Canberra is a lovely city but I also like the coast, especially the variety of wildlife there. So, with the easing of the COVID restrictions in New South Wales (NSW), like a lot of Canberrans, we wanted a break down the coast. The weather was not forecast to be the best, with the rain and clouds having blanketed the southeast corner of NSW for most of November, and no sign of beautiful weather on the horizon for early December. That meant we had to make do with the weather at hand. We had a very simple plan, to drive down for a lunch at Narooma. Then follow the Princes Highway north for dinner and accommodation at Mollymook before continuing the next day through to Jervis Bay and the Greenwell Point area. Even though this was more of a family getaway I still took my camera because I wanted the chance to photograph, even with a compalining family telling me to hurry up. I am glad that I did take my camera, even if I was only pairing it wth my trusty go to lens, the Canon EF100-400mm f4.5-5.6L IS II USM. I also viewed only having one lens as a challenge to see what compositions I could achieve across the two days. Even with that self-imposed restriction I was thrilled to be able to capture some of the lovely wildlife that we saw, including a Little Black Cormorant on our second day that was looking for food in the Shoalhaven River. The two day trip was a great little rest and I hope that you enjoy the photographs below.
The drive from Canberra to Narooma was done under overcast skies but not much threat of rain. Approaching the escarpment that the road would snake down towards the coast there was a mist among the trees, which was not heavy just atmospheric. Upon reaching Batemans Bay we turned south on the Princes Highway with our focus on Narooma for a delicious lunch. The road trip south to Narooma was pleasant with not much traffic while the road took us through rolling green countryside, lush coastal forest and occasional views of the ocean.
Narooma appeared to us when we swung around a forested corner on the highway with a smattering of residences and suddenly the Wagonga Inlet was there in front of us, not more forest. We crossed over the Narooma bridge, happy to see the water around us. There was even a hint of a blue sky. The tide was high so the inlet looked wide but departing after lunch the tide was heading out so sand flats were already appearing showing how shallow a lot of the water actually was in the inlet. We had a lovely lunch at the Quarterdeck Restaurant that was ideally situated in a wonderfully renovated old boatshed with large windows giving leisurely views over the inlet that lapped under the wooden floorboards beneath us. Unfortunately, because lunch took longer than planned we did not really explore much but got back in the car to drive north again.
That said, on the way to the car from the restaurant I spied some Masked Lapwings (Vanellus miles) on the recently exposed sand flats. These are very common birds that can be aggressive at this time of year while they defend their ground-based nests. A lot of swooped Australians observe that evolution went astray when animals capable of flight took the seemingly foolish decision to build their nests on the ground, making them more vulnerable to predation and inadvertent pedestrian disturbance. The birds that I was observing seemed calm, more focussed on food. The only time that they were upset was when a juvenile lapwing wandered close to them. I was not sure if they were trying to chase away another pair’s offspring or whether they were trying to give a hint to their own progeny that it was time to literally spread its wings and go.
From Narooma we travelled a leisurely 30 minutes north along the gently winding Princess Highway before we took a right hand turn towards the quiet but homely Tuross Head. This peninsula that was sandwiched between the Tuross River to the south and Coila Lake to the north was once a single property before Hector McWilliam purchased the land in 1923-26 to sub-divide it into what he hoped would be a real estate bonanza. While it was not the success he hoped for he did create a beautiful, quiet township that sits on a lovely part of the south coast. On the day that we visited the grey sea was running with some white-capped waves under a sky that reflected the tempestuous, ashen waters. The wind had picked up, whipping off the water with a smell of salt and a coolish edge. Despite having pulled her clothes warmly around her against the conditions, my wife was impressed with the natural beauty of the area. Looking south we could see that the mouth of the Tuross River was relatively calm as it snaked around a number of sand flats before it battled its way against the ocean waves to flow out to sea. A number of seabirds rested on the sand flats, appearing as specks of white from where we were.
Jumping back into the car we closed the doors against the wind outside before we drove to again join the Princes Highway and travel to the final destination of the day, Mollymook Beach. This was another lovely beach along the south coast. We were lucky in that we stayed across the road from the beach at the very comfortable Mollymook Shores Motel and Conference Centre. The motel was very conveniently located and after we unloaded the car and drank a restorative cup of tea we headed to the sand. However, the massive flat, broad rock platform at the southern end of the beach beckoned us. This was an interesting habitat of shallow rock pools and straight crevices running across it. Just a wonderful place to explore. Foamy waves were breaking around the edge but the tide was low so the water was not spreading across the rock. While wandering over the dark brown surface a bright, white section of quartz caught my attention. It seemed to be the only sharp contrast in the dark colouration of the platform.
