I went on a ten kilometre bike ride, through thick bushland and soft sand. This is what I found…
Lake Clifton is known for its massive thrombolite reef on the eastern shore. A boardwalk, easily accessible from a car park allows visitors and photographers to look down over the ancient structures for easy viewing. Easy though, has never been of much interest to me, and my Project 2014 is all about getting to the difficult to reach places.
It is with that in mind that I decided to visit the western shore of the lake. At over thirteen kilometers long, and no road access at all, my only option for getting there was to go through the bush. To counter the distance and the soft sand, I used a mountain bike with deflated tyres. This meant that I couldn’t bring a tripod, only a bag with my camera and two lenses.
Of course there is an easier way to do it. I could easily have jumped off the Thrombolite viewing platform and just walked up the shore. With the whole eastern shore being delicate reef, this is out of the question. My philosophy to landscape photography is that of the eco-tourism industry. Take only photos, leave only foot prints. In this case, a foot print is too much to leave.
I arrived on the northern tip of the lake, I walked down to the waters edge and took a moment to relax.
Remember: you can view the images larger by clicking on them.
The sand was for the most part fairly compact. Footprints from the many local and international migratory birds were evident everywhere. The colours were significantly more intense than I had expected. The eastern side reveals none of the colours that show up in the soil here.
As I moved on down the western shore, I frequently stopped to enjoy the view. The ground appeared to be made of limestone powder. Some form of orange algae then coated the surface. Mixed with the blur reflections on the waters surface, bright pink colours were produced. The result was strong banding of colour as you looked towards the water. Starting from the deep blue sky, down past the green backdrop, turquoise waters, pink reflections, orange algae, and finally the white limestones.
Up on the highest part of the shore, the sand was dry and cracked. It was firm enough to walk without leaving impressions.
These tiny birds danced about in the shallow water plucking something tasty out of the ground. Their reflections dancing beneath them.
The bed of the lake seems extremely flat at the edges. It takes many meters to build up to a depth of just centimetres. This produces an awesome effect in the waves as they approach the ever shallowing water. They just fade away to nothing.
This water body is pristine. I had not seen a shred of rubbish. Unfortunately, visitors to the eastern viewing platform often leave drink bottles behind.
Continuing south on the western shore, I found a solitary thrombolite formation. I have read nearly everywhere that the thrombolites only exist on the eastern shore of Lake Clifton. Finding this was not only a surprise, but actually quite funny.
I made it south to Swan Pond, an adjacent water body that connects to Lake Clifton during the winter months when the water level is significantly higher. At this time of year, with summer just behind us, the water was no where to be seen. The sand was covered in crystallised salt and glistened in the bright sun. The same sun which was beginning to give me sunburn.
The beautiful coastal landscape to the west looked fantastic up close. That is another adventure for another day.
The barrier between Lake Clifton and Swan Pond was made of the same paper bark forrest as was visible elsewhere around the lake. You don’t want to be here during a bushfire.
Or if you don’t like Huntsman spiders and snakes.
Massive bands of shells lined what once would have been the shoreline of Swan Pond.
And further up the beach, close to the paper barks, were massive piles of tiny shells. Each shell in the image below is no more than five millimeters long.
Billions and billions of shells. Interestingly, this is not the first time I have seen this. The Fitzgerald national park near Esperance has a river lined with the same shells.
A closer inspection of the white sands that I had been walking on earlier, reveals fine limestone powder and crushed shell.
Back to Lake Clifton, I continued proceeding south towards the north western peninsular. I had often looked out at it from the viewing platform and wondered what secrets it held.
Just when I thought I was beyond the interference of humans, I find this.
One observation I made was the presence of the same limestone extrusions that exist for kilometers inland on the eastern side of the lake. From what I have been able to learn, they are the remnants of an ancient coral reef that existed under the surface of the water when the sea level was significantly higher than today.
Finally on the peninsular, I found what I did not expect. Massive expanses of thrombolite communities. So much for them only existing on the eastern side. Of course, I was careful not to cause any harm to the delicate structures.
This is where I decided to stop. Proceeding past this point would have caused too much interference with nature.
The journey back was gruelling. My body was tired from the kilometers of soft sand cycling and walking. My mind was fatigued after being on such a buzz for so long. And the hours upon hours in the sun had taken it’s toll.
These photographs were shot with a Leica S2 medium format camera and the Leica Summarit-S 70mm and Elmarit-S 30mm lenses.
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