Sunday 18 August 2024 – Sorry, you’ve got Steve again, writing about my day, even though I wasn’t allowed out of the cabin. Jane went on the day’s expedition, but it was mainly about the rock art and she’ll talk about that in a minute.
I was able to take a few photos of passing interest from our veranda as the ship was at anchor. A large crocodile was clearly visible in the water quite near the ship.
A little context might help. Here’s how the croc looked, as Zodiacs headed for the shore. I put the red ring round it, as its cunning camouflage makes it difficult to spot; there wasn’t some kind of clever croc limiter in place.
I thought I saw a shark
but, a little disappointingly, it turned out to be some kind of dolphin.
The clincher, as any fule kno, was that the tail fins were horizontal (cetacean) rather than being vertical (fish).
There was a whale, too, not that that is a huge amount to write home about; if I’d missed it, I suppose I might have wanted to blubber. In fact, there were (at least) two – mother and calf, we suspect.
I marshalled the mighty capabilities of my Nice New Nikon to try to capture The Perfect Shot as the whale spouted, and took lots of stills as it did so during its cetacean equivalent of the paseo. I couldn’t decide which was the best, so here they all are.
That sequence is made from successive stills from the camera; I’m very impressed with its ability to make up for the shortcomings of its user.
I’m also impressed that the captain, having alerted us to the whale’s presence to port (I could see it from our cabin), stopped the boat and actually turned it around so that the starboard-based plague-ridden people could take a look.
From my point of view, that was the main excitement of the day so far; I’m expecting that the medics will check me out later. Until then, here’s Jane:
Today’s expedition was to view more rock art in the rock shelters formed by the heavily fractured sandstone making up Swift Bay.
A short walk brought us to a linked series of shelters formed by rock overhangs;
it is thought that the different shelters were used for different activities: cooking and eating; sleeping; and teaching the children. There was a fairly large midden of shells outside the gallery.
As we’ve established, it would not be respectful to share photos of the rock art, fascinating as it is, but the website of the Wunambal Gaambera people, title holders of this area of land, has a few words about, and a few images of, the Swift Bay site here which I feel comfortable sharing, since they have!
As well as the rock art, there was some striking rock stuff (as we’ve come to expect here in the Kimberley).
Medical update
Steve again: to misquote the bible, I’ve been (medically) weighed in the balance and found wanting (not sure whether this is Mene, Tekel or Upharsin [Tekel – Ed]). I still have a raised temperature, and so my isolation must continue. There were a couple of very frustrating aspects to this. Firstly, Lucille, the medical assistant who assessed me, told me that the criteria for release, all other vital signs being normal, include two successive days of normal body temperature. This being the case, I should just about be let out in time to disembark in Darwin, which is not a pleasing prospect, particularly as there’s one expedition I’m very keen to participate in. Secondly, I should have been taking paracetamol, as this might have lowered my temperature (I didn’t realise it was an anti-pyretic, actually). So, if I’d gone against my normal “medicate only if strictly necessary” approach, I might have been let out. As it is, I face the bleak prospect of at least two more days stuck in the cabin. At least it’s a comfortable prison cell…
On the schedule tomorrow are two excursions within the engagingly-named Vansittart Bay. Excitingly, one of these does not involve rock art, so there may be a decent crop of photos for us to share. Keep your eyes on these pages to find out, eh?
Saturday 17 August 2024 – Steve here, just popping up to say a couple of things before handing the reins back over to Jane.
Firstly, though I guess this is a somewhat dubious distinction, I am a trendsetter. Yesterday, having noted my sore throat, I heard the ship-wide announcement at around 3pm inveighing anyone to see the doctor in the case of symptoms, and immediately hotfooted it down to the medical facility.
Which was shut.
I found Dain in the corridor and he gently pointed out the noticeboard outside the facility saying it re-opened at 5pm. So I made absolutely sure to get there 10 minutes early, wearing a mask. Much to my surprise, there was no queue, so I just walked in to explain my situation. I think the doc and his assistant were a little surprised at my presumption, but they sat me down and, using what I consider to be the old-fashioned, long-handled, nasal swab that seems actually to touch your brain tissue, tested me. Twice; once for Covid and the other for influenza (I didn’t know there was such a test, actually). Negative for Covid, positive for Influenza A, so I was immediately dispatched to isolate myself in my cabin. As I left, the medical facility’s waiting area was now crowded with people there, presumably, for the same reason as me. But I got there first. Hah! Li’l old trendsetter, me.
Unsurprisingly, the situation escalated, and the captain had to make a general announcement that, since the number of cases had passed the 4% mark, mask wearing anywhere inside on the ship was mandatory, and highly recommended outside and on the Zodiacs. Later still, he joined the evening briefing to tell us that there were, so far, 10 confirmed cases, six of Covid and four of Influenza.