A well-worn limpet that still clung firmly to the rock had a group almost corroded looking Little Blue Periwinkles around it. The limpet looked like it had been around for a long time with the ridges of its shell being heavily eroded. Limpets have a single muscular foot that maintains contact with the rock even as the surf pounds it. These shells are not easy to dislodge. You either need to catch them while they are relaxed and quickly apply pressure or find a bit of metal to pry them off with. The animals do move, crawling over the rock at high tide looking for algae to feed on but always return to the same spot when the tide is going out.
A little distance away there were two Rose-coloured Barnacles (Tesseropora rosea), with their colouration easily showing how they got their name. This crustacean is generally whitish-grey but when it gets older the conditions erode the top layer of its plates causing a pinkish hue to emerge. They are rock creatures of the surf zone, easily filter feeding for the tiny plankton the waves carry across them. Two turban shells sat not far away, with Little Blue Periwinkles clustering around them all. The periwinkles had brown discolouration that may have been algae or something from the similarly coloured rocks around them.
On another part of the rock shelf a group of turban shells formed a loose circle around a small rock embedded in the platform. I found it interesting the way that the shells almost created a ring around the edge of the small rock.
Even with grey, choppy seas birds that chose to live by the sea needed to eat, especially at this time of year when there could be young birds in a nest somewhere. A black coated Great Cormorant (Phalacrocorax carbo) stoically perched on a rock at the edge of the rock platform, where the water around the boulders kept people a long distance away from the bird. The cormorant kept scanning the churned up sea but stayed put the whole time that I was watching it. It would not have been easy to peer into the shuddering water, even for a bird that had evolved to do so.
Similarly, a Little Pied Cormorant flew to the outer rocks from the direction of the beach. It flew in low, just above the wave tops. It then flung its body upright in the air, open its wings like a massive cape before coming to rest on a convenient lonely rock. Once it was settled it dried its wings, probably indicating that it had been fishing. However, it also set up watch looking out to the grey sea just like the other cormorant was.
My son drew my attention to a Smooth Toadfish (Tetractenos glaber) swimming in the shallow water lapping in a substantial gap in the rock platform. The toadfish was not easy to see with its top-side camouflage working well against the bottom textures. It was not swimming quickly and would often move with the backwards and forwards motion of the waves. Its common name comes from the fact that this fish has short spines that are embedded in the skin, not protruding like the common image of a puffer fish, so the skin appears smooth. Despite the lack of obvious spines the flesh of these fish is very toxic so should not be eaten. We spent a bit of time watching it swim around in that little watery finger encroaching on the shore, the only fish of its size there, it seemed to know that it was safe from likely predators.
After we finished watching the fish we walked back for a dinner before relaxing at the motel.
The next morning, despite the very overcast sky where not even the sun could shine through, I still woke up early to go snorkelling. I headed back to where there was a substantial gap in the rock platform. The sea was not rough, with the tide rising so there was enough water to explore. However, there was hardly any natural light penetrating the water so photography was hard. Still, it was nice just floating in the sea again during the quietness of early morning, before the beach became busy. I knew that the photographs were bad but I viewed it as a chance to practice and, as I mentioned, it was nice to just be in the sea.
After showering and changing following the snorkel it was time for some breakfast. We were fortunate that our room had a balcony with a bit of a view of the beach. I enjoyed sitting outside watching some waves rolling in and the suburb come to life.
I was particularly thrilled when a gorgeously coloured Rainbow Lorikeet (Trichoglossus haematodus) landed on the balcony’s railing. I suspected that people were feeding these wild birds because it had no fear of me. Once the Rainbow Lorikeet landed it called loudly, seemingly to let me know that it was here and wanted food, I figured my suspicions were confirmed when a second bird landed on the balcony almost beside where I was sitting. I had my eye to the camera at the time but I could hear the fluttering of wings, I even felt the down draft when the bird landed, so I knew that the bird was close. It really made my morning seeing these birds so close. They were so wonderfully coloured and they are smart birds, knowing where to get an easy feed. I was also very happy with the photograph because I think I captured a certain cheekiness in the bird, and regardless of anthropomorphising, I am positive that these can be cheeky birds.
