Ten days later / ie this past weekend: Saturday, March 10th, middle of nowhere - "Well this is awkward" says the man on the phone, "you see, we didn't know you were coming, we are already out in the field."
I've already been driving two hours to get there. There's an awkward pause. "Well, I guess you could come to the camp site and we'll be back at 4."
"...okay. I guess I'll do that." I say. I happen to be passing through a small town so I pull off the road to regroup myself, and end up reading an interesting plaque about migratory eels.
Just prior to my parents visit I had discovered there's a really cool webpage run by the parks department listing volunteer opportunities. One can pull weeds or help maintain trails if one really wants to, but what really caught my attention was the "environmental monitoring, survey and research" section. They needed volunteers to help monitor wildlife on the mud islands in Prince Phillip Bay, volunteers would be working off a catamaran! Unfortunately that event fell while I was in Tasmania. There was another one surveying swamp skinks on the Mornington Peninsula (the other side of the bay from me) but I didn't fancy driving the long way around or paying the $125 round trip to take the car -- it was really frustrating though because its just $12 to take the ferry across w out a car and 17 km to the survey site but I couldn't get there!
This weekend there was another catamaran trip on Monday (which was Australian labor day), which I inquired if anyone could provide me a ride from the ferry terminal, was told no, and by the time a day later I went to tell him fuck it I'll drive around, all the spots had filled. So I signed up for a "bird and arboreal animal survey" about 2.5 hours north of me. Then the boating project coordinator told me two people dropped out, and thus I resolved to make a crazy weekend of it and do both even though they're in practically opposite directions!
I. Over Hill and Vale, through Hall and Back, to Jallukar!
And thus Saturday morning I found myself headed west, a direction from home I've hardly explored. Beyond the nearby boring country town of Colac the land was scrubby where not cleared for cattle, and gradually a larger percentage was just left as scrub. Volcanic rocks could be seen laying about and occasional extinct volcanoes abruptly rose from the otherwise relatively flat countryside. A fire had been raging for three or four days somewhere just half an hour west of Colac, though I didn't see any sign of it. I'd been feeling guilty because every day and evening I was getting the fire brigade texts asking for people to sign up for night shift or day shift the next day, but I have, you know, work to do. And then this weekend I had these things I had signed up for. Though it turns out that though I signed up on the webpage and got the confirmation email, the group running this project, the Field Naturalist Club of Victoria, is new to the system and hadn't noticed I signed up. So when I called half an hour from the listed start time of noon, they had long since headed out into the bush. Later I would find out they have their own events calendar that they keep much better updated.
I decided I might as well get lunch, but the two cafes in this little townlet of Lake Buloc appeared to have nothing at all that wasn't deep fried crap, and I'm not a health nut but c'mon people. Then looking at a map I determined it would only be a little bit longer to drive the length of the famous Grampians National Park to get to my destination instead of the direct route I was on.
So I headed west another half hour to the town of Dunkeld which was much cuter (actual tree lined streets) and had an actual decent cafe where I got lunch. Then headed up north in the national park. From the road I couldn't actually see much of the dramatic ridges and pinnacles the park is famous for, but it was pleasant to be surrounded by thick forest at least. Stopped in at the town of Halls Gap at hte north of the park, which is the major tourism hub in the park. It was a bit of a madhouse there of tourists, it being a three day weekend. I had to park about half a kilometer from the information center. By now I only fancied I had time for about a forty minute hike before I needed to proceed to my rendezvous with naturalist club, so I selected a forty minute hike leaving from Halls Gap to some shaded rock pools called the "Venus Baths." Sounded lovely hey.
Trail led up a forested gully from the main camp at Halls Gap, passed many families. Arriving at the rock pools I found them totally full of families and young children and turned on my heel. Shoulda known really. But at least I've done a Grampians hike now and can cross that one off the list for the future.
From here it was just about twenty minutes drive to the caravan park at Lake Fyan that the naturalist club was operating out of this weekend. $89 for a tent site?? Isn't it supposed to be more like $5 to $15?? Set up my tent -- I finally bought a tent! Randomly ran into a friend just outside the camping store and he gave me flak for "why don't you just use a swag??" but as I mentioned earlier, I find the traditional Australian swag just ridiculous, considering it barely fits in my car while my new tent fits in a backpack. After I set up my tent I called the Field Naturalist guy and he came over, greeting me with "Dr Livingstone, I presume?" which I was greatly amused by.
II. Jallukar Forest By Night and Day
For that evening's adventures there were five of us, four older men and one younger woman, we divided into two cars and headed into the nearby Jallukar Conservation Reserve. We waited until it was dark and then, in our car-groups of two or three, walked several designated 500 meter "transects" -- just pre-identified sections of the dirt road. We were armed with red-filtered flashlights and the game plan was to shine them in the trees as we walked and record everything we saw. Walking along illuminating the trees with the strong red flashlights we'd been provided with was fun. Red light doesn't ruin your night vision, and apparently doesn't bother the animals as much as white light would. Presently I caught two red eyes flash reflectively back at me from high up in a tree
"Guys, guys! I think I got something!" I said to the other two. After some examination, "yep, that's a brush tail possum" the more experienced guy declared, "good job!"
