Monday, July 31, 2006
Yanchep National Park
Originally, we planned a 3.5 day hike along the "Coastal Plain Walking Track", starting in Yanchep National Park and ending not far from one of Perth's northern suburbs. But Thursday, the day before we were to leave, it rained. Harder, perhaps, than I have ever seen it rain. Certainly near the top of the list. The city was dark at lunchtime, as I looked out at it from my window, hard at work. To make matters worse, Michael was feeling about as perky as the weather. It seemed the hike was not to be.
Friday we spent doing little of anything, until the afternoon when we did some shopping for a short overnighter. In our modified plan, we would hike a mere 5-6km out to the first hut on the track, spend the night, then come back. So we checked the bus schedules (finally got around to that step). Hmm. Only one bus back to town on Sunday, and it left early in the morning.
New change in plans - we could do a small loop and pass the first two huts on the track - coming back on Monday would leave plenty of transportation options. And so it was that our plan was hatched. Nothing too crazy but still an adventure. I started to get excited.
Saturday morning, we caught the train out of the city and to the end of the line in the brand-spanking-new suburb of Clarkson. Our bus took wound us through a sea of medium-large houses, bulging out towards their fencelines and staring out through blank windows at the street. Occasionally, there were patches of 'greenspace' - each carfeully-planned blade of grass in its place, trying to look welcoming though impersonal so as to create an illusion of providing a bit of outdoor space for your 2.5 children to play in. After the houses came the 'neighbourhood shops' - a 'Crazy Clark's' and a 'Kmart' were the first, of course. I suppose that in a way it is fitting that this glimpse of suburbia in all its ugliness was the launching point for our trip. It is just about the polar opposite to wilderness.
When we alighted from the bus about 20 minutes later, suburbia had been left behind, and next to the bus stop was a trail marker. Perfect. The first sight that greeted us as we stepped away from the road was a large tree in full blossom, highlighted by the sun and snowing blossoms in the breeze. From here it was a kilometre or two to the centre of the park. Where by centre I mean the place with the parking lots, the boardwalks, toilet blocks every 200m, and the ice cream kiosk. So, we grabbed an ice cream and went to see the koalas.
Koalas don't normally live in Western Australia - I'm not sure why, but the lack of the right kinds of eucalyptus trees to nibble on might contribute. The park had its own plantation of koala-friendly trees just for its little enclosed population of them.
Finally it was time to actually start hiking, so we set off after a Carnaby's black cockatoo on the cockatoo walk. The hike out was nice, but mostly uneventful. The main feature of note were the areas in which the track was surrounded by bushes whose flowers smelt very strongly of cat pee. And I know what cat pee smells like. It brought back memories of trying to clean an old tent in Nanaimo. I don't know what kind of creature the bushes were trying to attract - perhaps they were trying to ward off felines instead. We braved them, anyhow.
Ridges campsite was a beautiful spot overlooking a vast valley. Like many of Western Australia's longer walking tracks, it was equipped with a hut, but the hut lacked one rather essential feature - apparently someone had stolen its water tank! Luckily we had had a short day and therefore had some good supplies, and we were able to top these off in the couple of brief showers that passed by overnight. Michael displayed his firelighting skills and we had a delicious dinner cooked over the campfire. Competing for the best moment of the trip was the misty sunrise over the valley the next morning.
Sunday, we walked through some more the the tomcat-gone-wild territory, then emerged on the one rocky outcropping within the whole park for a 360 degree view after a very minimal climb. It was a nice place for part one of lunch. The trail then led us past an ancient abandoned vehicle, past some interesting plants, over hill and over dale, and finally into a real forest in which one actually felt dwarfed by the trees. It has been some time since I have been in such a forest. Shapcott's hut was placed in this valley in the trees, and it was here we spent the night. Sunday evening we spent around the campfire with a couple from perth/pennsylvania talking about possums, garlic bread, and of course George Dubya.
