A most noticeable exodus from
both powered and unpowered sites of Barn Hill campground took place immediately
after the weekend temperatures reached 40’C. due to hot easterly winds from
inland. Only the die-hards remain. Given the enjoyment we have derived from
Barn Hill Station over the past month, it is hardly surprising we stay. Not only has Barn Hill everything we need by
way of facilities, walks and views, it is our cheapest option. Since we cannot
repeat our daily routines, September will be a pictorial blog in the main.
The full moon brought the
lowest tides and at our usual walking hour along south beach, the spring low at
1.91m) opened up a wonderful opportunity to explore beyond the prominent headland
that prevents us going further south. Rounding the bend became an extraordinary
experience… a little cove with flat rocks terraced upwards allowed Lea to
scramble up quickly to the top of the cliff looking north, knowing George had
been delayed seeking out hermit crabs despite no sign of any tracks!
And, around the corner,
stretching further south, proved a photographer’s delight – high cliffs with towering columns of
beautifully sculptured rocks along another two good stretches of beach and a
cove were revealed.
The landscapes glowed in the soft light of the setting sun.
Adhered to large
multi-coloured / multi-layered boulders lying at the foot of the cliffs,
boulders normally covered by water, were ‘’coat-of-mail shells’’, a
seldom seen marine mollusc Chiton, with its set of dorsally positioned plates
acting as armouring.
In the West, a gleaming orange ‘pathway to the sun’ lay across the wet sand
To the East came the full moon rising above the cliffs.
And we followed the silvery path home delighted by all we’d found concealed further south, wrought by Nature’s hand.
George took a moonlight walk
down to the beach after dinner concerned by the lack of hermit crab tracks. Not
a sign, instead he was bewitched by huge numbers of ghost crabs scuttling
around in the wash zone. They rushed into the sea to escape him, only to be
washed back, tumbling over themselves, on the incoming wave.
A thick mist developed overnight
and caused humidity to climb to 99%! All the bushes around us dripped with moisture
and everything in the van felt wet! Once the mist had dissipated, we were able
to do our laundry. With low tides, our mission was to head north, a distance of
about 3,5 km and get beyond the headland there to see what we could see in that
direction. North beach itself was not the most interesting of places but once
we rounded the headland - Cape Villaret, another magical zone of spectacular
rust-red sandstone cliffs contained large caves and blowholes, and wave
battered, barnacle encrusted rocks of all sorts of shapes and sizes were
revealed. A veritable sculptor’s art gallery concealed, on the edge of the
Indian Ocean.
Beyond North Beach
A blow hole ...
close up we found deposits of salt that
appeared like snow!
Scurrying around on the still
wet / dripping rocks were large crabs with bright green carapaces. So wary, it
took time before we were able to get photos. Even then, it was only by chance
we came across a crab out on open sand and once encircled, did not know which
way to run!
MORE CRABBY TALK….
Although our beach walks in the very early days of September lacked any hermit crabs tracks; George’s unquenchable curiosity continued unabated with several new, track-related observations adding further bits to the jigsaw puzzle: A hermit crab certainly wandered around the campground and appeared to take refuge in a clump of bushes during the day. A man camped nearest to the bush confirmed having hermit crabs around his campsite at night. Well above the High-Water Mark were an abundance of tracks. These did not reflect the very deliberate shell searching behaviour of hermit crabs in the intertidal zone. Instead, the tracks indicated a random wandering behaviour. A great many of them followed the foot of rocks and the cliffs at the top of the beach.
Where small caves occurred like this, the floor of the cave was completely covered in tracks.
George placed his camera trap overnight
in one of the small ‘’caves’’ on the beach, hoping to catch hermit crabs.
Instead it yielded a most unexpected result. He’d noticed a steady track along
the foot of the cliffs and thought it was a feral cat. Especially as we’d been
jolted awake by a spine-chilling noise that Lea first thought was the death cry
of a bird. She changed her mind when another cat-like sound erupted below
George’s window and woke him by its proximity as Lea simultaneously leaned over
him to look out. This time, she decided it was a cat who’d caught
something. Just as sleep began to
overtake her, another ruction! Lea decided all had been a cat fight.
The camera revealed an
echidna! Talk about jumping to conclusions!