Another bird that was around, and in numbers, was the introduced House Sparrow (Passer domesticus). They were smaller than the lorikeets and were moving all around the hotel complex but not approaching my balcony. They were constantly fliying from empty balconies to the roof to trees and to the grass. There were males and females milling about but I was only able to get a decent photograph of a female. This species was introduced into Australia in the second half of the 19th century and while they are reasonably plentiful around cities and cultivated areas in this country, they are in sharp decline in the UK. It would be a dreadful irony if at some future time birds had to be re-introduced into their native range from the feral flocks in this brown land.
I was not thinking such sad thoughts ate the time, I was just enjoying having a relaxing breakfast with a nice view surrounded by birds.
After breakfast we packed the car to drive north along the Princes Highway yet again. This time we were heading to Jervis Bay, to have a lunch at Huskisson. This drive had noticeably more traffic on it than the previous day, because we were on a part of the coast closer to Sydney. Indeed heading into Huskisson the traffic was the heaviest of the trip. Huskisson itself was still a beautiful little bayside town but with everybody else wanting to get away for the day it was becoming very crowded. Fortunately, before having lunch we had a bit of time to go walking along the foreshore.
The larger boulders that were used to stabilise the shore made a perfect home for a number of Purple Swift-footed Shore Crabs (Leptograpsus variegatus). The crabs were out in the open on the moist rocks, using their strong, purple coloured claws to pick delectable algae to eat. Their claws seemed to be in a constant cycling action; taking food from the rock up into their mouthes. The waves did not disturb them, not even the wake of powered watercraft. However, if we approached too closely, their legs would work in overdrive to carry them swiftly back into the safety of a rock crevice. At one stage two of these square-bodied crustaceans appeared to have a stand off. They were not far apart, with both bracing up as the faced off, slowly circling. Strangely, it was the smaller one that charged tangentially towards the other, larger crab. The larger crustacean took a move back as a result of this aggression, although the two crabs did not come to blows. The smaller one was almost half the size of the other crab but still intimidated it, a somewhat interesting outcome. It was interesting watching these small creatures scurrying about on the rocks while us humans were scurrying about along the paths above them.
After a lovely lunch we were back in the car driving through the lush coast forests towards the houses of Culburra Beach. Many people think that this small seaside town shares a common feature with Canberra, in that the American architect Walter Burley Griffin designed both. However, that was not the case. The Australian developer Henry Halloran was actually responsible for the street plan of Culburra, however, with some strong circular roads in the design it is easy to see why people believed Griffin was involved.
We won’t really planning to walk along the beach but after I parked the car in the sealed carpark at the top of the sand bluff overlooking the beach we naturally drifted down the wooden slat stairs to the shore below. The day was still a little windy with dark clouds but the beach looked so beautiful that we all just wanted to explore it. I think that we were all interested in a series of low, rocky extrusions from the beach that led to the water. Some of them were covered with green seaweed but they seemed to beckon us. The excitement of finding interesting shore life all had us releasing our inner child, not being too concerned about shoes and socks that were wet from stepping in water. I also liked a small channel made in the sand by the retreating water. It almost looked like a frond of seaweed had been imprinted there.
While we were walking along the shore I noticed a large bird flying in from the sea, which, upon looking through my lens, I realised was a magnificent adult White-bellied Sea-eagle (Haliaeetus leucogaster). This large raptor was flying, not soaring and was heading from the sea towards the trees behind the berm. I could hear other smaller birds calling as Australia’s second largest bird of prey flew towards the trees, no doubt those birds were calling alarm. They did not have to be worried because this eagle had been successful in its hunting, it was carrying a fish. The bird flew to the trees behind the beach but I was unsighted, although I did hear what I took to be young eagles calling, possibly signalling that this adult was returning with food to some juvenile birds.
Turning our attention again to the interesting rocks beneath out feet my keen-eyed son spotted out an Elephant Snail (Scutus antipodes) hunkered down with its distinctive black mantle in a rock crevice. This large creature seemed to wear its white shell like a cap that was too small for its head like that was the only size left when it had to get a shell. This member of the limper family was probably hiding in that crevice during the day before emerging at night to feed on algae.
