The Lighthouse Song (Sal Salis, Cape Range National Park)

No breakfast for me to begin the day, dear reader. I was up at 5:30am, to dress and gather my gear to slip out away, as quietly as possible. Told Jayne to go back to sleep as I zipped up the tent flap to ensure the flies didn’t carry her away while I was gone. It wasn’t the most restful night for either of us. The wind had picked up from the east again and ripped at the fly over the tent. It sounded at times as if someone was trying to get into the tent and at others, like there were wild animals scratching at the door. Just like the people in the The Lighthouse Song by Josh Pyke.

No need for a torch.

I was at the Lodge before 6:00am, gathering with the other early risers who were joining the sunrise walk to Mandu Mandu. In the local language it means “meat meat”, a good place to hunt.

We walked the path back to the South Mandu carpark and on the way, I snapped a few shots of the sleeping resort with the full moon as a backdrop, hovering above the sea. After one snap, I saw a shooting star. Magic. We were soon on the bus for a 5 minute drive to another carpark where we commenced our walk down the old river bed, through the gorge and up the hill.

First light in the gorge.

En route, we passed through black footed wallaby territory and a few of them stopped to pose for us. The gorge walls were stunning as the sun rose and they changed colour to create a paint chart of shades of red. 

The walk down the river bed was surprisingly easy.

We walked at a pleasant rate, intent on enjoying the surroundings and listening to the natural world wake. The view from the top was as brilliant as expected. A sweeping vista across the valley, out to the sea and the reef. Sal Salis was clearly visible as was the reef and the whales beyond it, breaching and fin slapping.

Nice pose. Excellent contrast of colours.

The walk back to the car park was as benign as the climb up to the top of the hill and we were soon back at the resort ordering breakfast. Jayne was waiting for me in the Lodge and once breakfast was done, we went back to the tent to change for another drift snorkel. On the way back she regaled me with a Tinnitus story. Apparently, his wetsuit was the wrong size and he wandered into the Lodge talking about the problem with the suit. Interestingly, he was alone.

The view from the first rest stop.

Down on the beach, we prepared our gear for the snorkel. The swell had almost completely gone and the sea was much calmer than the last few days. As we were readying ourselves, we were approached by a random traveller, Adrienne, who was snorkelling alone and wanted to alert us to this fact. We also learnt where she placed her bag and where her phone was that contained the emergency contact. Overshare. It turned out that Adrienne was not a guest of Sal Salis; she was in a campervan, on holiday from Cairns. In theory she should not have been there. While the beach is not privately owned, the resort site is and her access to the beach was through the resort. Queenslanders!

The Lodge in the distance and the beach where we snorkelled.

Conditions today were excellent. The visibility had improved and the current had dropped slightly. We walked to outer end of the resort and put our gear on and drift snorkelled back to where our gear had been left. The number and variety of fish astound me every time I stick my head into the water. I won’t try and name the varieties, but the colours defy description on a day where the sun ensures iridescent sparkling. Azure blue to sunshine yellow, purple to green to silver, every colour was accounted for somewhere on a fish or coral growth.

A singing honey-eater (I was told).

The drift back to base occupied about 15 minutes and we were not wearing wet suits, so came ashore to warm ourselves in the sun. Adrienne had completed her second drift by this time and stopped for another chat before heading into the water for the last time. We walked up to our starting point and hit the water again, this time heading further out into the coral before drifting back to our gear. The second drift was over 20 minutes and that was enough time in the sun for us. Time for a shower and change of clothes.

A Cape Range Grevillea.

What is next? Lunch of course, dear reader. Not that we were hungry, but you know, it’s on offer. Today vongole in garlic and butter served with a baguette. And in our case, wine and beer. As we discussed the options, Tinnitus was in the corner talking. Incessantly. “Do they ever shut up?” asked Jayne. It’s like any thought that comes into their head needs to be verbalised. Following lunch, I edited the photos I’d taken, blogged a little, watched some newbies arrive and then repaired to the tent for some reading. Dinner tonight is still a mystery as the board hadn’t been placed up before we left, but we do know we are leaving Sal Salis tomorrow at 10:00am. Sad face.