So Le Lapérouse was now officially a Plague Ship.
It’s all under control, or so they say. Our cabin now has a notional quarantine flag against it, so our cabin girl, Verona, doesn’t come to tidy up after us, which seems sensible. We also get lunch and dinner menus delivered so that I can order a meal to be brought to the cabin. Thus far, though, because my appetite has not been immense, Jane has simply brought the occasional mignardise for me, which has been sufficient. To their credit, the ship’s reception has followed up the menu delivery just to see if I wanted to order anything; the organisation has responded well.
And now, back to Jane…..
Today’s excursions were two zodiac cruises along the Hunter River and its tributary, Porosus Creek.
The morning cruise was at high tide. We passed a dramatic pair of rock formations as we entered the mouth of the main Hunter river
and passed under towering cliffs of the now familiar blazing orange and black sandstone.
The river is fringed with several species of mangrove
but behind the fringe of mangroves, naturally fragmented into specific ecosystems by the rock formations, are monsoon vine thickets: a short-statured form of closed-canopy rainforest, containing many food and medicinal plant species of cultural importance as well as supporting a wide variety of endemic flora and fauna.
The setting was extremely beautiful; the reflections in the water reminded me of Rorschach ink blots!
and the colours of the rocks together with the turquoise water were wonderful.
We were hoping for wildlife but to be honest there wasn’t much, and what there was was only glimpsed briefly: a snub nosed dolphin, diamond backed mullet, some substantial jellyfish, a night heron, a couple of kingfishers; we did see one of the salt water crocodiles (“salties”) that live here but it was displaying precisely why the salties are such dangerous predators by being virtually invisible.
So we returned to the ship for lunch, then ventured out again, as the tide was falling, along Porosus Creek.
Low tide = mud…
and mud = mud skippers! We had seen – at a distance – some tiny ones (a couple of inches long) in Talbot Bay; these, however, were giant mud skippers, up to around a foot long, and the males were showing off and leaping about to impress the females:
Sorry it’s such a hopeless bit of video – I was trying to hold my phone steady on a rocking zodiac while avoiding getting bits of other punters in the picture, and this was the only reasonably steady fragment!! Hopefully you will get the pro videographer back soon…
Anyhoo, mud also = crocodile tracks
And everyone knows that crocodile tracks = crocodiles!
There was an interesting stand-off between these two at the entrance to a small side creek – but they obviously reckoned that discretion was the better part of valour and sidled past each other…
So all in all a delightfully riparian day! The morrow has more rock art in prospect. Since I am requested not to share pictures of the art on social media I’m not sure how this is going to play out; come back tomorrow to find out!
Wednesday 14 August 2024 – Today saw a morning Zodiac cruise and an afternoon landing. The cruise was to see one of the many extraordinary phenomena that result from the geology of the Kimberley – tidal water movement at Montgomery Reef. The afternoon was spent walking at Freshwater Cove.
So, Montgomery Reef, then.
If you look at the track of our Zodiac cruise on Google Maps, it looks very dull indeed.
However, add the Satellite layer, and you begin to see what we were cruising through.
In detail,
you can see we were cruising up a creek. Because we were there as the tide was falling, it presented an amazing sight.
The range of tidal movement around Montgomery Reef is very high. At Spring Tides, it can be a 12m (40ft) difference between sea levels at high and low tides. We were there at Neap Tide, so the movement is much less – about 5.5m (17ft). As the tide rises, the water rises above the reef; when it falls, the water has to go somewhere, and the shape of the reef means that it spills over in multiple channels. I stole an aerial photo which gives a clearer idea of what’s going on here.
It’s not just pouring out in the channels; it’s running over the surface of the reef everywhere.
Montgomery Reef is somewhat different to a regular coral reef. Whilst coral reefs are usually composed of limestone from coral skeletons, shell fragments and the remains of calcareous algae, Montgomery Reef is an ancient terrestrial tableland created from the same rocks as the surrounding Kimberley Basin. Covering the existing features of the rock is a more recent layer of marine sediment, including calcareous coral, shell and algae. Calcareous algae in the form of rhodoliths (the yellowish chunk in the picture)
are the predominant reef building organisms on Montgomery Reef. Rhodoliths are unattached, photosynthetic organisms made of coralline algae, which aggregate to form complex communities and in the case of Montgomery Reef, act as a long barrier across the reef. (Tom, our guide for the cruise, explained some of this detail, and I got the rest from this fact sheet).
The water in the channel appears to have a problem that would be labelled “pollution” were it seen in the UK – scummy froth on the surface.
However, it is entirely natural. Because the reef spends so much (i.e. half) of its time exposed to harsh sunlight, the corals that have colonised the reef have developed a natural protective substance which acts as a sunscreen, and this finds its way into the water with the fall of the tides.