The tracks and image of a beach dwelling Echidna at Barn Hill
The important thing is to
establish what an echidna could possibly be looking for on the beach? Certainly
not ants or termites … Nor hermit crabs unless it grabs crabs out of their shells?
Could it be ant lions? George has noticed their familiar pits… Another night,
George set the camera trap on the echidna patrol line – only to find the echidna
had blundered into it and knocked it over! A photo of it’s approaches the last
frame.
George began to think the
hermit crabs of Barn Hill may crawl into the back of the caves and bury
themselves in the dry sand. Consequently, equipped with a spade he began
digging for them on the floor of a cave covered in hermit crab tracks that appeared
to have been foraging there the night before.
The result – not a crab to be found! Another failed hypothesis. PDFs of hermit crab references cited by
Wikipedia cost $32 to download, so he has no option other than to work things
out himself!
During a walk back from the southern
headland, we came across a hermit crab track clearly searching for a new shell
on sand still streaming with water and we followed it. After walking a distance
of 50m or more we eventually reached our quarry.
Overly sensitive to our movements, it took several minutes before it dared continue its search.
We decided there must be
intense pressure on shells of a certain size and particular shape. We were not
seeing any that a hermit required and could only ascertain that fierce competition
existed among hermit crabs searching for shells. In captivity, hermit crabs have been seen to "gang up" on one
of their species perceived to have a better shell and pry the shell away from
it, competing for the shell until winner takes it over’’. They have
also been observed forming a ‘’vacancy
chain’’ to exchange shells - “as new crabs arrive, they inspect the
shell and, if it is too big, wait with the others, forming a group of up to 20
individuals, holding onto each other in a line from largest to smallest. As
soon as a crab arrives to claim the vacant shell as the right fit, leaving its old
shell vacant, all the crabs in the queue
swiftly exchange shells in sequence, each one moving up to the next size.’’ We have seen nothing like this, but it is
interesting, nevertheless.
On
another late-night search for hermit crabs above the high-water
mark George finally hit the jackpot! So many of them stomping around that he eventually
stopped taking pictures! All were remarkably similar in size (shell length, c.
20mm). At least four different types of gastropod shells were being utilised.
This was the most common form.
Overlooking South Beach from the top of the southern headland before exploring amongst the rocks in the low tidal zone on our way home. Here, we were pleased to discover the whereabouts of molluscs, hermit crabs like using the shells of…
There were clusters of them attached to rocks normally well underwater.
Literature describes hermits as omnivorous scavengers, ‘’usually consuming dead and decaying animals’’. Both South and North beaches are amazingly unspoiled by litter or dead fish. Consequently, George decided to test, using a piece of smoked fish skin firmly tied to a rock so it could not be dragged away, after gently ‘scenting’ along the busy highway used for foraging. A couple of hours later he went down to check and found five hermit crabs clustered around the bait, little remained. Intimidated by the torchlight they scattered before a photo could be taken.
Having been off the
electricity grid for the last fortnight, the caravan batteries are, once again,
taking strain. The worrying thing…The generator doesn’t seem to top up and
help. The voltage immediately drops from 13.5v to 11.9v as soon as the
generator is switched off suggesting batteries have lost their storage
capacity? George constantly ‘puzzles over possible reasons. In anticipation of moving to a powered site we
walked across to ‘’the forest’’ to see what sites were available and which we’d
like!
On our return we found a beautiful lizard - a western blue tongue creeping around our lawn. Even though it immediately took refuge under the caravan George managed to get a few shots of it by crawling under there too! With 18 pale green stripes on its body, instead of 7-11 dark ones mentioned in in our book on reptiles of Perth region; it could well be a northern sub-species of Tiliqua occipitalis,
George watering our lawn!
Others also had lawns they
nurtured in the red dust and the campgrounds had a Moo Mower that came during
the night to trim the grass. We found
hoof marks across our wet patch and could not believe we’d heard or seen
anything.
Instead of our usual
constitutional on the beach, we decided to explore the gully area that lay
directly below us. In the sandy floor of the gully we also came across a large
hermit crab walking around …
Fossicking about on the stone covered slopes and cliffs above the beach opposite our caravan,
We decided the midway point between North and South Beach was a perfect place for a cairn.