Fortunately the white shouldered wrens that I'd been stalking down at the Lodge, appeared next to our tent in the fading afternoon light. While they weren't totally co-operative, I wanted the male in the sun to show off his sparkling colours, I understand that he had other things on his mind. Well, he is male.

White shouldered Fairywren looking for romance.

A different dinner that evening, same concept, three courses with paired wines. Curiously, from my perspective they paired the pork belly entrée with a Sauvignon Blanc. Yeah nah. We went with the Pinot Noir. As did the two couples we had been chatting with prior to dinner. All of the wines are from Denmark. The West Australian area, not the country, and are cold climate wines.

We had plenty of laughs over dinner as tales from the day were recounted and we shared stories of our lives and travel. The moon is only just past full and once again proved to be too bright for the sort of night photography I was chasing so it was time for bed.

Until tomorrow.

 

When I'm 64 (Sal Salis, Cape Range National Park)

The night was calmer, although colder until the early morning when the wind whipped up again. No drama. The tent stayed anchored to the ground. We heard the sound of distant voices heading off to early morning adventures and dozed on. 

Those voices became the soundtrack to our week. We heard them on the plane up from Perth, on the shuttle to Sal Salis, in the morning as they went on their dawn walk, in the Lodge. I named them Tinnitus because they were always in my head.

Today is Jayne’s birthday (August 19 if you’re reading this out of sync) and the intention is to be as relaxed as possible and just go with whatever takes us. It is also responsible for today's title, When I'm 64 by the best band ever, The Beatles. 

Breakfast was the usual offerings, although this morning we tried the coffee machine. I know, dear reader, there are multitudes of people who believe the new-age machine does good coffee, but I am not among their number. What appeared in a cup this morning, masquerading as an espresso, did little to alter my perspective. I drank it and then opted for a cup of tea.

Stunning every morning.

Following breakfast, we were fitted out for our snorkelling gear, sans wetsuits. The water temperature is remarkably warm and we felt we wouldn’t require them. Back to the tent to change and then it was straight across the sand dune to the water. The reef is less than 10 metres away but the south-north current ensures you need to walk many metres down the beach to allow your snorkel to bring you home. Otherwise, it’s Mauritius or Madagascar, as I’ve heard the guides say.

We walked maybe 500 metres up the beach and then it was into the gutter between the shore and the coral. Mask adjusted, flippers on, into the current, over the coral and let the ocean do the rest. Visibility was still not as good as we’d hoped. The fringing coral was in various states of life or death; it wasn’t easy to tell the difference at times. It’s a spectrum I guess and the opposite ends share some similarities. The coral closest to the shore was covered in sediment which was unsurprising given the current and the nature of the reef.

There was a variety of coral but the abundance and diversity of fish life was astounding. Regardless of whether we were over sand or coral, there were fish. All shapes and sizes and colours. Large schooling fish I would have liked to have taken home for dinner. Trumpeter fish with their oversized beaks. Leather jacket, angel fish, Nemo (well, his relatives) and so many more I didn’t recognise. Magic.

Pretty and  slightly over-exposed.

Back on shore, we retired to our tent for showers and a spot of reading on the verandah. The sun and the breeze ensured our gear dried quickly. The only disturbance was the aircraft. Planes heading out to the reef whale spotting or just sight-seeing and the jets. I assume they were heading for Learmonth which is, after all, a Defence base. And Tinnitus droning away in their tent.

A Nankeen Kestrel falcon.

Sal Salis is one of those resorts where everything is included in the price. Unlike some cruises we’ve been on that profess the same, Sal Salis is the real deal, we paid for nothing after we arrived. An ordinary day offered breakfast, lunch, canapes and dinner with the alcohol cupboard being freely accessed whenever you like. It being Jayne’s birthday, we thought lunch might be nice. The choice was burrata and whatever or bugs and a capsicum (muhammara style) sauce.

Bugs. Wow. Two full bugs with the capsicum sauce and a baguette. I didn’t need to eat that much, but it would have been wasteful not to finish. Absolutely delicious. Even the two corellas that wanted to share my lunch could not distract me. Corellas and bugs despatched, we repaired to the Lodge interior to avoid the sun and consume some more Chardy.