This (Monday) morning, we left camp early - just after daybreak, in fact. Our walk back took us past a number of marshy wetlands, softly lit by the morning sun. I think this was my favourite part of the whole trip. As we approached the water, I heard what at first sounded like voices - other early risers like us? Doubtful. We stopped to listen. And it quickly became apparent that we were audience to a host of banjo frogs; each one strumming its note again and again: 'twang.. twang'. It was as if we had walked in upon the warmup of a thousand amateur musicians each about to burst forth into his own rendition of 'Oh Susanna'.
Back at the lake, we paid another visit to the koalas, all happily perched and paying little notice to the apparent precariousness of their situation.
All in all, I had a great time, and I would definitely recommend Yanchep as a good place for a hike and easy to get to from Perth. Just beware that you can't get an ice cream or a milkshake before 10:30am. Photos are in my gallery here.
kat
Friday we spent doing little of anything, until the afternoon when we did some shopping for a short overnighter. In our modified plan, we would hike a mere 5-6km out to the first hut on the track, spend the night, then come back. So we checked the bus schedules (finally got around to that step). Hmm. Only one bus back to town on Sunday, and it left early in the morning.
New change in plans - we could do a small loop and pass the first two huts on the track - coming back on Monday would leave plenty of transportation options. And so it was that our plan was hatched. Nothing too crazy but still an adventure. I started to get excited.
Saturday morning, we caught the train out of the city and to the end of the line in the brand-spanking-new suburb of Clarkson. Our bus took wound us through a sea of medium-large houses, bulging out towards their fencelines and staring out through blank windows at the street. Occasionally, there were patches of 'greenspace' - each carfeully-planned blade of grass in its place, trying to look welcoming though impersonal so as to create an illusion of providing a bit of outdoor space for your 2.5 children to play in. After the houses came the 'neighbourhood shops' - a 'Crazy Clark's' and a 'Kmart' were the first, of course. I suppose that in a way it is fitting that this glimpse of suburbia in all its ugliness was the launching point for our trip. It is just about the polar opposite to wilderness.
When we alighted from the bus about 20 minutes later, suburbia had been left behind, and next to the bus stop was a trail marker. Perfect. The first sight that greeted us as we stepped away from the road was a large tree in full blossom, highlighted by the sun and snowing blossoms in the breeze. From here it was a kilometre or two to the centre of the park. Where by centre I mean the place with the parking lots, the boardwalks, toilet blocks every 200m, and the ice cream kiosk. So, we grabbed an ice cream and went to see the koalas.
Koalas don't normally live in Western Australia - I'm not sure why, but the lack of the right kinds of eucalyptus trees to nibble on might contribute. The park had its own plantation of koala-friendly trees just for its little enclosed population of them.
Finally it was time to actually start hiking, so we set off after a Carnaby's black cockatoo on the cockatoo walk. The hike out was nice, but mostly uneventful. The main feature of note were the areas in which the track was surrounded by bushes whose flowers smelt very strongly of cat pee. And I know what cat pee smells like. It brought back memories of trying to clean an old tent in Nanaimo. I don't know what kind of creature the bushes were trying to attract - perhaps they were trying to ward off felines instead. We braved them, anyhow.
Ridges campsite was a beautiful spot overlooking a vast valley. Like many of Western Australia's longer walking tracks, it was equipped with a hut, but the hut lacked one rather essential feature - apparently someone had stolen its water tank! Luckily we had had a short day and therefore had some good supplies, and we were able to top these off in the couple of brief showers that passed by overnight. Michael displayed his firelighting skills and we had a delicious dinner cooked over the campfire. Competing for the best moment of the trip was the misty sunrise over the valley the next morning.
Sunday, we walked through some more the the tomcat-gone-wild territory, then emerged on the one rocky outcropping within the whole park for a 360 degree view after a very minimal climb. It was a nice place for part one of lunch. The trail then led us past an ancient abandoned vehicle, past some interesting plants, over hill and over dale, and finally into a real forest in which one actually felt dwarfed by the trees. It has been some time since I have been in such a forest. Shapcott's hut was placed in this valley in the trees, and it was here we spent the night. Sunday evening we spent around the campfire with a couple from perth/pennsylvania talking about possums, garlic bread, and of course George Dubya.
