping in groups to nibble at the plant growing on top of the coral. Then more and more come until there is a writhing pile of yellow fish on one small patch of reef. Something happens that I don’t see and one after another they start to swim on and repeat the whole process again. Reading my book on the fish of Ningaloo later I learn this technique of swimming en masse to feed at one patch is a strategy to overcome the territorial damselfish that live on the reef. Each black damselfish is around the size of my hand and patrols a territory of algae which it feeds on itself.
I swim out to where the waves are breaking on the reef, trying to get over the edge and see what is in the deeper water on the other side. The waves push me around, it feels even shallower here and the whole floor is one unbroken mass of coral. If a wave pushes me onto the coral I will shred my uncovered legs. I kick back towards the distant red shore, the occasional wave pushing me in the right direction. About to get out I spot a large school of fish. They are greencheek parrotfish but to me look like swimming rainbows, with patches of every colour on their body. Orange heads and fins, green cheeks, blue tails and fin edges and purple and yellow bodies. They are incredibly gaudy and I love them. How can a rainbow fish not make you happy? I spend time floating around with the school as they scrape algae off the rocks next to shore. The sound of them feeding is like rain falling on a distant tin roof mixed with scrunching aluminium foil. People usually think the reef is a quiet place, underwater is anything but!
The local vet runs a turtle rehabilitation facility in her own backyard. We were lucky enough to check it out. It is comprised of four large tubs between the house and back fence. Seawater is filtered through homemade contraptions and there were four turtles in residence when we arrived. Heather the 100kg green turtle came in as a floater. This is common in rehab turtles who can no longer dive because a bacterial or viral infection has caused a build up of gases in their gut. They float at the surface, slowly starving and growing barnacles. When someone brings the turtle in for treatment it is usually named after the person who called it in. The vet gives it a freshwater bath and the barnacles are picked off. A rehydrating glucose solution is given to the turtle and they may be placed on a course of antibiotics which are injected into their shoulder (without hitting the bone).
They are fed squid but mostly lettuce and seagrass as they are all green turtles (this species is herbivorous as an adult). Catalina was also a floater, she is around 10-15 years old and has a lot of growing to do. Lexi is much older and has scars all over her shell. Heather is missing the tip of her right front flipper and AJ was also found floating and is another small turtle, around the size of Catalina but much lighter in colour. As the place doesn’t have an education permit they cannot do tours of the facility and funding is limited because of this. It also means I can’t share any of the photos I’ve taken. In a few days Mitch arrives, I can’t wait to get my favourite snorkeling buddy back.
I walked Jacobsz South to Wobiri today to record tracks. I was dropped off on the side of Yardie Creek Road with another lady to walk 500 metres along a soft, sandy 4wd track to the beach. We saw emu and dingo footprints and chatted along the way. She had moved here recently from North Dakota USA, which is close to Canada, leaving their snow clothes in storage. Her husband had begun working at the solar observatory in Exmouth. This facility is staffed by a mix of Bureau of Meteorology observers and US defence force personnel. They observe and monitor things like solar flares which are really important for GPS. I guess if you owned any satellites you’d want to keep an eye out for blasts from the sun that could destroy them. This observatory is one of only a dozen or so in the world. I’d never even heard of it before coming to Exmouth.
Down on the beach we headed in opposite directions. I soon came upon a green turtle track surrounded by dingo pawprints. There were no human footprints other than mine on the beach. Following the turtle track up into the dunes, the dingo pawprints covered the track, there were three different sized paw marks in the sand. The turtle had dug one body pit then left, maybe the dingoes had disturbed her nesting. No other turtles nested on the beach that night, one had done a quick u-turn as soon as it emerged from the water. Makes me think the dingoes were hanging around on the beach all night.
After monitoring we began preparing for the external volunteer welcome BBQ. There were 12 external volunteers travelling to Exmouth from all over Australia to help out with the Ningaloo Turtle Program’s intensive monitoring period. We welcomed them with burgers followed by fruit salad and ice cream then they were off to bed after their day of travel. The group are a good mix of people, with different ages and backgrounds (not just science graduates). I’m looking forward to getting to know them over the next five weeks.
