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.

 

Lakeside (Exmouth to Karratha, WA)

The day dawned as Saturday. This was probably no surprise to most people dear reader, but occasionally we are unaware. We drove down to the Exmouth shopping centre to be absolutely amazed by the number of people and cars. Parking spaces were at a premium. The markets were on opposite the shopping centre. OK, that makes sense. We wandered the area to see what was there and to locate the bottle shop, supermarket and bakery for future use.

The queue, almost out of the bakery door, ensured we went without breakfast and instead, headed for our first snorkel of the day.

We had identified a number of areas for snorkelling through Jayne’s research. This was supplemented by chats on board the Utopia yesterday. Cape Range National Park was the destination, first stop Lakeside.

That made the choice of song title too easy. Lakeside by Australian Crawl from their 1981 album Sirocco.

Amazing coral.

The road was sealed all the way to Lakeside despite the regular dirt tracks off either side of the road on which we were travelling. The jury is still out about the naming of Lakeside. There was a pond behind the dunes but to reference it as a lake was a bridge too far. The snorkelling here is about a 500m walk south from the carpark toward the marine sanctuary.

A colourful clam

Once again, the snorkelling did not disappoint. We braved the 23° water without wetsuits. The coral had more colour and the diversity of marine life was still there. My GoPro captured the underwater action. I’d be happy to return there time and again.

After 30 minutes or so in the water, we returned to the car to check out the Oyster Stack. This was highly recommended by David from the Ningaloo Tour yesterday. He and his family had recently spent some time there. It is a tide specific place and can only be enjoyed a couple of hours either side of high tide. 

After finding a car spot, not easy, we followed the track to the ‘beach’. It was an absolutely stunning spot. Sorry, no photos. The sea was several shades of blue and the major bommies were still above water level. It was postcard perfect. Except the only immediate way into the water was from the rock shelf that lined the beach for about 500 metres. This was neither a viable entrance or exit point for Jayne. Well it could have been. At first it would have been amusing until an injury occurred. This one is listed for a return visit where we will walk to the edge of the shelf and use the beach for access and egress.

Nemo lives here.

Back to the car, next stop was Turquoise Bay. Unsurprisingly the snorkelling is highly rated here as well, however, there are concerns around the strength of the current. If you start at the Loop the current takes you to the Point where you leave the water and walk the beach back to your starting point. We applied the sunscreen and hit the water. The current was much stronger than expected and after 5 minutes or so of fighting it we decided to call it quits.

We drove back into town and straight to the bottle shop and supermarket for supplies to see us through to Broome. We weren’t really sure what would be available between here and Broome.

Back at the resort, post showers, it was time for champagne on the verandah before our final dinner in Exmouth.

Everything about the Mantarays Ningaloo Reef Resort is smooth and on point. I am seriously keen to return and explore the area further, as well as returning to places like Lakeside and the Oyster Stack. When I do, our choice of accommodation is obvious, it will just be outside of school holidays.

Tomorrow we drive to Karratha.

Until then.

 

Shelter from the Storm (Efate, Vanuatu)

This morning I was awoken by, not the gentle lapping of the waves, nor the raucous chirping of the grey-eared honeyeaters that roost in the palm outside the villa. No, this morning, dear reader, I was propelled from my bed by a rain cell that came bawling in from the north-west. Lying there in a semi-conscious state, I was aware of thinking, hmmm, the breeze has picked up. Then the rain hit. Out of bed to rescue my favourite boardshorts lest they might be picked up by the wind and deposited on a nearby island. That was about 2:15 am. Needless to say my sleep was fitful at best, after that little surprise.

The real morning came with a little more decorum, although as mentioned, the birds outside make a serious noise in contrast to their size. That wakeup call was around 4:30 am and then off to sleep again until the staff arrive at the water activities hut to set up for the day. Usually this is around 6 am. And so goes the rhythm of life. Once I was governed by bells and timetables; not anymore.

Today is our penultimate day in Vanuatu and the plan is to spend most of it snorkelling. I opted for a light breakfast, tropical fruit and coffee, with the intention of returning for lunch. The coffee machine, a form of island lotto, did not present for work today and we had to settle for ‘plunger’ coffee. There are worse things.

Last night’s storm proved to be a cleanser. The day was bright and clear, very little cloud and the sun was making its intentions felt early. It was hot and humid. The water looked a treat. Crystal clear and coloured by varying shades of blue as the depth increased or the seagrass and coral intruded on the sand.

