The turtle transcript. Part 2. Scoot'n with ladies.

West point on Dirk Hartog Island

 

We were expertly told by Officer Locke how, where and when to tag the turtles that first night.

First of all we had red light settings on our torches. Loggerhead turtles don’t like the bright, white lights and are likely to try and run??? to the water as quick as they can, which isn’t really that quick at all, if disturbed. 

 

 

Shhh

 

Sneaking up to your first turtle from behind, as quiet as the mice of Cape Inscription, donning  a red headlight is exhilarating to say the least. On hands and knees we crawled slowly through the sand and sat down behind the turtle. Steve would give quiet, patient explanations about the egg laying process.



One of the first turtles we spotted.

It is truly amazing what the Loggerhead  turtle does when its on the beach. Caretta Caretta (Latin for Loggerhead turtle) move slowly but powerfully up the beach, leaving a trail behind for the tagger to see. The easiest way to spot a turtle is by looking for tracks. After several days of tagging, we even knew if a turtle had a return track back to the water and not to bother investigating the dune's edge for its whereabouts.

 

Tracks in and out of the beach during daylight

Loggy finds herself a good place to make a pit, slightly bigger than its own body, usually somewhere above the high-tide mark and mainly before the start of the dunes. We call swishing around the sand in that first stage, pitting. Turtles do everything at their own individual pace, but after some time they start building their egg chamber. Amazingly they do this with their hind flippers in a breaststroke, digging kind of action or a wax-on ,wax-off motion. I have seen cavities at least 500mm deep which can take a long time to construct. Then, suddenly, all gets quiet. The turtle has positionsed her body diagonally across the pit with her back end over the chamber. We were told that this is the moment the turtles don't feel a thing due to hormonal painkillers provided by mother nature.

 

A pitt for laying eggs or to stumble in

I had the absolute privilege to see the eggs drop into the chamber close up. It is a beautiful moment which will be imprinted into my semi-grey matter forever. With my little red torch lighting up the scene dimly, I saw the miniature elephant trunk like cloaca (yes, I am hoping you are learning something new here) move forward and then backwards as if contracting. Covered in a slimy substance, round fair -sized eggs dropped down from the cloaca into the chamber.

 

Looking into the chamber underneath the turtle at the eggs by red light

 

 

 

Some turtles are prolific and fill up their chamber to the brim, some just lay a couple and have had enough. Laying procedures come to an abrupt halt when she decides to start covering up the chamber with sand by an almost reverse wax-on, wax-off motion which ends up in a firm flipper full of sand pat-down on top of the eggs. Beach Tai Chi at its best. Throughout the five nights we realize that this is the best moment to tag her while she is still under the influence of natures cocktail of drugs and is worn out from the monumental task that is egg-laying on the beach. 

 

 

 

The multiple use cloaca 

 

 

 

After packing down her eggs with sand, the turtle now reveals her mistress stroke of deception. This is a process called ‘misting’. The only way I can describe it properly, is that it looks like she is trying to swim on dry land. A fine spray of sand is flicked up backwards over the hollow leaving no trace of disturbance. In fact, a fake pit is created right next to the heaped misted sand and therefore tricking every egg predator into searching  the wrong spot. Very clever.  It is not a good idea to sit behind the turtle when it’s misting if you don’t want to be covered in sand. Even more cunning is that the fake pits are left for those unsuspected, tired, turtle taggers to stumble in. This happened time and time again, until we accepted the turtle had ‘one-over’ on us in those long, dark nights and we just kept on stumblin'. I can imagine her smiling each time we went down. After her dry swim, she returned exhausted back to the ocean. She slowed down considerably from the breakneck speed displayed when first entering the beach and takes many a breather on the way out. Sometimes there is a clear passage to the shore and she will disappear in an instant, sometimes she gets stuck behind a rock or on top of a rocky reef. Patiently she will wait to coolly ride the next outgoing wave. The surf will carry her off any obstacle and soon she will disappear in the dark water.