Altogether we saw one more brush tailed possum (also my find!), a tawny frogmouth owl, and "a roosting cockatoo." We heard a nightjar calling, I'm not sure if that was counted, but I enjoyed being with these experienced naturalists who were able to teach me things like what a nightjar call sounds like.
That night some nearby guys were absolutely blasting music until well past 2am, it was awful. I can sleep through a lot of background noise but I was hearing pop country music louder than I'd be confortable with if I was in the same room with it. Talking about it with the others from the naturalist group the next day they were saying teh same thing had happened Friday night and at least one of them had complained to the management numerous times but apparently the caravan park management doesn't actually enforce its noise curfew!
Sunday, March 11th, Jallukar Forest - In the morning we returned to the same transects, this time walking them with binoculars and inventorying birds. I was pretty useless at this but again it was fun to learn about the different birds from the more experienced guys ... though I'm not sure I've retained much to report. We saw a hooded shrike! And learned to differentiate between the calls of two different kinds of raven.
After we finished that, the two groups came together and as one big group we checked nesting boxes which had been put up in trees to be occupied by arboreal animals and/or birds. We checked probably around 25 and not one of them was occupied. But I think there were a lot of tree hollows available so it might have more to do with other housing options than a lack of animals. I think what I missed before I arrived was putting up of motion cameras, which they then collected after I left. But at this point when they broke for lunch I departed to make my way to my next destination
III. Journey to Tooradin, Pitching A Tent in the Swamp
First, having gotten a nagging feeling from the way Kermit (the car) was behaving on the previous day's drive, I checked the oil. It had only been three driving-weeks (ie not counting the week I was in Tasmania) since the oil had been topped up but I have learned how Kerm goes through oil. Sure enough, It was out! And here I was in the middle of nowhere, on a Sunday! The pep-boys clone (Bursan) I usually go to isn't open on Sundays so I just had to hope to find oil SOMEWHERE! Resolved to drive to the town of Ballarat, 80 miles away, which would be the shortest route home anyway, and if I didn't find oil by then to cancel the rest of my weekend plans and hope I could get home and lay low till places opened.
Forty minutes along country roads to the town of Ararat, sweating all the way and overanalyzing ever percieved engine noise or difference in handling. In all probability I had driven hours the day before in a similarly oil-less condition (at least hte dip-stick wasn't bone dry, it was still a bit oil-moist in there?). I had googled "auto parts stores Ararat" and went into a big store on mainstreet that seemed to have everything from camping supplies to kitchen pots, and I wasn't sure it would have engine oil but I asked the clueless looking long-blond-haired employee-boy and .. actually come to think of it it was while he was looking for someone else to ask I found the oil myself. The exact stuff I needed!
After topping up, the car acted even more strangely! Car people is this a thing? The engine was hot and the oil cool which is maybe an unusual circumstance for it? It was up near the top of its revs just going 80 and the speed limit was 100, so I limped along letting people pass me continuously and praying my engine wasn't permanently borked.
Made it to Ballarat, hoping that maybe letting the engine digest its new oil over lunch would sort it all out. Also I had noticed whilst driving through Ballarat on an earlier trip an African restaurant, which I'd been dying to visit. So I popped in, it turned out to be an Ethiopian place, and I quickly got to chatting with the very friendly owner about Ethiopia. He really feels the government is too dominated by people from the Tigray region (I've heard this a lot) and too repressive. The injera wasn't sour like it is in Ethiopia, but, you know, you've got to cook to local tastes. The owner talked about how local people were extremely skeptical at first but young people were more willing to try it and then spread the word of mouth. Altogether I really enjoyed both the food and the chat with the very friendly owner. I'll definitely be coming back next time I'm in the area.
Back on the road again, the car seemed quite well behaved!! Had to go right through the middle of Melbourne. I hate how I have to drive right through the city center to get to the east side. Like one can't even take a freeway the whole way, the freeway ends and one has signals and so many different turns one has to pay careful attention to the GPS. Its really obnoxious. Fortunately there was no traffic on Sunday, but today (Thursday) I had to go to East Melbourne and back for work and my GPS decided to send me on a wild goose chase in downtown after somehow thinking I wanted to go to some random place just south of the CBD, and then I was stuck in rush hour traffic, but I digress.
Proceeded to the town of Tooradin, previously mentioned here, a little town on the north end of West Port Bay, the bay east of the bay Melbourne is on. I had hoped to find camping near there, on numerous previous adventures I'd been able to find camping in campgrounds near where I found myself, on the fly. But there appeared to be no actual campgrounds anywhere near Tooradin, and none of the caravan parks seemed to have anyone answering phones or door knocks on a Sunday afternoon. As the sun sank toward the horizon I stood by the river in Tooradin pondering what I'd do for the night.