This (Monday) morning, we left camp early - just after daybreak, in fact. Our walk back took us past a number of marshy wetlands, softly lit by the morning sun. I think this was my favourite part of the whole trip. As we approached the water, I heard what at first sounded like voices - other early risers like us? Doubtful. We stopped to listen. And it quickly became apparent that we were audience to a host of banjo frogs; each one strumming its note again and again: 'twang.. twang'. It was as if we had walked in upon the warmup of a thousand amateur musicians each about to burst forth into his own rendition of 'Oh Susanna'.
Back at the lake, we paid another visit to the koalas, all happily perched and paying little notice to the apparent precariousness of their situation.
All in all, I had a great time, and I would definitely recommend Yanchep as a good place for a hike and easy to get to from Perth. Just beware that you can't get an ice cream or a milkshake before 10:30am. Photos are in my gallery here.
kat
Tuesday, July 18, 2006
My camera broke
boo hoo. My camera died. It was a very sudden death. One minute I took a picture of my evil styrofoam cup man on the bus to busselton. 
I tried to take another since he was a little blurry. But I guess he didn't take well to that and decided to exact his revenge upon my camera. The next picture I took looked like this: 
. Very much like every picture I have tried to take since. Viewing the old pictures on my memory card, they look perfectly fine. It is very odd indeed.
The good news is that I was actually suckered into buying an extended warranty. The better news is that warranty doesn't expire until next January. In the meantime, I will be stealing Michael's camera whenever I want to take pictures...
kat
I tried to take another since he was a little blurry. But I guess he didn't take well to that and decided to exact his revenge upon my camera. The next picture I took looked like this: . Very much like every picture I have tried to take since. Viewing the old pictures on my memory card, they look perfectly fine. It is very odd indeed.The good news is that I was actually suckered into buying an extended warranty. The better news is that warranty doesn't expire until next January. In the meantime, I will be stealing Michael's camera whenever I want to take pictures...
kat
The past month or so
Yes, it has been a while.
The past 4 weekends or so I have spent in Busselton, home of the parents of Michael.
The first weekend, Michael and I planned an overnight hike on the Cape to Cape track, starting at Cape Naturaliste. We packed our packs. We drove to the Cape. In a downpour. When we arrived, it was pouring, and the wind was strong. We decided to take a little walk without our packs to assess the situation. We got out to a lookout and the pelting rain stung our eyelids. I was soaked to the bone in minutes. We decided to postpone the trip. Then the sun came out - it was gorgeous - we walked further and saw hundreds of seals/sealions down in the water. Then the rain came again. We stopped at Simmo's ice cream shop on the way home. As we sat in front of the wood stove with our hot teas, the rain pelted down upon the roof...
The second weekend, we did take two. Thoroughly waterproofed all of our belongings in our packs. Michael's friend Ryan and his girlfriend Tammy joined us for the first segment of the hike, then refueled us with some donuts before we parted ways. The hike to Mt Duckworth Campsite was beautiful and sunny along the clifftops overlooking the ocean. After a warm night in the tent, we hiked back out again. We probably stopped at Simmo's on the way home.
The third weekend was the 'fishing trip with the boys'. Only one of 'the boys' cancelled, and another also had his girlfriend along. So really the boys hardly outnumbered the girls. As for the fishing, it was too windy. The usual fishing spot was splashed with waves and spray. But there was a campfire, there were marshmallows, and there was an australian football that ping ponged its way among the trees. We stopped at Simmo's on the way home.