Lea selected a beautiful, white topped, natural platform on which to place a small cairn to our Pisces girl Justy!
As the sunset, we placed three purple mulla mulla to the
memories of Leecy, Justy and Lil Holly, and like candles in the wind, they were
swiftly dispatched…
Come nightfall the caravan batteries were clearly in serious trouble, regardless of running the generator – and the battery charger in the boot of the caravan behaved in an unusual manner. Running the truck for a while seemed to improve the situation. Eventually, with the indicator in red, we were forced to switch the fridge off to eliminate any form of load on the batteries. In situations like this every decision we make, or action we take, is made together. And so, it should be. However, the word togetherness has come to assume an important meaning. A lesson in tolerance and compromise, often aggravated by hot weather. All fortunately eased by revelling in the reality we live out a dream and just as importantly, we are enriched by sharing the experience, despite the occasional ups and downs.
It was time to leave our beautiful spot. George was up early to pack-up outside while Lea cleaned out a semi-defrosted fridge. By 9.30 we were in our powered site with the luxury of the air conditioner cooling us off in 36’C heat. The downside – our view of the sea gone; as are our open-air showers; and phone signal non-existent. On the other hand, being in a treed habitat we hear far more birds. In fact, we had barely settled in when a Monday Morning Meeting amongst a murder of crows took place. An incredibly vocal meeting, the hullaballoo was intense. George found it exhilarating and said the ravens were on the verge of raiding the rubbish trailer! Fortunately, it proved to be an Annual General Meeting and not repeated daily! Never-the-less a raucous bunch of raven’s strut about our caravan and kookaburras call above us. Always a relatable sound to a good camp! Our glossy black feathered friends chat and bemoan in vowel-like sounds yet, we have noticed in the Broome region, the odd raven has added to his repertoire with a most pitiful, high pitched wail – almost catlike that we’ve never heard the likes of. It never fails to catch our attention and raise a smile. Generally, the blue winged kookaburra gather above us at night for roll call and excited exchange of the day’s news amongst themselves (they are different in sound to the kookaburras known as laughing Jackass’ in the southern parts of Australia who chorale with a wonderful ‘last light’ giggle. While sited here we have had a couple of kookaburra’s perch above us and sound just like puppies learning to growl. Over at the reception, George spotted a mud-lark building its nest - its problem seemed to be a scant amount of mud – despite the lawn constantly being watered there!
Living on the south side now we followed farm tracks south, at evening time and found them covered in all sorts of remarkably clear footprints of wallabies, feral cats, and skinks. And, as we headed down to the beach, we struck lucky to see a couple of whales passing offshore, blowing spouts of spray into the air as they went. Almost in line of the setting sun, the glare tended to obscure some sightings.
We had paid for three nights
to check a boost of electricity was all that was required. “We knew we needed a
trip into Broome, and we hoped we didn’t need the caravan. All was well within
12 hours! Discussion immediately turned
to a day in Broome followed by a change of scenery for a week at Anna Plains
Station – 100 kms south of us. George immediately phoned for the required
booking.
During the night, humidity rose
to 94% and we awoke to the trees dripping onto the caravan which promptly gave
us an early start into Broome for the day (280km return) to restock with fresh
food for the next two weeks. A long day
in searing day we were away by 8.30 thinking we’d be back by lunch time!
Instead it was mid afternoon with just time to unpack the shop and hitch up in
readiness for Anna Plains next day.
We arrived at the Anna Plains
Station homestead (16k off the main road) around 11.00. Our initial impressions
of the caravan park were not all that favourable. A line of caravans or camper
trailers along a grassed area looked bleak and uninteresting with no shade. Allocated
our site third from the end, we tried to park our rig a little back from our
neighbour so that we could see out across the vast plains
At odd times we’d hear the distant lowing of cattle penned out there.
The smartly turned out Anna
Plains Jackaroo, gave directions to the beach - 8km away, which he considered too
far to walk through the stark landscape in a temperature presently 39. George unhitched the truck and put out the
awning - to find mould growing inside. We removed as much as we could before
collapsing inside with air conditioner - leading us to suspect the prospect of
camping without power was no longer an option.