He was uninvited.

Horror of horrors. I pulled the wine bottle from the fridge and commenced to pour. The pour was terminated abruptly with a gasp loud enough for Jayne to hear 15 metres away. Some philistine had returned a red wine bottle to the row of chardonnay and I had inadvertently poured red wine into Jayne’s glass. In my defence, the bottles were similar. And who expects to find a red in the fridge? Even up here.

Lunch done, it was back to the tent for a rest before our next meal. It’s a tough life. OK, maybe I spent time writing this blog and reading. What am I reading you enquire? Evie Wyld’s latest, The Echoes. I wanted to dislike it because I haven’t forgiven the Miles Franklin judges for awarding her the Miles over Flanagan’s Narrow Road to the Deep North. The latter did go on to win the Booker so my judgement was vindicated. Quite like the new book though. About half way through. We’ll see. The ending may disappoint, like that of Immaculate By Anna McGahan. Discuss.

A wine induced afternoon snooze followed (for me) before we raised ourselves and changed for dinner. Another excellent three courses: scallops for entrée, rib eye for main and a white chocolate mousse for dessert. As it was Jayne’s birthday, her mousse came resplendent with a ‘happy birthday’ chocolate disc. And a rousing version of ‘happy birthday’, kicked off by the staff and taken up by the guests.

A starry night.

Back at the tent I attempted some night photography. “Attempted” is the correct verb, dear reader. Over exposed. I blame the full moon and will try again tomorrow night. At least I know how to shoot the stars now, Dave. Sadly, they are not as impressive as the night sky on the Larapinta. There is potential, but not with a full moon.

Too much light from the moon.

Until tomorrow.

Stranded (Perth - Learmonth - Sal Salis)

The flight from Perth to Learmonth was uneventful and surprisingly the plane was not quite full. One of the air stewards informed us there had had been major issues in Sydney due to storms and many flights had been cancelled. So glad we flew out a day earlier, otherwise we could well have been stranded too. The inspiration for today's title, Stranded by the Saints, the first real punk band.

The flight landed on time, dear reader, but the singular baggage handler wanted to make his presence felt by moving with the speed of a glacier in an ice age. 40 minutes after disembarking the plane, our bag came through the carousel flap. Erin from Sal Salis was waiting for us and we were soon on the mini-bus heading for the resort. There is no road across the Cape Range due to its environmental and ecological significance. A surprise for the mining state. The range is riddled with caves, 500 plus and counting, that are being mapped and explored, revealing new species after new species. The scientists have enough work for many years to come. The road trip from the airport requires driving up into Exmouth and down the other side of the Cape Range. A trip of around 90 minutes.

Camping, but not really.

The resort is a series of 16 glamping tents, complete with ensuite and a communal lodge where meals and refreshments are enjoyed. After the usual ‘onboarding’ experience, we were shown to our tent, number 13, and unpacked our bags. It being close to canapé time, we then adjourned to the deck attached to the Lodge to enjoy a wine. Open bar - free pour as they say in the cruise brochures. Nice.

Home for the next four nights.

Canapés were delicious and we sat and chatted with other patrons as dinner approached. A three course delight with paired wines. The chef is French. Or at least he speaks with an outrageous French accent. The food was delightful, as was the dinner company, a couple all the way from, well, Ultimo. We’re almost neighbours.

The first sunset.

The moon is approaching full, but stars were difficult to spot due to the cloud. The night brought a rain storm which sounded spectacular on the canvas. I just rolled over and pulled the doona cover a little tighter. Ah, bliss. Not a siren to be heard.

Our start in the morning was relatively early. We needed to be at breakfast by 7 for a 7:45am departure for our mega-fauna tour. Although I’m sure those that left for the 5:45am sunrise walk would say we had it easy. There was quite an array of options for breakfast, fresh fruit, an açai bowl, the ubiquitous bacon and eggs and so on. Suitably sustained, we jumped into the golf buggy and headed for the carpark at Mandu South to pick up our lift to the boat ramp. Smooth as silk. Unlike the water this morning. 

The morning break.