The fourth weekend was last weekend. My bus arrived in Busselton on friday night. Saturday morning, Michael and I set out to rip some invading bracken out by its roots in order to free the native bush (and to open up some lovely holes for the relentless arum lilies to flourish - these are to be sprayed next weekend). The result was a towering pile of bracken fronds, 4 blisters on the middle finger of my right hand, and 3 blisters on the middle finger of my left. This weeding extravaganza was interrupted by an excursion into the swamp and paddocks beyond where we came upon a vast herd of kangaroos that fanned out before us as we advanced. Saturday evening I partook in the family watching of the footy and tried to show my enthusiasm for the West Coast Eagles so as not to be sent out to sleep in the yard. I still don't understand half of the rules of that game. Sunday, we set out in the rowboat with a pile of crab traps tantalizingly baited with chicken wings and beef spleen and fish heads. A little bit of fishing while we gave the crabs some time to find these tasty meals resulted in me catching and throwing back my second-ever fish. Michael, meanwhile, had a new fish each time his line touched the water. In the end, we brought home four blue mannas and five king george whiting. The crabs here are very different than the ones back home, as you can see in some of my pictures from the previous crabbing trip, in which we also managed to catch a pufferfish (this too was returned to the water after some photos were taken). Michael's dad taught me some crab-eating secrets and so the feast was far less frustrating than the one I attempted back in Malaysia. Sunday afternoon we all took a trip out to, surprise, surprise: Simmo's! :)
thekat.
The past 4 weekends or so I have spent in Busselton, home of the parents of Michael.
The first weekend, Michael and I planned an overnight hike on the Cape to Cape track, starting at Cape Naturaliste. We packed our packs. We drove to the Cape. In a downpour. When we arrived, it was pouring, and the wind was strong. We decided to take a little walk without our packs to assess the situation. We got out to a lookout and the pelting rain stung our eyelids. I was soaked to the bone in minutes. We decided to postpone the trip. Then the sun came out - it was gorgeous - we walked further and saw hundreds of seals/sealions down in the water. Then the rain came again. We stopped at Simmo's ice cream shop on the way home. As we sat in front of the wood stove with our hot teas, the rain pelted down upon the roof...
The second weekend, we did take two. Thoroughly waterproofed all of our belongings in our packs. Michael's friend Ryan and his girlfriend Tammy joined us for the first segment of the hike, then refueled us with some donuts before we parted ways. The hike to Mt Duckworth Campsite was beautiful and sunny along the clifftops overlooking the ocean. After a warm night in the tent, we hiked back out again. We probably stopped at Simmo's on the way home.
The third weekend was the 'fishing trip with the boys'. Only one of 'the boys' cancelled, and another also had his girlfriend along. So really the boys hardly outnumbered the girls. As for the fishing, it was too windy. The usual fishing spot was splashed with waves and spray. But there was a campfire, there were marshmallows, and there was an australian football that ping ponged its way among the trees. We stopped at Simmo's on the way home.
The fourth weekend was last weekend. My bus arrived in Busselton on friday night. Saturday morning, Michael and I set out to rip some invading bracken out by its roots in order to free the native bush (and to open up some lovely holes for the relentless arum lilies to flourish - these are to be sprayed next weekend). The result was a towering pile of bracken fronds, 4 blisters on the middle finger of my right hand, and 3 blisters on the middle finger of my left. This weeding extravaganza was interrupted by an excursion into the swamp and paddocks beyond where we came upon a vast herd of kangaroos that fanned out before us as we advanced. Saturday evening I partook in the family watching of the footy and tried to show my enthusiasm for the West Coast Eagles so as not to be sent out to sleep in the yard. I still don't understand half of the rules of that game. Sunday, we set out in the rowboat with a pile of crab traps tantalizingly baited with chicken wings and beef spleen and fish heads. A little bit of fishing while we gave the crabs some time to find these tasty meals resulted in me catching and throwing back my second-ever fish. Michael, meanwhile, had a new fish each time his line touched the water. In the end, we brought home four blue mannas and five king george whiting. The crabs here are very different than the ones back home, as you can see in some of my pictures from the previous crabbing trip, in which we also managed to catch a pufferfish (this too was returned to the water after some photos were taken). Michael's dad taught me some crab-eating secrets and so the feast was far less frustrating than the one I attempted back in Malaysia. Sunday afternoon we all took a trip out to, surprise, surprise: Simmo's! :)
thekat.
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