The creek we cruised along is the feeding ground for green sea turtles, and we saw several heads pop up as we went along, as well as some swimming beside the Zodiac. Annoyingly, they were always on the shallow side so we (seated as we were on the other side of the craft) rarely got to see anything. Our optimism that we would surely see some turtle action on the way back was dashed as we returned up the other side, so we never got our turn at looking for turtles nearby. The best I got was this bit of video, which shows a turtle basking in the shallows. Yes it does.
The afternoon saw our first landing, which was at Freshwater Cove.
An indigenous family lives there, and every group was welcomed with a speech from the niece of the family and her sister, who narrated a story from the Dreamtime and anointed everyone with a dab of ochre on their cheeks – the dark colour of the ochre was explained by the story we heard. The building top left in the photo is an artist’s hut, where punters can relax and (preferably) buy souvenirs, such as the hand-painted T-shirts, decorated in traditional style by family members.
It was a wet landing, and the nice folk at APT had ensured that there would be towels for people to dry their feet in order to change into shoes suitable for the rest of the afternoon. A couple of walks were on offer: a short one along the beach; and a longer one (2km out and back, up a hill) to see some aboriginal rock art. We had opted for the latter. Dain, the expedition leader had stressed in yesterday’s briefing that some of the going was over rocks and boulders, and that there would be reasonably large rocks to clamber up and down. (He had laid a test, which was that people had to be able to step up on to the stage in the Laperouse Theatre without any assistance as a prerequisite for anyone wanting to do the longer walk.)
There was a reasonably well-defined track for most of the walk
and people obediently trudged along it.
Inevitably, for a group like this, progress was at a gentle pace, but it gave us a chance to appreciate the remarkable rock formations we passed.
We had to squeeze through a narrow gap between two substantial boulders.
This is known as the “dessert gap”, as it’s a test as to whether someone has gone heavy on the puddings during the cruise. (Spoiler alert – there is a way round for the portly!)
At the top, our group rested for a few minutes
because another group was below us looking at the rock art. When they surfaced, we clambered down past a scene that looked like something out of Picnic at Hanging Rock,
but which was actually the roof of a wide-mouthed cave, on which one could see the rock art.
“Where is it, then?”, you might well ask on seeing that photo. “Digitally removed”, is the answer; we had been briefed that respect for the native traditions dictated that while it was OK to take photos for our own records, these were not to be shared or published on social media: it is not for us to tell their stories. That’s why you can’t see any of the paintings in the photo above. Something you can see, however, is the colonies of native bees nesting in the blackened holes along the top of the back “wall” of the overhang, whose honey is harvested by the local people.
The father of the family, a chap called Neil, described the history behind the cave, which was known as the “cyclone cave” for the protection it afforded when the weather got uppity. When asked how old the paintings were, Neil said they go back 65,000 years. I did some intensive research asked ChatGPT about this and discovered that, generally speaking, Kimberley rock art could stretch back as much as 17,000 years; so the figure that Neil used could well be the folk memory which inspired some of the paintings, as there is broad understanding that Aboriginal peoples have been in Australia that long. Whatever, the paintings have great historic and cultural import for the indigenous people. They depicted various aspects of life – stingrays, turtles, fish, cyclones and even the cautionary tale of a little boy, who had disobeyed his mother’s instructions and gone out on a fishing expedition, only to be sadly killed in an accident. So the pictures give lessons as well as tell stories. The art is touched up by the family every so often to keep it fresh but new paintings are not added
Jane and I didn’t find the walk at all arduous; I should jolly well hope not – the temperature was “only” in the upper twenties – we’ve walked much further in far hotter conditions – and the going was by and large not at all challenging bar the final scramble. However, a couple of members of our group were unfortunately not up to completing the walk back to the shore without issue. To be frank, I’m not surprised; some of the people on this cruise are quite crocked in various ways – aged, frail or otherwise not in good shape. APT had, though, prepared for this eventuality, and a medical team was despatched from the beach – at a run, complete with stretcher – to support the two who were having problems, and they both eventually made it back to the boat OK.
After we returned to the ship, we didn’t have long to wait for the evening briefing; just long enough to pick up a drink at the bar, actually. Dain explained what we would be seeing tomorrow, a combination of interesting geology and further unusual tidal action, this time in Talbot Bay. APT had organised a casino evening in the lounge, which we really weren’t all that interested in, so after a bite of dinner al fresco we repaired to our cabin and tried (with not a great deal of success, it has to be said) to get an early night, as we had to be up betimes-ish for the Talbot Bay activity. Which will be revealed, of course, in the next thrilling installment, which I hope you would like to read in the fullness of time.