By 4.30 we decided it would be
cooler down on the beach. The Anna Plains beach lies at the northern end of
Western Australia’s well known Eighty Mile Beach, a registered Ramsar wetland.
Leaving the homestead surrounds we drove along a very good dirt road fringed by
paperbark trees; signs of high-water tables that didn’t reflect on the state of
the road! A gate led into another massive expanse of flat, grass / samphire
covered plains from which Anna Plains presumably derives its name.
Flat! Flat! Flat!
Then an undulating road took us across the dune fields
thickly coated in spinifex, to suddenly end at an opening onto the beach. Having
no desire to drive on the beach, we walked from there. A massive expanse of
beach stretched to infinity in either direction…
Shells appeared to have been scattered by a ‘sower of seed’ in handfuls. When we walked across these irregular patches it was as if we were walking across fine glass crackling beneath each footfall.
The fine grey silt created by
fractal development of the drainage line – appeared slippery in appearance yet
dried powdery and hung in suspension in
the sea water giving a milky / grubby colour to the water gently washing across
the beach; It was a surprisingly warm temperature too as large numbers of small sandpipers and sand-plovers dashed around
in the shallows. Having been deeply
impressed by the beaches and surrounds of Barn Hill, we could not help feeling
a little disappointed by the characterless beach of Anna Plains.
We’d seen. We’d enjoyed our
evening wander but there was certainly nothing to hold us there for a week!
Fortunately, we’d not paid our fees as the caravan caretaker had been out on cattle
muster all day. Even the tiny Ablution block with hot-box cubicles advised we
had to literally ‘clean’ after use, did not compare with Barn Hill. By the next morning, we knew we didn’t even
want to spend another day there especially with a screaming baby in the camper tent
parked alongside of us. Rather than wait for the caretaker to call on us,
George went to find him and pay for one night having decided to cut our
proposed stay short as Anna Plains despite all the favourable reports, was not
our kind of place. Driving back in the teeth of hot cross winds we were only
too happy and relieved to be back on our previous campsite, hooked up to power
with our raven friends, croaking outside the door. We delightedly walked back to our lovely,
familiar, sunlit ablution block on the north ridge rather than use our
campgrounds more standard blocks!
Putting on a laundry wash in the machine against the men’s shower wall, we heard a rather strange sound followed almost immediately by a conversation between a husband and wife taking showers from their respective male/female cubicles.
“Did you hear that?”
“Yes – what was it?”
“I
think it’s a frog stuck in the toilet!”
We had a good chuckle as we certainly haven’t seen any frogs
around Barn Hill. Lo and behold! When
George was ‘paying a visit’ or ‘checking the Parson’s bicycle’… THERE was a tree frog - keeper of
the toilet paper, and it stayed on watch throughout the night.
We fell into our steady routine, enjoying our surrounds as Lea updated our blog or worked on her Dad’s story while George wrote up his daily journal and prepared ‘Australian Odyssey Phase FIVE’ using Booksmart.
Our lives were thrown into
disarray on 15th when George discovered all our milk was sour at
breakfast time. We quickly realised our upright fridge in the caravan was no
longer working! The freezer compartment was coping but not the rest of it.
Communication was a major issue throughout the campground. Signal was so
intermittent that mobiles went dead soon after a connection was made. George
struggled to get hold of Dodger, all day before ascertaining All-Volts only
fixed portable camp fridges. Dodger put
us onto Bob of Kiss Refrigeration. The frustrations of lousy to no signal now
had us three days into no fridge and the deepfreeze had died. All we had
discovered was Bob was working on a boat and very busy and did not read or
respond to text messages! Hours were
wasted walking the cliff trying to phone out. Eventually, Lea spoke to the wife
and arranged to be at the workshop first thing Monday morning. Our
sanity was maintained by air con. What hadn’t defrosted in the fridge
deep-freeze was rescued and squeezed into the small freezer in the truck while
the rest was thrown away. For six days
we eked out a way of life without a fridge in high temperatures trying to cool
down tap-water with aircon to make it drinkable!