 

 

 

A Ghost crab and egg predator

 

 

 

 



Grey Bits

Phone (08) 9948 2226 or click on the following links www.sharkbay.org, www.dpaw.wa.gov.au for more information on turtle tagging..



Turtle Bay overlooking beach 3, 4 and 5.

 

 

Some nights the tagging was a bit slow due to the turtles numbers being low. If the decision was made to wait for  a turtle to finish laying her eggs, we got comfortable by shoving our back-sides forward and backwards in the sand and laying down in the pit we created. This process we called  “scoot’n”.

 

  



Photo taken during an excursion to Dampiers landing

 

 

 

The Turtle Transcript: Part 1, getting to Dirk




Have you ever had the experience where an unexpected adventure smashes your bucket list to pieces? That’s what turtle tagging did for us.

 



Approaching Dirk Hartog Island

We were gifted this amazing opportunity by the head ranger Chris from Shark Bay to join the turtle tagging team on Dirk Hartog Island (DHI) and accepted the invitation in a hurry.




Firing engines

This time we did not bring any bananas on board (see Banana boat blog) and the engines were roaring as we sailed with the wind through our hair to Dirk Hartog Island. We met the best turtle tagging team in the world on board and high levels of energy were almost touchable in the air. After a rapid off-load of the barge and upload of the Island’s troopy (a Japanese brand troop carrier) we bounced along on white, dirt tracks to Cape Inscription and our new head quarters for the next five days.



Loading troopy




This Island was accidentally bumped into by de Eendracht with Dirk Hartog as captain on 25 October 1616 - the first European to set foot on Australian soil. Apparently the Dutchman misjudged his navigational tools by a couple of degrees on his voyage to the East Indies and, by fluke, landed here. He named the Island after himself, as you would, and put a plaque up on what became aptly known as Cape Inscription. The round plate with inscription of the date and mention of some of the crew, can now be found in the Rijksmuseum in The Netherlands. If you look at the date, it is nearly 400 years ago when the Amsterdammer made his faux pas and a special celebration is planned by the local authorities this October. Twenty six million Aussie dollars is set aside for this purpose, which includes a tour of the replica Duyfken to Denham. I hope you haven’t capsized of boredom with this thrilling history lesson.

 

Historical Cape Inscription



For this semi -Dutch nomad arriving here on this wild barren cape, where currently a crude fake plaque resides over Cape Inscription, has enhanced meaning. Standing there overlooking Turtle Bay, I felt that this is the point where the two countries, that mean so much to me, intersect. Cape Inscription, with its gathering of old and new history, is the place that symbolises my own journey. It is that same melting pot of the quirky twists of fate that enrich my life and in the end has brought me to this Island. 

 



The road to Cape Inscription



After we settled in at the homestead we were amazed about the co-inhabitants we were sharing the building with. An infestation of cute little grey mice were busily investigating every inch of mostly the kitchen. If you left any food in a bag in your room, holes would appear in your bag overnight and your food would be gone. We all slept under mosquito nets but I saw way more mice than the dreaded mozzies. One girl woke up screaming when a mouse crawled up on the inside of a net and dropped on her head in the middle of the night. Several bungarras lived under and around the homestead and were seen snacking on the rodents.

 

 

We enjoyed a team briefing by ranger Steve, the team leader we had affectionately baptised as Officer Locke. This nickname was due to an incident at Francois Peron National Park where we were in hot pursuit of two German tourists that failed to stop for a chat. If you follow that up by riding a quad bike with sunnies and a silver helmet around the island, you are the ‘Po’lice’ in anyone’s eyes.

 

Officer Locke ready to put on the sunnies




Officer Locke gave us the lowdown on working hours, sleeping times and turtle tagging. Little did we know that other than his huge work ethic, this gentleman also possessed a great sense of humour,   knowledge of the stars, animals, surviving in the wild, bush cooking and porta-loos. We all loved listening to his blue-grass tunes on the guitar to while away the afternoon on the verandah.





