As I noted earlier, the Woodgate Beach Caravan Park is nothing if not sandy. Well that applies to the entire town and beyond as we were to discover during our rambles around the back streets. But before we did that we decided to take a' walk in the park'.
The town itself is surrounded by many hectares of National Park, one of which can be found right across Acacia Street, the road at the back of the caravan park. Visitors are encouraged to make good use of the long walking trail through this particular patch of bush. We ambled across the road and took full advantage of an opportunity to stretch our legs.
The initial section of the trail which meanders through this quite tall timber is firm and well defined.
Not too far into the walk we came to the first of several patches of wet swampy ground. Like the sand, these low lying wetlands are another significant feature of the topography of this area.
Fortunately we had no need to wade. A well constructed boardwalk made our crossing through the paperbarks a doddle (or should that be a toddle?).
As well as the trees, large ferns flourish in these eerie black waters, which, despite their dark and stagnant appearance, do not smell as we had expected they would.
The boardwalk ends at a small patch of bitumen just beyond which a notice proclaims that from this point on there is 'no wheelchair access'.
Looking at what lay ahead we considered this a somewhat superfluous sign!
Other more relevant signs are dotted right along the trail, just to ensure that all who take this track are not left in the dark as to how far they have to go to complete the journey. These can be a mixed blessing....still 5.2 kilometres....!
Although this is known as the Banksia Walking Track, these plants are not a feature of the earlier part of the trail. Here tall palms rise gracefully amongst the eucalypts
and massed ferns blanket the understory on both sides of the track.
We did spy a few stunted banksias, all but hidden in the scrub. Only their distinctive flowers gave them away.
and massed ferns blanket the understory on both sides of the track.
We did spy a few stunted banksias, all but hidden in the scrub. Only their distinctive flowers gave them away.
As we traversed yet another section of black looking swamp ground
and passed another 'encouraging' sign,
the topography changed dramatically. On this broad, very sandy section of the trail
the banksias finally made an appearance. Some were quite tall and spreading,
but many others seemed to be struggling.
It appeared that fire had ravaged some sections of the park in the not too distant past, leaving many of the banksias twisted and blackened like some woody cripple.
But for what ever harm the flames may have caused, the heat served another purpose, leaving many seed pods gaping like massed grotesque mouths.
New trees could be seen springing to life in patches of the regenerating undergrowth,
and we even came across a few delicate flowering shrubs decorating the edges of the track.
And who says fungus is not hardy? We could not believe that this toadstool was thriving in the thick dry sand of the walking trail, and it was not alone.
After another kilometre or so the timber again became thicker and taller.
At this point the signs showing the way back to the starting point at the car park were all directing us to go left, but as you can see, my travelling companion made an executive decision.....she was certain that the road which we had crossed to reach the park was to be found at the end of the path. "Follow me!" "I hope you are not leading me astray, Lizzie."
She wasn't. Domestic harmony was maintained as we approached
and walked by yet another low lying patch of flooded ground before
crossing a raised path which provides access across the broad ditch between the park and the town,
and emerging onto Acacia Street some three hundred metres from our starting point.
This had proved to be a goodly gallop, although I have to comment that the park views were not such as to inspire us to consider that our stay here was not complete without having done this again.
We did many more walks around the town, where the sandy nature of the soil was again all too evident, never more so than at the local oval,
where the sparse tufts of grass were clearly struggling for survival.
Mind you, as is so often the case with soil of this type, just add water and it blossoms. Gardens like this were not an uncommon sight in the back streets of Woodgate.
But where the land was unoccupied, the soil was all but barren,
with the exception of this hardy little flowering plant which seemed to thrive where much could not.
And it was during one of our back street bashes around the southern end of town that we had our first, and somewhat scary, encounter with the local wildlife, the kangaroos of Woodgate, known universally by the locals as the 'Woodgate Rats'.
We had been wandering along in blissful ignorance of their presence until this seriously large eastern grey came thundering out of a patch of scrubland straight towards us. He was clearly not happy and was bounding with evident purpose and at considerable speed. I held my ground just long enough to grab this snapshot before frantically searching for a defensive weapon of some sort.
To our great relief he changed course to avoid us and continued to hop along the road, still with evident purpose. We were soon to discover what had upset him.
In a vacant block between houses not too far further along the street, there he was. What possessed him to believe that we were any sort of threat to his harem is beyond me, but this is the only reason to which we can attribute his obvious anxiety.
In short order we could see why these roos had acquired their local nickname.....they were everywhere.
There was hardly a home in this part of town which did not have a house guest.
Every patch of green seemed to sprout a roo,
and some of them were seriously bloody big.
Just look at the shoulders on this whopper!
We did take some comfort from the advice we were later given at the Club by our newly acquired town friends who assured us that despite their numbers and the size of many of them, 'The Rats' were harmless. This is not to say they were not considered irritating by virtue of their sheer numbers, their penchant to munch on any green pick which was available (read front lawns), and for the 'calling cards' they would leave as a result, but a degree of tolerance seemed to be at the forefront of local attitudes towards them. We did wonder if this was more sheer resignation to the fact of their presence, because short of a concerted cull, there would be no way to rid Woodgate of them, and even then I suspect more would emerge from the thick scrub which surrounds the town.
So there you have it, the Woodgate Rats are no longer a thing of mystery. And on that note, we must take our leave of this delightful town and all it has to offer......another now firmly implanted in our 'MacArthur List'.
No comments:
Post a Comment