Giant trees and spectacular stingrays

I drove south down Caves Road this morning. There is a 90 kmh speed limit. It’s a very old road, narrow and winding, lined with magnificent trees. Why would you want to drive at 90? Going along at 65, a few impatient cars built up behind me. Tough! There is a double white line most of the way. My first stop was Boranup Forest, a wilderness of giant Karri trees (the third tallest tree in the world).

Some people with very professional camera gear were coming back, so I asked them to do the honours.

The trees are mesmerising; there are so many of them.

After that, I continued down the road to Hamelin Bay, home of the stingrays. The camp site was absolutely packed: too many tents, caravans, awnings and gazebos. It’s a lovely spot, admittedly, but not when it’s running at capacity. 

Down by the beach, I thought I might have to wait a while for the stingrays to appear, but they seemed to know what was expected of them and they kept drifting past, one after another. There are signs asking people not to touch them, but the temptation proved too much for some people (see my Instagram post). They obviously had not heard of what happened to Steve Irwin.

Gnarabup

I’ve come down to Margaret River again, to try to escape the Perth heat, though it’s not much cooler here. The good thing is that I’m staying minutes away from the beach. Years ago, I discovered Surfpoint Lodge, an up-market backpackers with private rooms. There are communal ablutions, a big lounge area with free-flowing Nespresso and a commercial kitchen with plenty of fridges and microwaves. I’ve brought supplies from home for a low-budget trip. There is a COVID limit of 3 people in the kitchen at a time, but most people seem to eat out. At the beach, there is the White Elephant Cafe for breakfast and lunch and just next door to Surfpoint is Margaret’s Beach Resort (no relation!) with its own bistro for dinner and sunset drinks. I couldn’t resist a Sangria:

There is a boat ramp at the beach. By 7.00 am the parking area for boat trailers was already full:

This is my local early morning walk spot:

Later, as it was slightly overcast so no danger of sunburn, I took my chair down to the beach and watched a paddle board class amongst other activities:

The sand was very soft underfoot and sloped steeply down into the water. 

I enjoyed watching two tiny birds picking their way along the beach, getting harassed by seagulls now and again:

Time to go back for a sandwich now.

Sunday at South Beach

Another early morning beach walk took me to an old favourite spot, but I again found myself on a dog beach. I shall have to be more careful in future.

I was soon tempted by thoughts of breakfast:

Strawberry pancakes. This was a bit gluttonous!  I needed to swim off all these calories, but the water seemed to be full of jellyfish. I overheard discussions as to whether they were poisonous or not (some had no tentacles, so were deemed to be safe). I was reluctant to take a chance, since I had been badly attacked by stingers in the past on Rottnest. I had a quick swim and then retreated to do a bit of photography instead.

Back home, one of my cacti had produced an amazing flower:

Later, I produced an amazing pie following a recipe from Telltale Food on Instagram. This is a leek and potato pie with added cheese. (He used Cheddar whilst I put in Gorgonzola and a few drops of white wine - and I think my adaptation was brilliant, though I say it myself!)

As was the sunset:

Beachwalk

After days of mega-hot weather, we enjoyed an overcast morning for our beachwalk. When we set off at 7.30 am, the only people on the beach were fishermen, but this soon changed as all the dog walkers came out. Between Floreat and Scarborough is a dog beach (not my choice, but it's a good 4 km walk and the destination is always in sight).

The sea was rough and had thrown up lots of seaweed. Jolanda (expert naturalist from the Nats Club) was interested in the different types, especially the seed pods which would burst and grow new plants on the ocean floor.

I also filmed an expert kitesurfer in action (look on my Instagram). We arrived at Scarborough and rested on the grass overlooking the beach, a popular spot on a Sunday morning:

Walking back on the soft sand (hard on my hip) and into the wind would not be a good idea, I decided. Two of us took the roadside and arrived back at Floreat ahead of the group. Now its back to the heatwave: global warming is real!

Herb garden update

The Herb Garden Committee met over a BBQ in the communal courtyard. It was a hot evening but we managed to survive with a few drinks. We made use of the new concrete table and benches, recently arrived from Indonesia:

On the menu:

Nibbles

Lamb steaks with potato salad and green salad

Lime cheesecake and fruits.

We discussed the next lot of plantings, and for some reason the number of suicides (2) where people had thrown themselves off the top of the blocks. There was also the case of a kitten that fell to its death onto a table where people were eating dinner on the terrace. 

The two herb gardens are looking good:

Extraction

The main event this week has been having a tooth out. How quickly that occurs in the hands of an expert! The last time this happened to me, I ended up in terrible pain afterwards with the dreaded "dry socket", when the blood clot gets dislodged allowing an infection to get in. This time I was going to preserve that blood clot at all costs and inspected it regularly with the light from my iPhone. For the first 5 hours, I held a cotton swab clamped firmly to the spot and the only thing that passed my lips was some watermelon juice. Later, I was brave enough to eat some scrambled egg and avocado, with mango for dessert. One day later, the clot is still there, I'm happy to say. Too much information?  But, be warned, a dry socket is no fun. Next on the horizon is an implant, as there are now no more teeth left in that part of my mouth. 

I've had to rest for 24 hours and it's 39 degrees outside. I've been reading Warlight by Michael Ondaatje, a novel set in London in the postwar years. The times are recreated in great detail (a bit like Foyle's War), even including passages about crooked greyhound racing and boats with other strange cargoes going up and down London waterways. How did he know this? He is from Sri Lanka and Canada.

New Year

C arrived at 8.00 am on New Years Day to attack a problem on my balcony. The two self-seeded olive  trees which originally came from Quinns were covered with black scab. This exuded a sweet sticky substance called honeydew which attracts ants. C brought secateurs and cut the olives into small pieces so that they could be tied up in bags and put in the rubbish. This was a job I had been putting off for ages! It left a bit of a gap on the wall, but fortunately there is a potted olive at Como which can come over here when everything has been cleaned up and sprayed. The creeper that remains is a passionfruit vine, which looks decorative but is unlikely to fruit as there is no pollinator nearby. The armies of ants keep returning to the spot, determined to consume all the honeydew stuck to the wall. I will leave them to it for a day or two.

Operation: extermination.

E did not participate, as teenage girls prefer to stay in bed till lunchtime! Here she is modelling one of her Christmas presents:

This is not a nightdress.

We celebrated the New Year by going out for a Japanese meal:

Sushi and sashimi selection.


The main course was a selection of tempura, including my favourite: soft shell crab.

Those not watching their weight enjoyed a dessert of New York Cheesecake