Cool breeze and great views on this verandah

We organised ourselves for that night’s turtle tagging training session by packing snacks, checking batteries in our head torches and filling up our water bottles. When we all loaded into the troopy at 1900 we all felt the same thing. A hum of expectation came over us that night. We sat on the two bench seats in the back of the troopy, laughing and carrying on as if we were going to war.

 


Night Falls....



We are ready to tag some turtle!!!



Cape Inscription light house

 

Grey Bits

Turtle tagging on Dirk Hartog Island is done in January. I hear it is difficult to get in if you are not invited or you don't know someone. Contact DPaW if you are keen to give turtle tagging a shot. Phone (08) 9948 2226 or click on the following links www.sharkbay.org, www.dpaw.wa.gov.au for more information.

If you want to send me an email about anything you have read or have any suggestions for me I would love to hear from you. Click on the link underneath.



 





Airing the boots out for the nightshift

Walking with sharks: Day 5, the end

Please note that some of this story is hard to stomach and has a theme of death that crops up more than I wished for.



This is my fifth and final day in the boots around this beautiful Peron peninsular. I am walking from Herald Bight to Monkey Mia.

Sometimes adventure bites you hard in the proverbial, exposes weaknesses and tests your resolve. Are you ready?

 

Herald Bight was there in all of its glory that early morning. Shortly after being dropped off with the advice this was “an easy walk” and cynically told to “just keep the ocean on yer left” by my skilled adversary, I left Herald Bight behind and cut across the base of Guichenalt Point through a splendid Herald bluff..

Maybe you have realized by now that my mind wanders into the almost insane when I hike for long periods of time. Today my thoughts were drawn to the many different shapes of boulders on the beach that would have broken off the top of the cliff in a random, unpredictable time gone past and thundered down with brutal force. What would it be like to be crushed or bowled over by one of those? I spent time watching the tops of those red walls feeling very small and vulnerable. After a short time I became complacent about the rock-crush idea.

How does that happen?

Boulders of fear

 

Halfway through the dodging of the always stationary boulders I spotted a large turtle above the tidemark. On approach, I knew something wasn’t right. No turtle tracks were coming up from the beach and its body was sitting too low and still on the sand.




Death giving me a wink

Having seen the energetic egg-laying lady turtles from Dirk Hartog Island only a week earlier  I was horrified to find this turtle in a semi-decomposed state with hollow eyes staring at me. The feeling of horror exacerbated by a yellow ghost crab hiding from me in its right eye socket, while a much bigger yellow crustacean completely uninhibited started tearing strips of skin off the turtles face. Near vomiting, my hands moved automatically and started taking (possibly) inappropriate photographs of this Haloweenic scene. What does that tell you Mars? Swim as hard and fast in the ocean before letting the ghost crabs in.

"You've come near enough"

Being even more determined to survive the day I continued on and experienced the stark contrasts nature has to offer when a large white breasted sea-eagle allowed me to come within ten metres. The graceful bird took flight, posing for the camera as it expanded its mighty wings.



Taking to the air

 



Thrashing about in the shallows

 

 

I was very pleased that during this last day the sharks were back, putting on a show in the shallows. Some of them were thrashing wildly exposing almost their entire body; some were so close to the shore I could have put a leash on them and taken them for “walkies”!!

  



Shark swimming here.............................................semi grey nomad walking there

 

 

I sat down after rounding Cape Rose for a long lunch, four hours into my walk, trying to reset my aching body. This proved not an easy task for the semi-grey nomad. Rather stiff, I kept a slow pace at the water’s edge towards Monkey Mia which had come into view at Cape Rose. With the temperature rising above thirty, the Southerly dropping out all together and the humidity levels feeling steam-room high, it became uncomfortable to walk. The beautiful white, sandy beach disappeared making way to treacherous rocks and slippy banks of granite. That's all you need.