A perfect day for snorkelling

Post breakfast brought the usual round of sunscreen application. Enough said. Then a brief hiatus to allow it to soak in before we hit the water. We snorkelled in the same direction as we did the first time, south-west toward the point to re-examine the coral and marine life there.

Although we didn’t swim directly there, we had decided to make the return swim the exploratory leg. However, that didn’t stop us deviating if we found something of interest. It wasn’t long before we did. Jayne had suggested she was glad to meet the Banded Sea Krait on land and not in water. Today, she met the snake on its own terms in the water. It looked bigger, which I assume was the magnification effect of the goggles. It was as disinterested in us in the water as it had been on the water’s edge. Still impressive and I was happy to keep my distance.

What I had supposed to be coral down on the point was a coral graveyard. The water was very shallow and there were masses of dead coral everywhere. There were also extraordinary pockets where fightback was evident. Fields of staghorn coral that looked dead except for the ends of each branch showing an iridescent blue glow. And anywhere there was a coral formation there were fish. The smaller the coral growth the smaller the fish. The bigger the reef, the more variety: spaghetti worms, eels, anemone, fish from minnows to some I would have liked to have seen in the kitchen.

The swim back was more leisurely and we ventured further out to the drop off. There were some huge expanses of coral there all shapes and sizes and colours. It is just magic. There appeared to be more fish life today, perhaps the sunshine, they do sparkle, perhaps the current, who knows? Sadly there were no turtles that we saw or dugongs. After over an hour in the water it was time to plunge into the private pool and float in a more intimate environment until lunch.

Lunch, as I mentioned previously, follows a similar pattern to dinner. An amuse bouche, three choices of entree and main and two choices of dessert. We were sipping on our aged French Chardonnay and staring out at the water when I thought something moved. A turtle I thought, there is some seagrass close to the beach below the restaurant. A few minutes later there was enough of a water disturbance to have me move to the grass for a better view. As did the lady from the next table.

It was there a minute a go

It was not a turtle but a young dugong. It was also enjoying lunch, unusually on its own. The lady that had joined me on the grass to watch said that a herd of dugong had moved through here yesterday (while we were picnicing on Moso). We decided that we would do some more snorkelling after lunch and return here. Both dugongs and turtles had been seen here now.

There is no need to describe lunch any further dear reader, it was superb. We then wandered back to the villa and relaxed into the plunge pool before resting on the lounge to do some blogging.

Then it was snorkelling time again. Sunscreen on, yuck. The tide had turned and the wind had picked up - a portent of things to come. There was nothing really to report from this excursion, no turtles or dugongs, just the coral, fish and another eel, not a moray. There was a lone jellyfish floating on the current that had to be successfully negotiated but that was it. Back to the plunge pool.

For some reason I was delayed in dressing for dinner. I can't remember why, perhaps I was still fighting the technology to finalise a post. Anyway, about the time we would normally be seated in the restaurant another storm cell launched itself from the north. Doors were hastily closed and shutters locked down, the pool was filling quickly to overflowing. We were sheltered from the storm, today's title a 1975 classic from Bob Dylan. We might wait for the rain to ease, we thought. Good move cancelling the sunset cruise.

It was much worse than this

Umbrellas unfurled we sloshed our way to dinner. There seemed to be an unusual number of people milling about the foyer. The tables were set for dinner, but lacked the usual white linen tablecloths and napkins. "Enjoy the storm?" one of the staff giggled. It was then explained that the restaurant, which is open walled to make the most of the view and the breeze, was flooded by the torrential downpour due to the fierce wind blowing the rain in. The tables and linen were saturated and had to be changed. Although they were not quite as wet as the couple that did go on the sunset cruise.

Despite the delay, dinner and the service were as excellent as they have been since we arrived.

To bed and that majestic view and soft slapping of the waves for one more sleep.

Until next time.

I Can See Clearly Now - Fiji, Malolo Island, Musket Cove

Let me commence today’s post with an observation, my dear reader. Moustaches. To echo the pathetic attempt to curb social drug taking by the Howard government of the ‘90s, “just say no”. To moustaches. You can make up your own mind on drugs. I’m not your dad, I can’t tell you what to do. To see a young man shuffling in for breakfast, squinting eyes and wearing the exertions of last evening’s festivities across his brow, is confronting enough. When that young man is also wearing a moustache that appears once to have sported waxed ends … no, no, no. It’s enough to put one off the bad coffee one is drinking. This is 2022, not 1922. It may be in fashion but fashion is not always in good taste.

