bobmcgee

Low Water Springs …

When the moon and the sun are in line high tide is really high and low tide is as low as it goes. These are spring tides, even in summer, autumn or winter. It’s got nothing to do with the season. Seven days after a spring tide the sun and moon are at right angles, tides are moderate. These are neap tides.

The last couple of mornings have been excellent times to explore the intertidal zone. The low water springs had uncovered territory not seen every day. I’ve come across Squirrelfish, Sergeant Fish and even an octopus in tidal pools. Corals, sponges and anenomes have been exposed, colourful, utterly fascinating and mostly a mystery. For the best viewing experience click on the first picture and wander through the gallery.

Eventful …

The last post featured birds at Streeters Jetty. I had company while I was there although I saw no sign of it. The area was closed for a few days. It was caught and turned out to be 3 meters long. It is now a resident at the Malcolm Douglas Wildlife Park. Some photos shamelessly filched off the internet …

I hope you enjoyed the gallery of birds that I risked life and limb to bring you. There may not be another for a while. The autofocus on my beautiful 200 to 600mm Sony lens has given up the ghost. An opportunity to buy a new lens! At least I’m trying to look at it that way.

It rained yesterday. Just a few millimeters. It was about 4.45 in the afternoon. It took a while to work out how to turn on the windscreen wipers it’s been so long. After the rain the temperature dropped to a mere 26°C. Overnight temperatures have been higher than that in recent days. It was too late and too little to avoid this being a record. Forget living memory. It is now the driest start to the wet since records began in 1939.

But at least we have cloud. I was out just prior to dawn. This was Town Beach.

Wet & Dry …

I’m not trying to get a good finish. I’m talking about the weather. Broome’s average rainfall in December, January and February is 441mm (a little over 17 inches). We’ve had just under 29mm so far. January was the third lowest rainfall total on record. It’s the slowest start to the Wet season in living memeory (Yes, Dr John, several years at least.)

A cyclone or a decent tropical low can deliver sufficient rain in a single event to put us back on track – we may yet be cut off by flood – it’s just that no such event has hit us yet. My garden plants have their tongues hanging out.

I know a place where an air conditioner serves fresh water straight into the mangroves. I was there this morning. The birds were queuing up.

Instant Birds, just add water …

Home Safe …

Next stop after the coast was Northam home of the sublime Mute Swan …

and also the decision point. Two roads lead from Perth to Broome, an inland route 1970km or a coastal route 2368km.

The inland route has the advantage of being 400km shorter and in the event of a cyclone there would be a greater chance of the caravan staying on the ground. We’d have chosen the shorter route but it was closed by flood.

In particular, the Fortescue River near Newman was close to setting new records. The coastal route was open but what falls inland then sets off towards the sea. We decided to put in a couple of very long days in order to get north of the Fortescue and the De Grey.

There is a roadhouse overlooking the Fortescue River and we stopped for a yarn. A young lady working there had been looking for the water coming down for a couple of days but not a trickle so far. A local elder was of the view that the desert would swallow it all on the way and there’d be little or none to see. It just hadn’t rained for long enough. A trucky taking a break had caught the arrival of a flood in 2021 and recalled how impressive it was on that occasion. When we crossed the bridge there were just a few puddles to be seen.

On the second long day we crossed the De Grey. It too was underwhelming. That night we stopped at the Sandfire Roadhouse. Home of the ridiculous Peafowl.

Last night we slept in our own bed. It was a bit on the warm side!

Albany …

Because we made good time across the Nullarbor we have had four nights in the Great Southern region of WA. The first was on the edge of the Sterling Range National Park and then three on the Kalgan River just outside Albany. The birding has been excellent, Two Peoples Bay and Lake Seppings especially. My target species was Western Whipbird and, once again, I managed not to see it. Regional endemics such as Red-capped Parrot and Red-eared Firetail have been easier to find but not prepared to pose for me. Here are some of the photographic highlights …

Our decision not to travel north via the Stuart Highway then west through Fitzroy Crossing was a good one. Flooding has closed roads in a number of places and it will be a while before they reopen. Not that we are completely out of the woods. Our intended route was closed by fire a day or so ago near Newman. That problem is solved – the road is now closed by flood. Hopefully that will soon reopen. No cyclone brewing off the west coast presently. We head north tomorrow, only 2000km to go.