The storm that hit Perth as we were leaving yesterday, side-swiped us and the swell was running at about 3 metres. Not enough to stop the trip but enough to make things interesting. In contrast to our Manta Ray swim last year, the boat we were on had only 7 passengers and 4 crew. A nice ratio.

A random flower. Pretty.

Safely on board we headed for a lagoon snorkelling spot where our guides could surreptitiously check out our ability levels. The water was a delightful 25° and I did the first swim without a wetsuit. Visibility was extremely poor and as an event, the first snorkel was forgettable. But today we weren’t here to snorkel in the lagoon and soon the boat was pointing north, out beyond the reef, looking for a Whale Shark.

This is what a whale shark looks like.

After the usual safety talk, we were soon sitting on the marlin board on the stern of the boat, eagerly anticipating our first sighting. The water was still warm but we all had on steamers on and lined up as we’d been told. Into the water, into another line and then the call, “face in water” and out of the gloom emerged a whale shark. Just brilliant. It moved so languidly, carrying so many sucker fish. A slight movement of the tail propelling it forward; the swell buffeting it as much as it did us. The turquoise spots reflecting the sun. And then our time was up and we returned to the boat.

This guy dropped by too.

We were one of 7 vessels chasing a whale shark sighting at that spot. There were two or three other sightings but the whale sharks there weren’t being particularly cooperative and submerged as people came close. The result for us, was a highly coordinated ballet of bodies, moving into and out of the water to spend their time swimming along with this behemoth of the seas. 

Beyond cool.

And so we did. Five times. On the fourth pass I was at the end of our line and the last to put my head into the water. Unbeknown to me, the shark had changed direction and was moving directly toward me. I submerged to see it within in a metre and half of me, much closer than expected and had to swim backwards to avoid a collision. He rolled onto his side as he passed, attempting to protect his soft underbelly.

About 5 metres in length.

Our fifth swim saw the water more clouded and the shark was less clearly defined. Compounding this was the fact that he’d had enough and began his descent from the surface back into the depths of the Indian Ocean. Unfortunately for the group next in the water, they would see little more than a murky shape. As it eventuated, this particular group had made numerous attempts to see a shark throughout the day. This was their last, and another failed attempt. We had been so fortunate.

Celebrating the day.

Back on shore, Kate drove us back to the pick-up point where our golf buggy chariot awaited. A hot shower and a change of clothes meant it was time to adjourn to the Lodge for the afternoon, rosé and some nibbles. Ah, paradise.

The gang.

We met some new people in our attempt to find dry seats. The unexpected deluge from last night had left all the outdoor furniture cushions wet. A couple from Tasmania. Like everyone else we have met so far, there was an amazing back story … time spent working in Antarctica. Incredible. Dropped into the conversation like you’d say, “I’m off to the shops. Do you need anything?” Another brilliant three course meal followed. Prawns, gold banded snapper and passionfruit tart. With paired wines, of course.

That's all for now.

Until tomorrow.

 

Go Your Own Way (Sydney, NSW to Perth, WA, part 1)

Hello again dear reader. Did you miss me? It's been a while since our NZ sojourn and although we have been out and about there wasn't really anything to blog about. You know me, wineries, restaurants, the usual stuff. Until now. The end of the financial year forced me from my cocoon of warmth in the inner city and deposited me in Perth, Western Australia. Curiously, WA is experiencing some unseasonal weather at the moment. If there is such a thing as unseasonal weather in the current age. What was it Tony Abbott said about climate change? Fool.

It started like this:

This trip (I've decided the word holiday is to be expunged from my vocabulary), is the last of the planned, pre-covid expeditions. Initially the idea was to fly in and out of Perth and drive the length of the Coral Coast to Exmouth and back exploring on the way. The ultimate aim was to swim with the whale sharks on  Ningaloo Reef. Bucket list. As well as soak up the beauty of the coast and surrounding country.

Remote is such a clichéd word, but is the only way to describe this part of Australia. Not Perth, further north. There are vast distances between towns and the original plan was to take about 4 weeks and see as much as possible. As always, there is a substantial amount of guesswork involved, given we haven't passed this way before and Google, while helpful, has its limitations. It was all mapped with a luxurious stay at Sal Salis (seriously, check this place out, amazing) planned at the end point culminating in the whale shark experience before a slow meander back to Perth. Then Covid arrived and Sal Salis was off the menu. This time.