To our amusement thereafter, they just needed to see George
and they were up at the fence in bleating in anticipation and, it became our habit, not to disappoint…
That first afternoon, bobbing
about in waves we witnessed an unusual
sighting of a fast moving, streamlined black frigate bird harass terns above
our heads. Lea convinced it was tackling a young tern as it spun out of control
onto the beach. Other terns appeared to chase off the frigate. George explained
the frigate was probably trying to get the tern to regurgitate the fish it had
recently fed on. This practice known as klepto-parasitism which neither of us
had seen before, earns frigates the name ‘’man-of-war’’ birds.
The following afternoon, we
were just completing our briny dip and making our way unsteadily though the
gently rolling waves to shore when we
simultaneously saw a strange apparition
within a wave. Taking a double take at this ethereal looking creature.
Palest green in colour with softly flapping, opaque wings which in turn,
wrapped bat-like around itself, we gazed in stunned amazement for more than a fleeting moment, before another
wave took it from sight. George was
unable to immediately put a name to this graceful creature that had us
marvelling at such a vision. Later, he speculated it may have been a nudibranch
or a ctenophore although it had squid-like eyes.
We drove into Broome on the
Sunday pending our appointment with Kiss Refrigeration for Monday 21st. – Broome Caravan Park was a shadow of its
former self with a green sea of grass devoid of caravans, across the prime
sites. We looked at our favourite site out in the baking sun and decided we
could risk taking a shady prime site on a thick carpet of green lawn. There, George promptly gave the caravan and
truck a good wash down. Phone signal and TV signified we were back in
civilization!
Well before 8.00 am (without having had breakfast) we were
outside Kiss Refrigeration, awaiting the owner. Our waiting time passed unexpectedly
when a port worker pulled up in front of us to ask about our Supreme
caravan. He’d just bought a second hand
Supreme for $50 000 and had shipped to Perth. However, mention of Bob Kiss
prompted him to say Bob was a brusque, rude individual who knew his business. As
a result, when the long-legged and lanky Bob arrived and didn’t even
acknowledge our presence, we were anxious not to upset him. Despite a sign on
the wall above his desk saying ‘’Attitude
make All the Difference’’ he did not even grunt good morning merely growled
“what’s your problem” when George
appeared at his office door. The counter
littered with job cards, an indication of someone overwhelmed by work. Nevertheless, in spite of incoming phone
calls, visitors popping in and deliveries arriving to distract him from the
task at hand, he was quick to ascertain the suction line to the compressor was
cracked and to leave him with caravan for a couple of hours to re-gas the
fridge after fixing the crack by spot welding and, he’d phone when it was done.
We shot off to the shopping
centre for breakfast and sat patiently waiting as hours ticked by inexorably.
George convinced that Bob would be too busy to have time to phone! Eventually
he could bear the wait no longer and returned to see if the job had been
completed. It had! The fridge was running nicely once more and Bob barely took
time to take his money before his head was buried in another fridge … We refilled our fridge with all the basics and headed back to the caravan park looking
forward to an icy cold beer at evening time.
The following day, we returned
to our all too familiar territory, Barn Hill. The place looked semi-deserted,
no-one even on reception. We selected a new shady site that allowed the caravan
to capture the full sea breeze at night and settled for the next week or more. The weather was strangely cloudy as if a
storm front was developing to the south of us and we were enveloped in hot blustery winds which had calmed, by the time of our evening
constitutional. Down on the beach the sea was surprisingly still and rain appeared to be falling in the direction of Eighty Mile Beach.
With cloud on the horizon for
a change, the sunset was quite different to the normal red glow that develops!
Just as remarkable, in the space of six metres we found 13 hermit crabs – most were actively digging!
This was new to us and more Interestingly, the beach was totally
without human marks. It struck us, on previous occasions we’d found the occasional hermit crab inside
the footprint left by someone walking or horses galloping, on the beach; and
presupposed it had fallen in and was merely trying to hide. This new observation
may tie in with instances where hermit crabs deliberately use horse or human
tracks to bury themselves. However, on our return, all hermits were accounted
for within the same patch of beach and not one had buried itself so perhaps
they were feeding on something not visible to human eye.
On the 24th during
the course of our walk along south beach (our favourite), an hour after the
high tide, we came across 59 hermit crabs … a veritable ‘’hot spot’’ containing
more crabs than we have ever seen. Most of them were digging … which led us to
think they may to be feeding on something recently brought in on the tide,
lying beneath the surface of the sand. Significantly, all the crabs seemed to
be making their way upslope towards the HWM, some of them inside shells quite
different to the ‘’common’’ type.