There's an observation tower in the Koo Wee Rup Swamp just east of Tooradin. I've of course stopped there before to see the view from the top. That observation tower has always had a special place in my heart for some reason, and on this occasion, I recalled that I believe it had a broad lawn around its base! I proceeded there (fifteen minutes from Tooradin, the next morning's setting out point) and sure enough it did! And in fact it looked like there was evena place behind some trees I could kind of hide the tent. I'm sure you're not exactly meant to pitch a tent there but then again they had neglected to put up a "no camping" sign, and, you know, "that which is not forbidden is allowed." Nevertheless I decided to wait till after dark to pitch my tent. I watched the sun set from the top of the tower, but reckoned it would still be an hour till it was really dark, so I drove to Koo Wee Rup town (I didn't even know there was such a place) about ten minutes up the road, had a beer at their very just-like-every-other-pub pub (they're into well lit bland pubs with angular square tables, nothing with any personality on the walls. One full wall is greyhound races at all times it seems), and returned to pitch my tent in the dark (picture from the morning)
IV. Mudflats and Seagrass!
Monday, March 12th, West Port Bay - about thirty of us gathered at the boat dock. Two rangers, one (Mark) who did most of the talking and seemed very comfortably playing a sort of master of ceremonies, the second one was a smallish man with an interesting french-australian accent. This second one is actually the head ranger of the West Port Bay area and while he wasn't shy per se he seemed more interested in wandering off to look at flora or fauna than talking to the crowd. Two other guys from another department in Parks Victoria, two young women both from the Parks Dept's communications department, and volunteers in twos and threes across the range of ages. Also a large number of people from a snorkelling club. We went around making brief introductions in the beginning while the boat came around.
While this event was originally supposed to take place on the allegedly beautiful sailing catamaran the Pelican, at the last minute they had realized the Pelican's paperwork wasn't in order for this event, and Mark had scrambled to secure this rather unimpressive looking barge of motor-catamaran, however it did the trick. It took about forty minutes to get out to French Island in the middle of the bay. I learned that much of the bay is so shallow that at low tide most of he back end is mud flats, and even catamarans such as this must stick to the winding channels. During this time Mark kept pretty much a continuous presentation going about the purpose of this project, the seagrass, invasive seagrasses, measures they're taking to eliminate the bad (non-native) and favor the good (native) seagrass, as well as other topics of less immediate importance to this project like invasive starfish. Altogether it reminded me of the sort of Marine Biology programmes I've seen other maritime organizations I've worked with provide for kids, but this was oriented for interested adults and was thus scaled way up in depth and detail. It was really interesting!!!
The original plan had called for wetsuits and snorkel gear. Which I didn't have but I bought a mast and snorkel and fins earlier in the week. As we approached our destination area and everyone was intructed to don their wetsuits I eyed the cold grey water and the dreary sky with much apprehension. I soon decided I did NOT fancy going in without a wetsuit, probably not even if I had had one. I crossed my fingers nad urgently hoped I wasn't the only one who didn't go in, picturing the judging disappointed looks of the rangers as they reminded me that this wasn't just a cruise and I was expected to volunteer.
Fortunately at what felt like the last minute, they announced that the weather was actually too poor for snorkeling about so instead we'd go to a small island nearby and wade about around it.
To get to the island we had to climb off the front of the boat into waist deep water and carry whatever we were taking with us to shore. Once there on this rocky little island covered with bush-like small mangroves, our first task was explained to us: in groups of four we'd take half meter square quadrants and place them in the shallows and fill out a form describing what percentage of the space inside the quadrant was made up of one of various types of seagrass, or "macroalgae," and what percentage o the seagrass had phytoalgae (I think it was called?) covering it. There was a lot of algae! I was in a group with a couple and a kind of know-it-all woman who soon left our group.
Then we broke for lunch, and as the sun was starting to peek out, the french ranger offered to take those who were really keen on snorkeling on a snork-about. Whilst eating I noted this young lady was answering questions from curious other volunteers about her native Ecuador, and decided I had to go be part of this conversation. Had a good chat with her for the rest of lunch. Turns out that she, Michelle, has a degree in conservation engineering, but was disturbed to find that most employment that led to was just environmental surveys for oil companies who were going to destroy the area regardless. After lunch the rangers explained our next mission, we were to seek and destroy all oysters! The North Pacific Oyster is an extremely overabundant non-native pest in the area and "you can eat them!" the rangers kept mentioning, "...really you can eat them if you'd like." They handed out hammers, and as I stood there with hammer in hand, Michelle, looked to me with her large brown eyes, and said, "let's go!" And so she and I were off on the mud flats for a smashin good time ... smashin oysters. We annihilated eight. The group altogether destroyed just over 200.
When it came time to go we once again had to wade out to the boat. I noted, as one might expect, that while on the way out we were a bunch of little groups of two or three, by the return trip everyone was friends.
Drove home from there, two and a half hours, once again through the heart of Melbourne. Still thinking my car might die at any moment and overscrutinizing any perceived engine noise and performance variations. But I made it home without incident! The end!!!
Right now I'm torn. It's Thursday, I'd really like to go on a camping excursion with the Invertebrate Group of the Field Naturalist Club that is planned for this weekend, but its fully five hours drive away and that's a faaair bit of a long way to go for a weekend. :-/
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