Day 8 …

We made good progress on the Eyre Highway. Kimba is very much a wheat growing area. The next sizable town is Ceduna on the coast. It has a more mixed economy. Going west from there you encounter a few more small wheat growing towns until at Penong you find a store that declares that it’s the last shop for a thousand kilometers.

The mallee woodland slowly peters out until you’re on the treeless plain that is the Nullarbor. There is practically no surface water out there partly because not a lot of rain falls but also because the limestone lets it all run straight through. In the summer of 1841 Edward John Eyre set out to walk from Fowlers Bay to King George Sound – the modern day Albany which is just down the road from where we are camped on the bank of the Kalgan River. He covered the 1368 km trip in about 5 months, five men set out, two arrived.

Eyre found water at Eucla. The modern day traveler finds a quarantine inspection site. The rules are complicated but basically fruit, vegetables, honey and soil can’t go with you into Western Australia.

From there west the landscape changes back into patchy woodland, then the trees become taller and more continuous and, once you’re off the Eyre Highway you enter wheat country again.

Day 3 …

… is often the day on our travels when tempers tend to fray. This time it has passed without incident bringing us to Kimba in South Australia’s wheat belt. Established in 1915, population 1,300 it took its name from the local aboriginal word for bushfire. It’s now the home of the big Galah, some silo art and the Kimba Tigers footie team.

Our first day out took us to the Victorian Goldfields for a farewell dinner with some of our good friends there. Gayle and I have an association with the district that stretches back more than three decades. We have never seen it so green in January in all that time …

The next day we crossed the border into South Australia and spent the night at Tailem Bend. The day had reached 38°C but overnight rain cooled the world down considerably.

We made an early start this morning and drove through Adelaide (founded 1836, population about 1.4m about 1.2m of whom have hyphenated surnames.) 77% of South Australians live in Adelaide because most of the rest of the state is covered by salt lakes.

Tomorrow we will be on the Nullarbor proper.

Homeward …

Google tells me that I have 5,978 km ahead of me, 64hours of driving and warns me that my destination is in a different time zone. It’s not the most direct route, that would be via Alice Springs and the Tanami, shorter but not quicker because an enormous chunk of that is not on sealed road. We decided against going up the middle and across the top because that would expose us to the inland heat for much longer and increase the risk of being stranded by flood. Of course we don’t have to go via Albany – there just happens to be a bird there I want to see. From there it’s pretty much due north finishing with a dash up cyclone alley.

Our comfort will depend very much on the weather and the only certainty there is that the Bureau of Meteorology will get it totally wrong.

Coming Out …

The story starts with a small and inconspicuous hole in a River Red Gum …

from which the colourful head of a Rainbow Lorikeet emerges …

It’s a tight squeeze …

and there’s limited space on the veranda.

Which won’t stop another one making their debut …

but one of them will have to make way.

I knew they were in there because I saw them go in. Given the size of the hole I was surprised when the first one disappeared. Even more surprised when the second one disappeared. The cavity inside must be bigger than the opening suggests. There may be a nest full of baby lorikeets in there. It was a good five minutes before the adults reemerged.

Here they are again in a gallery that you can run through at bigger scale. Enjoy.

Dagging About …

I was born in a big city, I’ve lived most of my life in a big city but me and the big city are not a match made in heaven. I’m currently dagging about in Melbourne looking forward to the day when I can set off home to Broome.

My spell checker is objecting to dagging and some of my non-Australian readers are probably equally mystified – in this context just substitute hanging. It’s complicated. The noun dag refers to the lump of wool and feces that tends to form at the rear end of a sheep, best removed if you want to avoid fly strike. It’s also used, affectionately, believe it or not, for someone who is not smartly dressed or a little odd, your wife or husband may be a bit of a dag. If you’re working you are not dagging about, if you’re bored you probably are.

To relieve the boredom this morning I headed off bright and early to Braeside Park, one of the best places for bird watching in the eastern suburbs. I made a circuit of the main lake. The birding was good.