Life has settled into some sort of pattern. Not completely regular and regimented but there is a pattern. Once again, I rose before Jayne to swim laps in the pool. Exercise always allows one to feel righteous. It also excuses any excess at the breakfast table. Today was a carbon copy of the last few mornings - cloudless, with a slight breeze. The pool was empty and the restaurant only slightly more populated by the early breakfast fraternity.

Laps achieved, it was time to shower, dress and return with Jayne for the breakfast dilemma. To omelette or not to omelette, that is the question? No omelette today, but a promise was made to the staff that she would have one tomorrow. There will be no omelette passing these lips. Or any other egg concoction, if I can help it.

We lingered over breakfast, allowing the tide to rise a little higher, in preparation for another assault on snorkelling. Today we opted to walk to the Island Bar, which has become a haven for yachties and other assorted ne’er-do-wells. Think Jane Austen gypsies, but more annoying and not so scary. Our reasoning revolved around the very limited areas of clear water in which to snorkel. If the visibility is low, there is little point being out there, particularly as Jayne is snorkelling without lenses, the contacts being safe and sound in Sydney (along with the Aeroguard). While the goggles have a magnification effect, it is not enough if there is no water clarity.

The breakfast bulbul planning his next attack.

The water closer to the island is a little clearer and we floated our way towards where the vision was best yesterday. Then we turned our attention to the coral that borders the deep-water channel that provides boat access to the marina. It was the clearest we’ve seen. Not brilliant, but very good. There were plenty of different coral varieties and colours. Orange, yellow, iridescent blue, purple and other less vibrant colours and more fish than we’ve seen all week. It was certainly worth the effort today and our 45 minute (self-imposed) time limit in the sun was soon reached.

The water clarity spawned today's title. Yes, dear reader, I know the Hothouse Flowers version is a remake, but it is one of the best versions. Have a listen.

We followed a slow drift back towards the beach in case there was anything else worth seeing. There wasn’t. The sun was high in sky and letting us know it was time to re-occupy the chairs on the verandah to read and relax until lunch/cocktail time.

Our allegiance for cocktails has switched from the Island Bar to the restaurant. There is no particular reason for this except that I am interested in the lunch options to minimise my dinner intake. I think it’s an age thing. For the last two days I have had lunch, coinciding with swimming laps of a morning. The cocktail today was unchanged from yesterday, a Blue Malolo. Jayne opted for the safety of a Pina Colada and I went for the experimental Island Itch. The passion fruit seduced me. Like many a seduction, it didn’t live up to expectations. Or so I’ve been told.

It has been firmly established on this trip, dear reader, that the less one does, the more exhausted one feels. In the mid-afternoon on our last full day, I am struggling to raise myself from the deck chair to walk the 20 metres to the lagoon to cool down. I am uncertain if this is just island malaise or the impact of the cocktail at lunch. It is an effort, but one must succeed.

Post-lagoon exercise, we are back lounging on the verandah. There is a new yacht in at the marina this afternoon and as the day winds down, they are winding up. Why is it people with appalling taste in music feel the need to share that fact with everyone? The music, if it can be called that, is, unlike the water, crystal clear and can be heard quite a distance away. Hoping they shove off soon. (See what I did there?)

A Vanikoro Flycatcher

One of the nice touches of the resort is the hibiscus flowers that are used to decorate the buré. They are placed upon the bed, the bar, the side table on the verandah, the bathroom – just about anywhere there is flat surface. Soaking up the scenery the other afternoon I looked at the grass in front of the verandah area. Hibiscus stamens in various states of decay littered the ground like the cigarette butts of a previous generation. I’ve seen very few people here smoke. We have a coconut ashtray on the verandah that I place the flowers in every day.

Pre-dinner, I summoned the strength to chase tiny little birds. The Fijian Parrot Finch was back in the area and I finally managed to get a couple of reasonable close-ups – I hope. I won’t really know until we’re back home and I’ve loaded the photos onto the computer.

Nailed it.

Our last dinner. Tonight was curry night. As mentioned previously they are obviously following a set program. I don’t get why this can’t be published to the guests. Regardless, dinner was lovely and the sunset stunning. We thought we would celebrate our last night with a relaxing bottle of red after dinner and listen to the local musicians. Well, that was the plan, but nobody came near us all evening. So, no red wine. 

We walked back to the buré where sometime later Jayne suggested someone was at the door. I thought it was the clicking frog until it spoke. Our final bill, minus tonight’s wine, had been delivered. Which also delivered a surprise. We had been moved from the 3:45pm Cat back to Nandi to the 12:15pm trip. That’s a whole lot of wait time at the airport that we hadn’t factored in.

Too tired to discuss this tonight, we opted to leave it for the morning.

Until next time.