For the volunteer’s first day of beach training, I headed out with them to take some photos. We walked Five Mile to Five Mile North, which is the only site where you return to the same carpark, where we’d left the bus. It was chaos in turtle tracks. There were emerges and returns overlapping along the section, we had a loggerhead track which looked like a hawksbill, a real hawksbill track and nest which was difficult to tell apart from a false crawl. A false crawl is when a turtle comes up the beach and either walks straight back to the water or begins digging a hole then abandons it without nesting. We use our judgement based on the evidence to determine if we think a turtle has nested successfully. The only way to be certain is to have someone on every beach, each night, watching every turtle. This is clearly not possible or realistic, so we base our assessment on the presence of an escarpment (sand bank formed by when the turtle digs a primary body pit), misting (sand thrown over the emerge track when the turtle digs), uprooted vegetation and the texture of the sand (if you stand on a real nest you sink quickly, though not enough to damage the eggs).
The poor vollies were a bit overwhelmed after being thrown in the deep end with this beach, hopefully tomorrow’s will be a little easier. We got a call over the radio from Heather, a WA Parks and Wildlife officer, leading the other group. She was down on Mauritius and had a clear loggerhead track and nest to show them. She also had a nest that had been predated by dingoes. She’d covered most of it over but there were still fresh curled up pieces of eggshell and yolk drying in the sun. Digging up nests is a learnt behaviour for dingoes, it is not an instinct for them to dig up nests they learn it from seeing other dingoes do it. In this situation the turtle had not done much to cover this nest so we assumed the dingoes had found the turtle while she was laying. If Dingoes had learnt to dig up nests we’d be seeing many more predation events across the beaches we monitor, so far this was the first one recorded this season.
This week also saw us taking all the external volunteers and meeting some locals at Bungelup camp. We spent a sweaty morning loading the trailer and back of two utes with all our swags and cooking equipment, even a portable fridge. Our first stop was the Milyering visitor centre so the volunteers could hire snorkel gear and check the place out. The visitors centre was full of skulls, taxidermy specimens and found objects like sea urchin tests and birds nests complete with eggs. It gave me a strong idea of how many animal species were in the area, which was hard to comprehend when nothing was out during most of the day.
Next stop was Sandy Bay for a swim. Another sheltered bay with aqua water and amazingly white sand. No coral here but a few people saw a turtle, we also watched a dingo walk along the beach in the distance. Back on the bus we arrived just after the trailer with all the swags and set up camp. We all shared a rock to bang the tent pegs into the ground (later finding the mallets). Sunset was spent at the beach while the pasta cooked. Dinner went down well, after helping with all the washing up I stayed for the very competitive trivia night.
We were on the beach before breakfast looking at loggerhead tracks. We saw dolphins, they were jumping sideways out of the water and looked quite frisky. Ghost crabs ran into the water and were tumbled around in the wash. I headed back early to help cook pancakes for breakky and pack up.
Back on the road we stopped in at Turquoise Bay for a snorkel, it was the clearest I’d ever seen it. I had a reef shark swim past and saw three adult angelfish in one little patch. They were all different species from the small, navy keyhole angelfish to the larger blue and sixband angelfishes. I’ve loved angelfish ever since seeing a juvenile one on my first open water dive. The juveniles are completely different colours to the adults. The emperor juvenile I saw all those years ago was dark blue with neon blue and white lines forming concentric circles and spots. It’s adult form has yellow and blue horizontal stripes, like a circus outfit. I’ll keep an eye out for juvenile angelfish at Ningaloo, they would be amazing to see again. It was a very relaxing place to spend the afternoon and all the volunteers loved getting out to see the reef.
By Friday, training was over for the volunteers and they all passed their assessments. We celebrated by getting a heap of pizzas. Sunday night we went out to mark off all the old tracks ready to begin fresh on Monday for four weeks of daily monitoring. After dropping everyone off I parked the bus and walked a kilometre along a sandy four wheel drive track to the beach. It was full of rocks then soft sand, there was no easy place to walk, no wonder the bus couldn’t come in here. Once at the beach I drew my line from the totem pole down to the high tide mark and started walking. It was only 1.5 kilometres but there were a lot of tracks. The high tide had come up most of the beach so the tracks were all in the dunes in soft sand. As I turned around to walk back the sun had already started sinking. I walked as fast as I could. There was a turtle beginning to drag herself out of the water I gave her a wide berth, walking up into the dunes to get around. The sun set during the drive but luckily I got everyone home before dark. We were ready to get to work!