Evidence of the hermit crabs digging behaviour became a focus. Were they burying themselves in the process? On one occasion, a large ghost crab shot off between Lea’s legs giving her a fright as she emitted a guttural gasp and leapt into the air…
We found no sign of a hermit
crabs buried in the sand. Our observations at high tide showed them walking
down towards the strand line and foraging there … but for what we don’t know.
One of the problems, the crabs cease any activity as they have such good eyesight
they freeze the moment they detect anything moving around, even from afar. When we stay so
far removed from them, it is difficult
to see what they are doing.
An unexpected period of cooler weather arrived and with our caravan side on to the sea, we enjoyed the light sea breeze blowing throughout the next four days. Particularly blissful at night doing with air conditioning. The last weekend of September brought an influx of campers – school holidays coinciding with a long weekend. We noticed a cage and thought a young lad had brought his hen on holiday. It was a whistling kite chick he was hand rearing after it had either fallen or been kicked out of its nest.
Our lives at Barn Hill passed
in a quiet, contented sometimes taking a
dip in the natural ‘’tidal pool’’ below Justy’s cairn. We met a Frenchman and
his Perth born wife with their delightful Central Desert dog Bebe making their way to Kalbarri to take up a new
job after experiencing an amazing year working with the Desert people. We’d return via the north beach track so that
we could enjoy the solar heated,
open-air shower block on our way back to the caravan. On the climb up the
narrow pathway with George just in the lead, he heard the familiar guttural gasp
and without thinking he leapt high and did a bit of a highland fling as he
turned to see what he may have stepped upon, to find his wife in a fit of giggles
at his response! Meanwhile, it was she - who’d almost stepped on a small black
snake slithering across the path between them.
Our next
payment at Barn Hill came up on the 29th. We
awoke to the start of a fourth day with no phone signal. The endless difficulty
of communication with the outside world is a drawback at Barn Hill. Within the
hour we had upped sticks and departed. Leaving the familiar on the spur of the
moment wasn’t done easily however the thought of signal and TV drew us on… As we approached the Roebuck Plain a mass of
white dust billowed ahead and we eyed it curiously, wondering if a cattle truck
was stirring it up.
A muster was taking place.
Always an exciting event to
witness amidst the dust and horses as hundreds of young steers loped down the
fence line alongside the road.
Another conversation, that
took place at the tidal pool with a man who was new to Barn Hill, threw us
saying Broome was far nicer! Different strokes for different folks aside,
Broome was far too pricey for long stays brought forth his comment that Town
Beach was cheaper than Barn Hill! We
didn’t know Town Beach and decided to go
and check it out as it was the most perfect setting to see the Staircase to
the Moon.
Discovery Parks Caravan Park overlooking
Town Beach – a massive place with an uninterrupted view of Roebuck Bay with the
Port facility SW of us. Not only was it half the price of other parks , it was
cheaper and Barn Hill -IF you booked a week at a time. Internet signal is slow
and we now realise our National Server is a major disappointment, thanks to the
Government. Another anti-climax was television reception. Three issues affect
the Broome region and the Park is not alone, in being able to fix it. George
struggled to find anything at first then struck lucky. Four channels that included Sky News with their constant Conservative
berating and single minded news reporting.
Very pro Trump, so we were able to watch the first debate between the Donald
and Joe.
Discovery Parks have wonderful
sites down the beach side, all had been booked for the school holidays,
particularly the upcoming phenomena of moon and tide in the first weekend of
October. We sited ourselves within the virtually empty second row back, under
shady trees. We have been assured of choice waterfront sites as from 5 October.
Either way we are content.
Towards evening, with the tide
well out, we walked along the waterfront as far as the jetty and slipway and
came back very impressed with the layout and the way Town Beach area has been
developed and maintained. Lea, always twitchy about ‘biters’ – the wretched
No-see-ums and sand flies that harass
her will be sure not to choose a position anywhere near the Mangroves, that came to light during our
exploration of our new abode.
No comments:
Post a Comment