On the other side of the pandemic, we finally did the APT European river cruise and were keen to see what they had to offer at home. That was how we came across the Broome to Darwin via the Kimberley tour. It would allow us to experience things we didn't see on our Kimberley expedition cruise a few years back, as well as getting into Kakadu and Litchfield National Parks. This is as close to wilderness as Jayne is likely to experience.

The trip morphed into Perth to Broome and then Broome to Darwin. The first part organised by me, the second leg by APT. It created some logistical problems, more on that later, and also locked in the date we needed to be in Broome which dominoed all the way down the Coral Coast to Perth and back to Sydney. In a tragic turn of events, it meant we were travelling in school holidays, something we vowed never to do again. On the plus side, we get chauffeured to and from the airport for being repeat APT customers.

The school holiday effect, which needs a name, was unknown until recently. While all the accommodation was booked 12 months ago, the day-to-day experiences were left until this week. Consequently, there will be no snorkelling with the whale sharks. Every tour operator in Exmouth or Coral Bay is completely booked. As they say in the classics, not happy Jan. Unless we jag a cancellation we will be back, maybe next year. Definitely not in school holidays. 

Some websites have even suggested we need to pre-book restaurants. Despite being incredibly well organised that is just a bridge too far, so we may return several kilos lighter.

Packing problems

Packing. The word sends chills down my spine. We always overpack. Even knowing this doesn't help and I'm sure I've overpacked again. Normally this is not a problem and is rationalised by the unknown - weather and experiences. Not this time. We have a luggage limit for the Broome to Darwin trip. Further, we can take soft bags only. No suit cases due to the all terrain vehicle in which we will be travelling.

What does this mean you ask, my inquisitive reader? Well, we are flying Qantas. They have destroyed two of my suitcases on recent flights so I don't trust them to take care of soft bags. Aside from that, we are snorkelling and swimming at various points on the Coral Coast. It has some of the best and most pristine reefs in the world (see Tim Winton's documentary Ningaloo). Our fins only fit into the largest of suitcases.

The remedy? I packed most of my gear into my RM Williams bag which will be carry on and Jayne's duffle bag, her gear, beach towels, snorkel equipment and the rest is in the large suitcase. When we arrive in Broome, we will repack to meet requirements and stash all unnecessary things back into the suitcase for it to be transported to Darwin. Simple. Well, not really, but as the French say, 'il semble travailler' (it seems to work).

That was then. As I sit and survey the luggage strewn floor, I have decided to re-pack the suitcase. 

Happy with that.

Qantas

Ah yes, Qantas. I've mentioned the destruction of my luggage. There have been other issues but I don't wish to bore you dear reader. However, at 10:26pm on the night before we were scheduled to fly, they cancelled our flight. By text. I was awake watching the cricket in England but my phone had sensibly gone to sleep so I didn't see the message. Until this morning.

Actually the first message on the screen was from 12:26am to inform me that our flight had been re-routed to Melbourne. That certainly got the blood pumping. Melbourne? WTF? We are now flying at 3:30pm to Melbourne and then on to Perth arriving at 9:05pm. Do you believe that will happen? I don't. There are now reports that only one runway is operating in Sydney, due to high winds. And it is school holidays. Happy days.

The good news, if there can be any, is that the we have kept our Business Class seats on both legs of the flight. Although we have been relegated from the comfort of the A330 to the stock standard 737. I know, I know, first world problems.

The Flights and Perth

I think that's enough for one day. We arrived. Tired. I'll save the rest of the day for tomorrow. After all it is Perth, how much can there be to do?

Connectivity

The other significant impact on this trip is connectivity (or lack thereof) although there are no issues tonight. I have no idea how often I will have a network strong enough to post a blog with photographs. Therefore, posts will be sporadic and could well be out of sync and posted once we are back home in Sydney. Fear not, the blog will continue, just not in real time.

As will the song titles to head up each post. Today's title is from that classic 1977 Fleetwood Mac album, Rumours. Have a listen. We will be going our own way until we arrive in Broome.

Until next time.