An Eight-armed Sea Star (Patiriella calcar) was half in a crevice. These sea-stars generally live up to their name, having eight arms but they can also have seven or nine. Their colour can also be varied, with some individuals being very bright and colourful. These sea stars are are true scavengers as well as algae eaters. This individual was half in the crevice and half out, with its arms curled onto the rock and growth around it.
My keen-eyed sone again helped me out finding some interesting creatures. He managed to spot out a group of Sowrie Crabs (Plagusia glabra) that were hiding in a rock crevice, oblivious to the occasional wave of the outgoing tide. I loved the colour of these crabs and wished that I could have taken a better shot but I was happy to photograph these examples. While I could not see the crab well I really liked its striking colours. These crabs do not scurry over rocks like the shore crabs but prefer moister environments in rock pools or underwater.
Most of the rocks were covered with Cunjevoi (Pyura stolonifera) or more commonly called, sea squirts. I was not expecting so many sea squirts on what appeared to be a beach. A lot of these squat, tough creatures had algae and other weed growing on them, almost like they had been sprinkled with some green dessert topping. These creatures belong to the protochordates group because in their larval form they have a precursor to a vertebrae. However, that disappears in the adult form seen here. The larvae swims around until it picks up the scent of adults in the water, whereupon it moves towards them and sticks itself headfirst to the rocks. The secured animal then feeds on plankton in the water. I was able to photograph this group on a seaweed covered rock with a wave breaking in the background. I liked how there was a strong green line of seaweed in the foreground then the lines blurred with each successful one and changed colour to the aqua in the wave.
We spent more time at Culburra Beach than planned but it was just so nice and we did not feel rushed so we just enjoyed the moment. However, we eventually did leave to travel to our final destination for the trip, Greenwell Point near where the Shoalhaven River flowed to the sea, and just a stones through across the water from Culburra Beach.
At Greenwell Point the sky remained overcast, with some rain falling and the wind picked up. The Shoalhaven River was flowing grey as it matched the sky’s temperament above. 11 wooden posts running out from the bank made an interesting picture. I am not sure what their function was, possible an attempt to catch silt and mud to form a wider bank. They appeared to have been there a long time, covered in green algae on the top, while their sides were starting to split. Some of the posts had indentations in the top end, possibly with animals picking at it or the elements working on the wood. If they had once been a straight line nature had shown its disdain for neat geometry, push them slightly out of alignment.
A part of the bank was protected by rocks in a semicircular fashion, proving protection for a small stand of mangroves to grow. The resulting mud was now the home to a multitude of Semaphore Crabs (Heloecius cordiformis) that had dug holes in the dirty, wet goodness. Approaching this little sanctuary of mud, it seemed like the ground began to move as hundreds of crabs scurried to be close to their burrows. However, standing still for an extended period seemed to give these small crustaceans confidence to resume their lives. Their bright orange claws made a colourful contrast to the dull mud.
Like most areas along this stretch of coast there were an abundance of Sydney Rock Oysters (Saccostrea glomerata) in messy piles of shells growing on shells. This particular group below was washed by the waters from the Shoalhaven River, flowing through agricultural land so possibly not the best oysters to eat given the chemicals leaching from farms upstream.
The final animal that I photographed was the aptly named Little Black Cormorant (Phalacrocorax sulcirostris), which is the same individual that heads this post. The jet black bird flew low above the water down the Shoalhaven River to land very near the shore, whereupon it started to dive to look for food. I carefully moved closer while it was underwater, positioning myself to take some shots from as close as I dared. The bird was wise to me, sensing my presence immediately it surfaced, glancing in my direction before it swam up the river slightly away from me. I was still able to take some photographs of this lovely bird with its dark plumage that seemed to be in vogue that day because of the dark skies. The cormorant’s clear, green emerald eye was its only colour, an understated extravagance from evolution so the bird was not too drab. It easily swam against the river current, occasionally swallowing some meal before it resumed fishing.
The two days had been a short trip and not specifically to take photographs but I still wanted to have a camera. We all enjoyed the couple of days down the coast and I was happy with a number of shots. While the weather could have been nicer it probably helped us to look at those small worlds in rock pools and on rock platforms rather than just at the wider scenery. It was a great couple of days and I was glad that I took my camera.
Thanks for reading this post and thanks also for looking at my photos. I hope you come back again to read more about some of the wonderful natural things that the Australian Capital Territory and the surrounding area has on offer. All the best until the next post.