Looking back from Cape Rose

 

  

Two kilometres from the end my body felt seriously depleted. I start eating all my leftover snacks and began to drink my unfrozen, but cold, two litres of water that I saved for the end, having already drunk four litres of water today.

 

In the distance I saw an odd shape in the water. What is it? I strained to look at it through sweat- burning eyes. It looks like a goat. It is a goat. What’s a goat doing in the water? Why isn’t it moving? Is my educated friend playing a prank on me here? Has he thrown a taxidermy goat in the water just to freak me out. Nah, that's too far fetched. I am rubbing even more stinging sweat into my eyes trying to lose the spell of an exhaustion fuelled hallucination.

  



 

Goat of silence

 

  

When I drew near, the goat had still not moved an inch and stayed half submerged in the bay. Shark Bay no less. Overlooking nanny goat there were two kids half a metre tall. They look as baffled as myself and are patiently waiting for mum to come out of the shark infested water. Time passes, and except for some pleading bleats of the young ones, nothing changes. I come to the conclusion that nanny-goat has passed on to a better place in goat heaven with lots of green pastures and billy goats to frolic with. Several options run through my mind.

 

I just take those gangly kids, one under each arm, and walk the last couple of kilometres to the ranger's office in Monkey Mia and say: "Hello, meet Billy and Kid. I found them down the road but you can look after them now. See ya!!!"

Or

Let’s just take these cute little rascals back with me to the national park we live. Wait!! Isn't there a full goat eradication program in swing? Would I not be taking a non-native animal into a national park? Yes, you would. 
 

How can you not take me??

 

I chose to do the ever-so-hard option after severe internal dialog where swearwords were hurled back and forward at each other. I walked.

One last glance over my shoulder confirmed the death of the nanny goat as she collapsed into the water. "It is nature’s way" I tell myself.

I reported Billy and Kid's predicament to the rangers office at Monkey Mia as soon as I got there. Feeling like a tired stranger in a fully blown resort with dolphins cruising past and people sipping Pina Coladas on deckchairs as if nothing ever happened, I realised that I had finally completed my walk with sharks. 





 



Walking into the Monkey Mia resort

After my office visit I managed to stumble down to the beach where, without changing, I walked straight into the hyper-salinized water. It proved to be a big mistake. Six hours of hot, sweaty hiking had chafed the dark region where the sun ain’t shining, red raw. Literally, rubbing salt into the wounded proverbial was a nasty shock, but maybe apt punishment for not doing enough for the wildlife today.

Cruising past

 

As Olivia Newton John once sang: Let’s get philosophical.

 

Luckily, I had the absolute privilege to experience the raw peninsular wilderness that taught me much more about survival, death, nature's balance and human limitations. This may be something that we all could learn more about in this beautiful setting that is the Peron Peninsular.

 

However, dear readers, a large part in my heart calls out to discourage you not to walk in my footsteps. I have found pristine biridas, beaches untouched by coconut oiled humans, sharks to walk with, drop boulder bears and, ooohh, those amazing cliffs of Shark Bay. Nature, here on the peninsular, needs to be protected from our human frivolities and kept in that crude, fragile balance I found it in. It is a dangerous place to be, even for semi-grey nomads. Yeah Mars!!  Even by writing about Shark Bay I am guilty of generating more interest in a place that may be best left alone.

In the end the choice to travel into Shark Bay and explore its coastline is up to you. So, if you go, please, take care!!

 



Grey Bits


I was reassured by my erudite comrade that baby goats, the same height as the two I saw, would have no problem surviving on their own.

Please note, that this hike is through very wild, uninhabited country. In my opinion it is not advisable to attempt this hike without a support team or proper communication devices like a satellite phone or  EPIRB and hiking experience is a must.

Let the Department of Parks and Wildlife  know where you are going to be and when you plan to return. Phone (08) 9948 2226 or click on the following links www.sharkbay.org, www.dpaw.wa.gov.au for more information.

The best time to walk around the Peron Peninsular is at low tide. You can check the tide at www.seabreeze.com.au

The end